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emjayewrites · 4 months

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The Fast Lane (A Formula One Series)(3/?)

SYNOPSIS: Jesenia joins the private, membership-based dating app Raya searching for a sugar daddy. Instead, she unknowingly finds her biggest “whale”: Lewis Hamilton, a famous Formula One racing driver.

PAIRING: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Jesenia "Jessy" Hart (face claim is @/loriharvey)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, cursing, explicit sexual content, not-so-glamorous life in the influencer/racing world, kind of pre-established relationship. RATED M (18+)

PINTEREST: Jessy's F1 Outfits

PLAYLIST: The Fast Lane Spotify

TAGLIST: @royallyprincesslilly @mauvecherie-writes, @saintslewis, @peyiswriting, @hamiltonvuitton-deactivated2024, @cocobutterqwueen, @qveenmelanink, @ashanti-notthesinger, @lewisroscoelove, @lovebittenbyevans, @lew1s-prix, @jasmindaughteroftheworld, @eugene-emt-roe, @apenasumlug4r @simpfortoomanymen, @roseseraj @alika-4466 @httpsserene @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @non-stop-imagines @anubisnoir @myescapefromthislife @chaneajoyyy @yeea-nah @mitruscity @lewiscrown @weetjy @a-moment-captured @sugardontbesweet @livinglifethroughfanfic @blveeeeeee @formula-hamilton @purplelewlew @trinitoldyouso @slytherinjimim3nthusiast @certifiedlesbianbaddie @sirlew44 @madstxo @pausmoon @tian-monique @noivadofogo @nikki01234-blog @yorulla @m-uga @julesbog

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please let me know if you wish to be added/removed from the taglist. Anyways, enjoy! Dividers by @inklore!

CHAPTER THREE: The Chronicles of Celebrity

user4459: "'F1 Driver Lewis Hamilton spotted again with Model Jessy Hart in Paris' - honestly, i'm surprised that he kept her around for this long. the matching fits is cute! lord knows how much lewis loves to hop to different models. is this a sign that our fave workaholic found someone to love?"

MsNikkiLuv: "'RE: F1 Driver Lewis Hamilton spotted again with Model Jessy Hart in Paris' - I don't think so. I mean, yes she was at Monaco, Barcelona, and Montreal Grand Prix (and now Paris) but I don't think this is a 'forever' thing. He made it quite clear that he doesn't want a relationship now and that he's focusing on F1. Not to mention, in his Masterclass, he said that he found it difficult to accept love and trust. I think it's just another FWB. She's gorgeous though and I think that she's really nice. I didn't see any reports saying that she's a bitch or anything."

ManyMenSimp1644: "'RE: F1 Driver Lewis Hamilton spotted again with Model Jessy Hart in Paris' - let's be forreal, y'all. she's with him for the clout and the money/gifts just like all the other women. that man ain't looking for love, he just wants his dick wet. he's doing this out of convenience and to have a bed warmer. maybe she's just a constant bed warmer lol".

luvroflewishamilton435: "'RE: F1 Driver Lewis Hamilton spotted again with Model Jessy Hart in Paris' - whatever they are, they are good together. @MsNikkiLuv same. i didn't hear anything bad about her at all. she dated many different men (and some even richer than lewis). but can we just be happy that she's of age?? like, lewis is finally with someone closer to him! i believe that she's 30 and plus, i love that she wears heels around him. lewis is so confident in being a short king and i'm here for it, especially with that third leg of his."

The comments on Lipstick Alley were a mix of rumor, suspicion, and sheer gossip. They were a tornado of wild speculations about the relationship between Jessy and Lewis, whirling around in a never-ending cycle of assumptions and baseless accusations. Some users were outright hostile, deeming her unfit to be with Lewis, as if they'd ever get the chance of being with him themselves. Others tried to paint a picture of compatibility and reason:

maytheoddsbeinurfavr:"'RE: F1 Driver Lewis Hamilton spotted again with Model Jessy Hart in Paris' - let's not forget that they're both grown adults and can make their own decisions. It's not our place to judge their relationship based on age or wealth. They seem happy together, and that's all that matters. @luvroflewishamilton435 Lewis does seem to be happier in being with someone closer to his age. And Jessy's choice to wear high heels around him shows her confidence."

Their opinions of her were inconsequential; nothing could stop her from getting this bag. But despite her tough exterior, Jessy was still human and had insecurities like everyone else. While she welcomed the kind comments, the negative ones also stung a bit.

While she had a deep admiration for the game, she also recognized its negative consequences, especially when she found herself in the company of well-known celebrities.

After spending an extended period with Lewis, she realized that she needed some time alone to gather her thoughts and recharge. As expected, Lewis didn't take it too well and exhibited his sassy behavior once again, much to her disapproval.

This is why we stay clear of lightskin men, she thought as she read yet another one of his text messages.

As with the ones before it, it was a trap to lure her in: a set of pictures showing him shirtless in questionable poses and his constant musings about her attending his upcoming races in Austria and England. Despite his attempts to woo her, Jessy had already made up her mind to attend, especially after receiving lavish gifts from him - a Cartier watch and a mini Kelly bag from Hermes, which she got while they were in Paris. She kept the latter displayed in her closet - it was too flashy to wear out in public. But, as always, she enjoyed playing with his feelings. Some might call it cruel, but Jessy knew from experience that keeping men on their toes never led her astray.

Being seen with Lewis had its perks for Jessy. She was now invited to exclusive parties and events that she wouldn't have received invitations for before, all because of his status as a Formula One driver. It was amusing to watch people fawn over him and try to get a photo or even just a glimpse of the famous racer. However, what truly delighted her was the reaction of these individuals when they saw her by his side.

Even though she had no desire to settle down with anyone, especially not someone like Lewis Hamilton, who seemed to constantly crave attention and validation, not to mention the drama that came with being in a high-profile relationship, Jessy enjoyed the exposure it brought for herself and her brand. Don't get her wrong - Lewis was slowly becoming a good friend in addition to being a great lover, but he also had his moments. He wasn't necessarily a red flag, but definitely somewhere between yellow and orange.

"TiTi Jess, TiTi Jess!" two little voices called out in unison, breaking Jessy's daydream and bringing her back to reality.

It was a perfect day in Miami, with clear blue skies and the sun shining brightly overhead - the ideal day for a baby shower.

Jessy tucked her phone into her purse and bent down to meet the gaze of the twin four-year-olds who were running towards her.

"Oof," she pretended to groan as they crashed into her arms, giggling. "Looks like someone really missed me."

"Yeah, TiTi," said Anais, one of her nieces, with an attitude that was well beyond her years. She let go of Jessy for a second to give her a stern look. "Why were you gone for so long? Mommy said you got a new boyfriend."

Jessy rolled her eyes internally; it was just like her younger sister to spread gossip about her whereabouts, especially to her young nieces.

"Yeah," chimed in Amalia, Anais' fraternal twin. Unlike her sister, Amalia was quiet and reserved while Anais was quite the handful.

Jessy opted not to continue the conversation with the twins and instead shifted the topic to their appearance. As always, the girls were perfectly styled with coordinated outfits and flawless hair. They both wore pink dresses and had their curly hair braided into puffs. Jenesis, her sister, had requested that guests dress in either blue or pink depending on their guess for the baby's gender, so it was no surprise that most of the female attendees were dressed in pink like Jessy's nieces who were clearly 'team girl'.

Jessy beamed at them. "You both adorable! Can you give TiTi a twirl?"

The girls eagerly obliged, twirling around to show off their dresses. Jessy couldn't help but smile at how much joy they brought her. Whenever she felt overwhelmed with work or life in general, spending time with her nieces always helped put things into perspective. They were a reminder of what truly mattered in life - family.

"Okay girls, let's go play some games," Jessy said, standing up and taking each of their hands in hers.

As they walked towards the backyard where the baby shower was being held, Jessy couldn't help but notice all the decorations. Jenesis had truly outdone herself with the rustic, woodland theme for the baby shower. Pinecones and tree branches could be seen adorning every surface, creating a cozy and natural atmosphere. The color scheme consisted of rich greens and browns, with pops of pink and blue for an added touch of excitement. The dessert table boasted a towering cake covered in fondant bears, while hanging above was a banner declaring "We Can Bearly Wait!" in whimsical letters.

Her nieces abandoned her upon arriving, immediately shifting their focus from their aunt to a group of children engaging in party games. Jessy spotted Jenesis talking to some guests and waved at her sister from afar. Jenesis smiled back and excused herself to come over to them.

"Hey sis," Jenesis said as she hugged Jessy.

"You've outdone yourself with this party," Jessy replied, admiring the decorations.

Jenesis smiled, gently rubbing her swollen belly. "This is my third and final baby, so I wanted to make it special," she explained.

"Final one?" Jessy snorted with amusement. "Did you ask DeVon for his input?"

Jenesis shrugged. "I don't need his input. He's probably hoping for a boy, but this baby will be our last one. No more little McClures running around. And speaking of new things, how's your new boo? I see you off jetsetting from one place to the next."

Jessy laughed at her sister's teasing. "He's not my 'boo'. We're just friends," she replied.

Jenesis raised an eyebrow at her. "Just friends? That's not what it looked like when I saw those pictures in Monaco and Barcelona. Y'all look mighty friendly. He's fine though, even with his shortness. Does he sound posh?" Jenesis playfully put on a fake British accent for emphasis.

Jessy rolled her eyes at her sister's teasing. "He's not posh, he's just well-spoken," she replied with a smile. "And what he lacks in height, he makes up for in other places."

"Mmhmm, I'm starting to see the appeal," Jenesis continued. "I'mma let you be great though. Lewis may be fine and all, but he a bit too short for my liking."

Jessy casually shrugged her shoulders. Lewis wasn't as tall as the type of men she typically went for, but she didn't let it bother her. Her sister's baby daddy and longtime boyfriend was a towering 6'7, which was ideal for his role as a point guard for the Miami Heat.

At that moment, DeVon strolled over to where they were standing, his arm affectionately draped around Jenesis' shoulders.

"Well well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence," he teased Jessy with a sly smirk.

"Hi DeVon," Jessy responded with mild irritation. She and DeVon had never been the best of friends, but they maintained a civil relationship despite their differences.

"You out here livin' it up with that short, British nigga, huh?" he said. "I'm surprised that you're here."

"I wouldn't miss my favorite sister's baby shower, DeVon," retorted. "Plus, we not even dating. We're cool, that's it."

"Cool?" DeVon scoffed, but decided to not broach further on the topic. For Jessy, DeVon was on thin ice as it was, especially since he had yet to make an honest woman out of her sister after being together for nearly eight years.

Jessy stared at the man intently as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I said what I said."

DeVon raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, no need to get feisty," he joked. "I swear y'all get that from y'all's mama. That fiery Colombian side definitely runs in the family."

Jenesis and Jessy exchanged eye rolls at DeVon's antics. On their mother's side, they were a quarter Colombian, but they didn't know much about that side of their family. Their mother never talked much about Abuela Sofia's relatives in Bogota for some reason.

DeVon prodded, "So, are you single?"

Jessy quipped back, "As single as a one-dollar bill." Jenesis giggled at her response.

DeVon then announced, "I might have someone for you." Jessy let out an exasperated sigh.

"Who's asking?" she questioned.

"It's my teammate," DeVon proudly revealed. "You know Xavier, right?" Jessy nodded, trying to recall who he was. She vaguely remembered him from past get-togethers with DeVon and Jenesis. She knew he was good-looking, but beyond that, she didn't remember much about him. "So here's the plan: I'll bring him over here -"

"No, please don't do that," interrupted Jessy firmly. The thought of being set up by DeVon made her cringe. As soon as the words left her mouth, Jessy regretted speaking them. She knew DeVon would take it as a challenge and make it his mission to set her up with someone, whether she liked it or not.

"Too late," declared DeVon with a sly smile. "I'll be right back."

With that, he walked off in search of Xavier. Jessy groaned inwardly, knowing that she couldn't escape this setup now.

A few minutes later, DeVon returned with Xavier trailing behind him. He was just as handsome as Jessy remembered - tall and muscular with mahogany skin and a short crop of black hair styled in a low fade. But his serious expression put her on edge.

"Hey Jessy," greeted Xavier in his deep timbre with a small nod of his head.

"Hey," responded Jessy uncertainly. "It's been a while since I've seen you."

"Yeah, I've been busy with the team and everything," explained Xavier. "But I always see your photos on social media."

Jessy nodded awkwardly, not sure what else to say. She felt like she was being interviewed for a potential job instead of casually talking to someone at a baby shower.

"Well...I'll leave you two to catch up." DeVon flashed a mischievous grin before excusing himself and pulling Jenesis away, leaving the two of them to catch up on their own.

Jessy glared at him as he disappeared into the crowd before turning back to Xavier with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that."

"It's all good," replied Xavier easily. His tense expression had relaxed slightly now that DeVon was gone.

"So how have you been?" asked Jessy politely.

"Good, good," answered Xavier with a small smile. "Just trying to focus on my game and make it to the playoffs this upcoming season."

Jessy smiled, not knowing much about basketball but trying to show interest. "That's awesome. I saw some of your highlights on TV and you were killing it."

Xavier chuckled, his smile growing wider. "Thanks, I appreciate it. But enough about me, how have you been? I see you've been traveling a lot."

"Yeah," agreed Jessy with a small shrug. "I love exploring new places. It's been fun."

"That's really cool," commented Xavier sincerely.

The conversation flowed smoothly between them as they caught up on each other's lives. Jessy was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Xavier despite her initial nerves. He was genuinely interested in what she had to say and shared some interesting stories about his training and games.

Eventually, they got pulled away from their conversation and walked over to the other attendees to enjoy the baby shower. The rest of the baby shower went by in a blur for Jessy as she mingled with the other guests and played games. As the party started to wind down, Xavier approached Jessy and asked if he could walk her out to her car. Jessy smiled at his kind offer and happily accepted, looking forward to spending more time with him.

Xavier turned to Jessy with a small smile. "I had a really great time catching up with you today."

"Me too," replied Jessy with a shy smile.

"Maybe we can do it again sometime?" suggested Xavier hesitantly.

Jessy's heart skipped a beat at his invitation. "I would like that," she said softly.

Xavier grinned, relieved at her answer. "Great. How about we grab lunch next week?"

Jessy's heart dropped as she remembered her busy schedule for the next few weeks. "I would love to, but I'm afraid I won't be able to make it for lunch next week."

Xavier's face fell momentarily, but he quickly recovered with a smile. "No worries, how about we exchange numbers and we can keep in touch through texts?"

Jessy felt relieved and grateful for his understanding. "That would be great."

They exchanged numbers before saying goodbye, both secretly hoping for another chance to see each other soon. As Jessy drove home, she couldn't help but feel excited about getting to know Xavier more through their conversations.

The sun was shining brightly in the sky as people from all over the world flooded into the track, each one eager to witness the qualifying day and possibly get a glimpse of their favorite drivers. Jessy arrived a day late, much to Lewis' chagrin. To say that he had a bit of an attitude was an understatement. Jessy could care less, honestly, and decided to have a thorough conversation with him about boundaries and not being at his beck and call.

Despite his reputation for constantly being seen with different women, Jessy quickly learned that Lewis could be quite particular and almost possessive. While she understood their arrangement as a casual and mutually beneficial relationship with no expectations of exclusivity, Lewis often forgot this and ended up in a confusing gray area.

She found Lewis in his team's pit area, surrounded by his mechanics and engineers who were busy preparing his car for the race. He looked up when he saw Jessy approaching and greeted her with a half-hearted smile.

"Hey," he said curtly. "Glad you could finally make it."

Jessy rolled her eyes internally but kept a polite smile on her face. "Sorry for being late, I had some things to take care of."

He raised an eyebrow at her response. "Things? What things?"

"Personal matters," she stated firmly, not wanting to disclose any more information.

Lewis shrugged, clearly not interested in her explanation. "Whatever. Qualy is 'bout to start so I need to stay focused. I'll hit you up later."

Jessy watched as Lewis walked away, feeling a mix of annoyance and disappointment.

What a fuckin' dickhead, she thought as she made her way further inside the garage.

Jessy's frustration began to escalate, but her thoughts shifted to Xavier and their potential plans. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for agreeing to meet with him, knowing Lewis wouldn't be too happy about it if he'd ever found out. However, she reminded herself that she couldn't constantly put her life on hold just because he wanted her to always be available.

Going off-script was never part of the plan, and it never will be. Maybe it was the constant media attention getting under his skin, or maybe he was simply deluding himself, but Lewis needed to see the truth and understand that he was nothing more than a temporary obsession. He had been using her as much as she had been using him.

The roar of the engines and the smell of gasoline filled the air as the cars lined up on the track for qualifying. Jessy found a spot near Bono and the huge television, her eyes fixed on Lewis' car as he sped past in a blur of colors. Despite her irritation with him, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride watching him race. It was clear that he was in his element, his focus solely on the track and beating his competitors.

Suddenly, Jessy's phone buzzed, pulling her out of her focus on Lewis. It was a text from Xavier:

Xavier: Just waiting until I see your gorgeous face again. When do you want to hang out?

A smile spread across Jessy's face as she quickly replied:

Jessy: Soon...

She tucked her phone back into her purse and turned her attention back to the race. As the qualifying session came to an end and Lewis secured a position in the top five on the starting grid, Jessy made her way back to the front to wait for him. He emerged from the car, sweating and slightly disappointed for not claiming pole position. But when he laid eyes on Jessy, his expression softened.

A rush of memories flooded his mind, and he realized that he was repeating mistakes and undoing all the progress he had made in therapy. Despite their unconventional relationship, Jessy was always there for him, offering support and encouragement. Yet here he was, pushing her away and reverting to the same patterns he had with Nicole - something he swore never to do again. He despised himself for being such a dick, especially towards women. No amount of insecurities should ever justify treating someone poorly.

"Hey," Lewis said as he approached her, finally seeming more relaxed now that qualifying was over. "Sorry for being an arse earlier."

"It's okay," Jessy replied with a shrug. "I understand you have a race to focus on."

Lewis could easily read Jessy's body language, with her arms crossed and an unreadable expression on her face. He knew there was still tension between them, but he was confident he could turn things around.

"Come here," he beckoned softly, opening his arms for a hug. Jessy scoffed and rolled her eyes, as stubborn as ever. But Lewis liked that about her; it made her even more attractive. "Jessy, I don't want to beg for a hug."

"And if I want you to?" she countered with a mischievous smile.

"You're driving me crazy, woman," he sighed. After a few moments of silence, Lewis spoke up again. "Please, can I have a hug?"

Jessy nodded and moved into his embrace. She breathed in the familiar scent of smoke and musk that always seemed to draw her in. Lewis' arms wrapped comfortably around her, settling just inches from her ass. Despite their current issues, she allowed herself to relax in his arms for a moment.

"You owe me, Hamilton," she whispered lowly in his ear, causing him to chuckle deeply.

"Anything you want, sweetheart."

"Good answer."

The Austrian Grand Prix had not been kind to Lewis. After starting from the top five, he ended up finishing in eighth place. As a result, his mood soured for the remainder of the race weekend. He was on edge and moody, which was evident in how he treated Jessy during their sexual encounter. He was rough with her, but not enough to completely upset her, although she couldn't help but remember how hard he pulled her hair from behind and the marks left on her ass.

Lewis needed an outlet for all the pent-up emotions from the past weekend and sex was his vice. They were similar in this aspect of using physical intimacy as a form of therapy for their mental state. However, how long could this temporary solution sustain them?

The races seemed to blur together for Lewis and Jessy as one weekend ended and another began. Silverstone held a special significance for Lewis, being his home race. The pressure to perform well in front of his home crowd was always immense, but this year it felt even more intense. The media attention was overwhelming, causing chaos wherever they went. This year's Silverstone event was the most crowded with journalists and fans yet, and while she didn't want to take credit for it, it was hard to ignore the correlation with her relationship with Lewis. Everywhere she went, cameras and reporters followed, making her feel like she had lost any sense of privacy she once had.

But instead of letting it get to her, Jessy saw an opportunity to use the situation to her advantage. Her publicist assured her that if she played her cards right, this could be a major success for her swimwear brand, Silver Doe. Unlike Lewis' previous "arm candy," Jessy had a strategic mind and knew how to navigate the game of fame.

Her main focus during the Silverstone weekend was promoting Silver Doe and securing the bag. Thanks to her relationship with Lewis, the brand received more attention, but it also came with its own set of challenges. Trying to balance her brand, dealing with Lewis and Xavier, and handling intrusive media had taken a toll on Jessy. But in moments like these, she found comfort in Lewis' arms and their sexual compatibility, which was all she desired at that moment. She prided herself on hiding her emotions, a necessary skill for someone in her line of work, but couldn't deny the pleasure she felt with Lewis.

Gone were her concerns about Silver Doe's success, the media's intrusion, and her overbearing mother. Even thoughts of Xavier were pushed to the back of her mind. In that moment, all she could focus on was Lewis and the contentment he brought her. She knew it was only a temporary escape from her troubles, but she allowed herself to bask in the happiness of being with him without any external distractions or responsibilities pulling them apart.

Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, lost in the euphoria of their connection. Their hearts raced in tune with each other, their breaths synchronizing into a soft, steady rhythm. The room was still filled with the scent of their lovemaking, a mix of sweat and desperation, mingling with the comforting aroma of their skin. It was a scent that was as unique to them as their fingerprints, a scent that was intoxicating, alluring, and completely irresistible.

Jessy couldn't help but marvel at the way Lewis's body felt against hers, tracing the contours of his muscles as he slept. She sat up in the bed, pulling the sheets up to cover her naked form. Her eyes drifted over to Lewis, still peacefully sleeping next to her. For a moment, she allowed herself to just watch him without any distractions or worries. He looked so peaceful when he slept, free from the stresses of their complicated lives.

Before long, Lewis stirred awake.

"Hey," she whispered as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Hey," he replied with a sleepy smile.

"I hate to do this, but I need to handle some stuff for my swimwear," Jessy said apologetically.

Lewis groaned and rolled over onto his back, stretching out his arms above his head. Jessy couldn't help but admire the view.

"What time is it anyway?" Lewis asked as he rubbed his eyes.

"It's almost 9:00," Jessy replied, checking her phone for confirmation.

"Wow," Lewis exclaimed as he sat up in bed. "I must have really worn your arse out last night."

Jessy playfully rolled her eyes at his smug tone. "I have a lot to do today, so I should probably get started on answering these emails."

"Can't you just stay a little longer?" Lewis pouted, pulling her back into bed.

"I wish I could, but I have a Zoom meeting with my team in an hour and then I have to approve photos from last week's shoot," Jessy explained, trying to free herself from his grasp.

Lewis' hold tightened. "You look stressed, Jessy, are you sure I can't help? One little quickie won't hurt."

"A quickie?" scoffed Jessy. "I don't think you can be quick."

"I just need one more fix before I start heading off to interviews."

Jessy could feel the stress gnawing at him and she knew that he needed additional release before facing the media frenzy of press day at Silverstone.

"Fine," she conceded, leaning over to plant a kiss on his lips.

Lewis felt a wave of relief wash over him as he allowed himself to succumb to the comforting warmth of Jessy's body once again. Her touch was like magic, soothing all of his anxieties and filling his mind with only one thought: her.

As they began to kiss, their passion grew even more intense than before. It was as if they were two magnets, inexorably drawn to each other, their energies fusing in a way that was both exhilarating and breathtaking.

The knock at the door startled both Lewis and Jessy out of their passionate embrace. They reluctantly pulled away from each other, their bodies still buzzing with the remnants of desire.

"Who could that be?" Jessy asked.

"I'll go check," Lewis said. He lets out a sigh as he gets up from the bed, quickly wrapping a towel around his body before answering it. When he opens the door, he sees Kristin, his trainer, standing there with his beloved bulldog Roscoe cradled in her arms.

"Looks like you're here early," he exclaims happily, moving to the side to let Roscoe enter the motorhome.

"I know," Kristin responds with a smile. "Traffic wasn't too bad today. I have a call to handle, but I wanted to drop off Roscoe first. Let me know if you guys need anything else."

"Thanks," Lewis replies, waving goodbye as she leaves. Closing the door behind him, he turns to Roscoe, squatting down to give him some love and attention. "Hey there old boy, how are you doing? You're looking good, huh? Yeah."

Roscoe's tail wagged eagerly as Lewis stroked his fur, overjoyed to have his human companion back. He nuzzled against Lewis' hand, expressing his love and excitement. Jessy entered the room and observed with interest as Lewis played with his beloved dog. Eventually, he looked up and their eyes met, a fond smile stretching across Lewis' face as he took in Jessy's presence.

"Come over so I can introduce you," said Lewis and Jessy sauntered over slowly. She grew up with dogs at home, but she didn't want to make any sudden movements that may scare him.

"Roscoe, this is Jessy, my friend," Lewis introduces the two. "She'll be with us during Silverstone."

"Hello, Roscoe," she greets, her eyes lit up with warmth. The dog barked at her in response, his tail continuing to wag rapidly.

Lewis chuckled at the interaction between them. "Looks like he already likes you," he said.

Jessy reached out to pet Roscoe's head gently and he nuzzled her hand affectionately. "He's so sweet," she remarked, scratching behind his ear.

"Yeah," replied Lewis fondly. "He's been my companion through everything - the ups and downs of racing, traveling around the world...he's always there for me."

"I'm glad I have the chance to meet him," Jessy said with a smile.

"I figured you would," Lewis replied. "You'll definitely see him a lot while traveling with me."

"You say that, but I never gave you a definite answer," Jessy reminded him.

Lewis grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "We'll see."

Not the result that they wanted coming out of Silverstone with P3, but Lewis was nonetheless happy to get a podium and to see his family supporting him. For this, Jessy steered clear of bumping into Lewis' family, but she was also proud of his accomplishment. He had a small break before the next set of races and Lewis decided to take advantage of their brief respite and whisked Jessy away to the beautiful, sun-soaked shores of Ibiza. It was a place that Lewis cherished, having spent many a night on the island partying with friends, enjoying the balmy nights, and the vibrant energy that the island had to offer.

The yacht slowly cruised along the Mediterranean Sea, the sun shining bright in the cloudless sky. Jessy stood at the edge of the boat, her hair whipping around her face as she took in the breathtaking scenery. Everywhere she looked, there was liveliness and vitality: from the crashing waves to the rustling palm trees, and even the distant music that seemed to pulse with life itself.

"This is amazing," she exclaimed to Lewis as he joined her at the railing.

"I'm glad you like it," he replied with a smile. "I love coming here whenever I have some time off."

"It's so peaceful," Jessy mused, taking a deep breath of the salty air.

"Until we get back on track next week," Lewis added with a wink.

Jessy laughed, enjoying his playful demeanor. It was refreshing to see this side of him, away from the intense racing atmosphere.

As they sailed along, they were joined by director Baz Luhrmann and his wife Catherine Martin, as well as actress Eiza Gonzalez. Jessy couldn't help but feel starstruck; she had always been a fan of Luhrmann's films and she also recognized Gonzalez from her role in a popular TV series.

"Welcome aboard!" greeted Luhrmann, "Lewis has told me so much about you."

The director's smile was like a ray of sunshine, warm and inviting as he welcomed them onto his yacht.

"It's great to finally meet you all," Jessy replied.

"We're just glad Lewis finally brought someone interesting along with him," joked Gonzalez.

Lewis scoffed mockingly. "Come on now, that's not true," he countered. "I've brought plenty of interesting people to your attention before."

The day was spent lounging on the deck, enjoying each other's company, and basking in the warm sun. Wearing her swimsuit, Jessy and the group would occasionally take a plunge into the crystal-clear water to enjoy the refreshing ocean. Dinner was an extravagant affair, with delicious food and drinks prepared by a private chef. Luhrmann discussed his upcoming projects while Gonzalez shared anecdotes from her recent film shoot. Jessy took it all in, feeling grateful to be surrounded by such talented individuals.

The night continued with more merriment and lively conversations. As midnight approached, Jessy could barely keep her eyes open.

"What a fantastic day," she said with a yawn.

"I couldn't agree more," replied Baz, "but we should probably turn in for the night."

With reluctant goodbyes, the group dispersed and Jessy and Lewis made their way back to their cabin on the yacht, laughing and reminiscing about the day's adventures. It had been a long but magical day, filled with new experiences and unforgettable moments. As they entered their designated space, they both shed their clothing and headed to the en suite to shower off the night's festivities.

The warm water cascaded down Jessy's body as she stood under the shower head, her mind still buzzing with the events of the day. She could hardly believe that she had spent the day sailing on a luxurious yacht with some of Hollywood's biggest names. It was a dream come true.

As Lewis joined her in the shower, their bodies pressed against each other. His hands immediately found her breasts, rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger until it hardened into tightened buds. He began to explore further down her body, his fingers tracing circles on her stomach before moving lower. She gasped as he brushed against her most intimate area, sending shivers through her body.

"Fuck, Jessy," Lewis whispered huskily in her ear, "you have no idea how bad I want you right now."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through Jessy's body, heightening the sensations she was feeling. She turned to face him, their eyes locking in an intense gaze as they both gave into their desires.

Their lips met in a fiery kiss as Lewis pushed her against the shower wall. Jessy could feel Lewis growing harder against her, the evidence of his arousal pressing against her stomach. She ran her hands down his back, feeling every ripple of muscle beneath his skin. Without breaking their kiss, he reached down to lift her leg and wrapped it around his waist, allowing him better access to her.

With a moan, Jessy broke the kiss and leaned back against the shower wall, giving Lewis full control. He took advantage of the position and began to explore every inch of her body with his mouth, trailing hot kisses from her neck down to her breasts.

Her breathing quickened as he took one hardened nipple into his mouth. Jessy felt like she was on fire, every touch sending waves of pleasure through her body. She couldn't remember ever feeling this consumed by desire before.

Lewis continued his exploration, mapping out every curve and dip of Jessy's body with his lips and tongue. His hands roamed freely, gripping her hips and pulling her closer to him. He kissed her passionately as he positioned himself between her legs, teasingly rubbing himself against her entrance. Jessy whimpered in frustration, wanting him inside of her so badly.

"Please," she begged.

"Please what, baby? Tell Sir what you want."

"Please fuck me, Sir."

Without another word, Lewis entered her in one swift motion, filling her completely. They both moaned at the sensation, losing themselves in each other, consumed by a desire that had been simmering all day. Every nerve in her body was alive, sending waves of pleasure through her as Lewis thrust into her with an intensity that took her breath away.

Jessy gasped as Lewis hit a particularly sensitive spot inside of her, causing a surge of pleasure to course through her body. She clung to him tightly, wrapping her legs around his waist and digging her nails into his back. Their moans and cries filled the steamy shower as they moved together in perfect rhythm.

Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through her body, driving her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel herself getting close, her walls tightening around him as she climbed higher towards ecstasy.

Sensing her impending release, Lewis slowed his pace slightly, wanting to prolong their moment of intimacy. He leaned down to capture her lips in a searing kiss, deepening the connection between them.

"Fuck, baby, just like that," she moaned into his mouth as he gripped her hips tightly and gave her long, shallow thrusts.

Jessy's legs began to shake as she drew closer to the edge. Sensing her impending release, Lewis stopped his movements and pulled out of her completely.

"What are you doing?" Jessy pouted, feeling frustrated at being denied her release.

"Patience, baby," Lewis said with a smirk as he turned off the shower and stepped out of the stall. He grabbed a towel and quickly dried himself off before wrapping it around his waist.

Jessy watched him with hungry eyes as he walked over to the sink and grabbed a small bottle of oil from the cabinet. He poured some onto his hands and rubbed them together before turning back to face her.

He motioned for Jessy to step out of the shower and she complied eagerly. As soon as she was standing next to him, Lewis pushed her up against the bathroom counter and spread her legs apart with one hand while using the other to apply oil to her sensitive folds.

Jessy gasped at the sensation, but was too lost in pleasure to complain. She gripped onto the counter for support as Lewis massaged her clit with skilled fingers while gently rubbing oil over her entrance.

"Oh god," she moaned as she felt herself getting closer and closer to orgasm once again.

Just before she could reach her peak, Lewis pulled his hand away causing Jessy to groan in frustration.

"Not yet," he said softly as he lifted one finger coated in oil up to Jessy's lips. "Clean me."

Jessy eagerly sucked on his finger, tasting herself mixed with the sweet oil. She could feel her arousal growing even more as Lewis watched her with dark, hungry eyes. "Turn around," he commanded, his voice low and husky.

Jessy eagerly complied, bracing herself against the counter as she felt him press his body against hers from behind. She could feel his hard length pressing against her lower back.

He trailed kisses down her neck and back.

"God, you're so beautiful," he whispered against her ear before biting down on her lobe gently.

Jessy moaned loudly at the feeling, arching her back and grinding herself against him. She wanted him inside of her again, to feel that delicious tension building between them once more.

But Lewis had other plans. He continued to tease and torment her with soft touches and hot kisses until Jessy was practically begging for release.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, Lewis grabbed onto Jessy's hips and pulled them back towards him as he thrust into her from behind. Jessy cried out in pleasure as she felt him fill her completely once again.

Their movements were frantic and desperate now as they both reached towards their peak. Jessy gripped onto the edge of the counter for support as Lewis pounded into her with increasing intensity. Feeling himself getting closer to the edge as well, Lewis reached around Jessy's body and began rubbing circles over her clit with his thumb. The added stimulation sent Jessy over the edge and she screamed out his name. They both came together in a powerful release that left them both breathless and spent.

Lewis leaned his forehead against Jessy's shoulder as they both tried to catch their breaths. After a few moments, he turned Jessy around to face him and pulled her into a deep kiss.

They stood there for what felt like hours, just holding each other close in the steamy bathroom. Eventually, they pulled away from each other and headed to bed, snuggling under the covers as they basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Jessy stirred in bed, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows and warming her skin. She turned to see Lewis smiling down at her sleepily.

"Good morning," he said, his voice husky from sleep.

"Good morning," Jessy replied with a smile. "How did you sleep?"

"I slept like a rock," Lewis chuckled as he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

"Do you…do you have a thing for doggy style or something? You seemed pretty insistent on it," Jessy asked with a hint of humor in her tone.

Lewis gave her a smirk. "It's one of my favorite positions. But I'm open to trying new things if you have any suggestions," he said with a wink.

Jessy's cheeks warmed and playfully smacked his chest. "You're insatiable."

"I can't help it, you drive me crazy," Lewis replied.

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, but their moment was interrupted by the buzzing of Jessy's phone on the nightstand. They reluctantly pulled away and Lewis lazily extended his arm to grab it.

"Give me the phone, Lewis!" she chuckled as she playfully tried to take it from him.

"No way, I wanna see who's texting you so early—" Lewis trailed off as he read the text message from someone asking Jessy out on a date. "Who the fuck is this nigga? And why is he hitting you up for a date?"

Jessy's heart dropped as she saw the name on her phone. She had been hoping to avoid this conversation with Lewis for as long as possible, but now it seemed inevitable.

"Xavier is just a friend," she said, trying to keep her tone even.

"Just friends? And yet he's texting you at six in the morning asking for a date?" Lewis scoffed. "I don't buy it."

Jessy took a deep breath before answering. "I don't know why you're acting so possessive, Lewis. We're not together. You don't think that I don't know that you're out there flirting with other girls? I'm not dumb, so don't try to play like we're doing nothing more than satisfying each other's needs."

Jessy's words stung Lewis like a sharp knife. He knew he didn't have any right to be possessive or jealous, especially since they weren't even officially together. But the thought of Jessy going out on a date with someone else made his blood boil.

"I don't give a fuck 'bout them, Jessy," Lewis seethed. "Why do you even need other guys when you have me? Text him back and tell him no. He can't have you."

Jessy spoke with fire in her voice. "Who do you think you are?" she challenged. "I don't belong to you. I'm not in a relationship and I have the right to make my own decisions."

Jessy got up from the bed and slammed the bathroom door behind her, feeling frustrated and angry. She couldn't believe Lewis's possessiveness and jealousy. They had made it clear from the beginning that their relationship was purely physical, with no strings attached. So why was he acting like this?

She splashed cold water on her face, trying to calm herself down. Jessy looked at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath.

But she couldn't shake off the words Lewis had said. "He can't have you."

It felt like a threat, and if Lewis thought he could control who she chose to be with, he was mistaken.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

#emjayewrites #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x black!reader #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #the fast lane #lewis hamilton x black!oc #lewis hamilton x black character #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #formula one x oc #formula one fanfiction

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ss-skyearn · 1 year

Text

Sugar Rush

PAIRINGS : Choi Yeonjun x fem!reader

WORD COUNT : 7.8k

GENRE : Angst, Smut, Fluff

WARNINGS/CONTENT : Fantasy au, multiple pov (yeonjun+reader), profanity (mild cursing), yearning, mutual pining (?), any more warnings and the storyline will be spoiled; it'll unravel as you go along. ♡

A/N : First time writing for TXT, so I guess this is my debut into moablr. Happy late Valentine's, lovelies. ♡

Just why are you the manifestation of temptation? Why does he desire you so? When he's never had you before…

Or has he?

Plush.

That's the only way you can describe this. This sensation.

Euphoria.

That's the only word for you to chronicle this. This feeling.

Elation of the unadulterated kind.

Ecstasy of the bonafide variety.

It's a feeling of fullness, of satisfaction, of gratification.

And all of that accomplished, merely by his presence. You can feel it. The heavy exhale of breathe right at the shell of your ear, the slow drag of his fingers along your curves, explorative, accustomed. Like he's done it a million times prior, like he's never done it before. Unlearning. Mastering.

"Play with me, sugar." A sultry whisper, a request, a promise.

It sends a tingle down your spine, back arching, body aching for more. Yet you force your eyes open, trying to make sense of anything that's not him. Given your state, it's not so easy a task.

Yet as your vision clears, you make out a black and amber sweater, the zipper down as far as it'll go, a plane of smooth skin on display. Looking over his shoulder, all you see is a whirlpool of colours. All kinds, vibrant persimmons, holographic blues, iridescent lilac, swirling and blending, converging together somewhere behind him.

It's hypnotic, looking at the whirlwind of hues, but even moreso, his voice.

"You're addictive." Silky smooth, dripping honey.

You zoom in your eyes on him, trying to recognize his features, his eyes, anything really, to know who he is. But all you see is blur, a pixelated mosaic at best.

You can make out everything in perfect clarity, everything except his face. The expanse of pigmented background, the countless variegated butterflies flying about.

Your eyes land on a magenta one, and it flies its way to come rest right on the convex bulge of his clavicle. But just as it makes contact with his creamy skin, it promptly disintegrates, disappearing with a puff, dusting his collars with even more sparkles.

You don't know where it comes from, this urge to lean forward and lick the glitter studs off his skin, but you make good on that impulse nonetheless, slowly dragging your tongue over his collar bone, savouring the taste of him.

He hums out in satisfaction, slender fingers tangling in your hair, not trying to move you around, just holding, feeling.

"Just like that."

You moan against his skin, trying to make out what he tastes like. You've had it before, this flavour of lust. Your tastebuds tell you as much. But you can't remember where.

Where have you tasted this before?

What is this taste, this flavour?

You move to his other beauty bone, and just as you know you're close to finding out what it is, you're shaken awake by a cool tinge on your neck.

Your eyes slowly fan open, and it takes a moment for you to blink through the tears staining your cheeks.

When had you started crying?

What the hell was that dream?

More importantly, where the fuck are you?

Suddenly wide awake, you snap your head around, looking at your surroundings. Grass and greenery abound, you're positively lost.

You remember being on the cruise a while back, but the vast stretch of water in front of you certainly doesn't look like the lido deck you were soaking in mere moments ago.

Were you thrown off the ship or something? As crazy as it sounds, that's the only possible explanation you can think of. But one body scan later, you conclude that couldn't have been the case. You see no surface injury, no indication of anything painful going down. You try standing up, expecting to at least wince a little after having been laying down on the sand in an uncomfortable position.

But nothing. Nothing at all.

One more full body scan and you find traces of dried up blood on your calves, still no sign of any wound.

Is this someone else's blood? But there's no living thing in sight for as far as you can see.

All you see is the vast ocean and the sand, extending as far as your line of sight goes, a row of bushes separating this piece of land from what lies beyond.

There's something eerily nostalgic about this place. It's evident in the way you know the trees are mulberry even before you catch the sweet waft of the ripe berries in the air that breezes past you, in the way you're sure the chameleon resting on the rock near the water will change colour once you touch it.

Intuition has always proven to be on your side, yet for the first time, you find reason to doubt it. So you take the few steps towards the reptile, extending your palm slowly so as to not scare it away. It hops on to your awaiting hand all too eagerly, much to your pleasant surprise. And true to form, the simplest of touches turns the dusky beige of its scaled skin to a wine shade of purple in a matter of seconds.

Your intuition was right.

But you feel no better, feel no sense of security at having confirmed the reliability of your sixth sense. Quite on the contrary, it's unsettling.

You know this place, have been here sometime ago, that's for sure, but have no recollection of it. Indeed, the sea is something you avoid being in the vicinity of at all costs, the water never failing to instil a sense of dread deep within you. It had taken a lot of cajoling- and bribery- on Taylor's part to even get you on the cruise, under the disguise of emotional blackmail.

"It's my Bachelorette."

"Can't you do this much for me?"

"You know it's been my dream since Love Island."

"Just don't go out on the deck and you won't even know you're on water, it'll be like living in a resort."

Endless arguments made, it was only a matter of time before you caved, the joyous squeal she let out more than worth the trouble you knew you would face when the time finally came to climb aboard. A small price to pay for her happiness, you thought back then. If only you knew how it would come back to bite you in the ass.

After pondering over it for a long while, you decide to see it for yourself, just what is it past the shrubs, what is this magnetic pull you're being dealt with.

Curiosity killed the cat, sure, but standing here, near the water in the mid winter freeze isn't doing you any favours, either.

So you move, seeking the gravity of the tug you're experiencing, like the sailor edges nearer to a siren, even with the smell of his demise prominent from kilometres away.

Only, it's not so much a demise that you're smelling. It's something entirely different.

Something mysterious. Something dangerous. Something delicious.

Something you're willing to risk it all for.

Sweet.

That's the only way he can describe this. This taste.

Arousing.

That's the only word for him to chronicle this. This sensation.

Titillating in every sense of the word.

Galvanising in a way he hasn't known before.

It's a sense of security, of safety, of reprieve.

And all of that accomplished, by your mere existence. He can feel your legs trapping his waist, body pressed against his. You slowly drag the zip on his sweater down, eyes fixated on every tract of skin you uncover.

"Come a little closer." Your voice is sweet, much like everything else about you.

His body moves before his mind does, coming impossibly close, the water sloshing about around the two of you.

"Let me help you now." Anaesthetic, that's what your voice is to him.

"Mm?"

You huff out a laugh, clearly knowing the effect you have on him, the power you hold.

Even if you didn't know, he'd never fail to let you know of it himself. How you have him wrapped around your finger, all yours to have.

He doesn't know why he feels the way he does. For all he knows, is that you're a haze. It's not that you're not real, far from it. He can feel your presence in every single one of his neurons, your touch setting his skin on fire, your breath claiming the attention of every one of his muscles.

But even so, he can't see your face, no matter how he squints, wills his head to stop spinning with want.

Your laugh is what breaks him from his reverie, and he gives up trying to figure out just who you are. For now.

"You just made me feel good, didn't you? My turn now."

As if on cue, his taste buds pulsate and almost suddenly, his mouth is filled with a sweetness he tasted moments prior. A sweetness he's never had before, but simultaneously experienced all the time.

He swirls his tongue around, trying to make sense of this absurd taste.

What is it?

Seemingly having noticed what he's upto, you break out into yet another laugh,

"It's okay, darling. You'll get more of me."

His face blooms red, shyness washing over him at having been caught tasting the remnants of you in his mouth. He lets out a squeak, burying his face in the crook of your neck, arms tightening around you.

You chuckle, "Now now," lacing your fingers with his and giving a squeeze. Your way of letting him know it's okay, that he doesn't need to hide, doesn't have reason to fret. He's safe with you. Secure. Free to be vulnerable, to let his boundaries down.

How he knows all of that from a simple squeeze of his hand, he doesn't know. The same way he doesn't know who you are, and why he trusts you with his life.

All he knows is that he does.

And that he doesn't question it. Not when it feels so right.

A sharp pang of gut wrenching pain that he knows all too well is what jolts him awake, stirs him from yet another one of his dreams. Of visions of a being so beautiful, he's never known the likes of. Of a flavour so sweet, he'd die- time and again- for a taste.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to calm down the thumping of his heart, the one he can hear all the way up to his ears.

That's when he feels the streams marked on his cheeks, down all the way to his neck.

This is a first.

He's dreamt of her before. He's tasted her in his dreams before.

But never has he cried like this. Never has his heart ached this much.

He swears he was able to taste it this time. This time, he promised himself that he'll remember it. But just like all the other times, it fizzled from his palate the moment he woke up.

It's frustrating, to say the least. He feels denied, deprived of what he deserves.

Soobin won't shut up about craving his lemon sherbet all day. Taehyun won't stop raving about how it's the best sorbet he's ever had the pleasure of tasting.

Beomgyu, Huening; they've all had their share of flavour a billion times over by now.

So why? Why is it that he's the only one that's left behind?

Why is it only him that doesn't know what his person tastes like?

"Good things take time." Is what Mrs. Yeon says. What she's been saying for years now.

But what does she know? Sure, she might be the community elder, the one to have the most wisdom when it comes to anything of the matter. But she's not the one yearning for someone who never comes, wishing upon every fallen star for someone who never shows up, aching for a taste that's not found in anything he tries.

And God, has he tried. The flavour lingers for a little while every time he wakes up, before it disappears from his memory. He's tried committing it to memory, finding it in anything and everything.

Perennials. Botanicals. Herbs. Drugs.

Grapevine is the only thing that comes the closest, but that's honestly downplaying it. It's near insulting to call her taste similar to a mere grapevine but it's a beginning, he supposes.

He almost fell face first into a chronic one-way paralysis trying to make up a concoction by infusing fernflowers with grapevine in an attempt to replicate her flavour.

He's been banned from the Aesculapian Estate ever since, barred from anything relating even remotely to phytomedicine.

But really, is he one to be blamed? He's desperate, rightfully so. Needy in a way he's never been.

Natives call him crazy, fixated, but at the end of the day, they aren't the ones wanting something they can't have. Wanting something they deserve, something their mothers' bedtime stories promised they'd have, something the community elders never failed to mention they would be rewarded with when the time comes.

It's unfair.

It's been years since he came of age. Years since he's been denied his mate. Years and years since he's been seeing everyone around him being paired up and skipping along merrily.

So, why him?

As he lies there, nestled among the outstretched net of tangled roots emerging from the trunk of the Bristlecone Pine tree, he feels it.

Again.

Reluctantly, he gets up and runs to the nearby pond. Aligning himself into the familiar position, hunched over, hands on the edge, he waits for what's to come.

It's violent this time around, the way his stomach squeezes, body convulsing, the breath being knocked out from his lungs.

Retching hasn't ever been something he objectively likes to partake in, but this is excruciating. As painful as it is everytime, it's never this bad. It feels like liquifying all the soft organs he has, coming out in the form of the pink, shining sludge he's seen one too many times before.

After what feels like forever, and for all he knows might as well have been, it stops, the temporary reprieve much welcome. And temporary it is, he knows it to be.

It's what, the sixth time today?

Two is the average, maybe three if the universe is feeling particularly cruel that day, but this is out of the ordinary, even for the level of brutality he's subject to on the daily.

Returning to the previous position against the trunk, he finds a semblance of normality, chest heaving a little slowly, head pounding a little less loudly.

For a reason unknown, the proximity of the evergreens has always had a calming effect on him, being the closest thing to a natural sedative.

He slumps back into the position he was in initially, the drag of bark against his back a welcome comfort, puts an arm over his closed eyes, attempting to even out his breathing.

He's not sure how much more of this he can take.

The further you go, the stronger the pull gets.

It's starting to get dark now and the range of bushes you crossed hours ago is nowhere in sight, lost somewhere in the late evening fog that's beginning to coat the air surrounding you, lacing it with a heaviness, making it a little difficult to breath.

Yet you move in a daze, empowered by this urge, that there's something, someone you're seeking.

You don't know what, or who, just that it's here, somewhere.

A faint whistling catches your attention, coming from somewhere towards the east. Its a sonic you've heard before, a note all too acquainted. It's calming and unnerving at the same time, and you're not particularly fond of the way it fails even your second sight, for you, once again, are doubtful of what is it exactly that's transpiring, every second you venture further into these forsaken woods setting off new alarms within you.

So, much like what you've been doing until now, you follow the unsaid attraction and move towards the sound.

You spot a curtain of string leaves hanging down between two thick tree trunks, violet beams of light peeking through them. Fireflies are buzzing and glowing all around them, seemingly attracted to the luminescence, the night properly pitch dark by now.

You trudge forward, reaching for the leaf garland and drawing it aside and a gasp leaves your lips.

The view you witness is something that puts any fantasy you could ever have to shame.

It's violet all over, everywhere you look. Violet leaves, indigo trunks, prop roots hanging off branches, touching the ground covered with equally purple sand. Thick roots emerge from the tree bases, entwining and curling together, forming a spiderweb on the forest floor. Some leaves shed from their petioles, swirling in the air, filling it with a flowery aroma, twirling and landing on the river. The water has a translucent lavender tinge to it too, moving in small eddies, echoing a gentle hum in the quiet of the night.

That's when you spot it, spot them, someone in the water, submerged save for the head that peakes out. Only the back of the long locks of hair is visible to you, but something within you tightens, and in the same daze, you approach the silhouette without thinking twice about it.

As he hears the sound of the slowly approaching footsteps, he sighs audibly, closing his eyes, getting ready for the blow to land. This is the time of the night when Boemgyu loves to come to him with his stories. Stories of how there's nothing better he's tasted, how much he wishes Yeonjun could have it too.

He knows he comes from a good place, he really does. But listening to him for hours on end, about something that he can't understand, is painful to put it mildly.

But it's through these conversations that he lives vicariously, the closest he gets to knowing what it would be like to finally get to have his mate, the one made just for him, and for whom he was made. It'd all sounded like a fluke the first he heard of it, like the stuff from fairytales; had he not witnessed it firsthand, seen with his very own eyes, he'd still refuse to believe it. He'd been better off not knowing, in all honesty. Sometimes peace of mind comes from being none the wiser, and if this is not the best instance he could apply that faith to, he doesn't know what is.

But the younger native he considers his brother doesn't let him forget it, makes it a point to remind him everyday without fail.

So really, it's a vicious requisite. A masochistic desire.

It hurts him to hear, but is the only salvage he gets to have for now. For however long into the future, until he's shown some mercy.

Even so, as the sound of the footsteps grows, the familiar nausea returns, the bile gurgling up his throat for the seventh time this day, rendering hours of water therapy useless.

He's suddenly on edge.

"Leave me alone, Gyu. I don't want to hear it."

Might be harsh, but he doesn't have it in him to be tactical with his words right now. With how things have been today, he's long given up on being pleasant. That can always wait for another day.

The stomps stop, but don't retreat.

"Leave." He sighs.

Boemgyu knows when not to push him, he knows when to press and when to leave, so the lingering doesn't make any sense. The sheer frustration in his tone would have been reason enough for him to realise that leaving him to his devices was for the best, the best for both of them, and for the tranquillity that envelopes the night. For Yeonjun when mad, is a sight vexatious. He isn't proud of it, but anger control has never been his forte, and considering all the times his anger issues have done him and his community good, he doesn't plan on fixing that aspect of him anytime soon. Sure, it might make him an unpleasant person for many, but it's his shield when needed, his unforgiving armour when other senses fail to be of moment. Beomgyu knows of this, so the stalling about is so unlike him.

Annoyed, he emerges out of the water, whipping around,

"Didn't you hea-"

And promptly stops dead in his tracks.

Gorgeous.

That's the first word that comes to mind.

He's gorgeous.

As you stand there, staring at what you would imagine an angel to look like, your heart thuds the fastest it ever has. A tinge runs down your spine, a feeling akin to a sugar rush coursing through your veins.

Standing in the water, invisible from the waist down, he's the most ethereal being you've ever laid eyes upon.

His jade black hair is wet, crimped and sticking to his forehead, some stray strands getting in his eyes, heavy water drops cascading down his sharp cheekbones, even sharper jawline. So soft, so silken looking.

It's weird how you know the way they would tickle against your inner thighs.

His heart-shaped lips, full and pouty, shining, dripping water. So wet, so inviting.

It's funny how you know what the plump texture would feel against your own.

His flexed biceps, lean and long, skin a fair butter tone. So smooth, so unmarked.

It's uncanny how you know what they would feel like underneath your fingertips.

You've been there, with him. He's been here, with you. Yet it feels as though it were a time no longer valid, or perhaps a time that never was.

He's beauty personified, and you are unwilling to tear your haze away for even a second. He seems to be of a similar mind, for he's been standing there, completely still and gawking up at you, unblinking. His irises restless in their orbits, the way they run in small circles within his pupils is testimony enough to the miles a minute nature of his racing mind.

Then suddenly he frowns, turning about completely, and begins making his way through the splashes, walking towards the shore. And as the water level goes down inch by slow inch, revealing more of his torso, you're a goner.

Body slim yet toned, lean muscles accentuating his morphology at just the right places, his beauty encompasses even itself as he reveals more of himself from under the water. He wears nothing but a thin vest, a poor excuse for clothing, shrinked even more due to being wet, sticking to his sides, honey skin out for you to marvel at. Well technically, not for you to marvel at, but you're going to indulge all the same. He's completely out now, swinging long limbs over the edge of the shore, bending a little, a silver spiked garland necklace clinking and bouncing against his chest. And oh, that chest. Broad and smooth, a far cry from being muscular, but still well defined, clean cuts marking and outlining his pectorals, buds mercifully hidden under the sides of the vest.

The glint from the overshadowing moon catches on the sparkles adorning his body, making him twinkle against the dusk. The gleam only brightens as he comes closer, with you now realising that they embellish his neck too.

Would they come off if you licked them?

Shaking your head, you force your thoughts to come to a halt, their intrusive nature a surprise to your dazed state.

He's a stranger, and by the looks of it, not a normal one. Normal humans don't shine, don't have sparkled necks. No matter how much you feel like you know him, in the grand scheme of things, you don't.

He's standing before you now, soaked cloth clinging to his laterals, figure on display.

One look into his deep chestnut eyes, and the sugar-like rush is back again, albeit stronger this time around.

It's familiar, the way you want to drown in those pools of honey, the way you know the pattern of the golden flecks scattered in his orbs. The kind of knowingness that comes only from years of studying, admiring, loving.

It's well acquainted, the way his plush lips part, the silky tone of his voice,

"Sugar?"

The words are as hesitant as they are shocking, even to himself. It's evident from the way his forehead creases, pouty lips taking on a downward tilt. He's just as baffled as you are, if not more.

"Is that your name? Sugar?"

You meekly shake your head no, even though every impulse is forcing you to agree.

"Oh."

"But it feels like it."

"Oh."

It's deja vu. A familiarity. A recollection.

You know that's not your name. But what you also know is that it belongs to you, the feeling of connection near immediate within your being.

How else would you describe the way your body reacts? The way your ears perk up at the mention, your tongue ready to hum out an affirmative.

It's not your name. But it's meant to be yours.

There's a moment where you both just stare into the other's eyes, standing still, the fireflies flying about, enlightening his face at different angles, casting shadows in different gradients.

But all too soon is the haze broken, and he's averting his eyes, looking at everything but you.

You fight the urge to take his face in your palms and force it back towards you.

He's a stranger, you remind yourself, ignoring every instinct saying otherwise.

A clearing of throat is followed by a quiet question, "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, I don't- know."

That sounds sketchy, you're aware of it yourself, but you genuinely don't know. And for some reason, you can't lie to him, don't wish to.

He doesn't seem fazed, just hums. If you were of a more sane mind, you'd find it odd how that was the first question he wanted the answer to, skipping the essential who are you and how did you get here. No, the wording he used, what are you doing here, as if already aware that your arrival was by your own will and knowledge, something that was expected to happen. If so, he couldn't be more wrong.

You know it's not your place to ask questions, to demand any explanation, but the way your heart is brimming with emotion, this feeling that you know him, you can't help yourself,

"What are you?"

His head snaps to face you, those chestnut eyes boring into you with intensity. Not the good kind. He's tense all of a sudden, almost defensive.

"Something you're not." He snaps.

You're thrown off by the bite, but despite yourself, whisper,

"I beg to differ."

The frown deepens, his gaze near burning.

He arches a perfect brow in question and scoffs, "I'd be careful on the bluntness, little one. You're in my territory, with no knowledge of who I am, or what was it that you said? 'What' I am."

He's trying to intimidate you, back you up in a corner, to seem domineering, but you know him to be none of these things. Despite his razor sharp features and tough exterior, his warm eyes give him away. He can play pretend all he wants, but you can feel the gentleness rolling off of him, and perhaps it's on a spiritual level that you feel it, because there's no other way you would have known that he, in effect, poses no harm, however much may he play the part.

"Wouldn't be so sure of that."

Now he just seems amused, the earlier irritation sublimed. His eyebrows rise again in silent expectation, prompting an answer.

"I think- I think I kno-"

You cut yourself off before the thought is said out loud. You're not sure of his reaction, of what to expect, when in total honesty, your own response to the thought said out loud isn't predictable.

"I think I've seen you somewhere." You settle.

The playful expression drops, eyes almost whimsical for but a moment, before his face takes on the neutral stance you'd found him in.

It's baffling, how quickly he changes expressions, his features almost trained to follow suit. Yet you know of this habit of his to be borne out of the need to protect, to self preserve. You wonder what had to have happened for him to adopt an outlook such as this. If you didn't know any better, you'd simply label him a lunatic with no emotional control, but you do know better- the reason for which still unbeknownst to you- and all it does is make you want to shield him from all that is vile, the sudden urge to protect this Adonis of a man running rampant.

He inhales a deep breath, and you assume it's to possibly calm himself- God knows you need to. Rolling his shoulders until his joints pop, he shoves his hands into his cargo pockets, sighs,

"How can you get back hom-," A pause, "get back where you came from?"

Not entirely sure about the reason for the need he felt to correct himself, you once again let your subconscious do the talking,

"No idea. Guess I'm staying."

Leaving a dumbfounded stranger behind, you've no clue where you get the courage to stroll right past him and towards the lake, comfortably seating on the edge, your legs crossed underneath thighs. You cast a glance over your shoulder and sure enough, the bewildered expression is still very much present, maybe even augmented now.

"You gonna keep standing there?"

He blinks, a gesture oddly endearing on his stone cold shell, titling his head to the side, confusion clear as day.

In the short while you've spent with him today, you've already decoded half of his workings apparently, for he says nothing, quietly making his way over, settling down next to you, as far away as the narrow bank allows. This is the way to tame him, you've concluded. Be unsure and he'll take it upon himself to act condescending, be assertive and he'll act not too different to a puppy, following along as instructed. It all feels too natural, taking the lead with him, not being fooled by his sham.

"So," You begin, partly to break the silence that's uncharacteristically taken over him, but more so because it's been bugging you more than you ever could explain, "who's sugar?"

He cuts his eyes in your direction, the heat back in those orbs, and you've got a snide remark ready at the tip of your tongue, having already predicted a reaction such as this- really, he's too easy to read.

Or maybe you've been reading this genre of his longer than you believe, and this is the past experience coming back in waves.

Or, you're simply reading too much into it.

Nevertheless, just as predicted, he snarls,

"No one."

And just as quickly turns away, bringing knees up to his chest, tucking his chin over them.

He looks not unlike a hurt soul masking under the veil of an arrogant persona, and no matter the displeasure he expresses, you can't find it in yourself to find reason to believe the front he puts up, the urge to 'take care' the only inclination overpowering you.

The dismissal too abrupt to have been a result of a thought-over notion, you don't believe it. Not for a second.

But you suppose you'll let it go this time, if only in favour of your own inner turmoil.

Maybe he's feeling what you're feeling too.

The desire to let your guard down, to let this complete stranger in, said desire engaging in a constant contest against preservation instincts.

"Who are you, then?"

It's delibrate, the reframing to your question, and if the laxing of his face is any indication, he registers it too, appreciates it.

"Yeonjun." He breathes, still not looking at you.

You echo your name too, mulling over whether to extend a polite 'nice to meet you' or something of the sorts, but deciding against it, realising it might come off absurd, what with the nature of your conversations uptill now.

The head he had nestled on his knees snuggles further down, and it's either your ears playing tricks on you or you actually do hear a whimper.

"Hey, you okay?" A tentative arm hovers over his shoulder, and you wonder if he'd really mind the comfort you so badly want to offer. If the roles were reversed, you know you wouldn't.

"Fine." He rasps, voice hoarse, his guttural confirmation more alarming than reassuring.

"But you don-"

You don't get to finish the sentiment, as he's suddenly standing to his feet, making a run for the small pond sitting right by the lake. And what you witness is more than enough to have your blood running cold. It's something all too personal, the way he coughs up a saje coloured semiliquid, the way you can see the energy being drained from his person as he spasms violently.

Without second guessing this time around, you run to the pond yourself, crouch down just behind him, run a soothing hand across the expanse of his back. The halting of his shivering is almost immediate, and it only serves to spur your movements as you begin shallowly massaging the muscles.

He slouches back, covers a hand over his mouth, grumbles,

"Changed fucking colours. Cute."

And yet again, you know what he means.

"Used to be pink, huh?"

This seems to have grabbed his attention, as he slowly turns to look at you. You find it perplexing too, how he could have been going through what you have for longer than you can remember, the retching a part of your daily routine by now. There's something bigger at play here, something tying you and this stranger together, something beyond your simple hunch of familiarity.

And this time when you are met with his big, glassy eyes, you find something you didn't before, something you haven't in years.

Ardour. Sorrow. Oddly together.

Not only is the strange mix of emotions familiar, it's familiar in his hue of chestnut, his champagne orbs, the amalgamation untypically unique.

You've seen this look in these eyes. Irrespective of how miscostructive it sounds, you know you have. You'd swear your life on it.

He seems to have been struck with something similar, for the newfound warmth in his eyes- something you mentally blamed him for hiding- is basically overflowing, his guard visibly dropping.

His lips part, release nothing more than a gasp, waver, then seal back. He's hesitant, not wanting to say it out loud, but you hear it all the same. Hear the unsaid endearment, understand the implicit elucidation to his apprehension.

"Can you say it again?" Your voice is a whisper, afraid to shatter this stolen moment of intimacy.

"Say what again?"

"Say my name again?"

He breathes out your name, eyes averting, a blush adorning the apples of his cheeks.

"No. My name."

He's confused for all of a second before realisation dawns on him, cheekbones burning a deeper shade of crimson.

"You mean-?"

"Just say it."

"But- but you said it wasn't your name."

A sigh of exasperation and eye-squeeze of annoyance is all the incentive he needs it seems, for he's fulfilling your wish all too soon.

"Sugar."

And all too soon is your heart thumping in your ears, the same rush coursing through your veins.

Why your body chooses to react this way is beyond you, but it's intense enough to have a deeper connotation than a response to a mere nickname. It means something more.

You know it does.

Have known all this while.

He turns to look at you, and from this up close, the sparkles catching the moonlight once again, he shines brighter than any star, any constellation, any galaxy.

He's your star. Your constellation. Your galaxy.

Your own escape, your angel.

Wait.

Your eyes trail back to the curve of his shoulders, searching for something you know is missing.

He follows your line of sight. There's a split second where you see the panic in his eyes, which disappears when he looks over his shoulders. If he thinks he's safe, he couldn't be more wrong.

"Show me."

It's not a question. Not a demand either, just a soft request, one he can easily decline, but made with enough conviction that tells him there's no way he's getting out of this one with a lie.

So he just looks at you, eyes drooped in acceptance, a sombre expression on his face,

"How?"

You know what he means, but you don't have an answer for him.

"How do you know?" He reiterates.

"I just do."

"Who are you, really?"

You smile at that, for you know the frustration he feels. You feel it too.

The knowledge that you know him, but don't.

The understanding that you know he has wings, but not sure how.

The awareness that you want him, but have no right to.

"Show me, please?" You disregard his question entirely, and he knows as well as you that it's a pointless one anyway.

So he gingerly stands up, backing away from you a little. You thought you were prepared; you overestimated yourself.

A fluttering sound echoes through the silent forest, and amidst the dead of the night, you experience a sight all too enchanting.

The same whirlwind of colours, of shades blending together, the same kind you witnessed in your dreamland not too long ago, is presented before you. Manifesting in the most beautiful pair of wings. The Blue Morpho doesn't hold a candle in the face of such gorgeousness.

Your dream hadn't been a fluke, you saw him in it. You saw his wings, felt his lips.

Once again, your eyes glaze over, heart splitting in two at the view. He's standing there, with tears of his own and you know why.

As if in a trance, you get up and run off towards him, stopping only when you're inches away, panting, out of breathe. And not out of the exhaustion at having made the spree, really there wasn't more than a few metres between you and him. But the emotion has engulfed you, your breath practically belonging to him in this moment, entering your lungs upon his command and his command only.

Your eyes trace his wings, from the arch at the top to the downward droop at the bottom, eventually trailing to his face, and ultimately to his lips. Those full lips.

You step closer still, hands cautiously reaching for his shoulders, going on your tiptoes to whisper against his plump lips,

"I'm sorry, but I really have to do this."

Strong arms wrapping around your waist is all the consent you need and in the next moment you are lunging for him, taking his lips in an all consuming kiss, even after trying your best to hold back, if only to not freak him out. It's no use now, so you let go, let your body react the way it does, let your subconsciousness take the lead.

His mouth is indeed as addicting as you imagined it to be, knew it to be. Your hands make their way up his shoulders to his nape, where you brush his hair and true to form, they're just as soft as you imagined, as you knew.

He lets out a groan in your mouth, tilting his head more, deepening the kiss. He's licking into your mouth at this point, tongue swirling around, sucking the essence right out of you, drinking it in earnest. It's not a kiss, it's so much more than that. It feels like he's ravishing you, tasting you.

A sudden tickling in your back makes you shudder, a feeling akin to having an ice cube slide down your bare skin. Goosebumps break all over you, and the familiar fluttering sound permeates the air around you two.

You pull back to gasp, shaking your shoulder blades. His wings are still there, the same they had been before, so what in the world was that sound?

You look up at Yeonjun to find him not looking at you, his gaze fixated on something behind your shoulder. You turn your head back yourself, only to be met with a carbon copy of those angelic wings somehow attached to your back.

"Wha- How.. What is happening?"

Contrary to your panicked tone, he's calm, almost delighted. That claim is proven right when he suddenly breakes out into a wistful smile, the tears making their way down his waterline.

"I knew it." He ducks his head, resting it on your chest, hands refusing to let go of your sides.

"Yeonjun, what is going on? I'm getting scared now."

His head snaps up at that, hands finding your cheeks, cupping and cradling your face with gentle care.

"Don't be scared, sugar. You're here now. With me. You're finally here." He chokes out the last words, clearly overwhelmed.

You frown, but don't question him, deciding to be patient.

His thumbs brush against your skin, caressing back and forth,

"Don't you remember me?" He gently whispers.

There it is again, the same question, the same vague feeling. You known him but you'd don't.

"It's okay," He somehow senses what you're experiencing it seems, as he doesn't push it further, "it's okay. Let me help you remember, yeah?"

And with that he's closing the distance between your bodies again, lips moulding against yours, whisking you away in a trance like state once again.

This is it.

This is the taste he's been dying for, time and time again. And to think he already had it before, once upon a time.

It's not a sudden downpour of memories that rains down to him, but a slow sprinkle, a calm drizzling, the kind that comes before a thunder storm.

And then it's a torrent, a gush of water, drenching him whole, making him lose his footing. It makes him dizzy but he'll have it any fucking day if it means he gets to taste you again.

He remembers you, remembers the time when you belonged to him, and he you. The times you spent together, near this very spring, tasting each other for hours on end. The times that he has now come to know of as the most peaceful and fulfilled. He felt content, whole.

Before you were snatched away from him, a you-shaped gaping hole left in his heart. Every single one of the memories you made together wiped, yet the hole never closed, never healed.

He always felt something in his life was missing, a last puzzle piece to complete him, a last drop to fill his glass.

And now, with your wings outsretched behind you, the same ones as his, he has found that piece of puzzle, that drop of nectar.

You taste just as he imagined. Like grapevines with an undertone of fernflowers.

A grapevine left untouched for so long, harbouring yeast on the surface. All he has to do is crush his lips against yours, and the grapes burst open, outer skin tearing, juices squirting out, fermenting with the yeast to form the richest wine to ever grace his palate.

The fernflowers that bloom for a period too short, for him only, his very own summer solstice, being fertile just for him.**

He remembers. And you're here with him. At last.

The only thing that's left, is for you to recall as well. It's going to be no difficult fate.

As he reconnects your lips again, pulling you impossibly closer by your middle, his wings wrap around your bodies, and just like every other time in the past, yours do too. With both your appendages curling over and forming a cocoon around your forms, he feels the security all over again, the one he wanted to revel in forever.

Too bad no one told him forever doesn't last as long as one thinks, but now that he finally has you again, he doesn't plan on letting go anytime soon, if ever.

When he breaks the kiss, your own tears have made their way past your jaw, wet eyes twinkling, reflecting the moon in them. For him, they are the moon themselves.

He softly thumbs them away, smiling through his own tears,

"Welcome back, sugar."

You give him a wistful smile, his own sorrow reflecting on your features. An underlying hope buried somewhere deep within the pain.

"Missed you." You mumble, scrunching your nose in a sniffle. It's something you always did back then, and everytime it made him wonder how it was possible for someone to be so cute, so precious.

Winding his arms around your shoulders, he steps forward, slotting himself against you, his face in your neck.

"I missed you more. I fucking missed you so much."

Hot wet trails run down your neck and you lovingly ruffle his hair, remembering how it always soothed his anxiety.

He stays like that a while, hiccuping and reiterating his saudade for you. After his breath evens out, and tears dry up, he pulls back, looking deep in your eyes.

"You know me, right?"

You huff a little, endeared by his need for confirmation.

"I do. I do know you, darling."

Darling.

That's what you always called him. That's what he's been unknowingly wanting to hear all these years. That's what makes him feel complete again.

"Can I kiss you?" The question is frantic, his excitement leaking through the words.

You don't give him an answer, opting to push at his chest and jump up slightly, wrapping your legs around his lean waist. It's the same, the way you fit over him, legs slipping into the curve of his waist. He knows he'll fit into you in other ways, too.

He can't wait to complete you, to be your last piece of the puzzle.

You lean into him again, sliding your lips with his, the soft sounds of moisture all he hears. As if on autopilot, his legs move of their own accord, side stepping all the hurdles, all while kissing you with his eyes closed, with a practised ease. And when your back hits the same Bristlecone Pine tree trunk he spent all day slumped against, he remembers why this routine feels rehearsed. Because to put it simply, it is. It's something he's done countless times before, carrying the familiar weight of you to this very spot.

Once there, he presses his body into you, his want eminent in the way it digs you in the thigh, his hands kneading the flesh. He feels himself getting lost in the pleasure, a throaty groan escaping him,

"Give me more."

Part 1 | Part 2

Main Masterlist

[The follow-up smut drabble will be posted soon. Send an ask if you wish to be tagged when it drops.♡]

**The fern flower is a magic flower in Baltic, Estonian and Slavic mythology. According to the myth, this flower blooms for a very short time on the eve of the summer solstice, and represents fertility. This theme will be explored more in part two to this piece.

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yournameloveskpop · 4 months

Text

Cat Girl Chronicles 2

Paring: Hueningkai x Reader

Summery: Y/N is a half cat, half human hybrid who can transform into an actual cat. She is saved by hueningkai after being roughly played with by a group a kids. Out of shock and fear she is now stuck in her cat form and living with txt unable to transform back into a human and unsure how long she is stuck in that form for.

Style: SFW, Friendship, fluffy, soft, cute

word Count: 3,878

Y/N, in her feline form, was trying to enjoy a peaceful day until a group of boisterous children disrupted her solitude. They played with her, but their rough handling was more than she could bear. Meanwhile, not far from this scene, the members of Tomorrow X Together – Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Taehyun, Soobin, and Hueningkai – were relishing a rare break from their idol commitments.

As they turned the corner, their attention was immediately drawn to the children's rough play. A look of concern crossed their faces, and Hueningkai, in particular, felt a surge of protectiveness for the small creature. Without hesitation, he approached the children.

"Hey, you need to be gentle with animals," Hueningkai said calmly, yet firmly, catching the kids' attention. "They have feelings too, you know."

"But we're just playing," one of the kids protested, but the look in Hueningkai's eyes was enough to make them reconsider.

Hueningkai gently scooped Y/N into his arms. She was trembling, her small body overwhelmed by the rough treatment. She burrowed into the safety of Hueningkai's embrace, feeling a sense of relief wash over her.

The children, though initially upset at losing their plaything, soon scampered off, their attention easily diverted to new adventures. Hueningkai returned to his bandmates, cradling Y/N carefully.

"We should take her with us. She looks really scared," Hueningkai suggested, looking at the cat with concern.

Yeonjun nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we can't just leave her here. She needs to be taken care of."

The group, however, had momentarily forgotten about Taehyun's allergy. As they discussed their plans, Taehyun let out a sneeze, and they all looked at him in realization.

"Guys, I'm really allergic," Taehyun reminded them, his voice tinged with regret. "But... I don't want to leave her either."

Hueningkai met Taehyun's gaze, his eyes pleading. Taehyun sighed, the decision clear in his eyes. "Okay, we'll take her. But we need to figure something out for my allergies."

With a plan in mind, they made their way back to their dorm, Y/N still nestled in Hueningkai's arms. As they walked, the members chatted about how to care for their new feline friend, unaware of Y/N's unique situation.

Back at the dorm, Hueningkai gently placed Y/N on his bed. She had stopped shivering, feeling a sense of security and warmth in his presence. The trauma of the day, however, had an unexpected consequence – she found herself unable to revert to her human form.

She let out a soft meow, which to the members sounded like a contented sigh, but in reality, Y/N was frustrated. She wanted to express her gratitude, to explain her situation, but she was trapped in her feline form.

As she lay there, Y/N pondered her predicament. She was grateful for their kindness and decided to repay them in the only way she could while stuck as a cat. She would be the best companion she could, offering comfort and affection.

Over the next few days, the members grew increasingly fond of Y/N. They took turns feeding her, playing with her, and ensuring she was comfortable. Hueningkai, in particular, spent extra time with her, often talking to her about his day, his dreams, and even his worries.

"Y/N, I wish you could understand me," Hueningkai mused one evening, unaware of the truth. "You're such a good listener."

Y/N, listening intently, wished more than anything that she could respond, to tell him that she understood every word. Y/N's days as a cat in the TXT dorm were filled with unique interactions with each member, strengthening her bond with them, especially Hueningkai.

One evening, Hueningkai sat with Y/N on the sofa, softly stroking her fur as he shared his thoughts. "Y/N, do you ever get tired of listening to me?" he chuckled. "I'm really glad you're here. You've been such a great friend."

Y/N purred in response, nudging his hand gently, wishing she could tell him how much his words meant to her.

Soobin's maternal instincts shone through whenever Hueningkai wasn't around. He'd often find her curled up in a corner and gently pick her up. "You're such a good cat, Y/N. We're lucky to have you," he'd say, placing her on his lap while he worked on his laptop.

Beomgyu brought an element of playfulness to her days. He'd dangle a toy mouse in front of her, laughing as she made agile leaps to catch it. "You're quite the hunter, aren't you?" he'd tease, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Yeonjun, meanwhile, was all about affection. He'd often scoop her up, interrupting her playtime. "Nope, no toys now. It's cuddle time," he'd declare, hugging her close and planting a kiss on her head. "You're just too cute, Y/N."

Taehyun, despite his allergies, found his own way to bond with her. He'd sit a little distance away, watching her with a soft smile. "I wish I could get closer, Y/N. You're such a special cat," he'd say, his eyes reflecting a mix of admiration and regret.

Y/N, understanding his predicament, would often sit near him, but at a safe distance, offering him quiet company.

Her human-like understanding and behaviors didn't go unnoticed. "Don't you think Y/N understands us more than a regular cat should?" Soobin once mused aloud.

"Yeah, she's like a little person trapped in a cat's body," Beomgyu added, watching her tilt her head as if following their conversation.

Yeonjun nodded, "She's one of a kind, that's for sure. I've never met a cat like her."

Hueningkai, looking at Y/N, felt an indescribable connection. "She's special," he said simply, his gaze warm and affectionate.

Despite her inability to transform back into her human form, Y/N found contentment and a sense of belonging with the TXT members. Each day was a new adventure, filled with laughter, play, and heartwarming moments. Weeks had woven themselves into the tapestry of life at the TXT dorm, bringing Y/N closer to her human self, inching ever nearer to the precipice of transformation. Her feelings for Hueningkai, nurtured by his unwavering affection, blossomed like flowers in spring, making her heart flutter with a warmth that was hard to ignore.

One lazy afternoon, the members were sprawled across the living room, Y/N comfortably nestled in Hueningkai's lap. The TV played a sitcom, and a particularly funny scene elicited a spontaneous meow from Y/N, harmonizing perfectly with the laughter of the boys.

"Soobin hyung, did you see that? Y/N totally gets the joke!" Beomgyu chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Yeah, she's more human than some humans I know," Soobin replied, his voice tinged with affection.

The conversation naturally drifted to what Y/N might look like as a human. "I bet she'd be as bubbly and enthusiastic as she is now," Yeonjun mused, a smile playing on his lips.

Hueningkai, gazing down at Y/N, added thoughtfully, "And she'd definitely be beautiful and cute. Just like she is now, but in human form."

Blushing internally at Hueningkai's words, Y/N felt a sense of happiness she couldn't express. She had always been complimented on her looks, but hearing it from him felt different, special.

"I wonder if she'd have cat ears and a tail in her human form too," Soobin pondered aloud, imagining the adorable possibility.

"Aww, that would be so unique!" Taehyun exclaimed, the idea clearly appealing to him.

Hueningkai gently lifted Y/N, bringing her up to his eye level. "No matter what, you're perfect to us, Y/N," he said softly, his eyes reflecting genuine affection.

Days later, Yeonjun playfully interrupted Y/N's playtime with her toys, scooping her into his arms. He serenaded her with a gentle song, watching as she listened intently, her eyes closed in enjoyment.

"You know, Y/N, Hueningkai really adores you. We all do, but there's something special between you two," Yeonjun said, his voice warm and teasing.

Y/N opened her eyes and meowed softly, looking up at Yeonjun. Her eyes held a depth that was strikingly human, something Yeonjun hadn't noticed before.

As he peered into her eyes, a realization dawned on him. "Wait a minute... Y/N, are you...?" he trailed off, his mind racing with the implications.

He noticed something else too. Whenever Hueningkai was mentioned, her pupils would dilate, a clear sign of affection. A mischievous smirk spread across his face.

"Hyuka! Come here for a second!" Yeonjun called out, his tone laced with intrigue.

Hueningkai looked up, curiosity piqued. "What's up, Yeonjun hyung?"

Yeonjun handed Y/N over to Hueningkai. "Y/N seems to want to show you something," he said, barely containing his amusement.

Hueningkai, holding Y/N gently, looked into her eyes. Suddenly, without warning, Y/N leaned forward, nuzzling against his cheek before her tongue gave a quick, affectionate lick to his lips.

The room fell silent, all eyes on the tender exchange. Even the usually playful Beomgyu was speechless, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Did... did Y/N just kiss Hueningkai?" Taehyun asked, his voice a mixture of astonishment and delight.

Soobin, smiling, added, "Seems like she really has a special place for Hueningkai in her heart."

Hueningkai, blushing slightly, held Y/N close. "Y/N, you're full of surprises," he whispered, his heart racing with an emotion he couldn't quite name.

The interaction sparked a flurry of teasing and laughter among the members, but for Y/N, it was a moment of unspoken truth. The affectionate moment shared between Y/N and Hueningkai lingered in the air, a soft symphony of unspoken words and emotions. As Y/N retracted from her tender lick-kiss, she gazed up at Hueningkai with eyes glistening like the morning dew. Her meow, elongated and melodic, seemed to whisper 'I love you' in a language beyond words.

Yeonjun, ever the observant one, had captured this heartwarming scene on his phone. He replayed the video, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed Y/N's almost human-like gaze. "This is going to blow everyone's mind," he thought, a grin spreading across his face. He pondered on the uniqueness of Y/N, but chose to keep his burgeoning suspicions under wraps.

The other members noticed his secretive smile and nudged him for answers. "What's got you looking so smug, Yeonjun?" Beomgyu asked, eyeing the phone curiously.

"Oh, nothing much, just some top-quality content for later," Yeonjun replied, his grin widening, but he divulged no more.

In the days that followed, Y/N's affection for Hueningkai became increasingly evident. Whenever he prepared to leave the dorm, she would emit a plaintive whine, clinging to his leg with a gentle insistence that spoke volumes. The members found her behavior endearing.

"She really doesn't want you to go, Hueningkai," Soobin commented one morning, watching the scene with a warm smile.

"It's like she's saying, 'Please don't leave me,'" Taehyun added, his voice tinged with affection.

Hueningkai knelt down, gently stroking Y/N's head. "I'll be back soon, Y/N. You'll be okay," he reassured her, his voice soft and soothing. Y/N responded with a small meow, her eyes following him until he was out of sight.

The unique bond between Y/N and Hueningkai became a frequent topic of conversation among the TXT members. Each evening, they would gather and share their thoughts about the day, with Y/N often curled up contentedly in Hueningkai's lap.

"Have you noticed how Y/N looks at Hueningkai? It's like she understands everything we say," Beomgyu pointed out one night, his gaze fixed on the pair.

"Yeah, and the way she reacted to his singing the other day. It was like she was really listening to him," Yeonjun chimed in, subtly glancing at the video he had recorded.

Their discussions were filled with laughter and wonder, all marveling at the special connection between Y/N and Hueningkai. Unbeknownst to them, Y/N treasured these moments, wishing she could join in their conversations and express her feelings openly.

One day, Hueningkai decided to show the video Yeonjun had taken to his sisters, Lea and Bahiyyih. Their reactions were priceless.

"Wow, Hyuka, she really likes you!" Lea exclaimed after watching the video, her eyes wide with excitement.

Bahiyyih leaned in closer, rewatching the clip. "That's not just any cat. Look at her eyes. It's like she's trying to tell you something," she observed, her voice filled with wonder.

"They're both raving about it," Hueningkai said, chuckling as he recounted the story to the members later. "Lea and Bahiyyih think Y/N is the most adorable cat ever. They're totally fangirling over her."

The members laughed, sharing in Hueningkai's amusement. "Y/N's becoming famous in her own right," Soobin joked.

"Maybe she's more than just a cat. Maybe she's a cat idol," Taehyun teased, eliciting laughter from everyone.

As the days passed, the bond between Y/N and the TXT members, especially Hueningkai, continued to deepen. Her presence brought a unique joy to their lives, a reminder of the mysterious and beautiful ways in which affection can manifest. Hueningkai, looking for a change of scenery for Y/N, decided to take her on an outdoor adventure. He arranged to meet with his sisters, Lea and Bahiyyih, at a local park, Y/N nestled comfortably in his arms.

As they arrived, Lea and Bahiyyih's faces brightened with joy at the sight of Y/N. "She's absolutely adorable, Hueningkai!" Lea exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement.

Bahiyyih leaned in closer, her voice filled with warmth, "I can't believe how calm she is, even outdoors. She's not like other cats, is she?"

Y/N seemed unfazed by the new environment, contentedly staying put instead of wandering off, which surprised and delighted Hueningkai's sisters. Lea gently took Y/N onto her lap, where she settled down, purring in a relaxed state, clearly at ease with Hueningkai's family.

Lea, feeling the vibrations of Y/N's purrs, smiled down at her. "You seem to have a lot on your mind, little one," she said playfully, observing Y/N's intent gaze.

Y/N responded with a series of thoughtful meows, looking directly into Lea's eyes. It was as if she was attempting to communicate something much deeper than usual feline expressions.

Lea, intrigued, leaned in closer, trying to decipher the meaning behind Y/N's vocalizations. "I wish I knew what you were trying to say, Y/N. It feels like you have so much to tell us."

Bahiyyih watched the interaction with a mix of curiosity and fascination. "It's weird, right? How she looks at us, like she understands everything we're saying."

Hueningkai joined in, his voice tinged with affection, "We've all noticed that about her. She's not just a regular cat. There's something really special about Y/N."

As they continued to spend time together in the park, the conversation often drifted back to Y/N's unique behavior. Her human-like gaze and expressive meows sparked discussions about the incredible bond she shared with Hueningkai and the rest of the TXT members.

"Have you guys ever seen a cat that's so... human?" Bahiyyih asked, her gaze fixed on Y/N.

Lea nodded, "It's like she's part of your group, not just a pet. She's got this presence about her."

Hueningkai smiled, looking affectionately at Y/N. "Yeah, she's more than just a pet to us. She's like a family member."

The evening had settled comfortably around the TXT dorm, with Hueningkai and the rest of the boys lounging in the living room. A movie played in the background, largely ignored as they relaxed, snacking on an assortment of junk food.

Y/N, in her cat form, was nestled contentedly on Hueningkai's lap, her head resting against his stomach. Hueningkai's fingers gently stroked her fur, eliciting a deep, rhythmic purring from her. Eyes closed, Y/N basked in the warmth and affection, her heart fluttering with hidden emotions.

Suddenly, a soft, ethereal glow began to envelop Y/N. The boys, startled, turned their attention to her, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity.

"Guys, look at Y/N!" Soobin exclaimed, pointing at the glowing figure on Hueningkai's lap.

Yeonjun, his eyes wide with excitement, leaned forward. "I knew it! I knew there was something more about her!" He remembered her human-like gaze, the way she interacted with Hueningkai, all the pieces fitting together in his mind.

As they watched in astonishment, Y/N's form began to shift and change. The light intensified, casting a warm glow around the room. When it faded, sitting on Hueningkai's lap was no longer a cat but a beautiful young woman, retaining charming features like cat ears and a tail.

Yeonjun couldn't help but blurt out, "I knew it!"

The sudden transformation left her without clothes, straddling Hueningkai's lap. His hands, previously on her fur, now rested awkwardly on her waist. Realizing the situation, their eyes widened in shock.

Soobin quickly reacted, grabbing a blanket from his lap and draping it over Y/N. "Uh, here, you might need this," he said, his cheeks tinged with red.

Y/N's tail swayed, and her ears twitched, adjusting to her new form. Hueningkai, still frozen in place, was met with Y/N's giggle and a shy "Hi."

Taehyun, breaking the silence, called out tentatively, "Y/N?"

"Yes, it's me," Y/N responded, her voice soft and melodic.

Yeonjun, trying to avert his gaze, added, "I had a feeling. When you kissed Hueningkai... it was too... human."

Y/N, now wrapped in the blanket, began to explain. "I was about to turn back into a human, but those kids scared me so much, I couldn't. I've been trying to tell you guys... and thank you, especially Hueningkai, for all the kindness."

Hueningkai, his face flushed, could only nod, still processing the extraordinary turn of events.

Y/N and Hueningkai blushed even more at the mention of her affections. Taehyun stood up decisively. "I'll go find some clothes for her," he said, disappearing into another room.

The atmosphere in the room was charged with a mix of shock, amusement, and curiosity. Y/N and Hueningkai's eyes met, and she offered him a shy smile, her heart racing with a myriad of emotions.

Beomgyu, smirking at the situation, teased Hueningkai, "So, you've got yourself a cat-girl girlfriend now?"

Y/N's ears perked up at this, her tail wrapping around Hueningkai's waist in a possessive gesture. She had indeed chosen him, her feelings having deepened during her time as a cat.

Hueningkai, though overwhelmed, didn't seem to mind the revelation. "I... I guess I do," he stammered, a mix of surprise and happiness in his voice.

The room erupted into laughter and playful banter, the members teasing Hueningkai and Y/N, yet behind their jokes lay a genuine happiness for their newfound bond. As the days melded into weeks, Y/N's temporary stay at the TXT dorm transformed into something more permanent. The thought of returning to her own apartment, a place devoid of the warmth and camaraderie she had grown to love, was unappealing. Her previous life, isolated and mundane, contrasted sharply with the vibrant and affectionate environment she now found herself in.

One day, the group accompanied Y/N to her old apartment, intending to help her pack her belongings. The apartment, small and a little worse for wear, seemed even more dreary after her time with TXT.

"Are you sure you want to move back here?" Taehyun asked, looking around the cramped space.

Y/N shook her head, her eyes reflecting her reluctance. "Not really. I've gotten so used to being with all of you."

"That settles it then," Beomgyu declared. "You're staying with us until you find a better place."

The move was a unanimous decision, and soon Y/N was officially living with TXT. Her presence in the dorm brought a new energy. True to Yeonjun's predictions, she was enthusiastic and bubbly, her personality meshing perfectly with the group's dynamic. She was particularly clingy with Hueningkai, often found holding onto his arm or waist, which invariably left him blushing but clearly delighted.

Their affection wasn't confined to the dorm's walls. Y/N's public displays of affection towards Hueningkai soon caught the attention of fans. Rumors and whispers quickly spread, the fans abuzz with excitement about Hueningkai's cat-girl girlfriend.

Lea and Bahiyyih, Hueningkai's sisters, were thrilled when they found out about Y/N. The cat they had adored was now a beautiful young woman, bringing happiness to their brother's life.

One sunny afternoon, Hueningkai and the rest of TXT, along with Bahiyyih, awaited Y/N's arrival at a local park. Bahiyyih was particularly eager to meet Y/N in her human form.

Y/N soon appeared, her bright eyes and swaying tail signaling her approach. Spotting Hueningkai, she broke into a run and leaped into his arms, planting a quick kiss on his lips. His cheeks flushed a deep red, but his smile and returned affection spoke volumes.

"Guys, this is Y/N," Hueningkai said, introducing her to Bahiyyih, who looked at her with wide, excited eyes.

"Hi, Bahiyyih! It's so wonderful to finally meet you like this," Y/N said, her voice laced with warmth and excitement.

"I can't believe you're the same cat! You're amazing, Y/N!" Bahiyyih exclaimed, her fascination evident.

As Y/N chatted with Bahiyyih, her tail once again wrapped around Hueningkai's waist, a gesture that didn't escape the notice of the others.

"Looks like someone has claimed their territory," Soobin teased, nudging Hueningkai playfully.

Hueningkai chuckled, a bit embarrassed but clearly happy. "Well, I can't say I mind," he admitted, earning a round of laughter from the group.

Yeonjun joined in the teasing. "Hey, Hyuka, you're officially a cat person now, in more ways than one!"

The banter continued, with Y/N laughing along, feeling more at home than ever. Her unique journey from being a cat to a human, and her growing relationship with Hueningkai, had added an extraordinary chapter to their lives.

As the day progressed, their conversations ranged from playful teasing to deeper discussions about their future plans and aspirations. Y/N, once a silent observer in her cat form, now actively participated, sharing her thoughts and dreams.

Lea and Bahiyyih, seeing the genuine happiness in Hueningkai's eyes, felt a deep sense of gratitude towards Y/N. "We're just so happy to see our brother this happy," Lea said, her voice filled with emotion.

Y/N reached out, squeezing Lea's hand. "Thank you. Being with all of you, especially Hueningkai, has changed my life in ways I never imagined."

The warmth and affection that flowed between them all were palpable, a testament to the bonds they had formed. As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the park, they all knew that these moments were just the beginning of a new, exciting journey together. Y/N's transformation from a cat to a human had not only altered her life but had also enriched the lives of everyone around her, creating a tapestry of memories that would be cherished forever.

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flerkenkiddingme · 7 months

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just to be clear i LOVE all the content we're getting for the pjo disney show, but is there any chance of news about the kane chronicles netflix special yet

#pjo #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #kane chronicles

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ravenkings · 2 months

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The Kremlin stage-managed Russia’s presidential vote over the weekend to send a singular message at home and abroad: that President Vladimir V. Putin’s support is overwhelming and unshakable, despite or even because of his war against Ukraine.

From the moment the preliminary results first flashed across state television late Sunday, the authorities left no room for misinterpretation. Mr. Putin, they said, won more than 87 percent of the vote, his closest competitor just 4 percent. It had all the hallmarks of an authoritarian Potemkin plebiscite.

The Kremlin may have felt more comfortable orchestrating such a large margin of victory because Mr. Putin’s approval rating has climbed during the war in independent polls, owing to a rally-around-the flag effect and optimism about the Russian economy. The Levada Center, an independent pollster, reported last month that 86 percent of Russians approved of Mr. Putin, his highest rating in more than seven years.

But while the figures may suggest unabiding support for Mr. Putin and his agenda across Russia, the situation is more complex than the numbers convey. The leader of one opposition research group in Moscow has argued that backing for Mr. Putin is actually far more brittle than simple approval numbers suggest.

“The numbers we get on polls from Russia don’t mean what people think they mean,” said Aleksei Minyailo, a Moscow-based opposition activist and co-founder of a research project called Chronicles, which has been polling Russians in recent months. “Because Russia is not an electoral democracy but a wartime dictatorship.”

In a late January survey, Chronicles asked one group of Russian respondents what they wanted in key policy areas and a different group what they expected to see from Mr. Putin — and documented a substantive difference between desires and expectations.

More than half of respondents, for example, said they supported restoring relations with Western countries, but only 28 percent expected Mr. Putin to restore them. Some 58 percent expressed support for a truce with Ukraine, but only 29 percent expected Mr. Putin to agree to one.

“We see that Russians want different things from what they expect from Putin,” Mr. Minyailo said. “Probably if they did have any kind of alternative, they might make a different choice.”

Compelling alternative choices, however, have been systematically eliminated over the near quarter century that Mr. Putin has been in power in Russia.

Opposition figures have been exiled, jailed or killed. Independent news outlets have been driven out of the country. And a wave of repression unseen since the Soviet era has led to lengthy prison sentences for simple acts of dissent, such as critical social media posts.

Aleksei A. Navalny, the Russian opposition figure who carried the hopes of many Russians for an alternative to Mr. Putin, died under mysterious circumstances in an Arctic prison last month. After declaring victory late Sunday, Mr. Putin called Mr. Navalny’s death an “unfortunate incident.”

The war has only further closed what little space used to exist for alternatives to Mr. Putin’s agenda to gain traction in public.

“There is a sophisticated case to be made about why this war is so much against Russia’s interest, and that part of the spectrum is missing,” said Alexander Gabuev, director of the Carnegie Russia Eurasia Center. “It is now happening in exile, and the government is erecting a lot of barriers to people tapping into this content.”

By casting those against the war as saboteurs, he said, Mr. Putin’s regime has succeeded in making “the opposition something that is really unattractive — more for outsiders, not for mainstream people.”

In years past, Russia’s so-called “political technologists” allowed a semblance of competition and open debate in presidential elections to drive turnout and give the race a patina of authenticity. But this year they took no chances.

Yekaterina S. Duntsova, a relatively unknown TV journalist and former municipal deputy from a city 140 miles west of Moscow, tried to run for president on an antiwar platform but was swiftly disqualified. So was Boris B. Nadezhdin, another under-the-radar politician who collected more than 100,000 signatures required to enter the race but could not get on the ballot.

“They deemed both of them dangerous enough not to let them on the ballot,” Mr. Minyailo said. “That tells a lot, to my mind, about the nature of the regime and about how stalwart Putin’s position is. If his regime thinks there is a danger to letting a provincial journalist collect signatures, that tells a lot.”

Russian opinion polling regularly shows that a relatively small segment of the Russian population are die-hard supporters of Mr. Putin and a similarly sized group are aggressive opponents, many of them now abroad.

The majority, pollsters have found, are relatively apathetic, supporting Mr. Putin passively, with no other alternative coming onto their radar. They are particularly influenced by the narrative on television, which is controlled by the state.

“Deep wells of social inertia, apathy and atomization are the real source of Putin’s power,” Mr. Gabuev said. Many Russians, he said, don’t have a sophisticated framework for thinking about certain issues, because there is no public discussion taking place.

And those Russians who do articulate desires that differ from Mr. Putin’s actions are not necessarily willing to fight for what they want, Mr. Minyailo noted. Many Russians believe they have no influence on the country’s course of events.

Still, the increase in support for Mr. Putin among Russians in the two years since he ordered the full-scale invasion of Ukraine is unmistakable across multiple polls.

Denis Volkov, director of the Levada Center, said that a number of metrics showed consolidation around Mr. Putin.

“We monitor many indicators, not only approval rating,” Mr. Volkov said. “We ask open-ended questions. We ask about the economic situation. We ask about the mood of people. All these indicators are pointing in one direction.”

Armed with a vast propaganda apparatus, Mr. Putin has convinced millions of Russians that he is valiantly defending them against an antagonistic Western world bent on using Ukraine as a cudgel to destroy their nation and their way of life.

“The state narrative has generated this idea that it’s Russia versus everybody else,” said Katerina Tertytchnaya, a comparative politics professor at the University of Oxford. “ It’s very important, this narrative of being under siege. The lack of an alternative is also cited as one of the reasons that people support Putin. People cannot conceive of an alternative.”

It is not only that Mr. Putin seems superior to the alternative candidates that the Kremlin allows to appear on state television. He also comes across as a better choice compared to nearly all his historical predecessors.

Mr. Gabuev noted that despite the war tarnishing much of Mr. Putin’s legacy, his first two terms in particular brought the greatest combination of material prosperity and relative freedom Russians had ever seen — and for those uninterested in politics, good will remains.

“That’s the paradox, they really are the happiest life in the country’s history,” Mr. Gabuev said. “Because the combination of wealth and material prosperity and freedoms being present at the same time was never higher.”

#russia #vladimir putin #news #politics #article

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slavicafire · 1 year

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very interesting breakdown regarding rodnovery from Scott Simpson’s Strategies for Constructing Religious Practice in Polish Rodzimowierstwo:

A purely academic reconstruction of a religion from the past is “legitimate” when it is made up of fragments which have been selected solely on the basis of the academic authenticity and reliability of the evidence. When a particular fragment had not been recovered, a scholar may always choose to simply leave that space blank without perverting the intention of the reconstruction (whether it be pottery or religion). Rodzimowiercy, in contrast, need to have a complete and functional religion in order for it to be legitimate. If the participant finds her- or himself in personal need of a Slavic marriage ceremony, then that space must be filled by something in spite of the lack of a conveniently pre-existing Pagan marriage script from, say, the Wiślanie tribe in the early 10th century. It would be a serious perversion of the religious intent of such a reconstruction to give up suddenly at that point.

the strategies Simpson describes below the cut. a very recommended reading, too, so I hope the full text will get some attention as well.

1. Direct re-enacting: faithully replicating a custom described in sources such as chronicles - which Simpson notices is rarely possible as stand-alone strategy given all the blanks and generally limited sources. the most classic of issues everyone interested in neo-paganism knows and battled.

2. De-Christianising: removing obvious Christian elements from “sacred” folk practices - think rodnovery Kolęda removing Christian elements from a folk tradition - one that is rooted in customs predating Christianity on slavic lands, and so can be stripped back into its more “original” (and pagan) form.

3. Sacralising folklore: taking elements of “secular” folk tradition and re-framing them in religious practice - for example, elevating folk melodies to sacred songs accompanying rodnovery rituals, or adapting the circular toasting custom of passing a drinking vessel among participants of an event as a religious expression other than just a secular way of toasting common among peasants.

4. Sacralising the archaic: emphasising ancient, archaic, timeless, non-modern aspects, moods and motifs - similar to above, putting religious emphasis on things which in the past were simply common. think archeological finds regarding clothing and adaptation of everyday clothing of the past as sacred or ritual clothing for modern reconstructionist practice. another example: drinking horns and mead being chosen for religious ritual because they are seen as more authentic (incorrectly) than wine or cups which are “too modern”.

5. Sacralising the natural: emphasising that which is organic, untamed, rustic. the clear emphasis on low-tech content, everything is wood or stone or raw wool - celebrations are more likely to be felt as legitimate if they happen in the forest rather than in a bar.

6. Aesthetising: artistic embellishment of existing practice. think how focused rodnovers are on creating religious visual art, music, craft mead for celebrations, hand embroidered banners and altar cloths, representations of deities and reimaginations of symbols. this helps build a language of religious expression which for rodnovers is much more communal and reliant on members of the religion. not every member of christianity feels responsible for making religious art to be used by the religion - that task is usually fulfilled by the hierarchical structure.

7. Indigenising: localisation of ideas and practices found elsewhere. so some foreign ideas are rejected in order to maintain cohesion (for example Valentine’s Day being seen as a US tradition which does not belong on slavic lands) vs acceptance and adoption of others. the biggest example Simpson gives is the widespread usage of Internet and social media in creation of this religious belonging. or utilising fire poi in kupala celebrations.

8. Direct revelation from sacred beings (ancestors, spirits of nature, gods): If the sacred beings are understood as currently real, and if they have made their presence known to the Slavic tribes in the past, then they may do so now. think shamanic approaches, divination, contacting ancestors as beings with agency and influence, interpreting signs from gods.

#folklore #slavic folklore #rodnovery #slavic paganism #Strategies for Constructing Religious Practice in Polish Rodzimowierstwo

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zahnffxiv · 8 months

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we finally cleared p12sp2!! ...even though it kind of feels like we didn't 'cause we skipped the last real mechanic with healer lb3!! but we persisted despite our theories definitely being flawed!!

#ffxiv #content clearing chronicles #this took us way too long but we had a bunch of real life stuff get in the way so it's fine #it was our first pull of the night and someone killed me but through sheer happenstance i got raised with perfect timing #i just raise invulnerabilityed through the first tethers and then healer lb3 sacrificed through the second tethers #...so reclears are gonna be interesting since we'll have to actually do that properly

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haggishlyhagging · 1 year

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“If I were to differentiate between the radical feminist mind and the mind of the women's rights feminist (the one who responds with such alacrity to invitations to be a wallflower at the Old Boys' Club dance—anything to be allowed inside the door), I'd say that the women's rights-ists look at the pie of power and say, "This is basically a good pie; as good a pie as we're likely to get in this world, certainly better than the pie in most countries. The only trouble is that it hasn't been cut up equitably. So what we have to do is get bigger slices for women and minorities and all those who have had to make do for so long with such exceedingly slender slices."

What happens when we get bigger slices of the pie is chronicled briefly by Ellen Goodman in a column right after the 1984 election entitled "Sisterhood May Be Losing Out to Equality":

The question—What has happened to that always tenuous bond called sisterhood?—goes wider and deeper than any one election. There was a time, and not that long ago, when women began to focus on what they had in common, what they had suffered in common. There was a sense of community created out of this fresh awareness—out of anger, too, and a belief in change. A certain population of women thought of themselves as women first, and found some self-conscious assurance in the slogan, "Sisterhood is powerful."

Today much of that energy has been dispelled in the best possible way: by success. The head of steam from women has been dissipated by new opportunities . . .

Many professional women content themselves with the few crumbs they've been tossed. They have gained a little respect as professionals, and are afraid of tampering with a proven "success" formula. What patriarchy terms "success" for women, however, is our most fearful and frightening failure to establish another reality on this planet by determining to live by feminist values.

Radical feminists look at the women's rights-ists' pie of power model and say, "That pie is rotten! It will poison anyone who touches it. What we have to do is bake a whole new pie from a whole new recipe."

As Elizabeth Oakes Smith tried to make clear in her address to the Woman's Rights Convention in 1852:

My friends, do we realize for what purpose we are convened? Do we fully understand that we aim at nothing less than an entire subversion of the present order of society, a dissolution of the whole existing social compact?

What women have needed to do for well over a century is to wash the men and their value system right out of our hearts, to go out of our 5000-year-old minds.”

-Sonia Johnson, Going Out of Our Minds: The Metaphysics of Liberation

#sonia johnson #radical feminist safe #female oppression #patriarchy #male power #womens rights

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ryttu3k · 3 months

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I'm curious abut Sascha Vykos. Do you know which novels or splat books would be good to read to learn more about them?

*cracks knuckles*

Number 1 book you need to understand Sascha's background is the Dark Ages Tzimisce clan novel by Myranda Kalis, which has them as the main character (along with their lover, Ilias cel Frumos) and explains why they're... like that. Just a goddamn amazing character study, also completely heartbreaking and singlehandedly made me change my view of them from "haha wtf what an edgelord" to "they're my baby and I'm gonna fight a methuselah for them". Set between 1232 and 1234, if I've managed to maths right.

Also by Myranda and set around a similar time (shortly after the fall of Constantinople) is the Road of Sin book (set around 1205). Sascha (then called Myca) narrates the introduction and first chapter. It does specifically focus on their history with the eponymous Road, but has a lot of interesting character details, along with their relationship with Ilias.

For modern Sascha, there are two. First is the original Clan Novel Saga (set 1999), although in this case, I'm not recommending just the Tzimisce novel, but rather the compiled editions. There's a bunch of Sascha content in the Assamite book as well, since they're quite involved with one of the characters in it, and it also includes extra, exclusive content, including my two favourite chapters - a story by Lucien Soulban (Sascha's creator), and an epilogue by Janet Trautvetter, mostly about Jan Pieterzoon but with Sascha being fairly prominent in it.

Fair warning, CNS was written in 1999 and has. Mm. Edgelordy moments. We do not talk about The Foetus Thing :|

The other, probably most important one is Beckett's Jyhad Diary, which I would recommend for literally anyone interested in VtM in general. Sascha has minor appearances and mentions in a bunch of chapters, but is extremely prominent in the chapter Dreams & Nightmares (also by Myranda Kalis/Sarro). She also wrote the chapter Azhi Dahaka, another must-read relating to Sascha.

The timing for BJD is... less clear, because at least a few of the people involved have said it's set in 2005, but also there's one chapter where an event that explicitly took place around 1999 or 2000 is said to have taken place "sixteen years ago", so. Let's just call that early 21st century.

Most of the rest of the books are chronicles, plus one city book - their origin book, Constantinople by Night (1197, IIRC?) by Lucien Soulban, Philippe Boulle, and Joshua Mosqueira-Asheim. Others, in chronological order by setting, include Bitter Crusade (two chapters, Fiendish Winter and Dying Embers, the latter covering the Fall of Constantinople in 1204), Under the Black Cross (1225), and a whole bunch of the Transylvania Chronicles (Myca/Sascha appears in book 1 in Dark Tides Cresting (1314), in book 2 in Haceldema (covers the Convention of Thorns, 1493), in book 3 in An Angel's Plea (1680, also has the most hilariously thirsty description of Sascha I've ever seen in my life), and in book 4 in The Accounting (1998).)

Seriously. Here's their Transylvania Chronicles 3 character sheet:

They appear in two of the Giovanni Chronicles books, three (1882) and four (same, in a flashback that also has my baby Anatole), in the Nightshade scenario of the Gehenna book (1999), although that's since been retconned out of existence, along with chunks of the Clan Novel Saga, mostly to do with the approaching Gehenna stuff, and in particular Anatole's fate. It's still worth reading just for some fascinating ways the world could end. Finally, they appear in the House of Lies chapter of Nights of Prophecy (1999?).

Aside from those, they also have little appearances and mentions in other books, including letters and notes throughout chapter 7 of the Revised corebook, a rather amusing little reference in chapter 4 of the Victorian Age corebook, a detailed profile and character sheet in Children of the Night although that book pisses me off because it put Beckett, Anatole, and Lucita on the front cover but didn't give us sheets for them!, and the opening letter of the V5 Sabbat book, which you can read here (and then ignore the rest of the book and get the Revised-era Guide to the Sabbat instead).

So yes! They show up a lot, and all through the game's history. The three most important ones to read, I think, are the Dark Ages Tzimisce novel, the combined Clan Novel Saga, and Beckett's Jyhad Diary, then the rest just depending on interest in the era or broader story, since Sascha is less involved in those.

Have fun! They're an absolute hot mess of a character and I adore them!

#vampire the masquerade #vtm #sascha vykos #mx meat crimes

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castleaudios · 11 months

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⚜️Exciting Stuff Coming In July⚜️

Hey Guys! Thank you all for my birthday wishes💛 Tomorrow is a very exciting day as we will be opening the official CastleAudios Patreon! I heard some people had questions so I wanted to make this post to clear up any confusion and give a heads up for what’s to come!

Starting tomorrow, the Patreon is set to go live sometime in the afternoon/early evening, baring in mind time zone differences. The Patreon is not replacing my Youtube channel. I’ll still be posting regular content on YouTube. The Patreon will only have bonus content that will not impact or reveal any lore for Glenwood or Endax Chronicles. Yes, this bonus content includes NSFW videos.

As of right now, the Patreon has all of the Public Glenwood and Endax Chronicles videos uploaded as a public archive for all Patrons. This includes the day early access for Sunday’s audio. Expanding on the NSFW content, here’s the lay down. I’ll be posting the “fade to black” audio versions on YouTube, which will still be fully-fleshed videos. The rest of the video (the NSFW part that doesn’t have lore) will be available to those with patreon access.

If anyone has any further questions, let me know and I’ll answer them as I see them!

#castleposts #castleaudios patreon

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amarynthian-chronicles · 19 days

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Hello, hello!

Welcome, make yourself comfortable, here are some cakes, tea and hot chocolate, and enjoy your stay. In this little pocket dimension of a blog, you will mostly find posts about our Celestial Jesters and other FNAF content, along with space-themed aesthetic, writing, some silly whimsical quotes, comfy vibes and similar. I shall be tagging my own writing posts under "jester's privilege chronicles" and "amary's chronicles", to make it easier to navigate or find them.

Under the cut are links to my AO3 fics and summaries of the current ones, if you are interested!

Have a lovely day and enjoy your stay!

Jester's Privilege Chronicles series:

Sound the Bells: You are a mermaid in charge of the daunting task of managing the sea and your court consists of playful twin Leviathans and an uncooperative Kraken. You also have the disadvantage of being an utter disaster at this mermaid business and you live on land in human form, having the swimming skills of a rock.

Your sea monsters are not too thrilled with you living on land, so they love to cause shipwrecks and general mayhem to get your attention. You try to place a stop to this by having them spend a month with you in the town of Celestial Bay disguised as animatronics.

Sun is thrilled to explore human technology, Moon prowls the night threatening city council members into making better legal acts to protect the sea against pollution, and Eclipse's natural protective Kraken instincts are getting a tad bit out of hand and making him the friendly neighbourhood serial killer. He loves quick solutions to complex problems.

Officer Vanessa is the only one brave enough to keep knocking on your door for some explanations. She is also in charge of a very confused police unit that really needs to get some sleep.

Extended Contract: You are a witch that fell for the oldest trick in the book by giving your name to the mischievous Fae princes of the Celestial Court. Such an inconvenience on what was supposed to be a typical office night. You are honestly not having it. They, however, do seem quite happy about having you. You decide to make a deal with the Fae King to regain your freedom. The only thing that is functional in the whole situation is your phone signal in the Fae Kingdom.

Tip the Scales: You are a charismatic defense lawyer in a constant competition with two ruthless prosecutors that do not understand your ideals about criminals deserving a second chance. You are also housemates with a certain bitter and retired judge, who has a habit of operating at night as a cloaked figure known as the Judge of the Damned, serving justice as he deems fit according to his own moral ideals. In order to solve his frequent habit of going after your clients, you two had established a game of Tip the Scales to keep a balance of which person deserves redemption and who is condemned to damnation. Things get complicated when an old friend gets wrongfully accused. You do all in your power to convince your prosecutor rivals to secretly cooperate with you and help clear his name before you lose the game.

Our Guest: You arrive at a sinister and luxurious castle with the innocent intention of checking why its mysterious residents haven't been paying any taxes or utilities for the past several centuries. Very useful excuse for a vampire hunter to have when trying to do some good old infiltrating. The three vampire lords, however, fully intend to capture and seduce you, possibly give your pretty neck a bite or two, but all of that does get a bit complicated when you are being such a tease and constantly asking them about their financial books. Will they succeed in the task of making you theirs, dear Y/N? And are they onto your little schemes?

#about me #amary speaks #amary's chronicles #jester's privilege chronicles

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nuesora · 6 months

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Thoughts on how Robin & Kylar would play ffxiv

Robin:

Start playing at mid shadowbringer.

Lalafell (gender same with their irl gender). Have tried hyur once on a sub character but soon found they're more fond of their little lala popoto.

Play on console, can only play the game in controller.

Mostly prefer casual, slightly modern glamour, but have one set of high-fantasy adventurer-ish glamor for msq.

Is in a big FC, but have a few friends good enough to do daily roulettes with.

Hangout with these people at their FC house regularly.

If Robin has to sell their console and quit the game these friends will genuinely be worried of them.

Have tried most content in game except ultimates.

Casual raid player, usually clear the current tier within a month from release.

Don't have a static but is good enough to clear with random people on pf.

Mainly play magical range dps, can play both 3 magic dps job fairly well. Have max leveled at least 1 job in all categories but haven't maxed all job.

Don't own any online store item, but have a fairly good collection of in-game collectibles (mounts, minions, gears, etc.)

Don't have their personal estate but owns a apartment at Limsa. Indoor decoration doesn't involve complicated techniques but is hearty and clearly a lot of efforts and thoughts have been put into it.

Enjoy showing pc the world of Eorzea and (especially) their apartment.

Have tried convincing pc to also play ffxiv at least once.

Have dreamed about living in a place like their in-game apartment in real life with pc more than once.

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

Kylar:

Started playing at ARR release.

Solo player, empty friend list, in a solo FC.

Is in a lot of people's black list.

Started as bard main but switched to dancer after shb. Maxed all jobs but bought skip for most of them. Did all skipped job quest later in new game +.

Other than msq and chronicles first clear, they only do contents that absolutely does not involve another player (island sanctuary, criterion dungeons, etc.). Most of the time they just stay in their FC house (doors locked).

FC house interior is not very sfw.

HEAVY mod user, have enough mods (both sfw & nsfw) installed to get them perma banned by se instantly if there's a screenshot with their id on get leaked.

Started as a cat boy but soon modded their character into their crush at the time, currently their wol looks exactly like pc.

Actually paid people online to make hairstyle and face mod of pc.

Heavy fantasia user as they would like to see pc in different race and can't really choose between pc with cat ears and bunny ears and dragon horns.

If pc has any of the TF Kylar will have a paid mod of that TF. Except cat TF, in which case Kylar just fantasiaed into a miqo'te, but will have the tail modded if pc is demonic cat.

All the mods they commissioned are private.

Their screenshot folder size have exceeded game file size long time ago.

Have an alt on separate account modded into themselves to eternal bond with their main and do nsfw screenshots. Think double month sub and expansion fee is like nothing comparing to get "eternally bonded" with their love.

Do found some sort of comfort after their parents' tragedy in ffxiv's story.

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

Bonus Whitney:

Don't play "weeb game", but would very much like to see pc cosing female viera in their racial starting glamour despite of pc's gender if they ever lays their eyes on it.

#dol #degrees of lewdity #dol robin #robin the orphan #dol kylar #kylar the loner

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modmamono · 8 months

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"All non-numbered Puyo Puyo games aren't mainline." No. Please hear me out.

Someone pointed me to someone still perpetuating and you're reading the results of my reaction.

This isn't a call-out to anyone in particular, and I'm fully aware some reading this may've just been misinformed. To some it just flat-out doesn't apply. And others don't know what I'm talking about. By the end of it I hope I've made my point. And apologies if any of this is a bit too harsh.

Recommended that you read this with some passing familiarity in Puyo Puyo at minimum.

Context for those not in the know.

For over a decade there have been people who're adamant that only the numbered Puyo Puyo games count as mainline Puyo Puyo games.

Meaning there have been only 7 total mainline games to them:

Puyo Puyo (1991, 1992)

Puyo Puyo Tsu (1994)

Puyo Puyo Sun (1996)

Puyo Puyo~n (1999)

Puyo Puyo Fever (2003)

Puyo Puyo Fever 2 (2005)

Puyo Puyo 7 (2009)

[If you're confused, all these games have puns that make them phonetically numbered in Japanese or English even if they aren't on paper.]

That's 7 out of 16 games mainline games.

What are the mainline games?

(I'll be calling the numbered games by their number from now on for the sake of this blogpost and only this blogpost.)

Puyo Puyo (1991) | **Puyo Puyo 0**

Puyo Puyo (1992) | **Puyo Puyo 1**

Puyo Puyo Tsu (1994) | **Puyo Puyo 2**

Puyo Puyo Sun (1996) | **Puyo Puyo 3**

Puyo Puyo~n (1999) | **Puyo Puyo 4**

Puyo Puyo Box (2000)

Minna de Puyo Puyo (2001)

Puyo Puyo Fever (2003) | **Puyo Puyo 5**

Puyo Puyo Fever 2 (2005) | **Puyo Puyo 6**

Puyo Puyo! 15th Anniversary (2006)

Puyo Puyo 7 (2009) | **Puyo Puyo 7**

Puyo Puyo!! 20th Anniversary (2011)

Puyo Puyo Tetris (2014)

Puyo Puyo Chronicle (2016)

Puyo Puyo Champions (2018)

Puyo Puyo Tetris 2 (2020)

I will be arguing from this point of view. Though I will admit that I personally don't think games like Minna and Champions are very relevant. But that's irrelevant because I do think they are Mainline (and my reasoning isn't number-based).

Your mileage may vary though. But at least there are still more mainline ones than 7. This is what makes the most sense to me. But all I ask is you to either roll with this or hear me out. Not to take me as gospel.

What makes a mainline Puyo Puyo game?

I'd define a mainline Puyo Puyo games by a Player vs Player kind of experience. It's not even about the content as much as it is about the foundation.

All 16 games have that foundation. Puyo Puyo 0 might lack a lot of other stuff later games have, but it evolved a game later into Puyo Puyo 1. Making it mainline as well.

Also just because a game deviates a little from other games doesn't make it not mainline too.

Take Chronicle for example, while the main mode only has a single game board for a grand majority of its campaign, it still has a full-fledged PvP mode. Something you can't say of the Nazo Puyo games.

[Edit: Canon ≠ Mainline.

I cut this originally, but it's clear to me I need to add this back in:

Games are more than their stories. These games do not have to be canon to one another to be mainline. For example, I don't consider Minna de Puyo Puyo canon. I do consider it mainline.

This is about the content the game offer you. Not the stories. Because Canon ≠ Mainline.

I knew people conflate those two. But I cut it because I made that clear in the section above.

The rest of this post has been untouched.]

Why does this matter?

A question best left for the end. But I'm tackling it now.

It matters because it's damaging.

If you think the only mainline count towards the story are the numbered 7. The last Puyo Puyo game that "mattered" is Puyo Puyo 7 in 2009...

It's 2023.

Why are you waiting on a new "mainline" game when we've been getting them for a while? I will get into why they are mainline now.

Why would you inform a newbie that over half of games don't matter? Am I missing something here? I'm willing to admit that maybe I'm tackling this uncharitably, but even charitably it still confuses me why one would do that.

The part of the post where try and make my cases as to why each Puyo Puyo game listed here is mainline.

(Please note that Puyo Nexus doesn't have a list of the amount of rules each game has on their respective pages. And I'm not counting endless modes as rules, even if they are. Regardless of my accuracy, it shouldn't deter from my point much as the rough idea will also get it across.)

1. Puyo Puyo 0 | Puyo Puyo (1991)

Story: None Single-Player stages: (52 Nazo Puyo Puzzles) No. of rules: 1 PvP: 2-player (but not the main draw at the time) Playable characters: None

Some consider Puyo Puyo 0 a prototype of Puyo Puyo 1. I consider it a separate game. And thus the first game in the series. You'd be silly to not consider this game as mainline regardless of whether you think this is PP0 or the first version of PP1.

And the pieces are there. The main focus is Endless Puyo. But the PvP mode is there which became the main focus one game later where the series' appeal still lies.

But for now this is just the humble start of Puyo Puyo.

Interesting thing regarding this main series debate is that this game has Nazo Puyo. Only 2-and-a-half games have that mode in earnest, at least how it is here. Nazo Puyo is a spin-off. The games PC-98 Nazo Puyos, Nazo Puyo 1, 2, and 3, and Super Nazo Puyo 1 and 2 aren't mainline, but their DNA are directly from this game as Puyo Puyo 1's DNA is.

2. Puyo Puyo 1 | Puyo Puyo (1992)

Story: Yes Single-Player stages: 13/16 Stages (Depends on the version you're playing.) No. of rules: 1 PvP: 2-player Playable characters: None

Ta-da! Puyo Puyo 1!

This is the game that put the series on track to how we know it now. 1v1 matches. Characters. Them each having their own AI. If Puyo Puyo 0 was the spine Puyo Puyo 1 is nearly every other bone in the body of Puyo Puyo. This is the baseline of what every other mainline Puyo Puyo game will be.

The 1v1 aspect of it was what made the game stand out, if you play a PvP Tetris-like game they owe Puyo Puyo 1 a lot.

That said, while I prefer PP1 over PP0, I wouldn't call it a perfect sequel to PP0. Outside of the Game Gear version there is no Nazo Puyo mode.

But as I said, Nazo Puyo spun-off into its own series. So that's not the biggest deal. I play PvP Puyo games for PvP and Nazo for Nazo. They could've had the two modes be joined in each entry forever, and they didn't. What can you do?

I'd go over what makes this game mainline, but it's a numbered game.

3. Puyo Puyo 2 | Puyo Puyo Tsu (1994)

Story: Typically no. Depends on the version. Single-Player stages: 33 (but you're likely to fight waaaay less than that) (not counting tutorial fights like some versions have) (counted Satan and final Masked Satan as one.) No. of rules: 1 PvP: 2-player (4-Player on Super Famicom.) Playable characters: None

The standard Tsu rules are here!

I don't have to go into what makes this one mainline. Only that it has an atypical single-player progression for the series and that in most versions don't have much in the way of cutscenes.

This game did a lot for the series but didn't add much I'm now realizing.

4. Puyo Puyo 3 | Puyo Puyo Sun (1996)

Story: Yes. Single-Player stages: 24 (26 if you count Carbuncle) No. of rules: 1 PvP: 2-player Playable characters: 16 (18 with cheats) (22 total on GBC [check])

It's the third game!

And it made a huge leap by adding a character select! This is such a huge deal we take it for granted now.

I don't need to make an argument in its favor.

5. Puyo Puyo 4 | Puyo Puyo~n (1999)

Story: Yes. Single-Player stages: 16 (21 on PlayStation) (9-to-17 on GBC) No. of rules: 1* (2 on Nintendo 64) (* With several obstacles for a lack of a better term.) PvP: 4-player (2-Player on PlayStation and possibly GBC) Playable characters: 18 (23 on GBC)

It's Puyo Puyo 4! The slow one!

Another one I don't have to argue. It's numbered.

If you don't mind I'm skipping over the GBC version. Just know it's a different story. And based on Puyo Puyo Quest it's not the version that happened based on how Doppelganger Arle acts.

6. Puyo Puyo Box (2000)

Story: Yes. Single-Player stages: "FUCK BOX' ENCOUNTER RATE ahem. Too many." ~A friend No. of rules: 5 PvP: 4-player Playable characters: None.

This is our first non-numbered game. But at the time is was as close to a Puyo Puyo 5 as you were gonna get seeing as this was Compile's last Puyo Puyo hurrah before SEGA took over the reigns the next year.

Let's give an overview of what this game has to offer:

An RPG mode. (I've seen enough people dismiss this game on that alone.)

Normal vs Puyo matches.

The 4 main rulesets of the previous numbered games.

Excavation Rules. (Something the does come back in some later titles.)

Like... Those middle two facts alone make this a valid mainline game. And that's twice as many modes as the N64 version of Puyo Puyo 4! Otherwise that's 5 times the amount of modes!

This is more Puyo then we've even gotten up until this point. And people call this a spin-off?

And have I've gotten into the fact you can mix-and-match rules? I can choose between PP1, 2, 3, and 4 rules, and my opponent can select something differently from me! THAT'S AWESOME! No other game has done that since. That's something you do when you wanna up the ante on the formula that's already there. That's not something relegated to a spin-off.

This game's mainline as hell.

This is the game where you find Schezo sleeping in a treasure chest.

7. Minna de Puyo Puyo (2001)

Story: Yes. Single-Player stages: 20 (And if you do that twice more you get 16 more stages.) No. of rules: 1* (* With several obstacles for a lack of a better term.) PvP: 4-player Playable characters: 17

The true start to SEGA's run of Puyo Puyo.

Like this is easy: mainline. It's just several stages of Tsu rules. It has way more stages than any given Compile-made Puyo game.

It often gets dismissed in general. Like this only thing people remember this game for is "Stop". But it's on par, above par even.

I do consider the game non-relevant though. This game didn't leave much of an impact. You could say SEGA's run started with the next game and the only reason people will correct you is because this obscure GBA game actually started it.

8. Puyo Puyo 5 | Puyo Puyo Fever (2003)

Story: Yes. Single-Player stages: 19 No. of rules: 3 PvP: 2-Player (8-Player on DS) Playable characters: 16

It's Puyo Puyo 5!

I'm not gonna go into this title much either.

It's a soft reboot (for now) in a new world with new characters. It's slightly above par with Puyo Puyo 3 in terms of content I wanna say.

Nobody is calling this game non-mainline and I'm not going to go against that grain.

Just know from now on, if you see this game as a soft reboot and a fresh start, no matter what other people will tell you, know that SEGA's continuity is way more solid than Compile's run ever was.

This is weird because the reputation, perhaps not at the time of writing anymore but for the longest time in the west at least, is that SEGA doesn't care about continuity but Compile did.

From Puyo Puyo 0 to Minna I skipped over a ton of games. They legit made too much they didn't bother keeping a continuity. From now on, with a few exceptions (namely Puyo Puyo!! Quest), the rest of the games I'll talk about in this post are the only Puyo Puyo games released. And they all happened, and there's no reset button.

There are a few instances like PP5's WakuWaku/HaraHara-course-either-or, 20th Anni's Arle, Schezo, Satan, and Rulue debacle, and the Schrödinger's canon that is all of 15th Anni. But otherwise, this is all pretty solid.

9. Puyo Puyo 6 | Puyo Puyo Fever 2 (2005)

Story: Yes. Single-Player stages: 51 No. of rules: 3 PvP: 2-Player (8-Player on DS) Playable characters: 21

I have no idea what I seriously have to say about this game.

What I said about PP5 starts here in earnest. This is the first Puyo Puyo game that actually took lore seriously. And arguably took it the most seriously of any game. And not because later games tossed it aside, it's just that you can't pry into everyone's private lives like you can here or they don't have discussions about their lives like they do in 15th Anni. The lore this game established never went away.

So if I were to bet. This whole "only numbered games matter" thing revolves around this game. People got really invested in this game's story.

Have you met my friend?:

The Crimson Spirit. (I'm calling him "Crimmy" for the sake of this post because we could all use a laugh.)

I'm gonna assume you know who he is and what his deal is.

Crimmy here is why I assume people think why SEGA doesn't care about lore. Because they introduced this guy, with a fleshed-out, fairly sympathetic, yet mysterious backstory. Yet they shelved this this guy afterwards. Like he had to return for a sequel.

I'll be honest. I don't think they had a long-term plan for Crimmy.

I know he's cool and a formidable opponent, like he's got style and bitchin' theme song.

But he's the setup to a joke in the game's story mode. Fever 2 is a pretty funny game. It's not out of the realm of possibility they made an elaborate backstory and a connection to the new kid Sig. Just to not do anything with it really.

Also, this is nothing new.

PP4's Doppelganger Arle never got a serious follow-up. We still don't know what she is.

PP5 had Popoi. He's in a similar boat to Crimmy. Only difference is there's no connection to anyone but Accord. Where are the demands that he gets elaboration? (He actually is given that but as of writing you statistically don't know about his tax collecting days.)

And later final boss figures actually got resolutions. 2 of which are arguably so easily solved it's a joke. Just like I think PP6's ending for Crimmy is.

I'm admitting to being a little dishonest here. Like Doppel's likely because of the soft rebooting (though I doubt they actually had a plan for her either) for example. Pick apart my logic all you like, doesn't change the fact Sig and Crimmy are popular and people feel like they're owed a follow-up.

I think that ship has sailed. If it was ever in the cards, it's not in the cards anymore. Because I doubt a Puyo Puyo 8 named Puyo Puyo 8 would give us the confrontation and follow-up you wanted. Because Puyo Puyo 7 sure didn't do it either.

Not that the Sig and Crimmy thing was ever forgotten. We'll keep getting drip-feed Sig and Crimmy lore. Aside from Chronicle (I think) and Champions (no duh) Crimmy does have his thumbprint in the story in some fashion (Quest especially).

I forgot if I ever had a point. But I will say that I find it silly this "only numbered games matter" thing only really hinges on this game it seems.

Because as I said, this is the first mainline Puyo Puyo game to take lore seriously. 1 out of the 6/9 games so far focuses on the lore.

Puyo Puyo 1 to 5 were self-contained episodes with reoccurring characters. Why would Puyo Puyo 6 be any different?

Not that I fault anyone for wanting a follow-up. I don't. It's just that I don't think they thought ahead Fever 2 when making Fever 2, and the next game just didn't focus on them. Or the game after that.

(Also both Sig and Crimmy are so popular, them actually squaring off might not be what you actually want. Might result in at least one getting eliminated, or a major status quo change for both. Becareful what you wish for.)

Unrelated but if I may be über pedantic:

Puyos 2 to 5 all had puns based on its the number it's on.

Puyo Puyo 5, or its proper name "Puyo Puyo Fever", is a pun on the number 5 in Japan and the new Fever mechanic.

Puyo Puyo 6's proper name is "Puyo Puyo Fever 2" or sometimes "Fever Chuu". Chuu isn't a pun on 6 at all.

Puyo Puyo Fever 2 is logically called Puyo Puyo 5-2.

And I don't care if it's officially the 6th one, or that its working title is Puyo Puyo 6, or that the game's marketing made 6 puns. Because Puyo Puyo 5-2 is a valid pun you could make. It is the sequel to a soft reboot in the same world after all.

And given there's only one game between "Puyo Puyo 5-2" and Puyo Puyo 7. Why don't people see 15th Anniversary as Puyo Puyo 6?

I wouldn't want that, and this is so arbitrary but so is the whole "only numbered games matter" thing anyways. Especially with the stuff we know about the games now we didn't know prior to the boom of new fans this fanbase has gotten with PPT1 releasing in the west.

10. Puyo Puyo! 15th Anniversary (2006)

Story: Yes. Single-Player stages: 176 No. of rules: 12 PvP: 4-Player (8-Player on DS) Playable characters: 22

Hey, look! Why isn't this considered Puyo Puyo 6?

Look. I get it why this one isn't considered mainline to some people.

This is a tournament game. 22 playable characters, and only 1 could be the winner. So it's easy to dismiss this game as if didn't happen.

Except Puyo Puyo 7 and 20th Anni especially do make it clear a lot of 15th happened. Just not how we saw it.

And this game is the explanation why Satan, Schezo, Rulue, etc. are in Primp now.

This game is also important because it retroactively turns Puyo Puyo 5 from a clean-slate soft reboot to an overall soft reboot. With all the returning characters. Which only means so much since so far this series has been episodic one game's story doesn't lead into the other.

Until this game that is. Since there are a lot of call-backs and elaborations from older games. Of all games 15th Anniversary is the only game that rivals Puyo Puyo 6 in how much lore there is.

As I've said in the PP5 section, SEGA's run has a more solid continuity. And it really begins to show itself here.

Also this is the most content a Puyo Puyo game has ever gotten up until this point, it overshadows the next game even.

No spin-off in the same genre with the same cast should have more content than a mainline entry.

Spin-offs tend to focus on a different cast (like how Dynasty Warriors spin-offs like Samurai Warriors are cut from the same cloth, but it focuses on a completely different cast in a different country), or they focus on a completely different genre (look at any given Mario or Sonic Spin-off that isn't a platformer).

Same genre (same formula even), same cast.

11. Puyo Puyo 7 (2009)

Story: Yes. Single-Player stages: 22 (47 if you count alternate scenarios) No. of rules: 5 PvP: 4-Player (8-Player on DS) Playable characters: 19

I'll cut to the chase, why is Puyo Puyo 7 held in such high importance to some people?

Besides PP4 and Minna, PP7 has to be the least-liked game by default. It does nothing with what people want out of a PP5-3. Yet this game counts as a real Puyo Puyo game while 15th and 20th don't?? You've noticed how much PP7 offers to the table, right?

I don't wanna go over why PP7 is the way it is. That's a story for another blogpost I don't wanna make because I'm not a historian.

Puyo Puyo 7 gets a ton of flack for not being as feature-rich as the game before or after it. But in terms of content I'd say it's pretty on par, if not higher than most numbered games. Something it doesn't get credit for. It's just that PP6 and 15th outdid it. PP7 is only really a bad deal because 15th Anniversary came before it on the same consoles.

It's one of the least-liked games. Yet people place this much importance on it. Sure it changed Puyo Puyo forever with the characters it introduced. The next game is a sequel to this game. But I don't know why the only game with Ringo and friends that counts is the one where they aren't fleshed out.

I'm not sure yet if anyone that still believes/believes the numbers nonsense is still reading. But would you even care about Puyo Puyo 7 if didn't have a number? Be honest with yourself. The answers will vary but I'm saying a lot people would say no. Because a lot of people frankly don't care for it now (and that's okay).

Because in the lens that only the numbered games count, this isn't a very satisfying game to go out on. Last episode, new character takes the lead. If you think every game after this isn't canon, what's the point of Ringo?

Genuine question: If you believe only the numbered games count. Would you take the opportunity to strip Puyo Puyo 7 of its 7?

I'm willing to bet a good amount of people will do that. As I said, this isn't a continuation of what people wanted from PP6 and 15th.

Also if we got a Puyo Puyo 8 right after 7, it would probably follow up on the new cast introduced in Puyo Puyo 7. Because why leave them hanging and undeveloped? Characters introduced in Puyo 5 didn't get fleshed out until Puyo 6. Good chances that the next game would've done that.

And surprise! The next game, 20th Anniversary, is that exact game!

In some alternate timeline where SEGA made a poor marketing decision, I'm convinced 20th Anniversary is called Puyo Puyo 8.

But it probably never was actually considered because look at this:

It was successful. But it also wasn't that liked. Puyo Puyo 7 kinda poisoned the prestige of a numbered Puyo Puyo game.

Combine that with how I think the western Puyo Puyo fans talk about this game more dismissively than anything...

Since then we've had 5 games that fleshed out Ringo and her friends and everyone else has been developed since which people have grown attached to. I cannot live in a world where Schezo isn't an old man yelling at kids to get off his lawn.

To turn back the clock back to the end of PP7 to make Puyo Puyo 8 is a horrible idea.

Have you met my friend?:

Ecolo.

Regardless of what you think of him. Going back PP8 as if 20th, PPT1&2, and Chronicle didn't happen is a bad idea for this fella alone.

If we went back and did a PP8 like that, all the games between 7 and now still happened. Even if they didn't happen in-universe they still definitely did in ours'. And in our universe, people like Ecolo. Thus it would make sense to have him back in PP8.

But unless they make use of the fact Ecolo can just ignore space/time it wouldn't be the same Ecolo.

In PP7 Ecolo didn't reform, frankly he was a very terrible person.

But after he bumped his head in 20th Anni he reformed and became a part of the regular cast that way. That is the story of 20th Anniversary.

This, in all likelihood, would be the story of PP8 too! Would you really want two games about Ecolo reforming? We have 20th Anniversary for that. If we did a redo in that PP8 we'd have an Ecolo reformation plot + erased canon. You will piss people off. AND it'll be pointless.

And if you think 20th Anni doesn't matter to the canon. PP7 sure thinks the "Spin-off" released before it sure mattered:

(The first 15th Anni reference in a Puyo game after it.)

Admittingly, I have heard that the original Japanese didn't mention the tournament (the one from 15th). But that's the first time Amitie and Satan met, it's the only thing it could refer to here since it's talking about behavior which is what their interaction was about. And this language they use implies they haven't really encountered each other much or if at all since 15th Anniversary.

If a "spin-off" like 15th Anniversary matters to "mainline" game Puyo Puyo 7 why wouldn't 20th Anni or literally any other Puyo games afterwards? They take about as much effort to make give or take.

For the record, I really like Puyo Puyo 7. It makes me happy and genuinely enlightened me, no joke. Not because that game's unbelievable though. Don't expect it to enlighten you.

12. Puyo Puyo!! 20th Anniversary (2011)

Story: Yes. Single-Player stages: 200 No. of rules: 21 PvP: 4-Player (8-Player on DS) Playable characters: 30

Hey look! It's Puyo Puyo 8! It's Puyo Puyo 7's sequel! This game wouldn't make sense if Puyo Puyo 7 didn't happen. This game is more of a sequel to PP7 than PP6 even was to PP5 or any game prior to that for that matter.

There are so many nods to past games I'm not even gonna bring them up it's too much. But one of those games is 15th, with follow-up interactions or call-backs of stuff that happened in that game. It did happen, just not in any of the 22 ways we saw it happen. A lot probably didn't even happen on the tournament stage but in the back rooms.

I already blew my load why this game and the others are mainline in the PP7 section so I don't have much more to say. The games post-PP6 and sometimes 15th and PP7 have the stigma that it's like a cartoon with a reset button. But 20th isn't like that. No game starting with PP5 has been like that.

13. Puyo Puyo Tetris (2014)

Story: Yes. Single-Player stages: 70 (100 total if you include DLC.) (Do note not nearly that much stages with story content.) No. of rules: 5 PvP: 4-Player Playable characters: 24

Everything I have to say about this game has been covered in the PP7 and if not I'll cover it in the PPT2 section.

This is the first game with a reformed Ecolo though. He acts the part. Still a brat.

Also just because it's a crossover doesn't mean it isn't canon. They just legally can't acknowledge the game happened in other non-Tetris crossovers is all.

14. Puyo Puyo Chronicle (2016)

Story: Yes. Single-Player stages: RPG mode. 24 mandatory bosses, a bunch of other bosses, and a whole ton of regular encounters. No. of rules: 18 PvP: 4-Player Playable characters: 24 (+ too many to bother listing in RPG mode.)

Similar to Puyo Puyo Tetris 1, I plan to save most of my talk about this game until Puyo Puyo Tetris 2. I wonder how much of a surprise that is.

But yeah this game's mainline.

Have you met my friend?:

Her name is Ally.

It took Ally a while, but I'd say she's part of the main cast by now.

She's sticking around.

And for the validity of the game. Just because it has an RPG mode doesn't disqualify it being a main game. Regardless of the quality of the story.

If that disqualifies that game I'm gonna disqualify PP6's as a mainline game since it has more emphasis on world-building. That's an arbitrary thing to base things off of too.

15. Puyo Puyo Champions (2018)

Story: No. Single-Player stages: 50 Hidden Nazo Puzzles. No. of rules: 2 PvP: 4-Player Playable characters: 27

It's main game. I'd rather not count it, but despite the lack of a story and merely two modes, it fits the bill.

Interestingly this is the first mainline game with Nazo Puyo modes since PP1 on Game Gear. And making it the first Nazo Puyo period since the mid-90s. You just gotta suffer through too many mindless, borderline-useless tutorial drills to get to play them.

Side-note: It's really funny to me that Puyo Puyo 0, the first game and the only other game to have Nazo Puyo, has more Nazo Puzzles than Champions.

Like this game's weird. I'm not sure I can properly defend it like the other games. And I hope you understand why. To me it barely qualifies.

16. Puyo Puyo Tetris 2 (2020)

Story: Yes. Single-Player stages: 92 No. of rules: 6 PvP: 8-Player (?) Playable characters: 28 (40 with DLC)

Puyo Puyo Tetris 1, 2, and Chronicle are the most interconnected the games have ever been. Puyo Puyo Tetris 2 does not work if Puyo Puyo Tetris 1 didn't happen. This is the most sequel a Puyo Puyo story has been. Even more than 20th was to PP7.

It's also a showcase of how much continuity still matters in Puyo Puyo because of Ex and the people that helped him Squares got pissed and wanted to destroy them. That's the most direct cause and effect between games.

Any dimensional rules they established in PPT1 and 2 apply to Chronicle retroactively as well. They even reference the fact Chronicle happened. There's the full Ally chapter. But even as early as Stage 2-P1 there's this:

"this stuff" refers to Skill Battle Rule. Introduced in Chronicle and before Puyo Puyo Tetris 2 ONLY in Chronicle. It's just locked in Arle's subconscious right now.

Chronicle happened. As did this game. And as did Puyo Puyo Tetris 1 as it's connected to 20th Anni. 20th Anni as established is the true Puyo Puyo 8 and thus a sequel to Puyo Puyo 7. Puyo Puyo 7, a numbered game, says 15th Anni is canon so why shouldn't the game past Puyo Puyo 7? Of course Puyos 1-6 happened too. And PP0 is the bedrock. [Cronicle also mentioned Puyo Puyo Box.]

Gameplay-wise you could prefer a certain thing one game has over another. All these games will give you what'd you want out of a Puyo Puyo game. If you visited your fellow Puyo Puyo fan's house to play some Puyo Puyo and for some reason, all they had was 2 copies of Minna, 2 GBAs, and a link cable for some reason, are you gonna complain? Doesn't matter what you think of the gamefeel, it's still Puyo Puyo, it services VS Puyo Puyo matches like PP 0 to 7 would. Just like Box, 15th, 20th, Tetris 1&2, and Champions do.

It's what the single-player Nazo Puyo doesn't deliver. It's what Madou Monogatari doesn't deliver. But these 16 games deliver it. They are mainline games. Even if they don't have a number.

So why tell people that the majority of these games are lesser?

Regardless if you mean to imply that or not, that is what you're implying. Why would you imply that? You like Puyo Puyo right? Wouldn't you want others to like Puyo Puyo?

I find this rich because 4 and 7 are the least favorites and numbered. Meanwhile 15th and 20th give you more bang for your buck and are way more liked by people.

And not for nothing, but aside from PP6 the numbered games are fairly nothing games. You beat them but unless you wanna improve yourself you're done with the game in 13 to 20-ish stages.

The non-numbered games except for Minna and Champions has a lot more to offer than the numbered games.

And this isn't new. A lot of franchises stop numbering their games.

Sly Cooper has 4 games but the 4th isn't numbered. But unless it gets retconned it's canon and mainline.

Ratchet & Clank games were numbered 1 to 3 in Europe, but a large majority are both canon and mainline.

Super Mario Bros. is a series that stopped numbering. Super Mario World is SMB4 in Japan, but we don't have a number. And I would look crazy if I told you that game wasn't mainline. Is the upcoming Super Mario Wonder not mainline because it's not numbered?

I could go on.

The difference is that Puyo Puyo counted higher than those franchises ever did.

My conclusion I guess?

This overblown importance on number is a lazy shortcut to deeming what's canon or not. And a relic of a time when the western fans could barely play any of the games in English legally or not.

(Thanks to @nenilein and Fred for helping to keep focus.)

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p3ski · 6 days

Text

Rule Of Nines

Betrayal Pt. 1

Explicit content, Graphic Violence (18+)

Pairing: Reed900

Tags: AU, Multi-Chapter, Lovers to Enemies, Kidnapping, Crime and Violence, Oral, Anal, Dom/ Sub

Previous Chapter

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: In a world where loyalty is currency and compromise is weakness, Gavin Reed, a ruthless mobster, lives by his own rules. When an old enemy resurfaces with a deadly demand, his life is thrown into chaos-as his trusted second-in-command, Nines, is put to the ultimate test of allegiance. Will he stay committed to Gavin, or will the loyal guard dog begin to stray? (Human Mob!AU)

Warnings: Major Character Death (before events of the story), Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Dubious Consent

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @ladyj-pl @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel

If you would like to be added to the tag list for future projects, please let me know♡

In the days that followed, they continued to receive packages from DeLuca's gang. They painted a vivid timeline of everything their prisoner had endured at their hands, supplied in meticulous detail. It seemed like Connor couldn't so much as wheeze for breath or piss his pants without the entire process being captured on a grainy video feed.

These recordings would be sent to the Reed Hideout in the form of more flash drives—of which they'd amassed quite a collection, piled high on the meeting room table. Gavin couldn't help but wonder where the snake had gotten them all. Perhaps he'd held up a local convenience store for their office supplies…

It wasn't just the videos, of course. They'd had plenty of other weird and wonderful shit arriving at their doorstep. At one point, they received a densely packed envelope containing nothing but cigarette butts. There'd been seemingly no reason for this until a day later when the photos came—mapping in meticulous detail where exactly they'd been stubbed.

Very few of his men had the balls to open the mail after that, the last of the stragglers calling it quits following the most recent instalment in the 'Connor Torture Chronicles.'

It was impressive, really. Just how quickly a room full of criminals could turn into a PTA of pearl-clutching moms when the blood being spilt on-screen belonged to one of their own. Had the inherited burden of the family not already inspired sickness in Gavin, their reception of DeLuca's ongoing media project would have more than secured his disdain.

The video that had proved too much for their delicate sensibilities found Connor in a new location, much better lit than the dingy warehouse which usually hosted his suffering.

Evidently, DeLuca wanted to make sure this most recent performance was made crystal clear for its audience, showcasing all its bloody glory. No one had made it all the way through, with the last viewing attempt interrupted as one of the men loudly and violently expelled the contents of his lunch.

In the relative security of his well-insulated (and much less pungent) office, Gavin pushed back the screen of his laptop and calmly resumed the clip:

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

Connor had been strapped by his wrists to a dilapidated table, secured with bulky leather binds. An unidentified contraption sat in front of him, looking like some long-forgotten relic from a medieval torture dungeon—or something out of a horror movie.

Rusted wires connected its mechanisms to a series of steel vices, which had been clamped around his fingers. They anchored the digits a few millimetres above the splintered wood, leaving a small margin of space. The scene remained motionless for a number of seconds, as though the screen had frozen until one of DeLuca's masked goons emerged in frame.

They settled into a fold-out chair, its creaky frame groaning under their weight. Gavin could practically taste the expectant satisfaction oozing from them as the corners of their mask creased upwards, hinting at a concealed grin. Protruding from the side of the strange device was a small plastic dial. While it had been scarcely visible until now, it became much more apparent as the captor's hand shot towards it. His reach extended until a voice sternly dissuaded him—and the grubby appendage stilled, waiting.

Faint mumbling could be heard off-screen, as though an unseen group were deliberating on the best course of action until the masked man was given the go-ahead in the form of a terse: "Now."

He wasted no time obliging the instruction as the switch was swiftly turned. One of the wires lurched back, taking a finger with it and forcing it to yield to an increasingly distorted angle. As it snapped in two, splintered bone pierced Connor's flesh, resembling a broken tree branch.

Given his already grotesque condition, this newest injury was barely noticeable. Over the course of the week, his body had been transformed from a blank paper doll into a vibrant, morbid mosaic. Angry, blistered welts wrapped his skin, sectioning numerous cuts and bruises.

His mind was clearly in similar ruin, as his head hung limply across his lap, dark eyes boring vacantly into the spring-lock mechanisms destroying his hands. He made no attempt to fight the restraints, nor did he try to plead through gagging binds of worn-out scotch tape. The room was silent, save for gurgles of pain and the repeated crunching of bones.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

Gavin paused the video, sliding the laptop to one side as he reached for a neglected packet of cigarettes. It had failed to tug any heartstrings, which he suspected was the intent.

DeLuca and his gang could prolong the ordeal as much as they wanted; it wouldn't change his refusal to meet their demands. To him, the elimination of another undesirable bastard from his operations could only be considered a blessing.

What did get him thinking, however, was why Connor had been selected as the bargaining chip for the ill-conceived power play. It was no secret just how much Gavin loathed the man. No doubt Salvatore would have seen it himself during his time with the family. The frequent displays of vocal disdain and physical animosity were hardly subtle.

Not that he tried to hide it. He wore his hatred of the eldest Anderson as a badge of honour, boasting his ability to see through his bullshit in a way that no one else could. That was the bastard's M.O., after all: a 'skilled negotiator and manipulator', as Dad liked to put it.

The younger Reed favoured his own assessment, considering it more accurate. Connor was nothing more than a conniving, underhanded piece of shit. Someone who couldn't be trusted, with his purported 'skills' beginning and ending with his ability to convince people otherwise.

Clearly, he wasn't that great of a fucking negotiator, having failed miserably to sleaze his way out of his current predicament. A mess that Gavin was fast suspecting he’d created for himself—

A sudden knock rang through the office, derailing his thoughts and causing his hands to falter as he attempted to ignite a cigarette. The flame brushed the inside of his palm, and he dropped his lighter, hissing in pain. He then glared at the door, regarding the man concealed behind it with appropriate disdain:

"Yeah? Who the fuck is it?"

The unidentified figure was silent, as though paralysed by indecision, inspiring greater annoyance. This ill will festered cleanly into a familiar sense of impatience as he barked another demand. "Either answer me now or right fuck off. I don't have all damn day."

Even before recent events, it seemed most of his goons existed in perpetual fear around him. Maybe it was the threat of Nines pile driving them into the floor if they ever spoke out of line. It couldn't be a coincidence that the only person who'd ever shown the gall to charge him head-on, regardless of consequence, had always been Connor.

He'd put an end to this misguided confidence as soon as he could once he'd taken over from Dad. Making it clear he wouldn't be giving the doe-eyed cretin any of the same special treatment. This also extended to Nines, as he firmly dissuaded the soft touch he had been lending his sibling.

Because it wasn't deserved, it hadn't been earned. Gavin wasn't his Dad, any more than Nines was his brother—

There was another knock on the door as a despondent voice spoke:

"... It's me."

— At least, that's what he'd always believed. Until recently.

The pitiful address brought with it a whole new wave of frustration. Having recovered from his brush with the lighter, Gavin picked it up, sparking the awaiting cigarette hanging from his lips. He inhaled deeply before releasing the coiling smoke from his lungs with a harsh growl.

"Was wondering when you'd show your face," he grumbled out accusingly, "You've been pussyfooting around me all day."

What followed was far more 'demand' than it was 'permission' as he fought the urge to grab the man by the scruff of his neck, hauling his ass through the threshold himself. "Stop dicking around and get in here, jackass."

Nines had been terrible during the entire ordeal, and it was reflected in his Hellish appearance as he lifelessly skulked through the doorway. He looked like a zombie, his once meticulously styled hair hanging greasy and limp against his face. His fair skin was nearing grey from how sickly it had become; exhaustion formed in deep-set rings around his eyes.

Even with the door no longer muffling his words, Nines sounded nothing like himself. His words came dull and monotonous, lacking their usual bite: "We received another delivery…a few minutes ago…"

His movements were just as stiff as he idled by the foot of the doorway, a string-bound package clutched limply in his hands. The style of wrapping was all too familiar, making no secret of its origin.

Gavin reclined in his seat. He kicked up his steel-capped boots and thumped them down on the desk, almost sending his laptop flying. As he took another drag of his smoke, he summoned the other man closer with a lazy beckon. "Well, better be something exciting if it's important enough to interrupt my 'me time'"

Nines straightened up a bit, his slumped shoulders rolling in a tense bristle, but ultimately remained frozen. The timid movement inspired an ongoing ripple of disfavour, fanning the flames of the embittered resentment.

Honestly, the mobster could have forgiven Nines' sudden glow down, and even his sudden shitty work performance, had his corpse-like appearance not come with a matching libido.

It had been days since the man had last touched him. Longer than he'd ever been forced to abstain in the entire time of their 'arrangement'. The current distance between them felt staggering, and Gavin hated just how deeply it sought to affect him.

"What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?" His lips twisted into a bitter snarl as he fired off a biting instruction. " Now , dipshit."

Slowly, Nines dragged his heels to where Gavin was sitting, moving in small, laboured shuffles. His lax grip was relinquished as he deposited the parcel onto the grimy surface of the desk.

He toyed with the strings, exerting minimal effort as he loosened them. The paper beneath fell away to reveal a tape-bound box, which he hacked at clumsily with a nearby pen knife.

As the container was opened, the first thing that hit was the smell. Wafts of copper mingled with rot drifted into the smoke-laden air. It was overwhelming, forcing him to recoil instantly. He pinched his nostrils and tilted his head—a reflexive action to shield himself from the full hilt of the stench.

"What the hell is that?"

Admittedly, he already had a pretty firm idea of what it was. Or, more precisely, who . What part of him he was looking at, however, remained a mystery. The putrid mass of flesh sat limp and bloodied in the centre of a pile of shredded paper, unidentifiable.

After taking a moment to steel himself, he moved back towards the package; eyes narrowed as he peered curiously into the contents. Following a period of closer inspection, he mumbled out a tasteless remark. "...Kinda looks like the mouse I had to dissect in 8th Grade."

Nines didn't laugh at the joke or attempt to feign any degree of interest. Opting to stare rigidly at the yellowed rolls of paper peeling from a nearby wall. Gavin's smile dropped at the snub, having officially exhausted his patience with the man's ongoing pity party.

"I dunno. What do you think?" He then gestured his cigarette towards the box in line with a pointed glare. Ash scattered across his desk as it missed his often-neglected tray.

The movements of Nines' head were jerky, robotic, as he dared a small glimpse into the bed of crinkled packaging. The regret in his eyes was instantaneous, his sallow complexion growing even more sickly as a sharp hitch escaped his throat.

"I think it's—"

The sentence was aborted as his throat tightened, larynx clenching. The contractions became increasingly pronounced as though he were repressing the urge to vomit.

"...I think it's part of his ear."

Gavin whistled at the revelation, his lips pursed in bemusement. He was almost impressed that such a delicate cross-section had been severed from the appendage, especially by a group of thugs who probably struggled to tie their shoes.

"Well, shit. Good thing he's got two of 'em."

"We have one more day," came a sullen response. Nines anchored himself across the desk, subtly reducing the gap between them, "and we haven't done anything. Communicated with DeLuca at all, even to acknowledge that we've received the messages."

"I know. We're not going to."

"Gavin…" Nines sounded winded, almost painfully so, as he attempted to support himself against the soiled wood. His palms were caked with powder, dirtied by a thick layer of grey. "He's my brother."

"He's a rat," the other man corrected. His fingers drummed idly against the table, flecks of ash falling in sync. "With any luck, pest control will do their job."

"He'd never do anything to betray you. Betray us—"

"Oh, what, did he tell you that?" The question was simpered mockingly, concluded with a barked laugh. "Come on, think about it. Why would DeLuca take him when he had literally any other option?"

Despite all the enduring desperation he'd shown in pleading his case, Nines had no response to this. His lips gaped open and closed before pulling into a tight frown.

"Guess whatever deal they had finally went south…" Gavin tutted in false sympathy as he flicked his now extinguished cigarette across the room. "That's a real shame."

"I understand you've never warmed to him…but I implore you not to make decisions based on that alone." In an act of desperation—and presumably madness—he reached forward, attempting to place a hand on his calf. "Just try to be reasonable for a moment."

Gavin bristled at the insolence.

Oh no you don't.

He shot his legs back, preventing contact from being made, as he planted the ridged soles of his boots firmly onto the ground. He then hauled himself up from his chair, grabbing Nines by the collar and yanking him further across the desk.

"Don't fucking tell me what to do." The words were seethed through clenched teeth as his jaw locked tight in warning. They were close enough that speckles of spit propelled onto the other man's face, glossing his cheeks.

They stayed this way for quite some time as Nines stared back at him fixedly. Waiting in hushed anticipation as he deliberated on his next move.

The longer spent in this proximity, the more Gavin could feel his convictions wane. All it had really taken was a whiff of the woody cologne clinging to the other man's neck for anger to slip into hesitancy.

There was musk as well. Clearly, he hadn't showered in a couple of days, but even that proved inexplicably tempting in his current repressed state. Enough to send a shiver up his spine and the blood in his brain rushing south.

God-fucking-dammit.

Even when he looked like an extra out of The Walking Dead, Nines still possessed his unique ability to drive him completely insane. It didn't matter how many nights of sleep he missed; there was no getting past the marble-like chest and the jawline that could cut through glass…

Reaching for his face, his subordinate tensed as though preparing for a strike. Gavin then ran a hand up his neck, kneading the flesh beneath his fingertips. In a show of possessiveness, he flicked up his thumb, pulling it across his jaw as he firmly traced the bone.

"Come on, baby," he crooned, craning across the barricade that dared to separate them. He tickled the shell of the other man's ear in long puffs, shamelessly goading a response. "Connor isn't worth us fighting over. You're smart enough to know that, right?"

Nines' eyes pinched closed as his expression grew increasingly strained. Clearly, he was a man at war with himself, torn between duty and desire. Then, he slowly began to give in, relaxing under the touch, leaning towards it reflexively.

"Gavin, please. Just this once, give DeLuca what he wants." Slowly, his eyes opened, icy grey darkened by lust. He grabbed his lover's hand, cradling it firmer against his face and ran his cheek against it. Then he brought his fingers to his mouth, peppering them with gentle kisses. "Do it for us. For me."

And just like that, the moment was ruined. His dick stopped thinking for him as the blood surged back to his brain, firing off a series of blaring warnings.

No.

This isn't right .

Nines knew the rules, he understood damn well this wasn't how they did things. They did grabbing hands, tongue, and teeth, not soft touches and whispered promises. It was too intimate—throwing into ruin years of carefully crafted understanding.

The kisses burned hotter than any lighter, and Gavin snatched his hand back, stomach churning.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Nines recoiled, the underlying vacancy of his gaze giving way to focus for the first time in days. His eyes sprung wide, staunchly alert, and after a period of tense shock came confusion, nestling in the cracks of his stricken features. "...I… don't understand what you mean."

The sickening churn grew more pronounced as something rose in the back of his throat. Initially, it could have been mistaken for bile—until low chuckles began to echo against the muscled walls. They ramped quickly until they had built into large, bitter cackles.

Gavin sat back in his chair, trembling, as he punctuated his disbelief with a harsh slam against the table. An empty coffee cup rattled on the trembling foundation before slipping from the desk and shattering on the ground.

Maybe you aren't as smart as I thought.

While he was willing to chalk at least some of the misunderstanding down to Nines' current exhaustion, the lapse in judgment still demanded a correction. He held himself upright, chin jutted high, as he cracked the bones of his now pulsing knuckles.

"Let's make something clear—because it looks like you might have forgotten. I might let you fuck me, but you're still my bitch. You do what I want when I want it. I'm the one calling the shots."

The more he spoke, the more Nines seemed lost to despair. Watching as the line he'd cast, Gavin vanished into the ocean, pulled by an intense force. "I have never once questioned you, and I don't intend to do so again. This is not something I ever predicted I'd have to ask for. I just…"

The words trailed off, adopting a distant quality, as his brow pinched in concentration.

“...thought…after all this time…"

"You thought wrong." Gavin interrupted, refusing to let him continue. "I keep you around for two reasons: You can shoot a bullet through a man's eyes from across a football pitch, and you screw better than some coked-up hooker."

His gaze was spearing, carving into him in line with the daggers spewed from his lips. Every aspect of Nines' response was monitored closely—with cold, unfeeling scrutiny. As he watched the man fall apart, he saw something more than the stony-faced machine his Dad had always praised.

Nines looked hurt . All wide eyes and trembling lips, the picture of vulnerability.

In his current crestfallen state, he was a spitting image of Connor. The realisation worked another knot into the mangled mess of his gut as Gavin realised the bounds of his trust had extended too far, allowing for too much leniency. It was a wrong he sought to correct. Swiftly and definitively.

"You mean nothing to me, and neither does your shithead brother. Do you understand that?"

Nines' face pulled and contorted as though struggling to contain a deluge of sentiment. Waves built, cresting rampantly as they prepared to crash down—but the flood never came, trickling away without event.

Sharp features settled back into their usual stoic rigidity as he coolly returned to form, nodding in acknowledgement.

"Understood."

Gavin could feel the tension that had amassed slowly begin to wane. He slunk down into his seat with a satisfied grunt. "Good. So quit bitching and do something useful. Either handling the situation down at the docks. Or…well…” He made a gesture towards the fly of his jeans, smirking as he did so. "You know the drill."

There was little consideration made for the crude proposition. Nines spun on his heel, refusing to dignify it, as he briskly strode from the office without saying another word.

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