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prettyfastcars · 4 months

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dangerous, tainted, and flawed | Dark!Mob!Lando

Summary: You met your husband under disturbing circumstances a couple of years ago. Your home was under attack one night, by one of your family’s rivals, and Lando – one of your father’s allies – came to help. He found you in your bedroom that night, and managed to save you but unfortunately no one else in your family survived the attack. You were distraught after that night, having lost everything, but Lando took care of you. Eventually, you two fell in love, he proposed, and you got married. Your life has been perfect ever since. Sure, you missed your family but you thanked the gods everyday for Lando. However, you didn’t know the whole truth about that night, did you?

Themes: dark!lando, explicit language, smut, fluff, mentions of death, loss, and violence, possessive!lando

“Baby?” He called out, “I’m home.”

His voice echoed in the foyer.

The house was so spacious that often you couldn’t hear him when he called out for you, and he knew that. That’s why instead of calling out again, he followed the sweet smelling scent and the soft music instead. Both came from the kitchen; the smell of warm muffins and a soft woman’s voice singing about chemtrails over a country club.

Lando leaned against a wall quietly for a minute, smiling to himself as he watched you moving around in the high-ceilinged, farmhouse style kitchen. You didn’t know he was here yet. You were busy mumbling the lyrics of the song while chopping veggies, probably making dinner and baking muffins all at the same time.

Cooking calmed you down, ‘It’s therapeutic’ you once told him. And he’d been married to you for not too long but he knew that this is what you did whenever you had a long day at work. You were a successful gallerist and often you had to deal with snobbish people, or ‘young money kids who had no true appreciation for art’ as you also told him.

He let his eyes take you in. You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, prettier than anything you’d ever exhibited he often told you, but the way you squirmed in embarrassment told him that you didn’t really believe it. That’s fine though, he’d spend a whole lifetime reminding you of that anyway.

Once he was done ogling, that damn pale pink corset top of yours driving him insane as it was, he finally walked up to you and surprised you by wrapping his arms around you from behind. “There you are, baby,” He said, shoving his face into your neck and giving you as many kisses as he could.

You giggled and tried to get away as he attacked your neck with kisses and soft bites but he tightened his grip around you.

“Fuck, you smell so good.” He groaned, voice muffled now that he was nuzzling your neck like he always does. “I missed you so much.”

“Lando,” You laughed, “I’m holding a knife!” You squealed, laughing and still trying to escape his ticklish kisses before any one gets hurt. “Okay you seriously need to shave, that stubble of yours hurts.” You managed to get him to stop. You placed the knife down and turned to face him as you leaned against the counter, caressing his cheeks as you cupped his face in your hands. “Too rough.” You commented, rubbing your fingers across his barely visible, but spiky stubble.

He raised an eyebrow at you, his handsome face lighting up with mischief. “Is it?” He teased, “You weren’t complaining about it being too rough this morning.” He leaned in to whisper into your ear, purposely rubbing his cheek against yours, “Were you, baby?”

Ah. This morning…

You woke up feeling… funny. You opened your eyes and found that your husband wasn’t in his usual spot beside you on the bed. Instead he was busy down there, between your legs. You lifted the soft covers and found him looking up at you with nothing but desire and trouble in his eyes.

You let out a soft moan when he held your stare while kissing your clit, and sucking on it before letting go. “Morning, baby.” He whispered, then got back to eating you out like he was starving.

You threw the covers off and slid your fingers into his hair instead, “Lando…” You whined, the pleasure taking over you. “I’m gonna be late for work.” You mumbled, already feeling yourself getting to the edge. “I have clients waiting for me, you know? I have meetings, and…” You gasped, forgetting what the hell you were talking about in the first place once he began fucking you gently with his tongue.

Damn his tongue and soft lips.

Lando chuckled, a cocky look in his eyes when he pulled away and asked, “Meetings and what, baby?”

“Don’t be a tease,” You groaned, shoving his mouth back to where you wanted him. He chuckled before working his tongue against your wet slit, his fingers slowly sliding in and out of you until you came with a soft cry.

But he wasn’t done yet…

Lando smirked as he looked at you, surely thinking back to this morning as well.

You rolled your eyes at him. “You did get me late for work, you know?” You shook your head, turning back around to focus on the food that you were making. “Then there’s that anonymous collector,” You sighed. Lando wrapped his arms around you from behind again, placing his chin on your shoulder and gently swaying you side to side as you ranted a little bit. “I don’t mind them, whoever they are,” You said, “I do sell them a lot of stuff but why can’t they just show their face? It’s weird, you know, having a client without a face.” You sighed, “And then a really important meeting got cancelled. And one of the artists’ whose work is about to be exhibited soon is being a real brat.”

Lando hummed, occasionally kissing your neck and shoulder as you complained a little more. “I’m sorry you had a tough day, baby.” He mumbled, kissing around your ear, “Want me to handle this collector for you? Or the artist?”

You chuckled, knowing the nature of your husband’s work and his temper, “No. Please don’t.” You added, “I love my work, it’s just a bad day, that’s it.”

“Okay,” He kissed along your exposed shoulder, “Then how about a bath? You want that? Or how about some wine?”

You leaned into touch, “Bath for later,” You said, “The wine for now, please.”

“Yes, my lady,” Lando let go of you with one final kiss on the side of your head.

You watched him as he left the kitchen. He took his suit jacket off and rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows. Then before he turned to head to the wine cellar, he gave you a wink, acknowledging that he gave you a little strip show. You shook your head at him.

Once alone in the kitchen, you smiled to yourself as you thought about how far you and Lando had come in just a few years.

Your smile faded into a sad one as you thought about the day, or night rather, you first met him.

The sounds of gunshots and screams woke you up. You couldn’t hear anything but the chaos outside your bedroom. Bullets, screams, orders being shouted, furniture being wrecked, glass being broken, more screams… all of it muffled as you ran into your walk-in closet and hid in the dark.

You couldn’t stop the silent tears from streaming down your face. You knew what this meant. It was an ambush. And you also knew that a few hours ago might have been the last time you saw your family. You just hoped they made it out alive. But no one was barging into your room yet… this meant that the fight was happening downstairs.

You cried some more as you heard more yelling, more gunshots.

This life, this family you were born into came with situations like this. Your father told you this since you were a child. He was well-known amongst gang leaders and mob bosses, which meant he had more enemies than friends. Sometimes those two were the same people. But your father had kept you hidden for most of your life, away from all this.

The only reason you were even home tonight was because it was your birthday. You’d begged your father to let you celebrate it at home with everyone…

You didn’t remember passing out in that closet. You didn’t know what happened or how you were found, just that you were. And when you woke up, you were face to face with a handsome young man with pretty eyes who reassured you that you were safe.

He said he and his family were friends of your father’s. And that he was sorry but you were the only survivor of that attack. Your family was gone, your house was gone. All was gone.

The year which followed was the hardest of your life. Grieving, dealing with so many losses, moving on with a heavy heart, getting the help you needed, finally learning how to stand on your own feet again… you couldn’t have done it without Lando.

He was your rock. Always there when you needed to cry, to share a laugh, to make silly jokes, on days when you wanted to spend hours in bed, on nights when you had nightmares, on days when you felt light and happy, on days when your heart broke all over again, on days when it felt like you were finally healing, he was always there.

He was a busy man, but he made time for you.

Falling in love with him was easy. The easiest thing you’d ever done. So when time came, and he got on one knee and asked you to marry him, saying yes was the easiest thing you’d ever done. You knew you were both young, but he was it for you.

Becoming his wife felt like a dream. Like you were a real princess marrying her knight in shining armour, the one who saved her from every bad thing and promised to protect her fiercely forever. Except your knight wasn’t altruistic, he didn’t come on a white horse and with a sword. Yours was dangerous, tainted and flawed. He came with power, money, guns, and expensive cars.

“It better be thoughts of me that you’re lost in and not that anonymous collector,” His voice brought you back to the present. “Otherwise I might have to hunt them down and make them disappear forever.” Lando joked as he handed you a glass of your favourite red.

You leaned against the counter, facing him as you took a long sip. Then you said, “I was thinking about you actually.”

That cheered him up immediately. “Yeah? Do tell then.”

You smiled faintly. “Just thinking about how lucky I am that I have you.” You avoided his eyes after. You always did whenever you felt slightly emotional. You always tried to seem stronger than you felt in the moment.

Lando placed his glass down and came over to wrap you in his arms immediately. Somehow, he always knew when you needed a hug. You wrapped your arms around him and let out a sigh, your heart already feeling lighter just by being in his arms.

“I’ve got you, baby. Don’t worry.” Lando said softly, his familiar scent already making you feel better. “You’re safe here, with me.” He reassured you. Lando knew you still had a fear somewhere, about being attacked like that night. But he often also reminded you that he was the most powerful man in this city, and no harm was coming your way as long as he lived.

He often wondered whether you realised how lucky he felt that you were his. That night, when he found you passed out on the floor in the walk-in closet, something in him shifted. He knew he had to keep you safe, always.

“Thank you,” You murmured against his white shirt.

Lando pulled away to look down into your eyes. Fuck, he hated it when you cried. It felt like he was being torn apart. He quickly wiped that one tear which barely escaped your eyes and said, “You never have to thank me for taking care of you.” He said with a slight frown.

“I know,” You whispered and pulled him in for a kiss. A slow, gentle kiss that quickly turned into a heated, passionate one. His hands grabbed you by the hips and pulled you into him, so you could feel the very prominent bulge in his pants.

It made you whimper just feeling it. “Fuck,” You mumbled against his lips, “Will I ever stop wanting you like this?” Your shaky hands reached down to undo his belt, then just as you reached for his zipper, your stomach grumbled so loudly you were sure all the guards outside could hear it too.

You both froze at the sound of it, then burst out laughing. Lando threw his head back and laughed so carefreely that you fell a little bit more in love with him at that moment. You didn’t think that was possible, but here you were.

“I would love to bend you over the counter right here baby,” He chuckled, “but I feel like we need to get some food in you.” He said, kissing your cheek and pulling away to look at you as you tried to hide your face in embarrassment. “Hey, look at me.” He grabbed you by the chin and lifted your head up. “Let’s eat, and I’ll fuck you later. Okay? I promise.”

You gave him a shy smile, “Okay.”

—

After a light dinner filled with more laughter and easy conversations, Lando helped you with storing away the cooled off muffins before the two of you finally got into that bath, with another bottle of wine.

You carefully poured some more wine into your glass before leaning back into Lando’s chest. You sighed again, settling against him. This was your happy place. Scented candles, dimmed lights, warm bath, wine, and of course, the love of your life.

But then as always, Lando could never keep his hands to himself. It always starts out with innocent touches, along your arm, kissed on your shoulders… then he gets more and more demanding. His fingers caressed your inner thighs until you were squirming against him, his kisses turned into playful bites making you whine and whimper.

“You never behave.” You mumbled teasingly, closing your eyes and letting him caress and touch you however he wanted.

“How can I?” He whispered against your neck, “You’re too beautiful to resist.”

You let out a soft moan when his finger carefully slid inside you. You whispered, breathlessly, “Remember we flooded the bathroom the last time?”

Lando groaned, pulling his hand away. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave.” He let out a sigh as though you’d asked him to give up breathing.

You chuckled at his dramatics.

The two of you ended up staying, soaking until the water got cold. Then went about your respective night time routines before finally getting in bed. Right as you lifted the covers up to get in, Lando grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into him.

“Ah! Don’t even think about it. We both know you’re gonna start snoring the moment your head hits those pillows.” He pushed you down on top of the covers and tickled you until you were breathless, your satin robe coming undone in the process and exposing your naked body underneath. “Plus, I promised you something before your belly began braying, didn’t I?”

You shoved him playfully, arguing, “It didn’t bray!”

Lando pinned your wrists above your head and leaned in for a quick kiss. “Pretty sure the guards will ask me if we brought in a pet donkey tomorrow morning.”

“Lando!” You laughed, trying to get out of his grasp but he was stronger than he looked.

He ended up shutting you up with a kiss, his bare chest pressing down against yours. His skin was damp, the chains around his neck were cold, he smelled incredible. He was all you wanted. So you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer.

He moaned into the kiss when you arched your back, pressing up against him. When he pulled away to look down at you, his stare was fiery, his pretty eyes filled with lust.

“I love you, you know that right?” He asked. You noticed he often did.

You nodded quickly. “I know.” You smiled up at him, “And I love you.”

He smiled before leaning in for a quick kiss before his mouth slowly moved down your body. Kissing along your neck, biting your breasts, kissing down your stomach, your hips, your thighs.

You lifted your upper body up onto your elbows and met his intense stare. His pretty eyes really were your weakness. Your safe place. Your comfort. Perhaps because when you woke up after that traumatic night years ago, those eyes were the first thing you saw. They’d been your favourite thing since.

Lando held your stare as he spread your legs further apart, settling in between them.

He pressed his lips to your inner thigh, his mouth getting closer and closer to your core, you tipped your head back, sighing quietly as you felt his breath against you. You couldn’t help but slide your fingers into his soft, slightly damp hair.

“You’re all mine.” He whispered, his tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit, parting your wet folds with ease. His shoulders parted your legs further apart as he leaned closer. He slowly brought a finger up to your clit, sliding it agonisingly slowly down your slit, parting your wet folds again.

You trembled under his touch. “All yours,” You sighed in bliss as he slid a finger inside you, stroking your walls gently while he placed his mouth back on your clit.

“Does my face feel too rough now, baby?” He asked. And chuckled proudly when you were only able to moan in response.

“No…” You gasped, breathless and wanting more even as he teased your clit and finger-fucked you gently. That damn stubble of his rubbed against your poor inner thighs over and over again but you moaned in pleasure despite it all.

You squirmed and moaned and gasped under his perfect touch. He knew you and your body too well by now, and soon, you were coming undone all over his tongue, your walls clenching violently around his finger. Your fingers scratched his scalp as you tugged harder on his hair as you came.

You were still catching your breath as Lando left small kisses up your body before he hovered above you again, staring deep into your eyes.

“Please…” You begged, wrapping your legs around his waist again. “I need you in me.”

Lando gave you a cocky smile before kissing you once again, the taste of you on his tongue still. You didn’t mind the roughness of his stubble this time, but you growled into the kiss because you were impatient and all he did was kiss you over and over again.

“Impatient, are we?” Lando chuckled at your little growl, not breaking the kiss as he slowly slipped inside of you, groaning into the kiss as he went.

You gasped as he filled you up, all of him stretching you out and fitting nicely inside you. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as he moved his hips the slightest bit, making you whine at the feeling of his cock slowly moving in and out of you.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good…” He groaned, his grip on your body tightens, possibly leaving bruises on your hips and thighs but you didn’t care.

You would never get bored of this you realised. Of him, his touch, his warmth, his kisses… you were so glad he was yours.

You could feel your walls clenching around him as he sped up and pounded into you, to a point where the only thing you could focus on was the feeling of him moving against your body. Nothing else in the world mattered. Your long day at work was forgotten, nothing else existed. Just you and him.

“So fucking good…” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly, as he bent down to bite your lower lip.

You moaned at how perfect his lean and muscular body felt against yours. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them tighter around his waist. His thrusts were relentless and unbearably good. You closed your eyes as you felt the pressure around your lower body; tight and hot.

Lando smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “Look at you, baby,” He whispered, “It’s like you were made just for me.” The possessiveness in his voice only made you clench around him again.

You were unable to say anything because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you. The familiar pressure formed at your core and you whined again when his fingers found your clit while he pounded into you mercilessly.

“Come for me…” he whispered and that was all you needed to hear before you came undone all around him again. Whimpering and back arching off the bed as you came hard around his cock.

He kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under his intense gaze. He watched you in awe, lips parted, breaths in rags, heart racing.

He almost came as well. But then he slowed down, pulled out and stopped for a moment. He caught his breath, and held back from coming no matter how much he wanted to. He needed to make you come again, he needed to hear you moan for him again.

“Turn around for me, baby,” He spoke, caressing your thigh as you struggled to sit up. “Come on,” He urged, “Face down, ass up. Come on, baby.”

You did as he asked, your hips and ass up while your face was pressed against the bed. You were still catching your breath when his hand reached around and touched you in between your legs, his fingers rubbed around your clit and made you tremble and moan given how sensitive you were.

His body bent over yours, his warm, damp chest pressing against your back as he kissed your shoulder and the back of your neck until his mouth reached your ear, “I know you’re tired, my love,” He whispered, kissing the side of your face while you caught your breath, “But I need you to come for me again. Can you do that for me, baby?”

You nodded slowly. Lando hummed in satisfaction as he kissed along your shoulder before gripping each side of your hips, and pushing into you from behind.

Your body was sensitive from earlier, so you whined and whimpered as he filled you up again. Your fingers gripped the covers beneath you tightly, and your mind was foggy, everything was floaty as he pounded into you.

You reached your high quicker this time, moaning his name and coming undone just a couple of minutes later.

You felt his thrusts becoming irregular, faster, his cock throb against your walls violently. He groaned and growled as he came, his body wrapping around you from behind. You both fell on your sides, catching your breaths and calming your hearts down.

“You okay, pretty girl?” He asked, spooning you from behind.

You could only nod as he kissed you on the back of your neck.

“You did so good for me, baby.” He murmured, “Now let’s get in bed, yeah?”

You were pretty much limp after that. So Lando cleaned you up, then himself and then got the bed ready while you just laid there with a smile on your face watching him. He ended up having to tuck you in as well, since you refused to move.

Lando playfully groaned, “I spoil you too much.” He said, getting on his side of the bed before pulling you close to cuddle under the covers. “People warned me against spoiling my wife too much.”

You were already half asleep at this point. Damn it, he was right about you falling asleep the moment your head hits the pillows. But still you murmured, more like slurred, “Didn’t they also tell you to shave else your wife will have burns on her inner thighs?”

Lando chuckled, rubbing his cheek against yours purposely again, “Okay fine, I’ll shave tomorrow. Happy?”

“Hmm,” You mumbled, already drifting off to sleep. Safe in his arms as you’ll always be. “You better,” Lando chuckled at how you desperately tried to stay awake. “Otherwise I’m gonna run away.”

With that you were gone. Your breathing changed so Lando knew you were surely asleep. Soon you’ll start snoring softly. He leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Silly baby,” He whispered as he adjusted the covers so you were properly warm. “You can’t run away from me,” He whispered against your forehead as he cuddled you, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “There’s a tracking implant in your arm.”

Then he let out a soft chuckle. “Of course, you don’t know that, do you?” He cooed, “Hmm, baby?” He kissed your forehead again. “There’s so much you don’t know.” He caressed your cheek as you began snoring softly just as he expected.

He had always found it adorable. He continued whispering to you, knowing you couldn’t hear him. “There’s so much I have to keep from you. I hate lying to you, but it’s for your own good, baby.”

He kept caressing your face as he spoke to himself, “Like how you mistook me for your saviour that night.” He sighed then admitted, “I was the one who attacked your father’s house. I was the rival. Then I had my men search the house after everyone was dead, and they found you unconscious and brought you to me.” He let out another sigh, pulling you closer. “You were so beautiful, baby. Even with dried up tears on your face. You were the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. And I vowed to never make you cry after that night. It was the last time, I promise.”

He paused. Then continued, “Your dad was such a pain in my ass, baby. I’m sorry I killed him. I’m sorry I killed all of them. I’m sorry I never told you the truth. How could I? You would hate me forever.” He placed a kiss on your nose, “But look,” He murmured, “All that shit brought you to me. And aren’t we happy together?”

He let out another chuckle and said, “Wanna know another secret, pretty girl? I’m your anonymous collector. I have a warehouse full of the pieces you exhibit.” He confessed in the darkness and the silence. “I mean, what kind of a husband would I be if I don’t support my wife’s career, huh? Everything I do is to make you happy.” He leaned in to kiss your forehead again. “I love you so much, baby. It drives me insane.” Then he chuckled and added as an inside joke to himself, “Or maybe it did drive me insane already.”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #mob!lando #mob!au

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avianyuh · 5 months

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S.Coups/Choi Seungcheol as a boyfriend

He would be so much fun

I think he'd love to go out to different restaurants with you

Or take you to the studio and have you hear his lyrics

Maybe even take you to the gym with him lol

You'd be Kkuma's other parent

Most likely, you'd watch over Kkuma while he was away on tour

Anyways, Cheol would be so protective over you

He's like that with the boys, so imagine being his partner

You ARE his baby

Somebody messed with you?

You will frequently be hearing, "Do I have to make a visit to someone?"

You're cold?

"Take my jacket! Do you want me to look for a nearby store, I'll buy you a new one?"

"No Cheol, I'm fine"

"No I really will, I'm ordering one right now for next time"

This man!

Most likely, he'd introduce you to either Jeonghan, Shua or Woozi first.

Reason I say Woozi is becuase they've known each other for so long, I'm sure he values Woozi's opinion

But with Seungcheol, I don't think he needs his members opinion when it comes to you

Mainly because he'd only introduce you to the members if he was serious about you

So I see him confiding in those three in the early stages of your relationship, not really when he's sure of you

When you're in the car, he drives with one hand, so his other hand is placed on your thigh

UGH

It's so hot

And no this is not made up, I have photo evidence that this man drives with one hand

Shexy Shtuff

Defo the type to 'wait it out' lmao

He wouldn't want you to feel used or anything

So during the first year, even if YOU wanted to have sex, he'd probably be like, "Uh, let's just wait"

I think he'd want to fully get to know you first

But when he feels like you're completely committed to him and vice versa

It's all free real estate

GIRL-

Woo

He's a switch

I said what I said

Yeah, he's a total daddy dom

But I think Seungcheol would like to be taken care of sometimes

Probably more submissive when he's tired but still in the mood for sex

And like I said, once he's committed, free real estate

This man will come home horny

Constantly ready to go

Especially after the gym when he's all sweaty

You jump him every time he comes home from the gym

Back to regularly scheduled programming:

He wants kids, and loves to talk about your future

How many kids you want

When you should start your family

One of his favorites things to do in your relationship is lay in bed, your head on his chest, him caressing your hair, staring up at the ceiling

And just talking about the future

What you both want in life

It's his way of making your relationship feel like you're still in the honeymoon phase.

Anyways...

Cheol would be a committed man to you

Gives the sweetest kisses

The type to kiss you all over your face when he sees you

Hypes you up with everything you do

Awkward and adroable

Choi Seungcheol,

SVT's dad

Your daddy ;)

~~~

{A/N; I told y'all I would write the coups headcanon. I literally cried watching him give the acceptance speech at MAMA lol, he looks like he's recovering well! BTW, if you have any requests, plz send them in, it seems like I only get BTS requests? Funny cuz I used to only get NCT requests and now it's completely switched. I kinda miss my NCT requests lol, if you have anything you want plz send it in! I've also been writing for some second gen idols (not published yet)

second gen idol fics are lacking on tumblr for some reason?...but that's another story

Anyways hope you enjoyed, mwah💋}

#scoups #seventeen #seventeen reactions #seventeen headcanons #svt #svt as boyfriends #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt smut #svt fanfic #choi seungcheol

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dreamcubed · 8 months

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me! | george weasley x reader

song; me! [taylor swift, brendon uri(n)e] pairing; george weasley x fem!muggle!reader genre; accidental marriage, s2l, fluff, comedy word count; 7,8k timeline; post-second wizarding war (fred lives au) warnings; swearing, referenced alcohol consumption, references to hook-ups, references to sex, references to the war summary; after waking up in bed with a red-haired stranger and no memories of the night prior, you run off as quickly as you can. it isn't until months later when you're trying to buy a house that you learn that you can't just leave that forgotten night in the past

thought it would be ironic to have the song with the lyrics "i promise that you'll never find another like me" and "i'm the only one of me" with one of the twins lol

masterlist

"you're the kinda guy the ladies want."

————————————————

Typically, you were more responsible than this. You had always stayed away from drunk hook-up culture, hoping (perhaps too idealistically) to find organic love. Yet, on the night of your cousin's bachelorette party, you got so drunk that you found yourself in bed with a stranger the next morning. And you didn't know what to do.

All you could do for a few moments was look around the hotel room that you had evidently decided was necessary for the hook-up - and although you couldn't remember a single thing after your tenth shot at the club, the fact you were both naked gave away the events of the night prior.

He was red-haired, and quite nicely toned, but he also donned a partially missing ear. You couldn't see his face, so at that particular moment you couldn't judge whether or not drunk you had good taste. You pushed that thought aside - that was the least of your concerns. You needed to get out of there and forget that anything had ever happened, which shouldn't be too difficult thanks to the alcohol-induced memory loss.

So, with that, you slipped out of bed and scavenged for all your clothes around the room, and then quickly departed. You made it all the way down to the lobby without any human interaction, but it was there at the desk that you finally had to communicate.

"Heading out for a bit, Mrs Weasley?" the receptionist smiled at you.

You frowned, not understanding why they would address you as such - probably had mistaken you for someone else. But, you were in a hurry, so just grinned and nodded, leaving to never return.

***

Not many people were fortunate enough to buy their first home (alone) at the age of twenty-four without any help from their parents, but you had chosen a rather well-paid career path and had been meticulous with your money savings, so this was a reality for you. After a few months of working with a real estate agent to view houses and find the perfect home for you, you had finally come to a decision.

You had stumbled upon it really, when travelling from London to visit your family, you came across a road that you had sworn hadn't been there before. Curiosity had overcame you, and you had driven down it to find the cutest village named Godric's Hollow, which could also be described as peculiar. A lot of things in the village didn't make sense - like the fact they all seemed bewildered at the sight of your car - but the architecture was gorgeous. When you drove past an adorable rustic cottage with a 'for sale' sign out front, you didn't even have to think twice about viewing it.

It was a strange process, however, as the sign didn't have a number for the real estate agency, but instead read 'owl Cauldron Realtors for more details'. You asked around for information about Cauldron Realtors (a particularly strange name, comparable to the robes many of the older members of the village wore), and they pointed you in the direction of the realtor's.

From then on, the process to view the house and apply for a mortgage had been relatively normal, if not a bit old-fashioned in the lack of technology used. However, you reasoned that it was a small village and that they merely hadn't updated themselves like cities just yet.

***

"Why have you asked me to come here?" you asked as delicately as you could upon entering Cauldron Realtors.

"We have had something come up," Mr Linseed said to you. He was an eccentric old man, constantly adorning a pair of half-moon spectacles perched on the tip of his nose.

"Like what?"

"You told us that you weren't married."

You frowned.

"And I thought it was a bit strange given your muggle situation, but honestly I had simply assumed that you were a squib."

He was using a lot of words that you didn't understand. You had heard the word muggle passed around in the time that you had spent in Godric's Hollow, but had been unable to find out what it meant online or in any dictionary. Everyone used it so commonly you had felt too embarrassed to ask.

"Obviously, this changes the process for you to apply for a mortgage. We need your husband to sign off either that he will partially own the house or have no claim over it."

"I don't understand- I'm not married," you said.

"No?" the man raised a brow at you, "When we searched for legal documentation of your name, we found that it hadn't been Y/N L/N for a few months, but instead Y/N Weasley. I didn't think much of you not having gotten around to changing your bank details yet since it hasn't been long, but going by your maiden name is a little strange. So, I assumed that the marriage was short-lived."

Why did Weasley sound so familiar? You wracked your brain for when you had heard it before.

"Heading out for a bit, Mrs Weasley?"

Your eyes widened.

The guy from the hotel.

"What did you say my husband's name was?" you said slowly.

"I didn't, but George Weasley," Mr Linseed replied, "You knew that, though, correct?"

You nodded, "Yeah... just making sure."

The man frowned at you, "He is quite well-known I suppose - the shop Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is quite famous. Anyhow, here are the new forms that I need you to fill out and then we will be back on track."

You accepted them in a daze, but snapped your eyes up towards him again, "Where can I find Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"Diagon Alley, of course," Mr Linseed was clearly confused that you didn't know where your husband worked.

You had never heard of Diagon Alley, and he sensed that.

"You know? Through The Leaky Cauldron? On Charing Cross Road?"

Finally, a name you recognised.

"Oh, yes. Thank you, Mr Linseed, I'll be back soon."

God, what a process to get yourself a house.

***

You were pretty sure that in all your visits to Charing Cross Road, you had never seen that pub squeezed between those buildings before. But, you weren't about to complain, as you were desperate to find George Weasley and sort everything out. You couldn't remember his face, but you remembered his red hair and partially missing ear - that should be enough to identify him.

You hoped, anyway.

Upon entering the gloomy pub, you were met by quite a shocking sight - but one that wasn't entirely indifferent to Godric's Hollow. Except, you would describe the pub as having a more creepy ambiance, in a way. Beady eyes peered in your direction as you walked up to the bar, and you tried to hold your own as a woman with matted grey hair and disturbingly long fingernails smiled at you with missing teeth. You forced a smile back.

"Excuse me," you said to the bartender, who was similar to the woman in energy, "How do I get to Diagon Alley?"

He pointed to the door out the back.

"Just through that door?"

"You'll need your wand too," the woman who had smiled at you said, "To tap the wall."

"Wand?" you squeaked.

"I'll show you," the woman said eerily.

In any normal circumstance, you would have declined the offer, but you had already had so many new experiences you found yourself following her out the back.

"You're not one of us, are you?" she asked with a giggle of glee, pulling out a wooden stick from her pocket.

You didn't reply, watching as she brought it up and tapped some of the bricks on the wall. To your amazement, they then parted, presenting to you the most bustling and magical street that you had ever seen.

"Diagon Alley," she stated, "Although I prefer Knockturn Alley."

You thanked her, and hurried into the street.

***

The pet shops were strange: mostly having owls, cats and toads. The book shops were strange: having cages of moving books in the display windows. The clothes shops were strange: pretty much exclusively selling robes and pointed hats. All in all, Diagon Alley was the most eccentric place you had ever been.

There was a broomstick shop, a wand shop, and a place to buy cauldrons. You were so out of your depth that you decided you should focus on the task at hand.

It wasn't long before you found a bright and buzzing shop named Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, looking ten times more exciting than all the shops before it. You were almost overwhelmed with all the young people inside once you entered, and it finally became obvious to you that it was a joke shop. The numerous prank items on display were clearly enchanted in a way too, only furthering your amazement at this street.

You scanned around for a redhead, but it was really difficult to spot anything within the chaos. Eventually, you located a flash of red by the till and hurried over. The queue was unfortunately long, but you waited impatiently nonetheless.

When you finally reached the front, the red-haired man behind it looked at you, and you couldn't help but noticed he had two full ears.

"Are you buying anything, miss?"

"I'm looking for George Weasley," you said quickly.

He rose an eyebrow at you, "What for?"

"It's a long story, I really need to talk to him."

"I'll fetch him," he said, and disappeared out back for a few moments before returning with a man almost identical to him save for that all-too-familiar ear. He didn't look at you like he recognised you - maybe he drank so much he had memory loss too? That would make sense, considering he hadn't tried to find you either.

"Can I help you?" George Weasley asked, gesturing for you to move to the side so that his twin could continue at the till.

"This is gonna sound crazy, but," you took a deep breath, "You're my husband."

"You're right, that does sound crazy," he chuckled.

"You woke up in a hotel room a few months ago, right?"

His eyes widened, "I thought I hooked up with someone," he said, "Wasn't sure, though, because I woke up alone."

"Sorry about that. I don't really do hook-ups, I kinda freaked out and bolted."

"I don't really do hook-ups either," he shrugged, "No hard feelings."

"Anyway, as I said, it turns out we got married that night."

"Wow. I honestly can't remember anything."

"Me neither," you shook your head, "And we can't get an annulment - the cut off is three months. And we were way too efficient with sending off the marriage registration - we did it immediately."

He hummed, "That's quite a predicament. Divorce, then?"

You nodded, "Yes, obviously. But that will take ages, and I'm trying to buy a house for myself right now. I need you to sign off that you have no claim over it."

"That's no problem," thank God he was agreeable, "But what's your name?"

"Y/N L/N," you said, "Well, legally Y/N Weasley."

The man smirked at you, which admittedly made your stomach flip. Drunk you definitely had good taste: this man was gorgeous.

"Where's the house you're buying?" he asked.

"Godric's Hollow."

"Ah, my sister lives there," he hummed, "Nice village."

"Can I ask you a question - since you're my husband and all?" you didn't know why you added the last bit.

"Fire away."

"Why does everyone keep going on about muggles and wizards and witches and magic? I'm so lost, I don't know what's happening."

"Wait- you're a muggle?"

"As everyone apparently keeps saying."

He chuckled, "Oh, wow. My wife's a muggle."

"What does it mean?"

"I'll explain," he gestured towards the door to the back room, "But it'll be a lot to take in."

"I don't care, I just want an explanation."

And so, your husband, George Weasley, explained about the wizarding world that he was a part of. And how, by marrying him, you had automatically been granted permission by the Ministry of Magic to be an exception for all anti-muggle charms. Which was why you discovered the road to Godric's Hollow all of a sudden as a non-magic person, which you learned was what muggle meant.

At the very end of his explanation, you sat back in the armchair he had offered to you, "That explains so much. It's insane- but I'm relieved that it's not me going crazy."

"Must be quite a shock," he hummed, "I can't believe we got married. Are there any photos?"

"I mean, I suppose we could find the chapel we got married at and ask."

"Maybe it will trigger some memories of that night. I got drunkenly married - who knows what else I did?" he sighed.

"I don't know if I want to know."

George shrugged, "Better to find out that way than have a random woman come into your place of work and announce she's your wife."

You grimaced, making him laugh.

"I'm just teasing."

"Can I get your number? So I can contact you when I need to?" you asked.

George stared at you, "Number?"

"How do wizards and witches communicate?" you exasperated.

"By owl."

You blanked.

"You might want to get yourself one if you're moving into a wizarding village."

"How do they know where to go?"

"They just do."

You sighed.

***

"So, I phoned the chapel that we got married at and they confirmed that we signed the marriage registration and sent it off immediately," you said to George, taking a seat opposite him in your flat that you currently resided in, "They also posted this to me." You presented a large envelope to your husband and watched as he carefully opened it - even though it was already unsealed thanks to you.

He pulled out a marriage certificate: lettered in italic gold writing and clearly signed on the bottom two corners. As he pulled that out, another piece of card fluttered to the ground. You chewed your lip as you watched him pick it up.

"Wow," was all he said.

It was the same reaction you had when looking upon the photo of you and George at the alter: lips pressed together with smiles creeping on to your faces.

"We look so happy."

You hummed, "The photo hasn't triggered any memories for me."

You watched curiously as he waved it about. "It's weird that muggle photos don't move," he commented, "But- yeah- I can't remember anything more either."

"Maybe it's been too long," you reasoned, "Perhaps if we'd seen the photo the day after, it would've helped."

"Probably," he shrugged, "I can find a charm or potion that will help us remember - if you want to."

It hadn't occurred to you that magic was now a readily available tool.

"I'm not sure, to be honest," you said after a while, "I just really want to seal the deal on my house."

George nodded, "Of course, I'll sign the papers saying I have no right to it."

"Thank you for making this so easy," you said, giving him a warm grin, "When I found out I was married, I was so worried it was to a complete asshole."

"When I found out I was married, I thought it was simply a cute way a gorgeous woman had of flirting with me."

You felt heat rush to your cheeks at his comment. George was a stunning man: his damaged ear only added a rugged element to him, enhancing his beauty in a way that you didn't know possible.

He noticed your flustered reaction and chuckled a bit, "However, there is one problem with me signing those papers that your real estate agent really should've mentioned."

"What?" you filled with worry: that house was your dream house.

"If you're buying a house in the wizarding world, you're going to need a wizarding bank account."

"He kept going on about galleons," you thought for a moment, "But then he converted to pounds so I didn't think much of it."

George hummed, "Yes, but you're still going to need to pay in galleons."

"How do I get a wizarding bank account?"

"Only wizards, witches, squibs and muggles married to any of the former can access one. Oh, and muggles with magic children, even if they aren't married."

You realised what he was getting at. "So I can get one, but..."

"But it has to be a shared one with me."

You pulled your hands down your face, "But I love that house so much."

"I promise you I'm not trying to trap you."

"No, no- I get it. I just- that means I'd have to stay married to you until my mortgage is paid off. And that takes like thirty years."

"Even then, the bills would still need to be paid in galleons."

"Oh, fuck," you muttered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

George watched you in silence.

"I'm sorry. I'll divorce you and forget about the house," you said eventually, "It's not fair for me to force you to stay in a marriage for the rest of your life - I mean, I can't force you."

"I didn't say anything about that."

You frowned. In your mind, there was no other option.

"I'm willing to do it."

"George, it's just a house, you really don't need to-"

"I will," he reiterated, "You realise that if you divorce me, you won't be able to access the magic world anymore?"

It had become something you were so excited to explore that you were disheartened by that fact.

"It would be cruel for me to take it away from you, I think."

"But-"

"So, I will set you up on my bank account, sign off on the house, and stay married to you."

Your mouth was opened wide as you stared at him, and in a flash you had leaped across the coffee table in order to pull him into a hug.

"You're so amazing," you mumbled, hugging him tighter as he returned the embrace, "Thank you so much."

"Hey, anything for my wife," he chuckled.

Your heart stopped.

***

"I've had to change my name on my driver's license and passport and bank account and everything else," you sighed, "Such a hassle for a fucking house."

George, who was walking with you throughout the empty house that you had just officially bought, chuckled, as he seemed to enjoy doing, "You must really love this place."

You shrugged, "The house, I would probably get over. An entire magical world that I would lose access to? Not so much."

He hummed, gazing around the place. You had decided that he at least deserved to see the property that he had given up so much for you to own.

"I can't wait to begin decorating," you sighed, "I have big plans for the downstairs rooms and the master bedroom."

"What about the other bedrooms?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest," you pondered, "I'll probably make one of them an office, but the other two, I honestly don't know. It'll be a while before I have any kiddly winks running around."

"How come?"

"I need to find a man to create them with first," you reminded, "And that will be especially complicated since I'm married."

"Not if it's with me."

You were pretty sure his words held a joking undertone, so you laughed.

"Well, I shan't keep you any longer," you said, "I guess we'll keep in touch?"

"Stop by my shop as much as you can," George replied, but you sensed a slight trace of sadness in his voice.

Nonetheless, you smiled, "Of course."

***

Was two days later too soon to take George up on his offer of stopping by? Maybe, but life was too short for you to not do the things that you wanted to do. Plus, you were exhausted from moving furniture and painting (since you were stuck doing it the 'muggle' way), so a getaway from your new home was needed.

After getting someone from the Leaky Cauldron to let you into Diagon Alley, you made your way down to the corner that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes sat on. You couldn't help the fond smile that tugged on your lips as you pushed open the door and heard the tinkle of the bell above you. The last time you were there, you had been too nervous about meeting your husband to properly appreciate the joyful buzz of the shop; it was truly a marvel to witness. You wish you had grown up with access to such extraordinary things.

"Hello," a redhead popped up beside you.

You jumped a little, not failing to notice the fact this man, although initially appearing to be George, had two full ears.

"Hello... Fred?" you attempted to recall his name.

He nodded, "I must say, I wasn't expecting my sister-in-law to pop by today."

It hadn't occurred to you that George would have mentioned his marriage to his twin brother, but now it seemed obvious that he would have.

"Is my husband here?" you asked, adding a joking undertone. Nonetheless, you couldn't help but notice how warm saying that made you feel.

"Of course, he's out back."

"Should I...?" you trailed off.

"You don't need to ask permission to go out back," he chuckled, in a strikingly similar way to George, "You're married to one of the owners."

"Yeah, but-" but before you could finish your sentence, your brother-in-law had disappeared. With a sigh, you proceeded on your way to the staff-only space, unable to push aside how special you felt being able to freely enter the area.

It was only when you caught sight of George's back did you realise that you had nothing to say and had simply stopped by.

"Y/N!" he smiled, turning around upon sensing your presence, "What brings you here?"

You shrugged, "You said to stop by often."

His grin stretched wider, "That I did, I'm glad to see you."

You felt shy after hearing him say that, and avoided eye contact.

"How's moving in going?"

"Oh- well. Exhausting, though," you sighed.

"I can't imagine having to do everything without magic," he said, "If you want any help to speed up the process, I'm more than willing."

You shook your head, "You've done enough for me."

"I could never do enough for you," he half-mumbled, but you heard it. You couldn't believe it, but you heard it. "I'm free this weekend," he said at a more regular volume.

"I mean- if you're sure-"

"Of course I'm sure."

"I-" you stopped yourself, "Thank you, George."

"Georgie!" a voice called from the front of the shop, not long before a short plump woman appeared in the doorway. "There you are," she said with hands on her hips.

"Oh, hi, mum," he said, "I wasn't expecting you."

"I was just in town looking to pick up your father a new shirt - I don't know how he wears them out so quickly!" she sighed, "I thought I'd take the chance to invite you over for a roast on Sunday."

You smiled at the evidently kind woman.

"And who is this?" she asked.

"This is Y/N."

"How did you two meet?" this time she had a glint in her eye.

"Uh, funny story, actually," George scratched the back of his head, "We're married."

You were surprised at his honesty with his mother.

The woman's eyes widened, "And you didn't tell me!"

"No one knew, mum- not even us," he quickly added.

She seemed to ignore what the last part of his statement implied, and swooped you into her arms, "Welcome to the family, my dear, we have a lot of time to make up for! You'll be coming on Sunday too, yes?"

She didn't give you a chance to reply.

"I'll have to tell your father immediately - do all your siblings know? I expect Fred does. Probably Ron too." She paused, "I haven't even introduced myself! Molly Weasley - call me Molly, of course."

"Mum-"

"Godric- I have so many people to tell! I'll see you both Sunday at four o'clock, please don't be late."

And with a hug to both of you, Molly Weasley departed just as rapidly as she had arrived.

"I'm sorry about that- my mum can be very full on," George apologised.

"I think she's sweet."

A soft smile graced his face, "Yes, she's a very lovely woman."

You hummed.

"I'll get you out of the dinner."

You frowned, "Why?"

"Well, my family will think you're- well-"

With a shrug, you replied, "I don't mind."

"I have a big family."

"I know."

"Most of them are quite loud people."

"That's okay."

"They'll ask a lot of questions."

"George, I want to meet your family," you realised as soon as you said them what your words could potentially mean.

"It's just- I- I don't want them to scare you away."

"Scare me away?"

He nodded.

You chuckled, "I'd like to see them try."

***

Sunday rolled around quickly, and as promised, George showed up at your house to pick you up at five to four. You figured that his parents must live very nearby if he was picking you up so late, but you hadn't given it much thought. All you had done was focused on yourself, dressing up what you deemed the adequate amount for a family event.

A knock sounded on the door, and you quickly rushed to open it, smiling when you were faced with the red headed man that you could call your husband. He was wearing a knitted jumper and baggy jeans, which was a relief to you since you also sported a knitted jumper, just with a skirt instead.

"Hello," you said, almost shyly.

"Hey," he replied, "You ready to go?"

"Yep, let me just-" you hurried back inside to grab the bouquet of flowers that you had bought for his mother, you weren't familiar with the guidelines for meeting family as you had never been in a relationship long enough to reach that stage, but flowers had felt like the right thing.

"Oh, for me?" he said teasingly.

You shook your head, dramatically holding them away from him, "You would be so lucky."

He chuckled, "Right, let's get going," he held out his arm for you to take, "You're gonna want to hold tight."

You frowned, but took his advice nonetheless, taking a firm grip of his bicep which had a hardness that made your heart flip. But before you could dwell on that thought, you felt like you had been sucked into a vacuum and spat out again in a split second. Your stomach cramped up and you felt nauseous as you fell on to grass in a completely new location.

"Sorry, that often happens the first time," George quickly helped you up along with the flowers, which thankfully were unharmed.

"Did we just- teleport?" you asked, holding your stomach. Thankfully, the nausea was already dissipating.

"We call it apparating but yes, we did."

"Why couldn't I be born a witch?" you whined, following George as he began walking up the path ahead of you.

You could only be amazed when the strangest house that you had ever seen came into view: looking like it should tumble over instantly with the mismatched extensions stacked on top of each other. Not too long ago, you would have been worried about its sketchy looking state, but now you immediately concluded that it was kept steady by magic. Even at the distance you still were from the house, you could hear a lot of noise coming from it.

"I bet you anything Fleur and Hermione insisted on being early," George grumbled, "Making my brothers look like angelic sons."

You smiled to yourself: his relationship with his siblings was making you want to reach out to your sister.

George didn't bother knocking when you reached the door, simply throwing it open and grinning at everyone who was stood around the kitchen. You couldn't help but feel some level of nerves as you were faced with so many strangers.

"George! Y/N!" Molly beamed, pulling you both into a hug, "I'm so glad that you could make it."

You presented the flowers to her, "I got you these."

"Oh, they're gorgeous!"

You watched as she pulled out her wand and arranged them in a vase without even using her hands. You didn't think observing magic would ever get old.

"Thank you, dear," she said, before turning to the others in the room. There was Ron, who you vaguely recognised from the shop, with a curly brown-haired woman on his side. Then there was the most ethereal woman that you had ever seen next to one of the more rugged looking men that you had seen in your time. There was also an older, balding, red headed man, who you suspected to be George's father.

"Y/N, you might remember Ron here," George said, and you nodded, "And this is his fiancée, Hermione. This is my dad, and over there is my oldest brother, Bill, and his wife, Fleur."

"Our little shit of a son is running around here somewhere," Bill added.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N," George's father shook your hand, "You can call me Arthur."

"I didn't realise you were bringing a guest, George," Hermione said.

"Oh, she's no guest," Molly smiled, "She's family."

The only person who didn't exchange confused glances was Ron.

"I'm his, uh, wife," you said, feeling awkward. You didn't really want to say it, because it felt like you were lying to them even though you weren't.

What followed was an array of congratulations, and Hermione accusing Ron of not telling her when he clearly already knew. And then, upon being asked, you both finally revealed that it was an accidental marriage upon which you were both very drunk. Molly was new to this news as well, but nonetheless, before you could give any more detail on where your 'relationship' with George currently stood, she spoke.

"As irresponsible as that was, I think there's something beautiful in the fact that you're now happily married."

While you weren't unhappily married, you didn't know how to say that you didn't know you were married until a couple months later, and that you weren't in a relationship with George. He said nothing to clarify, either.

That was when a small boy tumbled into the room.

"Ah, zis is Victoire," Fleur said, "Our son."

He was just as red headed as his father.

God, your kids with George would probably end up redheaded.

You internally froze at that thought - why had it seemed so natural to imagine yourself having kids with George?

You were yet again distracted from your mind, as seemed common in the Weasley household, when more people arrived. It was Fred and his fiancée, Angelina, as you soon learned. Shortly followed by Harry Potter, allegedly quite a celebrity, who was dating George's only sister, Ginny.

The only person to arrive alone was Percy, who had a much less chaotic energy than the rest of his siblings.

"You'll meet Charlie at some point," Molly said to you, "But he lives in Romania for his work with dragons."

It was insane to you that George had five brothers and one sister; having six siblings seemed like such a hectic upbringing. That thought almost led you to brush over Molly's mention of dragons - dragons?

Once again, you were introduced as George's wife, solidifying you in their eyes as a sister-in-law. These were your in-laws, you realised.

"Dinner's almost ready," Molly announced over the noise of all the people.

Many people rushed forward to help the woman with the finishing touches and laying the table, and you felt like an ass for not assisting as well, but you would have been of no help. They were all using magic, which was ten times faster than you could complete any task.

"What year did you graduate school? I can't remember you," Ginny said, evidently assuming that her lack of recognition was because you had been in a different year at Hogwarts from her. George had told you how most witches and wizards in a similar age group knew each other because of there only being one magic school in the country.

"I didn't go to Hogwarts," you said.

"Oh, did you study abroad?" she asked, walking over to the table with you.

"No, uh, I'm a- I'm a muggle."

Her eyes widened in realisation, "Oh! I see," she hummed, "That makes sense now that I think about it."

"You're a muggle?" Hermione, who had overheard, said.

You nodded.

"I'm muggle-born," she said, "I was raised muggle."

"I was raised muggle too," Harry added on, "But I'm not muggle-born."

After that point, Arthur Weasley kept posing an array of questions to you, explaining that he was fascinated by muggles, and it was even what had led him to having the job that he did. Wanting to be liked, you answered all his questions as best as you could, and found his childlike curiosity quite endearing.

"Leave the poor girl alone, Arthur," Molly scolded her husband.

"I don't mind," you replied, and, really, you didn't.

The food was absolutely delicious, to the point you almost moaned when you first put it in your mouth. You didn't think you had ever eaten such delectable food before, and you made sure that Molly knew.

Once the first course was finished and dessert was being brought out, Bill and Fleur stood up.

"We have an announcement to make," the latter smiled, looking to her husband.

"Fleur's pregnant," Bill grinned, placing his hand on her abdomen.

"Oh, that's wonderful news!" Molly exclaimed, "How far along?"

"Twelve weeks, two days ago," Fleur said, "In ze clear zone, as zey say."

"We don't know the gender yet," Bill added.

"For your sake I hope it's a girl," Molly sighed, "It took me six tries."

"We will be happy eizer way," Fleur said simply.

You couldn't help but get the sense there was some level of tension between her and Molly, so you leaned over to George as everyone began chatting again, congratulating the expecting couple.

"Do your mum and Fleur get along?" you whispered.

"Well, yes, but they haven't always," he whispered back, "My mum thought she was vain at first, even thinking that she would call off the wedding when Bill got that scar." He was referring to the large mark on his eldest brother's face.

You hummed.

"They've mostly resolved their problems now, but I think there will always be a bit of tension."

After dinner, you wandered around the home, observing all the moving pictures of the family.

"Aw, you were so cute back then," you said to George, looking at a photo of him as a toddler on a mini broomstick.

"Are you saying I'm not anymore?"

You shrugged.

"And how do you know that's me and not Fred?"

"You may be a twin, but there's only one of you, George," you said in passing, not realising how much those words meant to your husband. As much as he loved being an identical twin, there were times where he didn't want to be seen as part of a package deal. Even his mother struggled to tell him and Fred apart before his ear injury, but you- you could recognise him instantly.

Your gaze moved up the wall.

"That's an interesting clock."

It didn't tell the time, but instead had a hand for all of Molly and Arthur's brood, all currently pointing in the direction of 'home' apart from who must be Charlie, which pointed at work.

"Even on Sundays, he works," George sighed, "You know, there was a time where me and Fred had the same hand."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but after he moved in with Angelina, mum had it altered."

Your eyes flicked over the 'mortal peril' section of the clock, and you didn't realise you had read it aloud til he responded.

"Thankfully that hasn't served a purpose since the war."

It was unbelievable to you that such a life-changing war had happened while you remained completely oblivious.

"I suppose we'll have to expand the guest list for our wedding," Angelina approached you, making you turn away from the clock.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," you said.

"No, no. An extra person is hardly anything," she smiled, "You're family, of course you're coming."

Family.

"Well, thank you."

"Of course."

***

As you and George said your goodbyes and departed, you couldn't help but let out an elated sigh, "Your family is so warm."

He smiled, "I'm glad you like them."

"They're like, everything I want my in-laws to be."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Loud, happy, there for each other - with the slightest hint of drama, of course. They're perfect."

"We've been through a lot together."

"Yeah, I expect so."

You both fell into a comfortable silence, one that had you feeling content with your life in the most heart-warming way.

"You ready to apparate again?" George broke the silence when you reached the end of the path.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you grasped his arm tightly, prepping yourself for what was to come.

You didn't fall to the ground this time when you appeared outside your house, but you did still feel nauseous for a few moments.

"I'm really glad you came," George said.

"I'm glad too," you smiled.

And then there was silence - tension-filled silence. The kind of silence that led up to what you had secretly hoped would happen this entire time.

His lips on yours.

You moved your hands up to his hair as the kiss got more heated, flashes of memories dancing through your brain.

You met at the bar your cousin's bachelorette party was at, and began chatting. He was charming, and funny, and you were both really drunk. You went on a walk together - you walked past a chapel.

You had suggested getting married - jokingly, but he had then said.

"Why don't we?"

And so you did, giggling and laughing the entire time, even when you kissed. The kiss held the same magical feeling as it did now, that's what had triggered the memory.

He had kissed all along your jaw and neck as you both filled out the forms, and it wasn't long before you both booked a hotel and by all technical terms, consummated.

"I remember," you parted from him breathlessly, only to kiss him again.

"Me too," he mumbled, pushing you back against your front door.

"Do you want to come in?" you asked.

***

This time, you were the one to wake up alone in bed, but that wasn't the only difference. You remembered every single moment and sensation from the night before - and from your wedding night, for that matter. A smile almost crept on to your face, but it dropped when the panic set in that George had upped and left like you had before. You scrambled out of bed, pulling a shirt and some pants on, and then rushed down the stairs to see if he was anywhere in your house.

And he was.

There your husband was, in the kitchen, cooking a full English breakfast - using magic, of course. You had electric appliances installed when you moved in, since most magic homes didn't generally possess them, but with George there, you supposed they weren't really necessary.

"Hey, love."

Love. That's what he had called you all of last night and your wedding night.

It made heat travel to your ears.

"Hi," you replied shyly.

"Take a seat, I'm almost finished."

You obeyed, deciding to let the wizard take care of you, even though he really had done too much for you ever since you met him - the second time, that was.

Your dining table was a temporary one, as your entire home was still a work in progress: it wasn't easy decorating an entire house by yourself, especially without the assistance of magic. Nevertheless, it did the job. George came over with the food and sat opposite you, gesturing for you to dig in.

"Thank you," you smiled, picking up the cutlery.

"I told you, anything for you."

"You're too perfect," you mumbled, making George chuckle.

"My ear may be injured, but my hearing's fine."

You looked up at him to make eye contact, feeling like he could read you with his gaze, "Your ear makes you even more perfect."

"I'm glad you think so, would be a bit upsetting for me if you didn't."

"I aim to please," you grinned.

***

"You didn't tell me the wedding would be quite so soon," you huffed, straightening out the pastel pink dress you adorned in the mirror.

George shrugged, tightening his tie, "Didn't think about it."

You were, of course, in reference to Angelina and Fred's wedding, merely two weeks after the dinner in which you met the former. Out of all the moving boxes you still had left to unpack, you had been forced to dig for a suitable outfit that fitted the colour scheme.

Aside from work, you and George had been practically glued at the hip in the days since he first stayed at yours - and he had been consistently staying at yours ever since. He had probably spent about three nights total at his own flat in that time span. So much to the point that when he came over the day prior, he had brought his suit for the wedding with him, fully anticipating that he would be spending the night.

You hadn't put a label on what you currently were, other than legally married, as it was.

"We have to be early," he said, "Since I'm the best man."

"I'm aware," you replied, sitting on the edge of your bed to pull your shoes on, "I'm pretty much ready."

"Alright, let's go."

***

The ceremony was a beautiful occasion: held at the Weasley house, The Burrow. The entire garden was decorated beautifully in shades of pink, purple and white, with bouquets of flowers adorning every table and chair. Obviously, a drastic difference from your own wedding.

You were sat in the crowd while George was up near the altar with the maid of honour, but he was not your focus. Angelina was a transcendent bride.

When it came to the meal, you were - to your shock - sat on the primary table where the newly weds were. You supposed that it made sense, since George was obviously going to be sat by his twin brother, and you were his wife. Generally, married couples weren't separated at events. You were certainly relieved, since you hardly knew anybody else.

The only other people on the main table were Molly, Arthur, Angelina's parents, and Angelina's maid of honour and her partner. There was a second table for the rest of the Weasley siblings and their partners, and so on and so forth for more distant relatives and friends.

Once the toasts were made, the meal commenced, and you hadn't realised how hungry you were 'til that moment.

"Slow down, love," your husband commented, "I'd prefer if you didn't choke."

You shrugged, your mouth full. Once you had eventually swallowed, you said, "Much grander event than our wedding."

"We could always renew our vows," he said, and even though he had made many comments about wanting to do anything for you, and had done many intimate things to you in the bedroom (and elsewhere in your house, for that matter), it felt like the first real confirmation that you were in a relationship. Even more, that you weren't just in a marriage out of convenience, but instead because you simply wanted to be.

You parted your mouth to reply, when some children from Angelina's side began causing chaos by running around. "Lord, our kids better behave," you muttered.

George turned to look at you, and it was then that you became aware of what you had said.

"Our kids?" he was grinning.

"Shut up," you mumbled.

"Never - just let me know when you want to start, love," he winked at you.

"A bit too soon, I think."

He shrugged, "We got married within a few hours of knowing each other."

"We were drunk."

"We can get drunk again."

You sighed, "We don't even live together."

"I can move in."

You didn't have anymore rebuttals.

"Are you out of arguments now?" he asked.

You reluctantly nodded.

"Perfect."

***

Instead of apparating directly to your house, you and George decided to take a late night walk around Godric's Hollow. It was such a pretty village, and you had yet to appreciate its beauty in the dark, with all the magical lamps glowing around you. But, you knew that you and George needed to have a conversation, especially after the kids talk from earlier.

"Are we together?" you asked him, even though your interlocked hands should have answered the question.

"We're married, love."

"Yes, but are we together?"

"I'd like to think we are - do you?"

You remained silent for a few moments, before nodding and looking at him in the darkness of the night.

"Then there you have it."

"I just don't get why."

"Why what?"

"Why you've done so much for me when you hardly knew me."

George chuckled, "I admit, I don't know exactly when I made the decision to do anything for you, but when you strutted into my shop, determined as ever, and announced that you were my wife, I just-" he paused, squeezing your hand, "You looked so cute and I knew- in that moment- that I would never meet someone else like you."

You felt like you were melting on the spot.

"It may have seemed selfless that I helped you get the house - but, to be honest, it was the perfect excuse for me to trap you to me- make it easier for me to pursue you, that is."

"I love you, George," you sighed.

"I'm glad, because I've loved you for quite some time now."

"Love at first sight?"

"You would be so lucky."

You let out a childish giggle at that.

"But, yes, I think it was."

——————————————————

masterlist

written; 18/08/2023 —> 03/09/2023 published;04/09/2023 edited; —/—/——

661 notes · View notes

sometimesanalice · 9 months

Text

Leave a Light On {vol. ii}

Summary: Of all the sounds you would have expected to hear in the hazy, quiet small hours of the morning, the gentle rasp of Bradley’s voice wasn’t one that you ever could have anticipated. After three months away, he is finally home.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Warnings: lots of pining and yearning (Minors DNI)

(read vol. i here)

“Can you play it from the beginning this time, sweetheart?"

That voice. His voice.

You’d been running your fingertips over the smooth keys of his piano, just about to settle them back into the starting position of the part of the song that had tripped you up in the first place. One breath away from launching into that tricky portion yet again, when you were nearly startled out of your skin. Surprise and shock shooting up your spine, the pencil in your hand sent flying.

Of all the sounds you would have expected to hear in the hazy, quiet small hours of the morning, the gentle rasp of Bradley’s voice wasn’t one that you ever could have anticipated.

Your pulse is pounding wildly, in your chest, in your throat, in your ears, as you swiftly spin around towards his front door.

And there leaning against the wooden doorframe of his house, wearing his green flight suit with a canvas seabag still clutched in hand, is Bradley.

Healthy, whole, and here.

“Bradley!” You’re up and off his creaky piano bench in less than half a heartbeat.

You had wanted to be the one to surprise him, but here he was surprising you. His arms wide and welcoming.

If his body was any less solid you might have knocked him over in the way you collide as you throw yourself at him. His bag hitting the floor with a thud as he drops it to hold you properly for the first time in three months.

I’ve missed you.I’ve missed you.I’ve missed you. your heart taps out against your ribcage.

I’m here.I’m home.I’m yours. you feel his beat in reply.

He has you so tightly pressed against his chest, holding you so close within the safe cocoon of his sturdy arms. Your face is buried in the side of his neck, breathing him in. He doesn’t smell like the sandalwood scent you’re used to, but rather some sharp astringent smell from whatever taxpayer funded soap they provided on the carrier. But underneath that, there’s something that’s just so Bradley.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he says almost incredulously into your hair, his arms tightening around your waist. “I thought about you all the time. I missed you so much.”

Still in too much shock to speak, still too overwhelmed by him, you just rapidly nod your head in agreement and burrow yourself closer into his warmth. Your fingers combing through the fine hairs at the base of his head in that soothing way that you know makes him sigh. Smiling to yourself when you get the reaction you were hoping for, when his exhale ghosts down the side of your face as you hold each other.

Your perfect Bradley. Your Golden Boy.

You’ve thought about your reunion with him so many times over the last few months.

Visions of you picking him up, waiting for him by the Bronco wearing that sundress that drives him wild. Of him surprising you at work after some meeting that could have been an email, standing head and shoulders above the gray drab cubicle walls of your office. Of him lingering outside the door of your apartment with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, just like he had after that comically bad third date, but this time without the bug bites littering his thick forearms.

And even though your hair is probably a mess and you’re in an oversize threadbare shirt and wearing slippers that had seen better days, this is better than anything you’d imagined. Because this wasn’t some delicate daydream spun together in your mind to keep ache of missing him at bay.

In the early hours of the morning, it’s not a lyrical vibrato and swell of strings that serves as the soundtrack to his homecoming like it would be in the movies. It’s the percussion of the drip from the kitchen faucet, the low hum and rattle of his refrigerator, the melody of your mingled breathing. These were the sounds of the score to your reunion with Bradley, a domestic symphony.

The quiet, steady ticking of the clock mounted on his wall is the only acknowledgement of time passing as the two of you stay wrapped up in each other. The only indication that this moment isn’t suspended in time like the way it feels it is. A sign that while the sky is still inky and dark outside his living room window, that soon enough the birds will be chirping and the sun will be rising. And for the first time in a long time you will not be waking up in a bed alone.

Because he is here, he is here.

“Your heart is still beating so fast,” Rooster whispers lowly. His thumb is skimming the side of your throat as he cradles the back of your head with his big, warm hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart.”

You place a gentle kiss to longest scar that decorates the skin of his throat before pulling away to get a good look at him. He’s wearing the softest smile for you as you take his face between your hands. His hair looks a shade darker than his usual sunkissed bronze and his skin a bit paler than it was before he’d left. And your heart squeezes in sympathy as you note the deep, dark purple circles beneath his eyes and the weariness he carries around the edges of him.

The little lamp with its soft glow was the only source of light in the room, but his exhaustion clear as day.

You could feel the worry creeping up on you, making your eyebrows pull together with unease, “Is everyone-”

“Everyone’s fine, baby,” he hushes you reassuringly. His family in San Diego had become yours as well. You care about them all. “Everyone’s home. Safe and sound.” The relief you feel drifts over you like a gentle breeze.

“I’m so happy to see you,” you say as you pull his face to yours. “I missed you too, Bradley. So much.”

His lips are a little dry, a little chapped, but the way he kisses you still takes your breath away.

You can taste the burnt coffee he must have had after landing, the perpetually scalded kind from base that’s terrible regardless of who makes it. He’s told you about how he always waits to cool just enough so he can throw it back in one go, not wanting to draw it out. You’ve never had it yourself, but you don’t mind the bitterness when it’s off his tongue.

There is nothing hurried or desperate about the way you reconnect with one another, nothing like how you imagined it might be after being apart for so long. Not the hungry mouths or frenzied touches you’d thought about late at night while looking at the pictures and videos on your phone that he had so generously left for you, with only your own hands and imagination to keep you company.

It’s easy to lose yourself in him, making up for lost time and lost kisses. Normally his attentions set your pulse racing, but the longer he kisses you the steadier the beating in your chest becomes as he pulls soft sighs from you. He kisses you slow and deep, like he is savoring the slide of your lips against his. His hands smoothing up and down your back and along your waist, as if he is luxuriating in the feel of your body under his warm palms.

“Bradley,” you breathe contentedly.

“I’m here,” he says.

The simple statement has your mouth breaking out in a wide grin, you can feel the matching one he’s wearing against your lips as he pulls away.

“You’re back.”

“I know,” he says teasingly, running his finger down the bridge of your nose.

You huff a laugh, “No, you’re back early.”

“Mhm,” he hums happily, “And you were playing something really pretty on my piano.” He drops a sweet, lingering kiss on your lips again. “And here I thought”- a kiss on your right cheek- “you said you couldn’t”- a kiss on the left one- “play anymore,” he murmurs as he kisses your forehead. The coarse hair of his mustache feeling rougher than you remember against your skin after so many days without it. “You’ve been holding out on me, sweetheart.”

Your hands slides down from around his neck to rest on his chest. “I’ve been taking lessons,” you tell him. Feeling a bit shy now as you glance up at him from beneath your eyelashes.

“Yeah?” He pulls his head back to look at you, there’s surprise there in his eyes but also pride, “For how long? When did you start?”

If Bradley hadn’t been gazing at you with such genuine affection in those brown eyes of his, you might have been much more nervous to admit just how long you’ve been keeping this secret from him. Even so, you still feel like you’re holding your breath as you reply, “Since you got back from that first deployment.”

You can tell he’s trying to school his features, but his eyebrow still jumps up a bit as he does the math. And as he blinks at you, you can’t help but feel like for all your good intentions that you’ve let him down.

Six months was a long time to keep something like that to yourself.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell him, it had been on the tip of your tongue on more than one occasion. He was the only person you’d been wanting to tell, but waiting for the right time had turned into a three-month deployment.

There’s already an apology about to work its way out of your mouth when he cups your cheeks in his hands, “Why didn’t you tell me? You could have been practicing here the whole time. That piano is basically fifty percent yours anyways, since you were the one who found it.”

“I just- It needed to be mine, just for a little bit,” you say quietly, hoping he understands. Your fingertip anxiously traces around the edges of the patch that rests over his heart. “And I wanted to surprise you. But, then…” You nod your head to the green seabag forgotten on the floor.

The kiss he presses to your lips makes your knees weak with its softness. With its acceptance. With its understanding.

“Well, consider me surprised. You play so lovely,” he says with a gentle smile to put you at ease. And you feel instantly lighter, the pressure that had been building in your chest now just a memory. “I swear, that’s the best thing I’ve heard in months. What were you using to practice with before? The piano at the Hard Deck?”

That he was so invested in this because it was something that mattered to you soothed that tender part of your heart.

His enthusiasm made you want to tell him more, to tell him everything, “I bought an electric keyboard for my place.”

“Wait, really? Where?” he asks, looking adorably confused. You can see him trying to search his memory, as if he’d somehow missed a big rectangular black and white thing pressed against a wall in your tiny apartment. “I swear I’ve never seen one there. That’s something I definitely would have noticed.”

“I would hide it under my bed whenever you were coming over.” Saying it out loud makes you feel a bit sheepish about the lengths you took to keep it a secret until you were ready.

“Under the bed, she says,” Rooster repeats with a shake of his head, clearly amused.

“Well, we’re usually busy on top of it, so it seemed like a good place to keep it hidden,” you say with a little shrug, biting back the smile at the memory of the one time he’d shown up unannounced catching you off guard. And how flustered you been trying to shove it under your mattress as he recovered from the blowjob you’d given him on the couch as an attempt to keep him from going into your bedroom before you could put it away, but also because he really had such a nice cock.

He throws his head back to laugh, the deep sound of it fills the living room. Hearing it for the first time since he’s been away makes your smile grow wider until your cheeks hurt. You love that sound. You love being the one to make him laugh.

But something still tugs at you, something you need to know, something you need to hear.

“Bradley- You’re not…” you trail off.

Mad. Disappointed. Or worse, hurt.

“No. No, I’m not,” he says earnestly, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone softly. “I mean, yeah, I wish I’d known sooner. But only because I would have loved to be the one turning the pages for you and supporting you. I know what this means to you.” He pauses for a moment, that thumb still caressing the curve of your face, “But will you do me a favor?”

ofcourseofcourseofcourse

“Anything.”

That soft smile of his gets bigger and brighter, “Will you play a song for me, sweetheart?”

Some winged thing inside of you takes flight at the sweet sincerity laced between the syllables and the consonants his question.

He’s asked you to play for him so many times. And it had always hurt to deny him what should have been such an easy yes to such a simple request.

But now it didn’t have to be some lonesome dream. Because you’re there and he’s here and it’s all you’ve been wanting.

“Yes, Bradley,” you beam, “I can play something for you.”

You take his hand and pull him further inside the house from where you had been standing in the open doorway. He kicks his duffle bag out of the way, so that he can close the door behind him, shutting out the rest of the world.

It’s just you and him. Together.

In the comfort of his cozy living room, the light from the lamp on top of his piano wrapping you both up in its warm, golden glow.

His piano is no longer daunting the way it used to be. Instead, it welcomes you as you approach it with him in tow. Familiar and friendly.

He lets go of your hand and crouches down next to you. When he stands back up, he shows you the pencil in his hand that he’d picked up for you before tucking it behind your ear, back to where it had been earlier. And you’re dying to know just how long he had been standing in that doorway listening with you completely oblivious to his presence.

You watch with your heart in your throat as he straightens out the previously askewed bench and motions for you to take a seat, dropping a kiss to your cheek.

The creak of the bench not cold and mocking as you sit down, but rather a cheery acknowledgement of your return and of the hours you’ve spent there sitting and practicing together.

You close the open booklet in front of you, to clear up space on the shelf to swap it out for the other sheet music to the song you were planning to play for him, the one you had wanted to welcome him back with. Just as you’re reaching for it, Rooster stops you with a gentle touch to your wrist.

“Wait.” He’s looking down at you with his head tilted and a slight pinch of confusion between his eyebrows, “Why are you putting that one away?”

The song you’d been playing when he’d arrived wasn’t as rehearsed as the other one you’d been reaching for. It wasn’t something you’d ever meant for anyone else to hear, that is other than your piano instructor as she helped to guide you through the tricky parts.

“Oh, um, that one’s not ready,” you falter over the words just a bit as you try to hedge the question. “I have a different piece I wanted to play for you.”

You hold up the sheet music to him and his eyes soften when he sees the title of the song you purchased and practiced with only him in mind. It was polished, it was ready.

You’d had three months to get it ready for him, and you’d made sure to play it through at least once a day. You had wanted it to be perfect, he’d waited so long. He deserved the best and you wanted to be the one to give it to him.

He holds your gaze for a few moments. There’s a questioning look in his eyes, but he must find whatever answer he was looking for written on your face. Because instead of asking you the question seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, he just clears his throat with a little shake of his head.

“You learned this just for me?” he asks, his voice thick and raspy.

And when you bob your head yes, there’s a brief moment where it almost looks like he is struggling with himself. His eyes bouncing from you to the sheet music in his hands to the piano.

“I can’t wait to hear this. Truly, sweetheart. It’s just- the other one is the first thing I’ve ever heard you play...”

It’s not even a real question, but there’s a gentle request ripping in the wake of the way he trails off. There’s no pressure behind the ask that’s not an ask.

But still, there are butterflies fluttering around in your stomach now.

“Ok, Bradley. If that’s what you want to hear, then I’ll play that one for you.” You would do anything this man asked of you, you would do anything for him.

“Yeah?” The grin on his face could power the whole city when you nod your agreement.

He takes a few long strides around you as you work on reopening and flattening out the sheet music to the song he asked you to play for him. Out of the corner of your eye you see him grab and turn the wooden spindle framed arm chair, bringing it closer and situating it in just the right spot next to the piano.

“Look,” he says gesturing to it, pleased with himself as he settles into the chair, “A front row seat.” He is close enough that his knees are hugging either side of the piano bench.

The genuine excitement in his voice makes your heart stutter and skip a beat.

That the anticipation of fingers on keys and hammers striking strings is better to him than any jackpot or trophy could ever be. He makes you feel like this moment is his lucky lottery ticket. That this is his winning championship game.

You.

You seated at his piano bench with sheet music stretched across it and hands that can make music again.

And you would learn all every song ever composed just as long as he keeps looking at you like the way he is now, eyes bright and with a boyish grin on his face.

“Will you turn the pages for me?” you ask him, even though you already know what is answer will be.

“I would be happy to,” he says with satisfaction. And you know he means it.

You’re nervous now seated on the bench with a different song waiting to be played with the black and white keys under your fingers. As you feeling the warmth of Bradley’s presence next to you and the intensity of his gaze on you.

And with shaky fingers, you begin.

All Bradley had craved when he was on that carrier was for some silence.

Just for a moment where he could hear the sound of his own breathing, where his thoughts weren’t overwhelmed by all the other commotion.

And the closer he got to his house, seated in the back seat of the white Prius that had picked him up from base, the more he wished he was headed somewhere else. To someone else.

It had been three months of endless noise.

Three months of the relentless humming and buzzing and rattling and shaking of the USS Theodore Roosevelt. Of planes taking off for night hops and the explosions of jet fuel and machines banging on deck and the clang of metal on metal.

Three months of endless voices. In his ear from over the radio. Bouncing off the walls of the dull gray passageways. Layered and loud on top of the clatter of forks and spoons on plates and bowls in the mess hall.

Three months of sharing a room with Payback, who was considerate and tidy, but snored louder than anyone he’s ever bunked with. In such tight quarters it was hard to get a moment to himself, let alone a sliver of some peace and quiet.

With over a decade of service under his belt, Rooster would have thought it was something he’d get used to. And while it got more bearable over time, it never seems to get any better.

Sleep ‘til you’re hungry. Eat ‘til you’re tired.

That was the motto most of them lived by when they were aboard the ship.

His schedule shifting depending on the day, at the will of whatever commanding officer was in charge. Lunch became breakfast, the leftovers from previous dinner service that they ate during Midrats gave him just enough energy to make it to dawn. He often had stretches where he’d go days without seeing the sun, it was just another reminder that his time didn’t belong to him. There were moments when it felt like he wasn’t even his own person, but he’d known what he was signing up for when he inked his name on those papers.

Those first few weeks on a carrier were always the worst, when sleep would escape him just when he needed it the most.

He was either doing the midnight hops or being woken up by them. Trying to sneak in naps whenever he had more than twenty minutes of free time. More often than not he’d be right on the precipice of falling asleep when his alarm would go off and he’d have to rush off to the Ready Room for tactics trainings or the flight deck for practicing inflight refueling and aerial combat maneuvers.

Bradley loved flying.

He loved that moment when he climbs in the cockpit of his F/A-18 and everything just clicks into place. When the edges of the world around him sharpen, when the contrast is increased and the clarity heightened. That feeling of surety that washes over him every time from knowing that his actions matter, that what he does matters, that he mattered.

It was the way he could honor the man who made him and to solidify his bond with the one who raised him.

He understands his place in the world the best when he is thirty thousand feet in the air.

In the past, it had been easy to put his head down and get through his deployments because his career gave him purpose. His temporary discomforts and the high-stakes risks he took were worth it for the sake of the greater good.

But things were different for him now because he had you. You were always on his mind.

The two of you have been together for a little less than a year, but it feels like he’s known you forever. You make him feel seen and understood in a way that he’s never experienced before.

Bradley knew how lucky he was to have you, he’d almost blown it one too many times for his comfort in the early days of your relationship. His anxiety nearly derailing one of the best things that’s ever happened to him.

But luckily for him, you wanted him.

Even with all his flaws and scars and baggage.

And for you, he wanted to be a man worth waiting for.

That first deployment was harder than he could have ever anticipated. Not only because he’d never had anyone to miss before, but also because he’d never had to carry the weight that came from knowing someone else was missing him just as much in return.

The way he felt as he held you and danced with you in his living room, with that record you’d found spinning in the background, was a moment he wasn’t ever going to forget. It had felt just as special then as it does now. It’s the memory he replays in his mind over and over again on the nights he can’t sleep.

He’d ordered the sheet music to “Make Love to Me” during those final few hours he had left with you the night before he was due to leave. The screen brightness on his phone turned down all the way so that he didn’t wake you up as you slept soundly, soft and naked, next to him in his bed.

The anticipation getting home to you and learning it for you was the only thing that helped to get him through those six weeks when he felt like the walls were closing in on him from the way he missed and wanted you.

And once he was back, in between the hours he spent at work and the hours he spent tangled in bed with you, he’d go to the Hard Deck before it opened to use Penny’s old upright to practice. Thinking about how nice it would be to have one that he had a place to call his own. Then flipping off Hangman every chance he got when he’d groan about having to hear the song again.

Rooster had been able to bribe his team with the promise of free beer for a month in exchange for their participation when the song was finally ready for you. He’d known that their over the top antics would make you laugh. And the smile on your face when he’d serenaded you with it for the first time had been worth every penny of the hefty credit card bill he’d received the next month.

It was just as hard this time.

It had taken him a while to realize what exactly that feeling was that had settled heavy on his chest.

Homesick.

He’d never known he could be homesick for a person until he met you.

Time seemed to move faster when the two of you were together. And when he was away from you, the hours and days felt long.

It was harder to let the little things roll off his back because he couldn’t look forward to seeing your smile after a long day when he was thousands of miles away. He couldn’t decompress the way he was used to, the burn he worked up at the weight bench in the gym wasn’t nearly as effective as sitting at the bench in front of his piano. Even if his biceps were reaping the benefits.

On more than one occasion, he’d caught himself absentmindedly tapping out unheard tunes on the sides of his thighs.

Bradley hadn’t realized how much tension he was carrying in his shoulders until he’d felt it release at the sound of your laugh on one of the rare instances he’d been able to call you over the satellite phone on board.

“Have you been wearing the sunscreen I sent with you, Golden Boy?” you’d asked him.

“I promised you I would, didn’t I?” he’d replied, even as he rubbed at his sternum in discomfort at the not quite lie. When the reality was he didn’t need it when he was on such good terms with the moon. But he didn’t tell you that, didn’t want you to worry about him more than he already knew you were.

“That’s good. Because Lobster Boy just doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.” He could hear the smile in your tone, could feel it as it traveled over the electrical currents.

All the sounds and noise that seemed to follow him around, all the thoughts that circled and spiraled in his head, they faded when he got to listen to your sweet voice. As you told him how much you missed him and how proud you were of him and how much you loved him. Everything he’d never had before. The one thing he’d never let himself hope for.

Someone who cared. Someone who loved him. Someone who was waiting for him.

It was the first time in weeks that things had felt quieter. That he could finally breathe a little easier.

Until they’d told Bradley and his team that the mission they had spent the better part of two and a half months preparing for was getting moved up. And then the sound of the pounding of his heart was drown out by the ringing in his ears.

And on the night, during those pivotal moments where the minutes stretched on like hours, they’d flown it as damn near perfect as could be.

The feeling of sweat dripping down his back as his team had made their way back to the carrier an uncomfortable, but welcomed, reminder that he’d made it. That they’d all made it. That he would be headed back to you soon.

They did the fly-off two days before the carrier was due to dock back at base. Unlike usual, there wasn’t a fanfare of family and friends ready to greet them at the hanger. Normally, their return was a big event. Their formations immaculate as ever as they showed off for all of the important people in their lives before landing.

With all his other deployments, it was the moment that Bradley did is best to avoid thinking about, as he tried and failed to ignore the dread that would settle deep in the pit of his stomach.

Knowing that he’d have to watch as members of his squadron were met with a cheerful homecoming of handmade signs and smiles and laughter and hugs. Watching their tearful and happy reunions, watching as some of his teammates met the newest members of their families for the very first time. All while he’d gather his things and shake the occasional hand, only leave alone.

With this one, it was something he’d been looking forward to for the first time in his career. The idea of you being there to greet him, that big beautiful smile on your face just for him. Of getting to hold you in his arms for the first time in months in the bright golden California sunshine.

But he didn’t mind missing out since it meant he could be home early. He’d trade all the hoopla and hubbub for any extra minute he could have with you.

After all, there was always next time.

Because there would be a next time.

They’d gotten in sometime after midnight, the flashing lights on the runway guiding them in. The diet of stale coffee and adrenaline that he’d been living off of for the last few days finally catching up with him as he worked his way through the final check list of things needing to be done. The brief wrap-up that Cyclone wanted to have ended up going longer than originally planned.

And the longer he had sat there, the more the bone-deep weariness had set in.

His boots felt heavy on his feet as they’d all shuffled out the door to collect the rest of their belongings to head out. Everyone eager to get back to their own homes, back to their own beds. And for the lucky ones, back to the people in those homes and in those beds, who would be excited to see them.

Reuben had offered to give him a ride. He’d snuck a call to his wife the moment they’d gotten service to let her know he was coming home, and she had been there in the parking lot waiting for him. But Payback’s classy condo was on the other side of town from his own Craftsman bungalow, and Rooster wasn’t going to have his now former roommate drive out of his way when he had an app on his phone that could drop him off without inconveniencing anyone else.

So he’d bluffed and said that you were on you way, and then lingered in the break room with another cup of terrible coffee for an additional twenty minutes until everyone cleared out before ordering his ride.

He had been so close to putting in your address for the drop off when he’d booked the Lyft. He really wanted to see you, he’d missed you so much over the last three months. But had decided against it at the last minute, when he realized just how late it was. Thinking that maybe he could surprise you at work and take you out for lunch after some much-needed sleep, when he wasn’t so dead on his feet.

He wanted to be at his best for you.

But the longer he sits in the back of the white Prius, with his knees crushed against the back of the seat in front of him, sipping on the little eight-ounce water bottle the man had blindly tossed in his direction when he’d climbed in, the more he was realizing just how big of a mistake it was to give the driver his own address instead of yours.

The roads were mostly empty, only a few cars here and there.

It was sometime when night met astronomical twilight. The sun hovering somewhere between twelve to eighteen degrees from the horizon. Some stars visible in the night sky even with all the light pollution from the city.

Too late for the people from the bars to still be out and too early for the stirrings of the early commuters who had a long journey into work ahead of them.

Bradley had spent months wishing for the quiet. And he finally had it.

It was silent in the car.

His driver has his AirPods in- which he knows is illegal in California, but he wasn’t going to press it when the roads were this deserted- and the man hadn’t bothered to turn the radio on, so he was left on his own with his worn and well-used duffle bag, an empty water bottle that looked comically small in his hand, and his thoughts.

That quiet he had been so eager for wasn’t the peaceful kind he had hoped for. It is a lonely kind of quiet. It was one that pointedly reminded him that no one would be waiting for him at the end of his destination, when he finally reached that dot at the end of the purple road on his app.

The white static in his ears gets louder with every passing mile. As he watches the minutes tick down until the end of his ride. Where he would get out, and the driver would move on with his night, and he would still be on his own.

He was so tired of coming back from deployments to an empty space. Just like it had been at the barracks. Just like it had been at the minimally furnished apartments he’d rented before he’d been relocated.

This felt too close to those hollow, lonely homecomings of his past.

And while he liked his house, with its wooden shingles and original windows and warm charm, it was just building with four walls and a roof. The rooms held his things, but they didn’t hold anyone.

His dark, empty, quiet house.

It wasn’t a home if he was there alone.

He’d be so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he’d missed the fact that the driver had turned up his street. He’d missed the tree lined suburban blocks leading up to his small Craftsman, until the car slowed down and came to a stop in front of it.

Bradley can feel the guy’s eyes on him in the rearview mirror as he waits for him to grab his things and get out. That homesick feeling in his chest that he’d carried with him for the last ninety days, now back in tenfold. The weight of it keeps him sitting where he is.

He is so much closer to where he wanted to be when he was out in the middle of the ocean, but still too far from who he needed to be with.

As he is opening his mouth to give the driver the address to your apartment, his eyes catch on a light that’s been left on in his house.

That gentle, warm glow of the small lamp above his piano illuminating his living room against the shadows. The curtains still pushed to either side, so he can see in from the outside. Where he can see his piano and a figure curved over it.

And then he’s out of the car and standing on the cracked sidewalk with his bag in hand and taillights rounding a corner before he can fully even process it.

He almost doesn’t want to believe his eyes, the dried out and tired things that they are. Not trusting that in his sleep deprived state that they aren’t playing tricks on him, conjuring the one person he wanted to see the most.

It’s not until he hears the faint sound of his piano calling for him to come closer that it hits him in the chest with as much force as it does when he’s pulling G’s.

That his favorite daydream was now his reality.

His pretty girlfriend, the one who said she couldn’t play, was the one who was sitting at his piano making the music that was welcoming him home.

But as his feet carried him up the walkway, up the stairs, and across his porch to the front door, the music had only gotten louder and clearer. Fishing out the key from his pocket, he slips it into the lock as quietly as possible, opening the door ever… so… slowly… and with more patience than he knew he had in him.

He is too captivated by the curve and shape of you sitting there to try and figure out what that familiar tune is that you’re playing. There’s a cup of tea resting on top of the piano, sitting on one of the coasters you’d got for him when you realized he didn’t have any. You look so soft and perfect wearing a t-shirt of his that he thought he’d lost, a pencil adorably tucked behind your ear.

The picture in front of him is easily the best thing he has seen in months.

Bradley loves that piano. You were the one to find it for him.

It’s his favorite thing that he owns, because when he looks at his piano he thinks of you and the fact you were thinking of him.

It was always something he’d meant to find the time to research, to look into. He knew he wanted one, but he’d never taken the initiative to actually shop around for one.

It had been a dream of his for years, but he’d never had the opportunity to even consider it until after the Uranium Mission when they’d all been permanently relocated to San Diego. And even after he’d bought his house, it was something that sat in the corner of his mind rather than in the corner of his living room.

Instead of putting roots down, he felt like he was waiting for the rug to get pulled out from underneath him. Yet again.

Until one night at the Hard Deck, after he’d played a few of the crowd-pleasing tunes he kept in his back pocket, you’d passed him your phone to show him something. It had been picture of a gorgeous mahogany console piano, just the right size for where he’d been imagining one would go in his house.

“You’ve been telling me you want one of your own for ages, so I set up a few alerts just see what was out there,” you’d told him a bit shyly, almost like you weren’t sure if you were overstepping. “That one just came up, it looks like it’s in really great shape. And that price is better than what I’ve been seeing from some of the other ones I’ve looked at. So I sent the seller an email- just in case- and they replied. They’re not too far away, you’d just need to move it yourself. But you’ve got first dibs on it if you want it.”

His eyes had bounced back and forth between pictures and your beautiful face, “You did that for me?”

“It seemed like something that would make you happy,” you’d replied simply.

He can still remember the way his heart had pressed against the ribs in his chest.

“This is- It’s perfect. Thank you for finding this. Will you ask them if they want a deposit?” he’d asked, watching as that tentative, hopeful smile on your face grew bigger and brighter. “I don’t want to lose it. This is the one for me.”

He’d been sure of it. He was still sure of it.

A couple hours later and standing in front of Penny’s jukebox, he had still been buzzing from the find. The seller had taken down the listing, the deposit had been sent, the pick-up time was set, and he’d even managed to rope Jake into helping him move it in exchange for a bottle of whiskey. And you, you were the reason for it all.

He didn’t mean to play the song, didn’t even remember selecting it.

One minute he was looking through the catalogue of songs and the next you were in his arms as he twirled and spun you around on the scuffed wooden floors of the Hard Deck. He knew you weren’t the most confident of dancers, but loved that you trusted him to lead you in a slow easy rhythm.

Enjoying the feel of you in his arms, his lips pressed against your ear as he whispered anything and everything that came to his mind, the words all honey-dipped, as the song played on in the background.

“My girl likes sweet nothings?” he had murmured teasingly at the way he’d felt another shiver dance its way down your spine.

“They’re not nothings, Bradley. They’re sweet somethings,” you’d murmured back, settling your head on his shoulder. “It’s never nothing with you.”

He took your hand and placed it on his heart and he leaned back in. Whispering more sweet somethings into the shell of your ear. He didn’t stop until the song ended, but he could have gone on for hours.

Later that night, Mav had slid up to him at the bar as he was cashing out for the night. He was having a hard time focusing on the conversation the older man was trying to have with him because his eyes kept searching out you from across the room.

And you kept catching him looking.

“You going to marry that girl?” Mav had asked him with a knowing look in his eyes.

He knew the meaning of the song Bradley had selected better than anyone else. Pete been there the night his parents had gotten married, watching on from the sidelines as they’d had their first dance to the crooning voice of Sam Cooke.

“I sure hope so,” he’d answered.

He’d been feeling it for a while, but that was the night he knew.

Now he feds Penny’s jukebox his quarters and plays that song on purpose at least once a week.

For how tired he had been in the back of the Lyft, he feels like he could stand here and watch you for hours.

You’re humming to yourself as you play. Shaking your head when your finger hits a wrong key, slowing down to repeat it, before continuing on. Nodding along when you get through a portion, like you must have practiced that part in particular and were proud of yourself to get it right.

It’s the best thing he’s ever heard. Even when your fingers slip up and play a string of wrong notes.

“Fuck me, F Sharp not F,” you huff.

And he has to bite his lip to keep from chuckling and giving himself away.

Stopping this time to pull the pencil from out behind your ear, you bend forward making some circles on the sheet music in front of you for the spot that had tripped you up. Grumbling some other expletives lowly under your breath as you work.

His studious sweetheart.

Bradley is hit was with a tidal wave of affection so fierce that he knows he can’t stay quiet anymore.

You’ve made your marks and are setting your hands back on the keys about to start over again when he decides to ask you a question in-person for the first time in three months, “Can you play it from the beginning this time, sweetheart?"

“Bradley!”

He loves the way you say his name. He loves the sound of your voice. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

It’s almost an out of body experience to have you in his arms.

To kiss you. To taste the hint of chamomile on your tongue. To feel your heart beating against his chest. To tease you. To touch the soft skin of your face with his fingertips. To talk to you. To listen to you as you tell him about when you started taking lessons.

Because he still can’t believe you’re here, it still feels too good to be true.

He doesn’t feel the gravity settle back into his bones until you say you’ll play him a song.

Feeling oddly anxious when he notices you closing the booklet that was in front of you, in favor of putting it way and reaching for something else. But then you smile up at him as you show him the sheet music for song you told him you’ve been practicing.

There’s a look in your eyes that tells him you know exactly why he feeds Penny’s jukebox his quarters and plays “You Send Me” when he wants to dance with you. He knows in his gut that Mav must have told you, probably an intentionally unintentional slip of the tongue.

And god, he really fights the urge to ask. He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings or for you to think he’s taking this moment for granted or that he’s ungrateful for the work you’ve put into learning that song just for him.

A song that meant something to him.

But he is so desperate to hear you play the other one, the one that welcomed him home, the one that’s the first song he’s ever heard you play. It’s already so special to him in a way that he can’t put words too.

When you agree, Bradley’s chest swells with warmth and he can’t hold back his excitement. He pulls up a chair next to you as close as he can get without getting in your way.

And he swears he falls in love with you all over again when you ask him to turn the pages for you.

He hasn’t proposed yet, but if he is lucky enough to look in your eyes as he vows to spend forever with you, he knows he is going promise to turn your pages for the rest of your lives together. That is, if you’ll have him when the time comes.

His eyes catch the way you squeeze and flex your hand, the faintest hint of trembling in your fingers before you set them on the ivory key. The only thing giving away your nerves. Then after a deep breath, you’re playing for him.

And he gets to hear your song, from the beginning, for the very first time.

It starts of soft and melodic, almost like a lullaby. The timbre of the lower notes would sound almost melancholy if it weren’t for the uplifting lyrical, melody of the treble clef. The juxtaposition makes his heart ache and soar at the same time. He knows this song, even if he’s still having a hard time placing it, the title just out of reach.

When you had first told him that you’d forgotten how to play, he’d felt so guilty for all the times he’d tried to get you to play something for him. Kicking himself when he offered to help, not knowing even if you wanted to play anymore. He didn’t want to ever be the one causing you pain.

He knows better than anyone the bittersweet and complicated relationship that you have with the instrument. So the meaning of this gesture isn’t lost on him in the slightest.

He can feel every ounce of love and effort that has gone into this. And all because you wanted to wanted to share this part of yourself with him? Because you loved him?

Bradley wants to absorb every detail of this moment, wants to carry it with him always. The sound of the rich and round notes from the keys your fingers are gliding over. Your sweet face as you read the sheet music in front of you.

He only glances away every now and then to keep track on where you were in the song, so that he can fulfill his duties and turn the page when you’re ready.

You surprise him when you start singing along quietly. And he can’t help but lean in.

He’s always liked the sound of your pretty voice. He loves when he’s able to catch you singing in the shower, when he’ll linger in the doorway and listen. You’ll sing along with him in the car when the winds are whipping from the highway or when you’re tipsy. But it’s rare that he gets to hear you so sing so freely.

It’s not until he hears the words that it clicks for him, that he finally recognizes the song. It’s one he’s heard hundreds of times before, but never like this. There’s a sense of sincerity in it that feels new to him, but that seems entirely perfect for the piece. It’s like he’s hearing the song and understanding the depth of the lyrics for the very first time.

And the more you play, the more overwhelmed he’s getting. The lump in his throat growing in size with every passing measure. The pressure building behind his eyes isn’t from the lack of sleep, but something else entirely. The words you’re singing to him landing and making a place at home in his heart.

You’re approaching the chorus again. He knows where the song is building to. And he wants to meet you where you’re at, wants to show you he hears you. The one thing he’s always liked about the original is that it’s a duet. It’s a conversation.

Rooster realizes now that it was never the quiet he had wanted. It wasn’t the lonely sound of silence. All he wanted and all he needed was you.

Licking his lips, he waits for the right moment and then joins in with a low whistle.

Your head whips towards him and the brilliant smile on your face looks and feels like home.

This.

This is what you had wanted.

His harmonizing whistle was something you didn’t know you’d been hoping for until he joined in.

A part of him, a part of you. Something to be shared.

As you’d gotten yourself situated, smoothing out those pages in front of you, you’d felt your nerves trying to get the best of you.

Thinking about Bradley’s pretty brown eyes on you as you played versus actually having his steady gaze pinned on you were two very different things.

You’ve always had a hard time being the center of attention.

At your birthday, he had so flawlessly distracted everyone from that moment you always dreaded so much, sparing you from having everyone sing and watch on as the candles on the cake were blown out. Because he knew you and cared enough to want you to have the best time. It was the first birthday you’ve had where you were entirely out of your head for the whole evening.

However, he did play it for you himself on the piano much later that night when it was just the two of you, as you ate leftover cake wrapped up in his sheet.

And even those times when he’s serenaded you during crowded nights out at the Hard Deck, it was fine because while his eyes were on you, everyone else was busy looking at him.

But in his small living room, there wasn’t anything to distract him with or for you to hide behind.

The rapid sixteenth notes had been turned into more manageable eight notes with the help of piano teacher. Her tidy markings simplifying and streamlining the music to make it easier for you to learn. Done in pencil, she’d pointed out to you when she returned the sheet music back to you the next week after you’d given it to her, so that you could easily erase it when you were ready to tackle the more difficult portions.

Even so, there had been a brief moment where all the notes seemed to bleed into each other on the page.

It was as if the words of a book had been scrambled and rearranged just as you were getting to the best part. Just as you were about to find out who did it, just as they were about to kiss, just as the heist was about to be pulled off.

Your shaky fingers landing on the edges of a couple of the keys rather than in the middle of one.

But Bradley didn’t care that you’d fumbled over the opening. From the corner of your eye, you’d been able to see the way he was looking at you. It was like you’d hung the moon and the stars just for him.

He wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, because his feelings were always worn so openly on his face.

All those butterflies that had been swarming in your stomach took their flight, and a gentle warm wave of contentment filled you up instead.

You didn’t need the perfect notes when this was the perfect moment. It felt real, it felt right.

The urge had snuck up on you without warning. You hadn’t meant to start singing along, but once the first few words had come out of your mouth you were committed.

And then he’d leaned in.

He was already so close, you could just barely feel his knee brushing against the outside of your thigh from the way his legs were bracketing the piano bench. But there he was trying to get closer still.

Only you would know how many hours you’d spent behind your little electric keyboard and in Mrs. McMullen’s cozy music room and at Bradley’s house seated on his creaky piano bench.

Only you would know after he’d left, you’d driven right back to his house, the smell of his fancy coffee and sandalwood scent still lingering in the air. That you had pulled out the music to “Make Love to Me”, thinking that trying to play it for yourself on his piano would make you feel better, only to end up missing him more than ever when he hadn’t even been gone for an hour yet.

Only you would know many times you’ve tried, and made mistakes, only to try again. Once more, once again.

But in that moment, you didn’t want him to hear all the hours of lessons or all the hours of practice.

You wanted him to hear your heart.

And when he turned the page of your music for you, you couldn’t help but smile.

You wanted this song to speak to him like it had spoke to you the first time you’d heard it. The way it still speaks to you. How it made you think of him, every time you played it and every time you heard it.

You hoped he could feel it through the keys beneath your fingers and the pedal under your foot.

When Bradley joins in, quietly at first before getting a little louder after you grin at him, you know it’s his way of telling you that he does.

And it is everything.

He follows the lead of your fingers as they glide over the keys. The ebb and flow of his whistle, coming in and tapering out. Your melody strong on its own, but made better with his counterpoint.

For him, you were up for it all. Those quiet periods were just beats of rest that dotted the staff of your life with him. There were so many more notes in his song to look forward to.

Because he was worth the wait.

Those combinations and arrangements of notes that had once been fed your yearning were now fueled by your joy.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, it dawns on you that this was the first time that you weren’t playing the piano not to mask the loud or to cover the quiet. You weren’t playing because with a self-imposed pressure to make something perfect. You weren’t playing as a way to try and ease the longing that had taken up residency in your chest ever since you’d dropped him off at base nearly one hundred days ago.

You were playing because he made you happy and it made you happy to finally be able to off this little piece of your heart to him. He knew you in every other sense, but all you had wanted was for him to know you in this way too.

You were playing because it made you happy.

The rhythm of your left hand sure and steady like a heartbeat, while those soaring winged notes of your right sounded like the way you felt when he was near. When he was here with you, when he was home with you.

It feels like time isn’t being marked by the ticking second hand of a clock, but rather by the passing of beats housed within measures. Dictated by tempo of your own choosing.

You let yourself float in the moment, in the music. Of the feeling of the keys under your hands, of reading the notes on the page. No longer a random series of dots scattered along five lines on a page. Their language unlocked to you once again. Of the pride you can feel radiating off the man who loves you as you are. The one who made you want to try. The one who helped you find this part of yourself again.

Those two parallel lines that mark the end of the song inch closer as he turns the final page for you. And you find yourself playing just a bit slower. Trying to draw out every note and chord, soaking up the way they filled every nook and corner of his living room with their sound.

It’s inevitable when you come up on those few closing measures. All good things come to an end, but it doesn’t mean there won’t be more good things to come. You can have this whenever you want. You have all you need.

You and Bradley and a piano.

Your fingers hold down the keys of those final notes, pulling out every last bit of sound that can be let from them. The sound waves bending and spreading, their energy passing through his home until they can’t be heard any more.

Holding on. Holding it. Before finally, letting go.

And when you turn to Bradley, his arms are already open and waiting for you.

His piano bench announces its displeasure you’ve stopped playing for the moment when it groans and creaks as you get up in favor of tucking yourself into the comfort of his lap.

He wastes no time pulling you into him and wrapping you up. Encouraging you to nestle your head into his shoulder. Pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his cheek on the top of your head. His hand slipping under the hem of your t-shirt to run soothingly up and down your spine as you breathe him in.

You’re feeling exposed to him in a way you’ve never felt before. It was your turn to put all your cards on the table. But you know you’re safe with him, your heart is safe with him. Just as his is with you.

Neither of you say anything as the weight of the moment relaxes into something softer. As you felt the essence of the notes you’d been playing settle around the two of you from how they’d been silently lingering in the air.

It’s quiet, but there is peace to be found in it.

Bradley is the one to pull away to take your face between his large hands. His brown eyes brimming with warmth.

“I love you so damn much,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss you. Delicately, softly, tenderly. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too,” you say running your fingers through his curls. Your heart swells as he leans into your touch, letting his eyes flutter close in contentment. Your Golden Boy. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

“There’s no place I’d rather be than here. My home is with you,” he sighs, sleepy and satisfied. But the sincerity in his statement wraps itself around your heart.

“Bradley.”

“Mmhm,” he hums, his eyes still closed.

“Let’s go to bed,” you say softly as you gaze at him. Even half asleep, he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. And he’s yours. “It’s still too early for even roosters to be up.”

He huffs a little chuckle, cracking one eye open to squint at you. The side of his mouth pulling up on one side in amusement.

You move to climb off of him, but he hooks his hand underneath your thighs. Waiting for you to thread your arms around his neck before he stands up with you in his arms as he starts walking towards his bedroom.

Looking over his shoulder, you notice that little light above his piano is on.

The sky outside Bradley’s window is beginning to lighten now, the dark of night has given way to a dusky navy. There is the gentlest tease of wispy pink and purple cotton candy clouds, a sign that a sure to be stunning sunrise that’s on its way.

And you already know, it’s going to be a good day.

Thank you for reading, friends! This soft little piano fic has been living with me since January and I'm so thrilled that it's out now! I loved getting to share this one with you!

And a sincere thank you to @gretagerwigsmuse, @callsignspark, and @laracrofted for the support, and for letting me send endless snippets and the feedback! I appreciate you so much!

I purposefully left out the song that Bradley's Sweetheart plays, just in case anyone wanted to imagine their perfect song. But if you’re curious, here’s the one that I had in mind when I was writing this: Home (slowed) by Edith Whiskers 🤍

You can read some of my other stories here!

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@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

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just-jordie-things · 3 months

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valentines from jjk:

what valentines i think they would give you <3 happy love day everyone, don't forget to tell the people you care about that you care about them !! warnings: slightly suggestive in gojo + maki's parts

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

GOJO SATORU:

gojo is nothing short of extravagant. so expect a massive, expensive bouquet of your favorite flowers. if he's feeling particularly in the mood of love, he might try to serenade you (as if this huge bouquet he presented in front of everyone you know wasn't embarassing enough!! but it's the thought that counts, isn't it?) now just imagine how he's going to treat you when the two of you are alone

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

GETO SUGURU:

he's so romantic you're going to swoon and pass out- suguru drives you out to a nice field in the evening so you can watch the sunset, have a picnic complete with sweets and a bottle of wine, and then you can watch the stars come out and find as many constellations as you can. the possibility of you also watching the sunrise together is quite fair.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

NANAMI KENTO:

nanami is a massive romantic but others might not see what you do because he can be quite private... but that doesn't mean that the love he feels for you doesn't carve itself deep into his bones and very soul. he's going to cook for you and have you over for an intimate v-day dinner. (he's been dying to propose to you for a while, and the ring in his pocket is damn near burning a hole. but it would be too cheesy to propose to you on valentines day... wouldn't it? we'll see if he lasts through dinner)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

TAKUMA INO:

ino wants to go the traditional route of a beautiful bouquet for his beautiful girlfriend... but he knows you love a cute stuffy so he has to put a little twist on the classic gift to make sure his valentine stands out!! also... he asked you to be his valentine months in advance... sometime around november... but he has to make sure you're secured as his valentine!!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

KAMO CHOSO:

he may be new to the concept of valentine's day, but when choso stumbles upon a pretty earring set, he remembers that yuji once told him girls never buy heart shaped jewelry for themselves- it has to be gifted to them. accepting this rule as law, choso doesn't hesitate to gift them to you so that you always have something from him to keep close... and maybe he likes the idea of other people knowing the romantic jewelry came from him, too.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI:

megumi is treating you to a new set for valentine's day. he might act indifferent when you come home from your nail appointments any other day... but he does love your pretty manicure, and he loves how excited you get for them, too. so as long as you promise to get a little 'm' painted next to the heart, it's his treat sweetheart.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ITADORI YUJI:

yuji is a mixtape bf through and through. he will spend ages putting together all the most romantic songs from his playlists to curate the perfect vibe for you. he'd probably decorate the case with the most poetic lyrics from the songs, too. anytime you hang out together and you pop this cd in, this boy will be over the moon with joy that you enjoy listening to the songs he picked for you. (will he have to also buy you a cd player so you can actually listen to it? yes.)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

KUGISAKI NOBARA:

i love this one so much- nobara is going to take the time to make you so many valentine kisses with every single lipstick she owns!! that way even when you're apart you'll be able to take a kiss with you. (you're never apart for too long though, don't worry, you never have to miss the real thing for long)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

OKKOTSU YUUTA:

yuuta is proposing on valentine's day. it's HIS day and we all know it. hands down his favorite holiday, because he gets to spoil you and openly profess his love to you all day long without others laughing or dying from second hand embarassment? count him in. you're barely fifteen minutes into a romantic dinner date when you're receiving a heart shaped engagement ring. (expect a lovesick speech, this boy could go on for ages about his love for you, and he will if you don't stop him)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

INUMAKI TOGE:

he's lucky you love him, truly. toge is gonna shower you with ridiculous, cheesy valentine memes as soon as midnight hits and it's officially february 14th. and he WILL make it everyone's problem too, with all sorts of these valentine memes littered about for you to find. of course he'll treat you to dinner and a romantic comedy to cuddle up to later... but for now he's the valentine's day menace.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ZEN'IN MAKI:

don't expect to go out and enjoy any valentine's festivities like a cute cafe date with a heart shaped donut. unless ofc you count going out of town to a cheesy but secluded little love hotel. maki's not letting you out of her sights until the little set she bought you is no longer recognizable... or wearable. she loves to have her pretty girl all dressed up for her to open like a present <3

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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emergingghost · 3 months

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julien baker live lyric changes masterpost

the many ways that julien changes her lyrics over time and seamlessly alters the lyrics and meanings of her songs to maintain a level of personal authenticity has become so fascinating to me and many others so i thought it'd be nice to do some research and compile as many as i can. enjoy! or cry! whichever!

the original lyrics are in parenthesis, changes are bolded, roughly in chronological order and i’ve added timestamped links to performances [x] where i can! i use mostly youtube because it's the most accessible. some of these seem to be permanent changes and others are just occasional, probably depending on how she's vibing with the song at the time (i'm assuming). let me know of any i’ve missed!

Rejoice: [x] [x] [x] pronoun change, does this lots! "i know there's a god and they hear either way" ("i think there's a god and he hears either way") [x] she uses the 'she' pronoun here this time! [x] she sings 'force' here and also in a version she performed pre-release "asking why did you let them leave and then force me to stay?" ("asking why did you let them leave and then make me stay?")

Good News: [x] [x] [x] these are not full lyric changes but rather some gut-wrenching repetition. side note she performs a cover of paul by big thief in the first clip here too! "it's less about you / it's all about how i ruin everything oh everything i do / everything i do / god i ruin everything oh everything / oh everything i think could be good news." ("it's less about you / it's more about how i ruin everything--- i think could be good news")

Distant Solar Systems: [x] pronoun change speaking of god, she also omits the second last verse. "I send postcards from the road and now and then she answers" ("and now and then he answers")

Turn Out the Lights: [x] [x] [x] this one hurts! a few times in late '18 and in '19 "maybe i'd do it but it's not a joke" ("i'd never do it but it's not a joke")

Sour Breath: [x] [x] another one that hurts!! "think all the liquors gonna keep me warm / burn everything down just to prove i could / leave you inside a body made of wood" ("think all the liquors gonna keep you warm / burn everything down just to prove you could / leave me inside a body made of wood") [x] audio only from 1:16 (same changes as above +) "i don't do too well when everyone's worried about me" ("i don't do too well when nobody's worried about me")

Appointments: [x] [x] [x] in lots of performances post-2018. she switches between using 'know' and 'think' occasionally “i know that i ruined this / but i think i can live with it / nothing turned out how pictured it ... i think that i failed again / but i know you’re still listening” ("i think if i ruin this / that i know i can live with it / nothing turns out like I pictured it ... i think if i fail again / then i know you’re still listening") [x] audio only - from 2:45 (same changes as above +) "i hope you're still listening" ("i know you're still listening")

Happy to Be Here: [x] tiny changes. not sure if she's done this more than once "different me would be inhabiting my body / have two cars, a garage, a dog..." ("different me would be inhabiting this body / have two cars, a garage, a job...")

Something: [x] [x] [x] [x] (she adds 'again' a lot, even since 2015) “asking aloud why you’re leaving again” (“asking aloud why you’re leaving--”) [x] (this was prior to release) "asking aloud why you're leaving again / i know you won't answer me" ("asking aloud why you're leaving --- / but the pavement won't answer me")

Red Door: [x] "beneath before you won't follow me down" ("beneath before you wont follow me there")

Shadowboxing: [x] [x audio only - from 3:09] "tell me that you love me / tell me you love me / i wanted so bad to believe you / so tell me you loved me / tell me you loved me / i wanted so bad to believe you" ) ("when you tell me you love me / tell me you loved me / i wanted so bad to believe it / so tell me you love me / tell me you loved me")

Ziptie: [x] [x] [x] [x] (side note the end of the second clip rules!!) “someone’s/somethings got my heart in a ziptie” (“someone’s got my head in a ziptie”)

Tokyo: [x] [x] [x audio only - from 1:30] in a few performances in 2022 “a seven-car pile-up of every disastrous thing that i am" (“a seven-car pile-up of every disastrous thing that i’ve been”) + also sings "accident" instead of "aftermath" in the audio clip

Relative Fiction: [x] [x] [x] [x] does this lots! "honey you're the only thing i'll wait around for" ("--you’re the only thing i’ll wait around for")

Highlight Reel: [x] [x audio only from 1:45 ] original chorus lyrics are 'you feel' but now in one chorus she sings 'to' and the other she sings 'you' "ooh it's a highlight reel / tell me how to feel" ("ooh it's a highlight reel / tell me how you feel")

Ringside: [x] [x] [x audio only from 3:50] two separate lyrics changes in these clips! "like a scratch-off ticket how i dig my nails into your skin" ("like a scratch-off ticket how you dig your nails into my skin")

(from final verse) “nobody deserves a second chance / so why do i keep getting them?” (“nobody deserves a second chance / but i keep giving them”) [x] [x] (from the second last verse) “nobody deserves a second chance / but somehow i keep fucking getting them” (“nobody deserves a second chance / but honey i keep getting them") Anti-Curse: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] she doesn't always change 'foreign characters' "writing the words to the best love song you've ever heard" ...“sounding out familiar characters” ("writing the words to the worst love song you've ever heard"...“sounding out the foreign characters”)

Favor: [x] [x] [x] [x] first change - changing to 'why?' in most live performances “why couldn’t you make me do it?” (“well you couldn’t make me do it”) [x] [x] new change from MSG in 2023! “how did you make me do it?” (“well you couldn’t make me do it”)

HONOURABLE MENTIONS:

Funeral Pyre: [x] this is just a funny thing i found on my hunt. the audience accidentally corrected her grammar, theyre singing along and sing "needed so badly" instead of the original "needed so bad" and everyone took a lil' moment to laugh. Funeral Pyre: allegedly. i just read about it somewhere so have no proof!! “while i drank gasoline 'cause it's what i needed so bad” (“while you drank gasoline 'cause it's what you needed so bad”) Shadowboxing: [x] she doesn't really change any lyrics significantly but repeats the final verse for emphasis.

Good News: [x] (i think an early/demo version but i cant find any other recordings/videos of this version!) "how i fuck up everything i think could be good news" ("how i ruin everything i think could be good news") Rejoice: [x] house show performance from 2015 before official release. a few different lyrics! "ask you why did you let them leave and then force me to stay?" ("asking why did you let them leave and then make me stay?") (final verse) "i rejoice anyway / i rejoice either way" ("i rejoice i rejoice / i rejoice i rejoice") Sour Breath: [x] she added a new mini verse repeating "the harder i swim" where there are usually just instrumentals or 'oohs.' then she continued with the original final "the harder i swim the faster i sink" verse.

Sour Breath: [x] house show performance from 2015 before official release. there's an entire additional verse where the repeated 'the harder i swim the fast i sink' usually is. proceed with caution. "...too late to talk just go to sleep been up too long and you've been drinkin' all night it's almost a week and you haven't said a word been thinkin' it isn't worth the tryin' it takes to fix everything you hate about me all that you wouldn't wanna see

the harder i swim, the faster i sink and all i ever wanted was to pull you down with me was to pull you down with me don't you wanna sink with me? don't you wanna drown with me? just let me pull you down..."

#julien baker #boygenius #lyrics #there are probably many more but the internet is infinite and this post would never see the light of day if i kept searching #some of these changes are so minor but i thought id add them anyway because i personally found them interesting #lmk what you think if u read this i know its loooong haha <3

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thepersonnamedsam · 11 months

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headcanons of the genz!driver

pairing: the genz!driver

summary: some cute and chaotic headcanons of the genz!driver

warnings: none :)

note: we love ourselves a chaotic queen

masterlist / taglist

we all know that a 18/19 year old will cause chaos on the grid, much more even if she is allowed to be there and not get evicted

like there was this one time, where she snook into the drivers conference, she was late, as usual, and instead of being silent and unnoticed, she let the door fall shut loudly and announced her great entry with: „welcome my fellow drivers, the best one has arrived and will grace your presence from now on. please, do not stop the meeting on my behalf, i am just here to look pretty.“

or there was a time when the FIA announced that no bikes on the track were allowed anymore and what do you think, at the next race, she arrived with her super fancy bike, blasting bicycle from queen singing the lyrics and riding her bike around the track, obviously

we love ourselves a confident queen

and she is so relatable

like, she posts vlogs on youtube of her life, stuff with a day at the paddock or a day outside the paddock and look, even though she is famous, her life is so relatable

she can’t drive, (seb learned it with her though), she struggles with her hair, almost every day, doing normal stuff is really hard because of mental health problems, her anxiety sparks in situations she doesn’t know, her jokes are weird and dark and almost no one understands them. it’s like she is almost a normal teenager

young fans, female ones especially, look up to her so much, just because she is honest, shares her struggles and is so supportive about it. depression and anxiety are valid and is not something to hide, it’s okay to struggle and she talks so openly about it. fans absolutely adore her and because of her, some find inspiration to do stuff they wouldn’t have done normally

so many young girls started karting because of her, she believes in everyone of them and is sure that they can make it big

lewis and seb are so proud of her, seeing her inspire so many people, makes them feel so so proud. seb has seen her grow up and has helped all the way from karting to formula 1

we all know that seb is the worrying one and always urges her to be careful. but lewis, oh lewis does stuff with her, that if seb actually knew what it was, he would die of a heart attack

he took her to go skydiving once, having her swear not to tell seb or lando, because he would so tell everyone else and seb would instantly know

or the one time let her have a drink with him when she was still underage, psst don’t tell seb

lewis is the cool grid dad, that lets her do stuff that she shouldn’t, always supervised though

because if you let her unsupervised, she is pure chaos

the one time her and lando got left alone, they had to get rescued by george

lando‘s car broke down

and not broke down like it just stopped working

no, his fiat jolly fell down, it laid on its side, on her side to be specific. lando and you were doing stupid stuff, putting all the weight on one side to see how much it would take to overthrow the car

it didn’t take much…

when seb found out, he didn’t let her out if his sight, always making sure she wasn’t doing something stupid that could get her injured

when seb retired, she cried like a baby. she was not sure what to do without him on the paddock, who would make sure she wouldn’t die? who made sure she was drinking enough and eating probably (it was a bit dramatic, because her personal trainer was doing that aspect of her life and not seb).

but still, she would miss seb, she would miss him a lot

that’s where danny comes, seeing her so lost and struggling, he kind of swept into her life as an older grid brother

helping her with stuff and being protective

he was not as great as seb or lewis, who is still the fun grid dad, but danny did his best

she is so happy to have all those people around her

and she is forever grateful and tries to let them know how grateful she is, but sometimes it backfires a bit

like the time she tried to gift all of them something for christmas

oh that was chaos

what do you gift 19 drivers, all at least 4 years older than her, something for christmas that is personal for them and her?

lance got alcohol, he was happy about it

she got lando some socks, he wasn’t sure why

alex got hair dye, made sense

she gifted max a stuffed lion, which he was actually happy about

but george got a shirt with a naked torso on it… she found it hilarious, he not so much

charles got a ‚sorry that your team is shit‘ bracelet

carlos got a chilli tree and a hard copy of smooth operator

zhou got a book of all of lewis‘ paddock looks

lewis got a whole gift basket with vegan stuff and toys for roscoe and a day with her

and many other weird gifts, but it shows that she is so grateful of all the people around her

we know that she always gives her best and that’s the most she can do

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #fernando alonso #genz driver #headcanons #genz headcanon #female driver

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totowlff · 8 months

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le temps fera les choses

➝ request: you could write a story where toto and reader are divorced [...] drunk toto calls reader and just rambles about life and how he misses her and everything, or if you wanna go further

➝ word count: 8,5k

➝ warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, an overprotective reader and a lot of real life references

➝ author’s note: well, working with the idea of divorced!toto turned some gears in my head and this one shot was born. it was inspired, in a way, by the song le temps fera les choses, by angèle, and the text even has some references to the lyrics, so don't be surprised. toto's aunt is actually called elisabeth, and given my commitment to reality, i kept it that way (a happy coincidence, i won't deny it). hope you enjoy!

Looking at the man on the seat in front of you, part of yourself refused to believe you were doing this. “This is insanity”, you could hear your mother's trademark accusatory tone of voice telling you. You know she was right, even as a voice inside your head, but there you were, sitting across from your ex-husband, watching him completely absorbed in that day’s edition of the Financial Times, as you sat on his private jet, en route to Sardinia.

Your story with Toto began in the fall of the year 2000, at the gala opening of an exhibition at an art gallery in the center of Vienna. You had earned your Masters in Art History, and had always been enchanted by antiquities, and had done extensive research on the history of antiquarians in Vienna. Your research led to an invitation given personally by Elisabeth Sturm, daughter of Czesław Bednarczyk, one of the most prominent antique dealers in Vienna, and the subject of a paper you were writing for your PhD.

You just had no idea that what she invited you to discuss wasn’t your paper, or the pieces on exhibit.

— You know, Y/N, my son also recently graduated in contemporary art and has a great interest in post-war pieces, just like you — she said, as she led you through the multitude of guests with a wide smile on her face.

After passing by a couple she seemed acquainted with, and greeting a friend of many years, Elisabeth finally found who she was looking for. Nodding toward two men holding champagne flutes, you walked over to them with her. The words of the specialist in eighteenth century pieces became distant murmurs in your head as your eyes were fixed on one of them, who seemed to be looking at you with curiosity.

— Alex, honey, I want to introduce you to Y/N Y/L/N. She's doing a doctorate in Art and Economics at Die Angewandte, so she’s doing some research on the city's antique shops — Elisabeth said, smiling — Y/N, this is my son, Alexander. He is working on his masters’ at the University of Vienna in contemporary art, but I am sure that you will find a lot to talk about.

You forced a smile, offering your hand for a handshake. He was the same height as his mother, with carefully combed-back brown hair and stern dark eyes.

— It's a pleasure — you said.

— The pleasure is all mine — he said.

Then, your gaze returned to the man who had caught your attention. He was much taller than Alexander, but had dark hair and dark eyes that were similar to Alexander’s. The two of them definitely looked related, but there was something tender about the way he was looking at you.

— And this is Torger, my sister’s son, who just arrived back in Vienna from the United States. California, right?

— That's right — he replied, his deep voice flowing through you in a warm wave — San Francisco.

— Remind me, what you were doing there again, Torger?

— Learning about the business side of the technology industry — he said, smiling — By the way, you can call me Toto. Nobody calls me Torger.

— Your dziadek calls you Torger — Elisabeth muttered, something bitter in her voice.

— Good to know that dada still remembers me — Toto muttered, before taking a sip of champagne — Even though it's probably just to call me ungrateful because of the fucking tuition he paid when I was 12...

— Well, is he wrong? — Elisabeth growled, before looking at her son, who seemed to be silently begging her to control herself — And it's no use looking at me like that, Alex, you know it's true.

— We don't need to discuss this here, mom.

— No, no, your mother should speak her mind, Alex — Toto said, giving his aunt a challenging smile — I don’t mind at all.

— You should be much more grateful to your dziadek, Torger. If it weren't for him, you would never have finished school, much less...

— Gotten that internship at the bank, I’ve heard all of this before, auntie — he replied — But that doesn't change the fact that he was an asshole who disowned my mother for marrying my father.

Elisabeth took a step forward, one finger raised.

— Be more careful with your words, Torger — she said through clenched teeth.

— Mom, please — Alex said, placing himself between Elisabeth and his nephew — Let's get you something to drink.

After some protest on her part, the woman finally agreed to accompany her son, who apologized before taking Elisabeth away from them. Alone beside Toto, the silence between the two of you stretched for a few seconds before your gaze met.

— Are your family gatherings always like this? — you asked, making him smile.

— They're usually worse — Toto replied, making you laugh.

It was the first of many times that night that he would make you laugh.

You didn't see any more of Elisabeth or Alexander that night, and you didn't want to. You only had eyes and ears for Toto, listening to him talk about his trip to San Francisco and the investment he had made in SMS.AT, the country's most-visited website, as well as asking you about your background and life in general.

— Do you have a boyfriend? — he asked you.

You both stopped in front of a sculpture of a woman on her knees with bitter tears in her eyes, you suddenly felt nervous.

— What do you think?

— I can’t imagine someone as intelligent and beautiful as you being single.

You chuckled weakly, feeling your cheeks heat up.

— I'm sorry to say that I am. Not everyone is willing to spend hours listening to me talk about old things sold by old people.

— Well, I am — he said immediately, in an almost boyish rush to demonstrate that he was, in fact, interested in what you had to say. And it was at that moment that you were sure that what you were feeling was not simple anxiety or infatuation.

You were falling in love with that man.

— Find something interesting? — someone said, bringing you back to the present, your gaze meeting the same pair of mischievous brown eyes from that night at the exhibition.

— There’s an article about an exhibition of Yayoi period artifacts from Japan — you replied, making Toto turn the cover of the newspaper to find the article you were glancing at.

— Asian art? I thought your interests were more in Europe — he said, the corners of his lips curling up mischievously.

— Nothing wrong with learning all I can, Toto — you replied, turning your face away when you heard the sound of someone shifting in one of the other seats. Sleeping with her head against the window was the most important person in your life.

Magdalena. Your daughter with Toto.

Born just over four years after that night at the exhibition, she was the tangible symbol of the love you felt for each other at one time. She had your nose and her father's charming smile. Lena, as you called her, was a girl with a strong personality. She was incredibly intelligent and particularly observant. Nothing went unnoticed by her brown eyes, not even your indecision in participating in that trip.

You took off your seat belt and walked over to your daughter to check on her. After putting a blanket over her and taking the book she was reading before falling asleep from her hands, taking care to mark the page she had stopped on, you took a few seconds to watch her.

There had been many times when you had felt that you didn't have the strength to continue wearing the many hats you did: university professor, gallery curator, private consultant for antique dealers and private collectors. However, Lena was your motivation to keep going. She was the reason that you got up early and went to bed late, after correcting piles of academic papers. She was the reason you signed on the bottom line of a legal document to put an end to yours and Toto’s marriage on a gray winter day so many years ago.

— You don't have to watch her like you did when she was a baby — Toto murmured behind you. When you turned around, you saw that he had folded up his newspaper and that it was sitting in his lap.

— I'm just making sure she's okay — you replied, running a hand through her hair before returning to your seat — After all, we're here because of her.

Toto smiled.

— Indeed. Always for her.

That trip wasn’t planned very far in advance, but it was the result of Lena's excitement at having achieved excellent grades in the Reifeprüfung, the end-of-school exams that students in Austria took to graduate.

Sardinia was her favorite place in the world and she wanted nothing more than to go and enjoy the sun and the sea with the two people she loved most in the world. You hesitated, after all, it had been years since you had gone there with her and Toto.

You were capable of giving up anything for Lena, even your own promise of never flying anywhere with your ex-husband again. There was nothing you wouldn't do for your daughter's happiness.

The rest of the flight was quiet, with Lena waking up near the end of it. Her messy hair earned her a good-natured jab from Toto, which his daughter returned to him in kind. The interaction made you smile, after all, it was just another proof of how similar your daughter was to her father, even though she hadn't had his constant presence since she was five.

“Genetics are impressive”, you thought to yourself as the captain of the jet asked over the intercom for everyone to fasten their seatbelts in preparation for landing in Olbia, in the north of the Italian island. However, contrary to what you thought, Toto had not chosen to book suites in a nearby hotel, but in a more distant location. It was all to preserve the privacy he had lost when he decided to dive headlong into the world of Formula 1.

His passion for motorsport wasn’t ever a surprise for you, after all, since the first night you’d met him, Toto had been talking about how he competed in junior formula racing, just for fun. However, nobody could have predicted that buying some shares in a Formula 1 team that seemed to be on the brink of bankruptcy would lead to him being the team principal and part-owner of one of the largest, most prestigious teams in the sport, almost a celebrity in his own right.

However, the attention brought him unwanted problems, especially with the paparazzi, who insisted on photographing him in private moments during his rest days, even more so when he was with Lena. In the end, the further away from the hustle and bustle of the island's busiest cities, the better.

He and Lena had chosen a resort in Valle dell'Erica, which had a small network of luxury villas connected to the main building by stone paths traveled by golf carts. After settling into a golf cart with your daughter, Toto sat in the driver's seat, asking the concierge to ride the front cart with the bags.

— Are you taking us camping? — Lena asked, after a few minutes of meandering through the compound's tree-lined paths.

— No, I'm not, though I think a few days away from your cell phone wouldn't hurt you, would they? — he replied, laughing — We're going to one of the villas that’s the furthest out, to make sure we don’t get a repeat of last time.

— You mean when my classmates saw your pictures on the yacht and started asking if you were still single? — she murmured, forcing you to try and hold in a laugh. You would never forget the way Lena recounted, indignant, the way her schoolmates were talking about her father.

It was useless to deny that Toto was a handsome man. With his piercing eyes, broad shoulders, and imposing height, you'd been drawn to him since the first time you'd seen him in the gallery. And as much as you wanted to deny it, the power he wielded over you hadn't diminished with the divorce.

If you were honest with yourself, it had only grown.

— I'm not to blame for anything, mon bébé...

— Just don't walk around… Dressed like that — she replied.

— Like that?

— With only a pair of shorts on, especially those shorts — Lena said, making her father laugh.

— Bébé, it's just a pair of shorts...

— They were pink! They’re way too flashy for someone your age!

— You’re talking as if I’m just some decrepit old man, Lena.

— Maybe not decrepit, but definitely an old man who shouldn’t be wearing pink shorts.

He brought the cart to a stop as the concierge, in front of them, opened a red gate.

— I bet your mom likes my flashy shorts — Toto murmured, glancing at you and you just rolled your eyes.

— I don't care about your shorts, Torger.

— You used to — he replied, revving the cart again.

— But I don't anymore. And honestly, you shouldn't care either, Lena. Your father is probably just going through a midlife crisis like every man has at some point. Don't be surprised if he shows up one day with your name tattooed on his arm, or riding a Harley-Davidson.

The statement made your daughter burst out laughing, while Toto shook his head, as if disapproving of your idea of him during a midlife crisis.

Well, a second midlife crisis.

Toto stopped the golf cart just behind the concierge, who was unloading your bags with the help of another employee. After you disembarked, the man invited the three of you to join him as he showed you your villa. With a living room richly decorated with colorful paintings and vases made by local artisans, three suites and spacious balconies overlooking the private pool, as well as the sea in the distance, the place felt like something out of a dream.

— Anything you need, we're here for you.

— Thanks — you replied, smiling.

Finally alone in the living room, the three of you looked at each other silently, as if waiting for someone to say something. Then, after looking at his watch and running a hand through his dark hair, Toto cleared his throat.

— So, what do you ladies want to do first? — he asked.

Looking at the orange tones that took over the sky, you smiled.

— I think we can start by figuring out where everyone will sleep.

— Dad can have the exterior room, right? — your daughter said.

— Why do I have to stay in that room? — Toto asked, his voice full of faux-outrage.

— Because mom and I are girls — Lena replied, linking her arm with yours — And girls always stay together on trips.

Your ex-husband couldn't hold his feigned disappointment for long.

— Okay, you can stay together. Just don't bring any boys here — he said, as he grabbed the handle of his bags and turned toward the door.

— What about men? — you asked, defiant. As he looked over his shoulder, something inscrutable flashed in his eyes.

— No men either, Y/N — he said as he left the villa’s main hall.

Giggling with laughter, you planted a kiss on Lena's forehead before telling her to go and put her bags in her room. After seeing her going through her bedroom’s door, it was your turn to make your way to your quarters, dragging your well-used suitcases noisily behind you. After setting them down in front of the small wooden cupboard, you allowed yourself to slump onto the soft mattress, closing your eyes.

The fact that you were on this trip was crazy.

The days dragged on at an excruciating pace, even though you were on vacation. As much as seeing Lena happy to be together with her father and mother on a trip after years was satisfying, but something was making you feel set on edge.

You couldn't say what it was, but you were sure it was related to how Toto was treating you. Unlike the interactions the two of you usually had, filled with sarcasm and acidity, the way your ex-husband was speaking to you was almost… sweet, delicate. He had even asked you to dance during a dinner in Porto Cervo, when the musicians started to play the music that had played during your first dance as husband and wife.

— I remember that night like it was yesterday — he murmured.

— Do you? — you asked quietly, as you felt his hand firmly hold yours — I thought you had too much on your mind to remember that.

He smiled.

— I could never forget the day my life changed, Y/N.

You should have guessed that this was just a strategy, a way to get you to drop your guard to deliver the final blow the next night, over dinner at one of the resort's restaurants. Silently, Toto, who was wearing one of his white monogrammed shirts and comfortable linen shorts, placed his silverware on the plate of ricotta ravioli and looked at Lena.

— Mon bébé, I know we're here to celebrate but I can't help but ask you about your plans — he said, with a serious expression — Have you chosen what you're going to study yet?

Your daughter wiped her mouth with her napkin, as she finished chewing.

— Well, I was talking to mom these days about it and I would really like to work on something related to international studies. You know, diplomacy.

— Diplomacy?

— You know, I learned how to be a mediator at home — Lena murmured, giving you a mischievous little smile. In a way, she wasn't wrong, after all, Lena had always been the person that balanced you and Toto, putting out the fires you started, especially because of her upbringing.

— And have you researched universities, bébé? — Toto asked, before taking a sip of wine.

— Mom gave me the contact information of some professors in the Political Science and Philosophy departments at the University of Vienna to schedule a visit and learn about them — she replied — Why?

— Well, I was thinking that maybe, if you wanted to, you could apply to a university outside of Austria.

You swallowed hard, the hands that held the cutlery going cold.

— Do you mean — your daughter babbled.

— Well, you know that I live in Oxford and there is a university of international prestige there, which has formed dozens of important figures in world history. American presidents, British prime ministers, kings, Nobel Prize winners. Perhaps you could…

— Study there? — Lena completed, looking impressed by the offer. Toto smiled.

— Exactly.

— But, I would need a place to stay…

— Magdalena, don't be ridiculous, you know you can live with me there. In fact, I would be very happy if you would move in with me while you're in Oxford. What do you think?

Your heart was racing in your chest, the cutlery clenched in your fists. You felt like you were going to explode with rage at any moment, jaw clenched. You couldn't believe your ex-husband had been capable of such a dirty move. But, you weren't going to let him win, not that night.

— Bullshit — you said, before Lena could process the question — That's the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard, Torger.

— I was talking to Lena.

— She doesn't need to bother answering — you said, gruffly — She's not going to England.

— Mom — your daughter said, in a warning tone.

— What? Do you really think this is a good idea?

— Of course it's a good idea, Y/N, Oxford is a great — Toto began to argue.

— I don't care if Oxford is a good university, Lena won't go to England — you interrupted him, in a cold tone — And that's not open to discussion.

— But, mom...

— No buts, you're not going, Magdalena.

— Why not? — asked Toto.

— Because I will not let my daughter go to a foreign country alone, without any help or support…

Toto snorted.

— Y/N, did you really think Lena would be alone? Did you forget that I live there?

It was your turn to laugh.

— You live — you said, making air quotes with your fingers — Let's not be naive, you spend more time traveling than in that slum of yours in Oxford.

— Mom!

— For your information, my house is in one of the best areas of Oxford and has more than enough space for me and Lena — Toto spat.

— It’s not about space, Torger, I won't let her be alone there while you’re gallivanting around the world, playing with your cars!

— Would you rather she be left alone in Vienna while you play with your ancient junk collection? — he returned, venom dripping from his voice.

That sent a hot wave of anger up the back of your neck, your jaw clenched. Everything you had done had been for Lena. All the hours of work, all of the writing, research, assistant teaching, grading, earning your PhD, and working your way up in the university to be a respected, tenured professor, it had all been to provide for the life you two led in Vienna, as had been agreed upon during the divorce proceedings. Of course, the workload eventually took you and Lena apart physically, but that didn't lessen the love you felt for your daughter.

In fact, it only made it grow. And it was that love that made you get up, dropping your cloth napkin on the floor, jabbing your finger at your ex-husband.

— You watch your mouth talking about my work, you son of a bitch! — you snarled, causing several pairs of eyes to turn towards your table.

— Mom, for God's sake! — Lena exclaimed, trying to lower her hand — Everyone's looking at us!

— Let them look, Magdalena! — you spat — Let them know I'm not going to let this idiot say whatever he wants about my job!

— I just was repeating what you said, Y/N — Toto replied in an ironic tone.

— Dad! — your daughter growled, before looking back at you — Please, mom, calm down. Sit, please.

Annoyed, you settled back into your chair, your jaw set in anger. Your ex-husband looked at you with a certain cynicism in his eyes, as if he knew he had touched your most sensitive point. Beside you, Lena let out a sigh, as if trying to collect her thoughts.

— Is it really that hard for you not to fight like two kids? — she asked seriously.

— Lena — you stammered.

— No, mom — she said coldly — You promised that you wouldn't fight with dad on this trip, that you'd be nice. You promised me, mom.

— Bébé, please — Toto tried to interfere.

— Don’t bébé me, dad! — Lena exclaimed — You also have your share of blame. I asked you to be polite to my mother, not to make comments like that, to be understanding…

— I am being understanding, Lena!

— Being understanding is calling her work a joke? That’s your idea of being polite? — she asked, before turning to you, as if anticipating you were going to say something — And that goes for you too, mom. You two are acting like fucking children!

You thought of scolding her for her language, but you weren't able to, especially when you noticed that her eyes were wet.

— I just wanted that we could be a family, without these stupid fights over stupid things. You think about me so much that you forget that I think too, that I also have wishes and desires — Lena continued — It never crossed your minds that I don't want the same thing as you? That I don't want to stay in Vienna or go to England?

Your eyes met Toto's, guilt filling your chest. You always wanted Lena to have the freedom to do whatever she wanted, to fly even higher than you and your ex-husband. However, in your eagerness to provide a life full of experiences, you had forgotten the main thing, which was Lena herself.

— Lena — you said, watching her wipe away a tear that had trickled down her face.

— I just wanted you to stop thinking about yourselves and think about me — she spoke in a choked voice — That you would consider my opinion before deciding things for me.

— But we'll always consider your opinion — Toto said, reaching out a hand toward your daughter, who shrank away.

— Then why did you say you were going to take me to England?

— I — he hesitated, looking at you and then at Lena — I wanted to offer you a different experience, in a different country, in a different culture. I didn't think your mom would be so dramatic about it…

— I’m not being dramatic, Torger — you snapped.

Suddenly, Lena stood up, throwing her cloth napkin over the dish of spaghetti and shrimp she'd ordered, letting out a frustrated grunt.

— I give up on you two — she said, while picking up the bag that was hanging on the back of the chair — I give up!

You tried to protest, but didn't have time before you saw your daughter marching out of the restaurant, not looking back. A few seconds of hesitation later, you followed after her, not minding leaving the plate of pasta, that was already cold by that point.

— Lena! — you shouted, as you saw her walk towards one of the carts, sitting behind the wheel and throwing her purse on the seat next to it — Wait! My dear, please!

Your pleadings were of no avail as she stomped off the cart's accelerator, disappearing into the dark of the night and leaving you standing halfway on the dirt road with tears in your eyes.

Arriving back at the villa, after generous help from one of the staff who knew how to drive the cart, you went to Lena's bedroom door, placing a hand on the handle. However, when you turned it over, you found that it was locked.

— Lena, my love — you said, knocking lightly on the door.

— Go away! — she replied, the words hitting you like a knife.

— Lena, please, my daughter, open the door, let's talk...

— I don't want to talk to anyone! — she yelled — Go away!

You sighed in defeat, letting go of the handle and backing away from the door. Hearing Lena sobbing softly broke his heart into a thousand pieces. This was supposed to be a time of joy and celebration, not sadness and tears.

— Is Lena in the room? — you heard Toto ask. Looking towards the entrance, he was standing with his hands in the pockets of his shorts, a worried expression on his face.

— Yeah.

— Were you able to speak to her?

— No — you replied, realizing he was walking towards the door — And I doubt she'll talk to you.

Toto stopped suddenly, turning towards you slowly.

— You think you know everything about Lena, don't you?

— I'm her mother, Torger — you said, crossing your arms.

— And I'm her father, Y/N.

— And that changes the fact that you know anything about her?

— She is my only daughter — he began to say.

— Which is a miracle — you muttered, being solemnly ignored by him.

— So, I’d like to think I know her pretty well.

You laughed mockingly.

— So tell me, Torger, what's her favorite color? Who is her favorite singer? What is her favorite dish? If you know your daughter, you should know this.

Toto let out a sigh.

— This is pathetic, Y/N.

—The only thing that’s pathetic is you playing dirty — you snapped — Pathetic for you to want to take my daughter away from me! My only daughter!

You expected an equally aggressive response to yours coming from Toto. He had always been hot-headed, which, along with your short temper, was a recipe for disaster. However, your ex-husband just shook his head, heading towards the bar in the corner of the large living room.

— Whiskey? — he asked, as he grabbed a glass from the cupboard.

You blinked, shocked.

— You can't be thinking about drinking in this situation...

Toto took the bottle and poured a generous dose. Then, glass in hand and leaning against the bar, he sighed.

— And is there anything else we can do considering our daughter is locked in her room and isn’t going to talk to either of us? — he asked, taking a sip of his drink and grimacing — Ugh, this needs some ice.

As your ex-husband turned back to the bar, you walked slowly over to the couch and sat down, heaving a frustrated sigh. The feeling you had was that you had completely failed, not just with Lena, who had high expectations for that trip, but with yourself, for not being able to control your own feelings towards your daughter and Toto.

— Want some? — he asked, holding the drink out to you. Staring at the amber liquid for a few seconds, you were sure this was a very bad idea. “Fuck it”, you thought, picking up the glass and taking a generous swig of whiskey.

— Ugh — you growled, as the alcohol burned in your throat. Sitting beside you, Toto smiled at your grimace.

— Bad, isn't it?

— Terrible — you replied — I thought there was only good stuff here.

— Me too — Toto said, chuckling — Even that Ottakringer we drank on the way back from the Hockenheimring that one day tasted better.

You laughed at the memory, the watery taste of the beer being a funny reminder of the years when you still looked at each other with something other than anger and resentment.

— Indeed — you muttered, taking another sip before returning the glass.

The silence stretched for long seconds, the only sound in there being the ice clinking on the crystal as Toto poured another shot. After taking a sip, he handed the cup back to you.

— Y/N?

— Hm? — you murmured, before drinking some more whiskey.

— I would never take Magdalena away from you.

Lowering your glass to rest on your thigh, your eyes met Toto's, which were filled with a sadness that was clearly not part of the drink's effect.

— You wouldn’t? — you asked softly.

— I would never be able to take her away from you, Y/N.

— So — you hesitated for a few seconds, pressing your lips together — Why do you want to take her to England?

Toto let out a long sigh.

— Because I feel like it’s the only way to try and fix some of my mistakes, Y/N — he said, his gaze locked on some middle point in the distance.

— Your mistakes?

— I always promised myself that I wouldn't be like my father, that I would do everything I could do right by my — Toto hesitated before correcting himself — By our children. And when Lena was born, I told myself I would do anything to make sure she had a happy life with us and… I screwed up.

You swallowed hard.

— I screwed up when I got in that car at the Nürburgring and insisted on making that lap record attempt. Niki was right, it was idiotic, and nobody cared about some silly GT car lap record. Honestly, I don't blame you for asking for a divorce after that, I would have done the same if it were me — he continued, running a hand through his hair — But it hurt, Y/N. It hurt to see you leaving with all that pain in your eyes. But, I accepted your decision and did exactly what my father did before he died…

— You mean, you becoming distant?

He nodded.

— I thought it would be best for you and Lena to be away from my sadness, my depression, but in the end, it wasn’t. She needed her dad, too, just like I needed mine.

You took another sip of whiskey, feeling your eyes sting with tears. Asking for a divorce had been the hardest decision you had ever made in your life, but you were convinced that you didn't belong there anymore. However, the truth is that you wanted to insist on Toto, insist on your love.

After all, your love for him was still there, sleeping inside your chest, but alive, begging you to let it out.

— So, your way of fixing your mistakes is by asking Lena to come live in England with you?

He took the glass of whiskey and drank the rest of the liquid.

— Not all of them, but some. I know I'll never be able to fix my mistakes with you.

— Have you tried, Toto? — you asked without hesitation.

— Tried what?

— Tried to fix your mistakes with me.

He set the glass down on the coffee table before looking at you.

— Do you want me to try, Y/N?

Your heart was beating heavily, pounding against the front of your chest.

— It's what I want most — you whispered.

Toto's hand slid towards your face, lightly caressing your cheek. With your eyes fixed on his, you matched the gesture by taking your hand to the back of his neck, while your mind took you to the night of your first kiss. On that occasion, the kiss had been calm, almost hesitant, the taste of wine dancing on your tongue as his scent invited you to dive deeper into him.

Facing him again, 15 years since the last time you had shared a kiss, the impression you had was that nothing had changed. The smell was the same. The man was the same. The invitation was the same.

And you accepted.

The first touch brought back memories of your other kisses. The happy kiss at the altar after being declared man and wife. The emotional kiss after you told him you were pregnant. The kiss that took place, with your daughter in your arms, after long and exhausting hours of childbirth. In all of them, the warmth that filled your chest was comforting and familiar, like approaching a campfire after a long time wandering in the cold.

It felt like coming home.

His fingers slid into your hair, tangling in the strands, while his tongue sought passage through your lips. Scratching the back of Toto's neck with your fingernails, you allowed him to savor you, the taste of him mixed with the resort's particularly bad whiskey. However, that was a minor detail at that moment.

What mattered was that you had finally found each other again.

— Y/N — Toto whispered, pulling away slightly from your face, breathing heavily — I…

Your fingers touched his lips in a silent request for him to not say anything. There was no reason to say anything more or hesitate any longer, not when you’d imagined this for so long.

This was inevitable, after so many times imagining what it would be like to try again every time you went to pick Lena up from the apartment Toto had moved into after the divorce, your gaze meeting the resignation in his expression every time you asked your daughter to say goodbye. It was inevitable to think of the sweet words he would whisper in your ear while watching his interviews on television, as well as the affectionate touch when you saw him gesticulating with his hands, while explaining something to the reporter.

As Toto leaned over your body, you allowed yourself to slide your hands under his linen shirt, feeling the firm muscles he had developed in the years after the divorce. Pulling the fabric up his torso, you quickly tried to undress him, which made him smile against your lips.

— You're still the same anxious little thing you always have been — Toto muttered, before slouching off his shirt and discarding it on the floor.

Then he dove towards your neck, nibbling ravenously at your skin, causing involuntary gasps to leave your lips, your body asking for more than just kisses and a well-positioned knee between your legs. You needed him like you were drowning and he was the surface.

However, when his fingers slid down the sides of your thighs, beneath your light summer dress, Toto pulled back, glancing back before meeting your inquiring gaze.

— What’s wrong? — you whispered.

— I thought I heard a door open — he replied softly, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes — And I don't know how good it would be for our daughter to see her divorced parents making out on a couch like two teenagers.

You smiled, bringing your hand to his face.

— You’re right. Besides, I think we're a bit too old for making out on the couch.

Toto laughed.

— Do you want to go to your room, then?

— Yes — you whispered.

Toto helped you to your feet and the two of you tiptoed to your suite. As Toto closed the door behind you, you busied yourself with undoing the knot of fabric at the back of your neck and sliding your dress down your body, bringing your panties with it. When Toto turned around and found you completely naked in front of him, he smiled. He walked toward you in slow steps as his eyes roamed over your skin like he was taking in all of the changes of your decade apart.

— It feels like our first time — he murmured, placing his hands on your hips.

You gave a small smile, as your mind transported you to that night in his apartment, where, after a few glasses of wine, you gave yourself to each other for the first time. It had been slow and romantic, with Toto insisting on learning every detail of your body to give you the pleasure you deserved.

However, you knew that statement was not entirely true. Since that night, your body had changed drastically, being pushed to the limit to bring your daughter into the world. You were no longer that young girl, but a mature woman, whose skin bore the marks of motherhood on your breasts, belly and hips.

— Well, the only difference is me.

He raised an eyebrow.

— You?

— I'm not the same person I was that night — you murmured, taking a hand to your belly. Then, with your finger, you traced the path of one of the faded stretch marks that seemed to glow against your skin, watching as his eyes were fixed on the movement of your hand — I've changed a lot since I had Lena…

Bringing one hand to your chin, he lifted your face so you could meet his warm, gentle gaze.

— And yet you're still beautiful. Do you know why?

— Why?

— Because those are marks of love, Y/N. Marks of our love, which gave us our beautiful daughter. And I love every single one of them — Toto said, before bringing your lips to his. The kiss was delicate, as were the steps he took towards the bed, his hands caressing your skin, as if he wanted to assure you that his words were true and that he, in fact, loved each of one of those marks, even if they made you feel old and inadequate at times.

When you felt your back land on the soft duvet, you opened your eyes again to find Toto still standing on the edge of the bed, quickly taking off his shorts. Seeing him stark naked in front of you made you allow an anxious gasp to escape your lips.

— All good? — he asked as he positioned himself between your legs, one hand busy pumping his own cock.

— Yes — you replied, your eyes fixed on the movement of his hand and the anticipation of feeling him inside you. Following his gaze, Toto seemed to remember something.

— Do you want to use a condom?

— Do you think we need it? — you asked, almost innocently. In a normal context of casual sex, you wouldn't go without some sort of protection. However, that wasn't just a casual fuck, but a reunion.

— Well, I didn’t bring any. Did you?

— No…

— Great — he murmured — I also had a vasectomy a few years ago, so I don't think we’re going to get in any trouble, or anything.

— I wouldn’t mind if we got into some trouble — you said quietly. Something about the idea of having another child with him made your skin tingle. Lena had always asked for a brother and you had always said no, stating that having one copy of Toto at home was enough for you. However, at that moment, you wished that you had a few more of him.

— I wouldn't mind either, Y/N — he whispered, as he positioned himself between your legs, his cock brushing your clit lightly — Not at all.

The pressure that accompanied the low growl that came out of Toto's throat had you rolling your eyes as a strangled groan escaped your lips. A warm wave ran over your skin, your nails digging into his skin as his dick settled inside you.

— Fuck — Toto said through clenched teeth, eyelids fluttering with pleasure.

You wanted to speak, but at the same time, no words came out of your parted lips. Raising your hands to his face, you pulled him against you, your lips against his in a slow, wanting kiss. That moment encouraged Toto to move his hips against yours, savoring the pleasure that coursed through your bodies.

The rhythm built almost instinctively, the strength of your fingers making him accelerate his thrusts against your pussy, the sound of your wetness joining your moans.

— Yes, yes, yes, Toto — you muttered under your breath, encouraging him to continue at that pace, feeling your muscles tense.

— I missed you so much, liebes — he growled, as he took his hand to one of your legs and pulled it higher, slightly changing the angle of your hips — So, so, so much…

— Me too, me too — you replied in a low voice, while pressing your heel against the base of Toto's spine. Your body begged for more, much more than just the pleasure he was giving you. You wanted his anger, his pride, his joy and his love. You wanted to become a part of him, the same way you wanted him to become a part of you.

As you felt his fingertips brush against your clit, you felt your whole body tense, your lips tightening in an attempt to stifle your moans. It was so much that your eyes filled with tears, but something inside you said that they weren't limited to that effort.

It wasn't just lust or lust anymore.

It was love. Pure, simple, and finally awake after so long.

It was with that thought and eyes finally open again, locked on Toto's, that you felt your body finally reach its climax, your lips letting out a groan before he kissed you, muffling the sound. Your legs shook as your nails dug into his shoulders as he took his last thrusts.

— Y/N, fuck — Toto growled before he came, followed by a primal growl, as if this was his way of claiming you for himself. And with the heat of his pleasure inside you, the certainty that you were his only grew. You had always been his.

Pulling his cock out of your pussy, your ex-husband collapsed next to you on the bed, breathing heavily. Staring at the ceiling in silence, something inside you wanted to feel guilt, while your muscles were still shaking with the aftershocks. However, you didn't feel any remorse or regret.

— Are you okay? — Toto asked you. Looking in his direction, you smiled.

— Yeah… You? — you whispered.

— I feel better than I have in a long time — he said, making you laugh — What?

— You sound like you haven't had sex in years.

— Well, it has been years since I've had sex with someone I loved, so…

The phrase made you turn your body towards Toto, resting your head on his shoulder. Something in the way he looked at you filled your chest with something completely different from anything you had felt until then.

Hope.

— Do you love me? — you asked softly.

— I never stopped loving you, liebes. Not even when I wanted to hate you for leaving. I can only love you. I don’t know how to do anything but love you — he replied, before kissing your forehead tenderly. And it was there, nestled in his chest, that you fell into a serene and, in a way, happy sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of knocking on your bedroom door.

— Mom? — Lena's muffled voice asked — Are you there?

Rubbing your eyes, you were about to respond when you realized you hadn't slept alone. The sound of the shower coming from the bathroom indicated that Toto had already woken up and, probably, that was what made your daughter knock.

— Yes, honey, I'm here — you replied, in an uncertain tone.

— Can I come in?

Suddenly your eyes widened, adrenaline rushing through your body as you scrambled to your feet, quickly looking for something to wear.

— No, I'm getting dressed!

— But you never…

— Wait a minute, my love — you shouted towards the entrance of the room, while picking up a robe that was hanging on one of the armchairs. Clutching the terry cloth against your body, you went to the door and opened a small crack — Hi, honey.

Lena was looking at you with a serious expression, her eyes still swollen from the tears she had shed the night before.

— Good morning, mom.

— Are you okay?

— Yeah, I am — she replied — I wanted to talk to you. Actually, I wanted to talk to you and dad, but I don’t know where he is.

You felt a shiver run down your spine. She definitely couldn't even imagine Toto was right next door, washing the remnants of sex and sweat from his skin in your bathroom.

— He must have gone to the gym or taken a walk on the beach — you tried to dismiss, feeling your heart pound in your chest.

— I don't know, mom, the living room is a mess — she said, looking at the room next door — There's a bottle of whiskey, some empty glasses, dad’s shirt is on the floor...

“Fucking hell, Torger, of all the times to not be so uptight about cleaning”, you thought.

— He must be hungover, like that time in Abu Dhabi — you said, causing Lena to smirk.

— That was terrible — she muttered.

— Indeed.

You stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

— Well, I'll let you finish your shower and then we'll see what to do. Do you want me to order breakfast?

— Yes, that would be great. Thank you — you replied, before smiling and closing the door, letting out a sigh of relief. Your daughter definitely didn't need to know that you had just slept with her dad, especially after almost 15 years since your divorce.

It was an unnecessary shock for that moment.

Opening the bathroom door, you saw Toto's silhouette through the fogged glass, his fingers buried in his dark hair as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. You crept toward the shower, opening the door a crack to watch him, savoring the way the water ran down his body with your lower lip between your teeth.

Then, he opened his eyes.

— Good morning, liebes — Toto said, with a smile.

— Good morning.

— Was that Lena at the door?

— Yeah. She wants to talk to us, but she couldn't find you anywhere.

— I can't imagine why — he murmured, making you smile — Want to come in with me? I can wash your hair if you want.

Nodding, you took off your robe and stepped into the shower with Toto, feeling his warm, wet hands wrap around your waist. Smiling, you couldn't resist giving him a kiss, while the drops of hot water fell on your body.

— I love you, liebes — he said softly, his lips brushing yours.

— I love you too, darling.

He washed your hair practically silently, only speaking to ask you to step under the jet of hot water. While you were drying off, Toto asked you if you had any plans to get him out of your room without being seen by Lena. After a few minutes of discussion, you opted to split up, with you distracting her while he went back to his own suite to get dressed and pretend nothing had happened.

It looked perfect.

With your hair still damp, you left your room trying to ignore the tightness in your stomach. Quickly scanning the room, you found your daughter leaning against the glass railing of the balcony, her gaze lost on the horizon. Approaching slowly, you were thinking of asking about her plans for the day when she spoke up.

— I already ordered breakfast — Lena said, not looking at you.

— Oh, good — you replied — Thank you, darling.

More silence. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

— Look, my love, I...

— You're going to apologize for yesterday, aren't you?

— Yeah. I shouldn’t have acted like that, and ruined your night…

— Mom — Lena said, looking at you — It wasn't about ruining my night. The problem there was that you did exactly the opposite of what I asked you to do before we left home.

You pursed your lips.

— I know you hate each other and that you wish the other didn't exist, but you can't change the past, much less the fact that you had a daughter together.

— I know, my love…

— Then why did you make that whole scene at the restaurant?

— Because I don't want to lose you, Magdalena — you replied, in a low voice — You are my only daughter, the person I love most in the world and...

— Mom, you won't lose me.

— Are you sure? — you asked her, your voice cracking.

— Yes, I am. But, you have to understand that I grew up and that I can make my own choices, without you or dad deciding for me — Lena said, her tone of voice making her sound much older than she really was.

— And what did you decide? — a deep voice asked. Looking back, you found Toto standing at the balcony door, his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

Lena smiled.

— I've decided I'm not going to decide anything here — she said — I'll go over my options when I get home, alone, without either of you two putting pressure on me.

— You know you don't have to…

— Mom — Lena interrupted you — I need to do this alone. I know you want to help me, just like dad does, but I have to decide things for myself, no matter how difficult they are.

Looking at Lena, you finally realized that you were no longer in front of the same little girl that you had put on your lap and taken away from the apartment where you lived with Toto, back in 2009. You were in front of a woman, who, in addition to love, you also deeply admired.

— It's okay, bébé — Toto finally spoke — It's always your decision. But, know that we will always be by your side, supporting you no matter what choice you make. Isn't that right, Y/N?

You hesitated, looking at your daughter with a tight lump in your throat. “Does it have to be that hard?”, you asked yourself.

— Mom?

— You know I'll always support you, Lena — you finally managed to speak — Even though it's terrible to think about being away from you, not being able to hug you, kiss you and tell you how much I love you whenever I want. I'm always by your side, my love.

She smiled, advancing towards the two of you and enveloping you in a tight hug. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to savor that moment, feeling the warmth of your daughter's arms and of Toto, who had run a hand down your back to bring you both closer to him.

Feeling him kiss your hair, you smiled.

You were home. Finally home.

#toto wolff #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #toto wolff x reader #wlffog #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #toto wolff smut #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff angst #oneshotwlff

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heeseung-min · 5 months

Text

[13:25]

I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me

Papa-paparazzi

Click! Click! Click!

Sunghoon smiled widely at the result of pictures that he just took. It's not just a random picture of scenery but it is a picture of you. An exclusive picture that neither your fans or any reporter could get this.

"Fuck, y/n. Why are you so beautiful even when you are sleeping?"

Sunghoon stopped capturing your pictures and laid on the bed beside you instead. He started to caressed your body enjoying the smooth skin. Ahh, the pills he purchased really works. You sleep like a log and can't even heard when he came in or when he accidentally broke one of your plates. Don't worry he will get a new one for you. It's not like you will notice if one of it gone missing. For now, he just wanted to enjoy this moment before the drugs in your body started to wear off.

"Promise I'll be kind, but I won't stop...until you are mine y/n."

Sunghoon smirked to himself as he changed the lyrics of his favourite song aka Paparazzi by Lady Gaga. The first time he heard the song while he was driving it instantly became his favourite.

______________________________________

"Are you okay, Y/n?" Aira, your manager asked as she politely asking the staff in the room to leave both of you alone.

You were not in the mood and feel very weak. You don't want to suddenly cancel the shoot when people already prepare everything. However, your body feel so fragile right now.

"I don't know Aira. I think I slept a lot last night but somehow I still got headache and I feel pain on my body."

"Maybe you are still tired, Y/n. Plus, your schedule is so tight nowadays so probably you didn't get enough rest. I will leave you alone in this room and will be back in 30, okay?"

"Thanks, Aira."

After few minutes Aira left the room, you felt relief and slowly your breathing became slow and your eyes dropping and went to a deep sleep.

Aira also went to somewhere else and that left the front door with no guard. A man with completely black attire and mask came in and locked the door from inside.

Sunghoon took off his mask and smirked when he saw you were alone and sleeping peacefully. He went to crouch in front of you and stare at your face. Oh how sweet looking you are. The dress you were wearing right now slightly showing your skin making Sunghoon blushing at his dirty thought about you.

"Fuck, you can't torture me like this Y/n."

He muttered as he leaned closer to your face and stared straight at your lips. It wouldn't hurt to leave a peck on your lips, right? He's been holding it for a long time.

"Just one, baby."

And with that Sunghoon left a kiss on your lips. He groaned at the sweet taste of your lipbalm. He literally need to control himself from doing more. It's too risky to do it now.

______________________________________

Baby, you'll be famous

Chase you down until you love me

Papa-paparazzi

"Y/n, are you still cannot go out?"

"No, Aira. I- I'm scared."

"Look, I know it's a serious matter but we hired many bodyguards for you. You will be safe, y/n. It's been three weeks since you went out from your house."

You discovered about your stalker few weeks ago when you saw an envelope without any details on it. You were shocked to see your pictures like this person literally followed you everywhere. Studio, cafe, restaurant, shopping malls and there's even pictures when you travel to another country. At first, you reported it to Aira about it and continue living your day. However, it didn't stop. After the first envelope came, another one came and another one until you feel so scared to leave your house. You even asked the security guard if he saw someone suspicious but he denied that and even the CCTV didn't have any record of someone put the envelope inside your mailbox. You started to isolate yourself and only contact Aira when you need something.

"I'll wait at the lobby, okay? Just call me if something is happening."

"Alright, I'm sorry, Aira.

"No need, I understand what u feel."

You finally went out from your apartment and walked to lobby and saw Aira with few male behind her. You assumed it was the bodyguards she talked about at the phone just now.

"Y/n, this is your bodyguards. The director choose them by himself. They have a clean record and most of them know martial arts so it's good for you."

Everyone started to introduce themselves and you just nodded at what they said until the last man showing his hand for you to shake.

"Good morning, Miss Y/n. My name is Park Sunghoon. It's nice to meet you."

"Ahh, yeah hi Park Sunghoon. Me too."

You took his hand and shook it for few seconds. Maybe it's true you will be safe since you have few guys protecting around you. You won't get any letter from the stalker anymore.

Cause he become your bodyguard now. It's easier to look at you like this.

Aight finally im finish with this😮‍💨😮‍💨I wanted to post it sooner but ergghh I was too sick and weak🤧😔 I recently got better but still suffering a bit but its for yall😊😊 hope u guys enjoy and nope no part 2 for this one okay

Taglist: @obsessed1with1straykids @huggyuvita @stacey-stonem @duolingofanaccount @eeunoia

#yandere kpop #yandere enhypen #enha x reader #kpop yandere #lee heeseung #park jongseong #park sunghoon #jake sim #kim sunoo #yang jungwon #nishimura riki #yandere sunghoon #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon x reader #yandere drabble #yandere enha #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen scenarios

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accirax · 4 months

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Chessgram Theory: Who is Kotoko Breaking?

While the object Kotoko is breaking in Deep Cover’s thumbnail is still certainly up for debate, many people (including myself) are of the belief that she’s snapped a white bishop from the game of chess. Given where Kotoko’s mental state is right now and what’s implied by the lyrics of Deep Cover, I think it’s likely that this MV’s theme will depict all of the prisoners as different chess pieces. Therefore, it’s worth asking: who is that? And, in a larger sense, which prisoners could be represented by which chess pieces?

Kotoko pretty clearly sees her situation as her and Es against the rest of the prison. So, I think that the characters would be divided as Kotoko and Es on one team, and everyone from 01-09 on the other. Kotoko is wearing black and appears to be breaking a white piece, so it’s pretty safe to assume that she and Es would be represented by the black pieces. It’s an interesting choice, given that, even to a non-Western audience, black can be considered a color of evil, and white a color of purity and truth. However, if the Es/Kotoko team is “mystery and anger” and the 01-09 team is “cold demeanors and death,” it fits well enough.

And that’s ignoring the most important part: in chess, the white team always moves first. This would fit with Kotoko’s vigilante worldview that everything she does is just a retaliation against others’ wrongdoing. The other characters attack first by sinning, and Kotoko is only picking them off before they can do any real damage to Team Warden.

Anyways, as for the pieces themselves, different websites seem to have slightly different opinions on what each piece can represent, with some obvious throughlines. I’ll be pulling quotes from these three articles, color coded according to which one is being used, which you can read more of if you wish. I’m also not a chess expert, so if I’m missing anything or got something wrong, I encourage you to add any of your own thoughts!

We’ll start with the Black Team, because there are fewer characters and I think it’s pretty obvious who’s who.

Kotoko Yuzuriha

Kotoko herself will probably be the black Queen. As anyone who’s played chess should know, your Queen is the most powerful piece in your arsenal because it can move on straights or diagonals for any distance.

The queen is our impulse to fight and possibly our id. It can argue based on beliefs. It can let loose and fight like a rook. It has no reason to hold back as a knight does and will often attack to the other side of the board just because it wants to.

This hyper-violent description of the Queen reminds me a lot of Kotoko. She attacks the other prisoners because, according to her beliefs, they’re criminals who deserve to be punished. Not to mention, the “id” is actually the same thing as the “es” in psychology. After we voted her innocent in the first trial, Kotoko became our teammate. She thinks that she’s the same as Es, so seeing herself as the “id” would fit perfectly with that self-assessment. Speaking of Es…

Es (and Jackalope?)

Es is most likely going to be the black King.

The king is not as powerful as the queen, but he is considered the most important piece that needs the most protection.

Even if Kotoko has more power than Es inside the prison, Es is still the one ultimately calling the shots. They’re the important piece who actually casts the votes that Kotoko can use to exact justice. The way that Es falls asleep between trials (or, at least, they did the first time) also reminds me of how the king can only move one space per turn, and often remains in the same square until closer to the end of the game.

The meaning of the Queen in the game of chess is she is plainly the closest support to the King and is often the second biggest (tallest) piece on the board, signifying her power and importance.

Es and Kotoko being the King and Queen together also opens them up to being assessed as a pair. They start the game next to each other, far across the board from the white pieces. If Es is the tallest, most notable piece in the prison, Kotoko isn’t far behind, acting as the King’s loyal fang.

I don’t know if any of the other pieces on the black team would have any sort of particular association. Maybe Jackalope could be the pawn that starts in front of the King (I think that’s the E pawn), so that he could hop out of the way on black’s first move to allow Kotoko to escape on a diagonal?

If I’m right about this theming, I also believe it’s possible that the black team would start only with the King and Queen. This would 1) make Kotoko and Es appear as rootable underdogs by having fewer pieces, 2) show how Kotoko is doing all of the work to defend justice, and 3) give Kotoko a lot of space to move around in from the start.

Now that we’re done with the black team, it’s time for the 01-09 White Team! Given that this side has many more main characters, there are several more possibilities to discuss here. I’ve settled on an answer for each of the prisoners, but there’s certainly room to be flexible with any of them.

Haruka Sakurai

Starting with Haruka… sorry, buddy, but I think you’re a Pawn.

Look, there are only eight pieces (not pawns) for each team on the board. If there are nine prisoners on the white team, at least one of them has to be a Pawn. And, especially through Kotoko’s account of the first Trial, Haruka wasn’t doing a whole lot. He didn’t get voted guilty, so she didn’t attack him, and he didn’t try to save any of the attacked prisoners, either. All he really did was get a new fit and align himself with Mu, someone who barely avoided being voted guilty in the first place.

There is a debate about whether the pawns are the peasants who live outside of the castle walls or are the soldiers protecting the royal court behind them.

Specifically, though, I think that Haruka would be the pawn that stands in front of Mu. Depending on which piece Mu is, it doesn’t have to work like this, but if you say that Pawn Haruka’s placement is basically a “if you want to attack her, you’ll have to get through me first,” that’s quite reminiscent of the threat he presented in his second audio drama.

Haruka also makes sense as a Pawn because he has a lot of potential. For anyone who doesn’t know, in chess, if a Pawn manages to make it to the other side of the board, they can transform into any other piece. Haruka’s quiet demeanor might let him slip under the radar, but if Kotoko takes her eye off of him for too long, he could wind up becoming a threat to the King (Es).

Haruka (VD2): “If you don’t forgive Mu-san, I’m going to kill you.”

In the audio drama, Es counters this plan by pointing out that, as a prisoner, Haruka cannot attack them. However, the sentiment is still there. Even if a Pawn doesn’t really stand a chance of attacking the King when Queen Kotoko is on the loose, there’s always the possibility that he could get too close and throw a wrench into Kotoko’s plans.

Yuno Kashiki

As for Yuno… well, we all know that she’s a Queen in general, but in chess, I don’t think that argument really holds up. Yuno really just isn’t… relevant? enough? to the conflicts of the prison as a whole (at least where Kotoko is involved) to be represented by such an important piece. But, if Yuno isn’t the Queen, what would she be…?

Personally, I think she would be a Rook.

The rook is brute force. It is a disregard to beliefs.

Simply put, Yuno is a Rook because she’s a pretty straightforward person. That’s not to say that she doesn’t lie, of course– her whole t1 attitude seems to have been a bit of an act, and that one section in the middle of Tear Drop makes it pretty obvious that Yuno conceals her true feelings on order to better please her customers sometimes– but that, in the end, Yuno always does what she wants. If she wants to barge forward or cut across the entire board sideways, she’ll do it. She often keeps to herself, just like how enemy pieces wouldn’t want to get directly in front of the Rook for fear of being curb stomped.

Back to her t1 attitude, though…

The rook is the castle, the walls, the protectorate of the city, and in being so, is the only piece not representative of a living thing.

While most sources attribute the Rook’s walls to protecting the other important pieces, Yuno’s walls protect herself. Yuno’s Castle keeps her true self locked behind cold and stony walls, giving her freedom from making any attachments.

Futa Kajiyama

Futa is a Knight because… he’s, uh, literally a knight.

The knight pieces are the protective knights in the castle. The pieces are shaped like a horse because it is symbolic of what knights rode during battle.

It doesn’t always have to be that deep. (/j)

Actually, though, there are other reasons to call Futa the Knight– possibly some of the same reasons why the Milgram creative team decided to make one of his MVs themed after fantasy RPGs in the first place.

The knight represents the pure inner-warrior. If a knight starts out passive, it will always end up aggressive and vice versa. It can't move very far, but it never moves in a straight line, always preferring to be tactical and thoughtful.

Futa definitely seems to cycle between aggressive and passive. He passively lived his life as a regular guy until he unleashed his aggression and became a cyberbully. That aggression fueled him until he learned of his victim’s death, at which point he shut down and seemed to become more passive and introspective again. Arriving in Milgram triggered his aggressive tendencies, but getting voted guilty and losing an eye for it triggered his passive terror. At the time of his second audio drama, it seems like he’s returned to aggressively questioning Es again, and it remains to be seen whether he keeps that attitude into t3 or if something happens that once again makes him lose his footing (or die).

Mu Kusunoki

Much like Yuno, Mu also has an argument for being called the Queen– more so than Yuno, considering her strong Queen Bee coding in It’s Not My Fault and the titles of both of her audio dramas– but also falls short in the “being opposed to Kotoko” department. Although Haruka certainly looks to her for leadership, I can’t imagine Kotoko actually considering Mu a serious enough threat to put Mu on the same level as herself.

So again, like Yuno, I think Mu might be the other Rook. Mu also displayed a very “whatever I say goes” attitude in INMF, so she can share the same rhetoric behind Yuno being represented by that piece. The logic behind the castle aspect is slightly different, though.

Every country or medieval estate would have its royalty who were protected within the walled city or castle.

Mu is a rich, half-European girl whose dad sells real estate. Of course she would be represented by the Castle! Mu’s tactics involve consolidating her power in order to lead from a place above it all, exactly like how a castle looks over the rest of the village. Additionally, I can’t find the source of whoever pointed it out first, but I’ve seen it mentioned that the dress Mu wears in her birthday art is a reference to the one that Belle wears in Disney’s interpretation of Beauty and the Beast. It’s a fairytale with a princess (and perhaps someday, a queen), yes, but it’s specifically one where the heroine is trapped within a castle. Making Mu into a Rook would be a great way to keep up her royal theming, while leaving the Queen for a character a bit more powerful and relevant to Kotoko.

(Going back to Haruka for a moment, this would make him specifically the A or H pawn.)

Shidou Kirisaki

I really thought that Shidou might have more competition for the role of King, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that nobody fit the role quite as well as he did.

Shidou is the perfect balance of a piece who’s very problematic for Kotoko’s win condition, while also not being much of an active threat himself. There are very low odds that Shidou would ever actually try to harm Kotoko directly or get in her way to divert an attack. However, as long as he’s alive, Kotoko can’t win, because Shidou can keep attempting to heal all of the pieces Kotoko tries to eliminate. That’s not something that the King piece can actually do in a chess game, but hopefully you get my point.

Additionally, Triage let us know that Shidou is a family man. While the white Queen will obviously not be representative of Shidou’s deceased wife, and not every other prisoner would enjoy living under his reign (cough cough Amane), the optics of him being the “head of the family” are obviously there. It’s a pretty bad look if the white King starts the game by pleading with the black King to give him the death penalty, but… Well, at least Shidou changed his mind.

Mahiru Shiina

Not to answer the theory’s main question so early into the post, but… I think Mahiru is a white Bishop. Specifically, the one that Kotoko could be snapping in half in the thumbnail.

As far as I can remember, barring Undercover, Milgram’s MVs have only shown us things that have happened in the past. There are some things that could kind of hint at the future (like Shidou’s “So hey, prolong my life / I’m indispensable” in Triage) or depict prisoner’s fears of the future (like Futa potentially being afraid that Es could declare him guilty again at the end of Backdraft). But, I think that every instance of something like that happening could be explained as something that the character did or thought about in the past as well. That might be wrong, as I don’t want to take the time to write out how everything that appears like it could be in the future is actually in the past, but it sounds right to my memory.

My point being, while the snapped bishop could be indicative of Kotoko’s plans to crush someone in the future, if the chess pieces do represent characters, it makes far more sense if her smashing the white bishop is something that already happened in the past. Thus, it would probably be one of the three characters that Kotoko attacked in the past: Futa, Mahiru, or Mikoto.

Of the three options, I think Mahiru fits the role of bishop best.

The bishop is your belief structure. This is why a bishop that starts on white, will always be on white and vice versa for the black bishop.

While not a particularly religious person, Mahiru is someone who lives and dies based on her beliefs about the value of love. No matter what happens to her, she always keeps her same perspective, believing that love is the entirety of who she is and the only thing that’s worth living for. It’s how firmly she clung to those beliefs that sent her to Milgram, and her lack of awareness regarding her actions that got her voted guilty. AKA, Mahiru’s Bishop-like beliefs are exactly what sent her to be crushed in Kotoko’s palm.

To the extent that the blood in the thumbnail is the Bishop’s and not Kotoko’s, Mahiru was also the most grievously injured of the prisoners in between trials. I saw people joking that the thing Kotoko was crushing was “Mahiru’s bones,” and, like… maybe you’re not entirely wrong?

I hope that you continue reading the post to hear my thoughts on the last three prisoners. But, if you are tapping out here… uhhhh, 0610 enjoyers, go crazy with this one.

Kazui Mukuhara

When I started theorizing for this post, I really thought that I was going to make Kazui the Queen to Shidou’s King. The two of them are pretty close, so the idea of Kazui being Shidou’s guardian makes total sense. And, most importantly, Kazui was the one to actually intercept and divert Kotoko’s attack on Futa. He’s been established as the most muscular prisoner in Milgram, on par with someone like Kotoko, which is perfect for him being the Queen!

Wellllll… I changed my mind and decided to make Kazui a Knight anyway.

There are a lot of good arguments for Kazui being a knight too, okay? After Cat, it’s pretty clear that Kazui was once a police officer. Thus, being a member of the castle guard would be a good match for his choice of career. They’re also probably the most traditionally “manly” piece, representative of an armed man on a horse, and Kazui tries very hard to be manly.

Knights can also hop over other pieces, much like how Kazui jumped into the fight between Kotoko and Futa. In fact…

Never underestimate [the Knight] for its limited range. It’s known as the "Queen Killer" for a reason!

Knights are often a good piece to use to attack Queens because of their unique L-shaped movement pattern. Unlike every other piece, they can attack the Queen from a position that can’t be immediately reversed upon them. Thus, Kazui’s ability to beat Kotoko could be an indicator of this “Queen Killer” quality, instead of the innate power of being a Queen himself. (This logic applies to Futa as well: he can attack Kotoko from the unique angle of appealing to Es’ morals and own sense of justice. Kotoko can’t do the same because, unlike Futa, she has yet to outwardly acknowledge that her murder could have been anything less than righteous.)

Also… the Knight is the only piece that doesn’t move in a straight line. Get it? The Knight doesn’t move straight? And that represents Kazui? Because Kazui is–

Amane Momose

Amane is the other Bishop because… religion.

The bishop stands close to the king and queen because it represents the church which many royal courts held near and dear to their hearts.

The Bishop represents the church, an important and very powerful entity throughout history and even today if you think about it.

Again, not everything has to be a reach. (/j)

So… yeah, Amane’s beliefs– specifically religious beliefs, this time– are also a huge part of her life. Even if she’s changed what the cult’s doctrine means to her, she still confesses that she carried out her murders for the sake of what her religion considers right and wrong.

This is also considered the third most powerful piece on the chessboard because back in the day religion could influence many people, even without the help of the royal family.

Not so much for Mahiru, but this sentiment also fits Amane pretty well! Between the threats of potential conversions and potential assassinations, Amane was definitely one of the prisoners to watch heading into t2. From what I’ve heard, the main reason why her vote was so down to the wire was mostly because people were afraid of the power that Amane held.

Interestingly, this would put another prisoner who was voted guilty in contention for the piece that Kotoko is crushing. However, I still think it’s more likely that that piece would be Mahiru, because Kotoko didn’t physically attack Amane. If it were Amane, it would more likely be that her beliefs were crushed as opposed to her bones, but… I don’t really think that really happened, either. Amane would almost certainly be a bishop, though, so there’s certainly a possibility that that broken piece could be her.

Mikoto/John Kayano

With only one prisoner left to go, you may have already come to the conclusion that Mikoto is the white Queen. And… yeah, I can’t really deny that at this point. Like I said, I wanted to make Kazui the Queen, but I couldn’t otherwise figure out what Mikoto would be.

Because, there’s one main thing that makes me think that Mikoto has to be the Queen… John’s lack of restraints.

She is allowed to move in any direction and in as many squares as she wants.

Due to the whole situation with John not technically being a prisoner, when John is the alter in charge, John cannot be restrained, even when voted guilty. That makes him very powerful; no matter what he does, we can’t use a guilty vote to try to stop him, much like many people hoped to do with Haruka when voting him guilty in t2. The Queen can visit any square, no matter whether it’s black or white, upright or reversed, Mikoto or John. Choosing any other piece that was constrained to a much more limited set of movement rules just felt off for him.

Next, while Kazui was able to defeat Kotoko and save Futa, the fight between John and Kotoko was a draw. That means that they are also evenly matched– perfect for both being the same kind of piece. Mikoto isn’t as close to Shidou as Kazui is (anymore, I think?), but they were at least smoking club buddies, so calling Mikoto the Queen to Shidou’s King isn’t the most ridiculous proposition.

Finally, making Mikoto the Queen, a very feminine piece, is super interesting in the context of people discussing how Mikoto is often associated with stereotypically feminine roles and the girl prisoners (oboetemasuka | candckirby | purgemarchlockdown). I don’t have a whole lot else to say on this matter considering these weren’t points of Mikoto’s characterization I originally noticed myself, but I encourage you to read these posts to get a taste of what I’m talking about. I’m sure there were other posts discussing it too, but… it’s so hard to find things on Tumblr ;-;

Conclusion

Finally, we’ve been through every prisoner! Here’s a summary of what I decided on (left or right side doesn’t matter):

The funny thing about this theory is that it could be fully disproven wrong in, like, a week, if either 1) that wasn’t a chess piece at all, or 2) the chess pieces obviously represent something else. For instance, the chess board could fully relate to, you know, Kotoko’s actual murder and not what she got up to in between trials. We are supposed to get more actual evidence regarding that too, aren’t we…?

Still, if it turns out that the chess board does represent Milgram, I will get the full satisfaction of having called it ahead of time, even if my assignments aren’t 100% correct. No matter what, I had fun thinking about it, which is (in my opinion) the highlight of theorizing! If you have anything else to add, I encourage you to communicate your thoughts in comments, tags, or reblogs. If you don’t, then I simply thank you for reading this far!

Deep Cover… soon.

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