#[[ let me know if i should change anything!! ]]

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Nineteen

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, teeth-rotting fluff, mentions of minor ptsd, the "do you want kids" talk, therapy, sexual content.

Notes — The queen of fluff strikes again. They're so in love it hurts. Enjoy this intermission from the angst before we get to Spa.

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! — Peach x

2021 (Hungary)

Max was having headaches.

Not debilitating, not anything he would admit needed painkillers. But Amelia noticed the way he squinted at the sim screen, how he blinked a little too often under the harsh lights, how he’d logged fewer hours this week than he had since he was seventeen.

She didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t want to push him.

But it gnawed at her, heavy and sour at the pit of her stomach.

Because she knew Max. Knew how he worked. If he thought for even a second that she might tell Christian or Helmut or, God forbid, the FIA, he'd lock it down even tighter, wrap himself up in barbed wire and throw away the key. Anything to stay in the car. Anything to win. 

Still, it scared her. The idea that maybe the crash had done more damage than he was willing to admit. That maybe he was hiding it from her, from everyone, in order to be given the all clear to keep racing. 

She leaned against the doorway to the RBR sim room one evening, arms crossed tight over her chest, watching him fight through another lap. He was good at pretending, but she saw the way his hand came up to the back of his neck when he thought no one was looking, how he massaged the side of his head, quick and angry like he could force the ache away. 

Her fingers twitched at her side. She wanted to walk over. Put a hand on his shoulder. Make him stop. But she didn't.

Instead, she just said, quiet but steady, "Don’t be stupid, Max."

He flicked his eyes toward her, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, but didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

She already knew what he’d decided. And she already knew it would break her heart trying to change his mind.

— 

Amelia sat at the kitchen island, watching her mom buzz around the kitchen, throwing together something that vaguely resembled a pasta salad. She scrunched her nose at the sight of it, half-finished, but already tragic, and fought the urge to say something. She hadn’t been lying to Lando over a year ago, standing in her garage, when she’d told him her mom was really only capable of cooking one thing successfully. And there was definitely no chicken in sight.

Her iPad was open in front of her, specs from the latest floor upgrade zoomed in on the screen, but she wasn’t really looking at them. Not properly. She was too focused on the strange, unsettled feeling curling in her stomach.

This was her first time at home for weeks, maybe even over a month, and she’d missed it, she had. She really had.

But something felt… different. Off, in a way she couldn’t quite pin down.

“I think I should get my own place,” she said eventually, voice quiet but certain.

Her mom spun around, salad tong still in hand, blinking fast.  “You— you don’t want to live at home anymore?”

Amelia shrugged, trying to find the right words. “No, it’s not that. It’s not that I don’t like it here. It’s just…” She trailed off for a second, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I feel like a nomad. I’m living out of hotels most of the time. And when I am in England, I’m split between here, Glastonbury with Lando, and Milton Keynes at Max’s flat. I have all these different places that feel half-mine. But nowhere that’s actually mine, you know?”

Her mom set the salad tongs down carefully, a little crease forming between her eyebrows. She didn’t look angry.

Amelia pressed on, rushing a little now in case she’d somehow managed to made her mom sad. “I still love it here. I do. But it feels like… like my childhood home, you know? Not my current home.”

There was a small beat of quiet. Then her mom gave a soft, bittersweet smile. “That’s what’s supposed to happen, honey. You’re supposed to outgrow home. I’m glad you feel ready.”

Amelia relaxed a little, shoulders unclenching. Then her mom added, almost too casually, “Will you and Lando get a place together?”

Amelia blinked. “What? No— I mean—” She stopped herself, brain scrambling to catch up. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I just meant me. Like… by myself.”

Her mom laughed, warm and a little amused. “Well, think about it. You practically live with him already, in hotel rooms, but still… it counts.”

Amelia frowned, thinking it through like it was a math problem. “Oh. Yeah. That would… probably make more sense, wouldn’t it?” She mumbled. “I don’t particularly think I’d want to live alone, anyway. And I have gotten used to all of his stuff taking up my space—“ 

Her mom just smiled again, all knowing and fond, and went back to massacring the pasta salad.

— 

Amelia smiled to herself and kept her head down, pencil scratching steadily across the paper in her lap. The rumble of the jet engine faded into white noise; background to the way her hand moved without much thought, the way it always did when her brain was chewing on something bigger than her.

Lando, sprawled out lazily in the aisle across from her, leaned over, curious. “What are you drawing, baby?”

Immediately, Amelia tilted the sketchbook away from him, tucking it protectively against her chest. Her ears burned hot. “Uh. Nothing. I mean—obviously something, but I don’t want to tell you.”

He stared at her for a long second, like he was trying to decode her, eyes narrowing slightly in that way that meant he wasn’t sure whether to push or leave it alone. Then he grinned, easy and warm. “Alright. Keep your secrets.”

He leaned back, stretching his legs out. 

Amelia ducked her head again, heart thudding faster than she wanted it to.

She wasn’t lying. She just… wasn’t ready to admit it out loud yet. Not to him, not to herself.

In the sketchpad, dozens of early concepts sprawled across the page; lines and curves and arrows scribbled in shorthand. A McLaren.

Not just any McLaren, either.

One capable of winning championships.

Lightweight rear end. Aerodynamic front wing for better rotation. A reimagined floor, designed with efficiency and flexibility in mind for whatever the regulation changes might throw their way in the next couple of years.

It was stupid, probably.

She didn’t work for McLaren. Never had, in any official capacity. 

She was still Red Bull’s weapon — heralded by the press as Max’s saviour. Mini Newey. A hundred nicknames but never just her own, never just Amelia Brown.

But the ideas had crawled into her head after Silverstone and refused to leave. It had started with a little idle thought (If I could build him a car good enough to fight Max…) and now here she was. 

She chewed on her pencil, staring at the half-formed shape of the nose, and tried not to think too hard about what it meant that she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything else. 

— 

They stopped in Belgium before ultimately traveling to Hungary. Lando had family there. Cousins, some distant and some much closer. They’d be too busy to do anything of the sort during the actual Belgium race week, so it was nice to be able to fit them in.

They visited a few over the course of the week; fleeting hellos, shared meals over chipped plates and loud, overlapping conversations. It was nice. Overwhelming, a little, but nice.

Lando introduced her to all of his relatives with a beaming smile and a dozen proud praises—"This is Amelia—yeah, my Amelia"—and she offered polite hellos, dodging kisses on cheeks and handshakes as politely as possible and then doing her best to keep up with the small talk when it was asked of her.

It was a little exhausting, mentally. The swirl of laughter, jokes she didn’t quite catch the punchline of, but Lando never pushed her too far. Never nudged her into the centre of things. He let her stay where she was comfortable, sometimes sliding his hand across her lower back when it got too much, or catching her eye from across a room with a soft, wordless smile.

Mostly, she ended up perched on the carpet with the kids, knees tucked under her, a tiny smile playing on her lips as she held up a toy car and explained, far too seriously, the engine type and manufacturer history. The toddlers listened with wide eyes, clutching their sticky-fingered toys and nodding solemnly as if they understood.

Later, in the car, as they drove back toward their hotel under the pale blue of evening, Amelia sat curled up in the passenger seat, hair pulled over one shoulder, a big blue stain on her blouse that was the product of finger-painting gone wrong. 

Lando was quiet, his hand resting loosely on the steering wheel, the other tugging her knuckles gently onto his thigh. "You were really good with them," he said eventually, voice soft enough that she almost thought she'd imagined it.

She made a face. “Kids are easy. All you have to do is keep talking and occasionally shove something colourful at them.”

He laughed under his breath. A minute passed.

Then, casual, like he was asking if she wanted to stop for food, he asked, "Do you want kids?"

Amelia blinked, turning her head to stare at him in the half-light. "I— we don’t even live together," she said, blunt and a little incredulous.

Lando’s mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile. "Well, we can change that."

She stared at him for a long second, watching the way his fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel. Like he wasn’t nervous. Like he meant it.

"Did you talk to my mom?" she asked suddenly.

He shot her a quick, confused glance. "What? No—why? Did you already—? I mean—"

���Okay. I would like to live with you," she said, cutting him off neatly.

For a second, he just blinked at her. And then he was smiling, wide and ridiculous, so big it looked like it physically hurt to contain it.

She giggled, reaching over to nudge his arm. "Stop making that face. You're going to scare the other drivers."

"I'm happy," he argued, grin stretching impossibly wider. "Let me be happy."

She rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her mouth gave her away. She settled back against her seat, watching the trees whip past the window, her heart full and a little chaotic.

"Who gets the bigger closet?" she asked after a beat.

He laughed, a low, warm sound. "You do. Obviously. I’ll just shove my stuff in a corner somewhere."

She nodded. “I do need a lot of closet room. I have two-hundred pairs of shoes.” A few seconds passed in comfortable silence before she tilted her head, thinking. "Where would we live?"

He didn’t miss a beat. "Monaco." 

She wrinkled her nose, instinctively. "That's... a big change."

He glanced over, softer now, like he already knew she'd need a minute with the idea. "Just think about it, baby," he said. "Makes sense for me. Makes sense for you. No taxes. Close to Max if you stay with Red Bull. Close to everything else if you don't."

She chewed on her bottom lip, the weight of it settling on her. A new country. A new chapter. A real home; with him.

He smiled again, smaller this time but just as sure. "We could make it our home."

Amelia nodded slowly, feeling her brain already spinning into overdrive. "I need to make a list. Pros and cons. Things we’ll want in the apartment. Maybe a balcony?"

Lando just grinned, reaching over to squeeze her thigh. "Anything you want, baby."

— 

“Do you think I’d be a good mom?”

Max froze mid-step, nearly tripping over his own feet. His eyes went wide, panic flashing across his face. “You—fuck, are you pregnant?”

His alarm might’ve had something to do with the fact that she was halfway under his car, only her legs and a shock of messy hair visible as she fiddled with a stubborn screw.

Amelia blinked, glancing up at him from beneath the chassis. “No. I’m just wondering.”

Max let out a breath so heavy it was basically a groan, dragging a hand down his face like he needed to physically wipe the terror off. “Fuck, don't do that to me, zusje. I nearly had a heart attack.”

She wriggled out from under the car, wiping her greasy hands on a rag as she sat back on her heels. “I wasn’t trying to scare you. I’m being serious.”

Max crouched down beside her, arms draped loosely over his knees, studying her with a little more care now. “Okay... why are you thinking about that?” he asked, voice softer.

Amelia shrugged. “I was just thinking—if it ever happened, would I be good at it?”

Max’s face relaxed. “You’d be a great mother.”

She tilted her head, skeptical. “You’re just saying that because it’s what you’re supposed to say.”

He snorted. “No, I'm saying it because it’s true. You love very intensely, you’re honest even when it’s not easy, and you are protective and strong. That's exactly what children need from a parent.”

Amelia chewed on her lip. “Pregnancy is scary. Completely out of my control. Everything, anything, could go wrong.”

Max’s expression shifted, softening. “That’s not something you need to worry about yet.”

She hesitated, then said, almost too quietly, “I think Lando would be a good dad. And I want to give that to him. One day.”

Max nodded. “Then you will. When you’re ready, of course.”

Amelia pursed her lips, staring off to the side. “We... I think we’re going to move in together. Soon. Lando mentioned Monaco.”

Max immediately brightened. “Good! I’m there already. We could be neighbours.”

She blinked, absorbing that new piece of information, slotting it neatly into the mental checklist she was already building. “Oh. Are there any available apartments in your building?”

Max huffed a small laugh, like he hadn’t expected her to take his suggestion seriously. “I’m sure there are.”

She nodded firmly, already halfway down the rabbit hole of logistics. “Okay. That would be efficient.” 

Max smiled at her, patient, fond. “I’m sure that you will find the perfect place, zusje. Don’t worry.”

Amelia nodded again, more to herself this time. 

— 

“We’re not living in Max’s building,” Lando said.

Amelia, perched cross-legged on the bed in his drivers room, immediately pouted. “Why not? It would make life so much simpler, Lan.”

He let out a short laugh, setting his phone down. “Look, I love Max, alright? But living that close to him would be... proper weird.”

Amelia tilted her head, frowning like he was speaking another language. “Why?”

Lando scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Imagine it. Every time we argue, he’s knocking on the door two minutes later—sticking up for you, making me feel like a right dickhead.”

She cracked a tiny smile but stayed stubborn. “But it would be efficient. And Max could help us fix things if something breaks.”

“Baby,” Lando said, laughing, “if something breaks, I’ll fix it. Or we’ll call someone. A professional. Not Max with a wrench and a YouTube tutorial.”

He reached over, tugging her socked foot into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I was thinking somewhere quieter anyway,” he added, softer now. “Away from the main city. Somewhere you can go on your little daily walks without bumping into tourists every five seconds.”

She perked up immediately. “My walks are important for my brain.”

“I know.” He smiled, running his thumb over her ankle. “I even asked Charles where he grew up. There are places, baby; small, quiet. Still close enough if we need to get into town. He said the air’s cleaner too.”

Amelia tapped her fingers against her knee, thoughtful. “Cleaner air is good. Better for respiratory health.”

Lando chuckled and tugged her closer until she half-fell into his side with a tiny yelp. “Exactly. So let’s find somewhere ours, yeah?”

She tucked her head under his chin, breathing him in. “Okay. But if Max gets upset, you have to deal with it.”

Lando grinned against her hair. “I can handle a grumpy Verstappen.”

— 

They were curled up in their hotel room, watching the latest episode of Grill the Grid the night before qualifying.

Amelia sat between Lando’s legs, her back pressed against his chest. He had her squished close, big hands sprawled comfortably across her stomach, pressing just enough to ground her, to help her breathe a little easier.

It’d been a rough day for Max, and the stress had bled into her too. Finally being still, finally letting herself relax, felt like a blessing.

She fiddled absently with her golf ball, thumb tracing lazy circles over the surface, half-listening, until the first trivia question came up.

Without hesitation, she rattled off the answer.

By the third question, Lando was laughing, reaching for the remote to pause the video after each one. “Alright, genius,” he teased, chin nudging the top of her head. “You get first go. Beat all of us.”

She answered every time without missing a beat.

He kept pausing, and she kept getting them all right, and after a while Lando wasn’t even pretending to be surprised anymore. He just squeezed her a little tighter and said, “Smarty pants.” 

Amelia smiled, small and shy but real.

Lando pressed a kiss into her hair. “I should start taking you to pub quizzes. I’d make a fortune.” 

She rolled her eyes at him, but she didn’t pull away.

— 

She felt... clingy.

Sitting next to Lando in hospitality, she stared at him, hands itching, burning to reach out, to grab him and never let go.

It had started yesterday. A coil of anxiety tightening in her stomach, left over from Silverstone. Aftershocks, she supposed.

She’d googled it, of course. Trauma responses. Hyper-vigilance. Perfectly normal, the internet said.

She didn’t feel normal.

She kissed Lando goodbye before qualifying, smiling as best she could, and ignored the way her hands trembled when she pulled away. She didn’t look back, even though everything inside her screamed to.

If it were up to her, none of them would be taking part in the weekends running. 

Not Lando. Not Max. Not Fernando. Not anyone.

She caught herself before the spiral could dig deeper, bracing one palm against the wall of the motorhome and forcing a deep breath.

She couldn’t live like this. Couldn’t let one crash, no matter how terrifying, poison the thing she loved. The thing they all loved.

But reason didn’t quiet the fear.

It didn't steady her hands as she watched Lando climb into his cockpit on the livestream.

It didn’t stop her from hugging Max tighter than usual, long enough that he gave her a puzzled little look before he was called away.

Even GP noticed. He kept glancing over, subtle but persistent. “You okay?” he asked, at least a dozen times throughout the session.

Every time, Amelia just nodded without looking at him, glued to the data, clinging to logic, to numbers, to anything she could control.

It helped. A little.

— 

Lando out-qualified Daniel by a mile.

He was cocky and proud, chest puffed out as he peeled her dress off later that night, caught between frantic and careful.

His mouth was hot against her neck, pulling soft, desperate sounds from her lips, her back arching into him. Then his hand tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to tilt her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze.

He was smirking. Full of adrenaline. Hungry. “You think I deserve a reward for my performance?”

Amelia blinked up at him, sweet and soft and unbearably hot. “Anything you want, Lan.”

— 

The next morning, she clung to him, legs tangled with his, her hands wrapped tightly around his wrists. Holding him, having him, needing him close. The warmth of his body against hers felt like the only thing that was grounding her.

He kissed her nose, then her forehead, her cheeks, and chin, finally landing on her lips. The slow, deliberate kiss deepened, but she pulled away just enough to speak.

“I think I need to talk to somebody. A therapist, probably.”

Lando froze, his fingers still brushing against her skin, a soft hesitation in his touch. “You’re... Fuck, I knew something was up. I could feel it, but I didn’t know for sure.”

She gave him a steady, matter-of-fact look, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Yeah, that’s because I hid it from you. Didn’t want you to worry."

His face softened, and the guilt crept in. “You should’ve told me, Amelia.”

She shrugged, her stomach twisting under the weight of his gaze. “I didn’t want you distracted…”

"Don’t be stupid." His words were sharp, but they didn’t make her flinch. His hand found the back of her neck, pulling her gently against him. “You tell me when you’re having a shit time, okay?”

She sighed, pressing her forehead to his. “Sorry.”

His fingers slid through her hair, his voice steady but soft. "No more hiding it. Right?"

She nodded, barely, but it was enough.

“We’ll find someone good for you to talk to,” he said after a beat, his hand moving to stroke her hair.

She rubbed the tip of her nose against his collarbone affectionately. “Okay.”

— 

She popped her head into Fernando’s garage, offering him a soft smile. He came over, gave her a quick squeeze, and gestured proudly to his helmet. “Pretty, huh?”

She nodded, indulging him with a grin. “I like it. How are things going with Esteban?”

Fernando sighed. “Ah. He is… complicated. A good driver, but a terrible teammate. He does not see how both things can be true at once.”

She glanced over at Esteban’s side of the garage. “He’s passionate.”

Fernando nodded thoughtfully. “He is. That will be his greatest strength—and his greatest weakness.” He kissed her cheek and shooed her off. “Go, go, before Verstappen finds you here and threatens to keep you chained to his garage.”

She hugged him again, leaning in just close enough to murmur, “Adjust your ride height. Two centimetres higher.”

Before he could say anything, she gave him a sly smile and disappeared down the paddock.

— 

She sat next to Checo in the strategy meeting, slouched low in her chair, sneaking cursory glances at him every time he slid his phone under the table toward her. They were playing chess; badly, if she was honest, but that was half the fun.

Checo would make a move, tilt the screen toward her, and wait, barely suppressing a smug grin. She'd frown, tap out a counter, and slide it back without a word.

No one else seemed to notice. Or if they did, they didn’t care.

Checo was a lot of fun. Easygoing. Quick to laugh. And, as it turned out, a little reckless with his queen.

Amelia pinned him in three moves flat.

Checo huffed under his breath, shaking his head at her. She just shrugged, eyes back on the screen at the front of the room like nothing had happened at all.

— 

It was raining. Not hard, not anymore, but enough to slick the track and raise every hair on the back of Amelia’s neck.

She stood, stiff-backed, arms folded across her chest in the Red Bull garage, the whole world around her muffled and distant. She could hear the shrill whine of the engines as the formation lap wrapped, but it was like she was underwater. Distant. Fading.

Max was P3. Lando was P6. Fernando was lurking, dangerous as always. The Mercedes were ahead, unpredictable on a damp track.

Amelia flexed her fingers, breathing deep and slow. 

The lights blinked above the front of the grid, one, two, three, four, five, and before she could even brace herself, the race started.

Chaos.

Immediate, all-consuming chaos.

Bottas missed his braking point into Turn 1 and plowed into Lando. She didn’t even see it happen, only saw Lando’s car snap sideways, broken, ruined, like a toy in the rain.

She flinched so hard she almost dropped her iPad.

And then Max—Max—

She watched it in horror, too slow to look away, as Max’s Red Bull got collected in the chain reaction, bodywork flying, his car crumpling along the side-pod.

Her knees buckled; she caught herself with a hand on the pitwall.

Someone shouted. Someone else was already running to grab spare front wings. Alarms buzzed in her headset, engineers yelling over one another.

“Max has heavy damage,” GP was saying into her ear through the comms device, voice low and tight. “We’re evaluating. Standby.”

Her hands trembled.

The cars crawled through the carnage, half the grid limping back toward the pitlane. She stared at Max’s car as it crept past, side torn open like a wounded animal, sparks flying out the bottom.

“Still going,” she heard someone say. "He's still going."

Somehow, Max was dragging the car around. Somehow, Lando had pulled off track without getting hit again.

The red flag was thrown. Race temporarily suspended.

Amelia let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding and pressed her forehead against the wall. Cold metal, cold air, cold panic.

She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder — once, solid and grounding. Probably an engineer who hadn’t been briefed, but they were lucky, their touch felt good, and didn’t make her want to tear off her skin. 

She nodded, to herself, to anyone watching her, making sure she was good. 

Didn't trust herself to speak yet.

— 

Lando was out.

Too much damage. Retired on lap two.

Max was luckier. He kept going, dragging a half-broken chassis to the finish line, scraping whatever points he could.

Esteban won. His first victory.

Amelia watched from the back of Lando’s garage as the Frenchman stepped onto the top step of the podium, soaking in the moment.

Lando’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close.

She didn’t need him to say anything — she could feel it. The bitter edge of jealousy under his skin, the tight set of his jaw.

“It’ll come,” she muttered, more promise than reassurance, her mind flicking to her sketchbook, to the concepts she hadn't shown anyone yet — the ones that could take him all the way. 

The chassis she’d created with two particular drivers in mind. 

Lando squeezed her tighter.

— 

Summer break came just when she needed it.

She and Lando flew back to Monaco with Max, crashing in his guest room while they started apartment hunting.

Well… Lando did most of the hard work. Talking to estate agents, putting out feelers.

Amelia kept herself busy playing with Jimmy and Sassy, who decided almost immediately that she was their new favorite human.

She didn't mind. The cats were easy company, curling up on her lap or following her around the flat as Lando scrolled through listings and Max grumbled about all the overpriced places in the area.

It felt good, normal, even, to slow down. To just exist for a little while, tucked away in the hazy warmth of a Monegasque summer, surrounded by people (and animals) who loved her.

— 

They fell in love with the first place they viewed.

If Amelia believed in fate, she might have called it that.

Lando stood back and watched as she wandered through the apartment; past the galley kitchen, onto the balcony, big enough for a table, a chair, maybe even a canopy swing if she wanted.

Two bedrooms, three bathrooms. A master suite and a double. A massive living room, an even bigger office.

She could already see it: herself at a big desk, sketching new concepts as sunlight poured through the wall of windows.

She found Lando in the kitchen, deep in conversation with the property agent.

When he glanced up, she was already beaming at him.

— 

They spent two weeks of summer break, the rare stretch when neither of them had to be working full-time, Lando free from training camps, Amelia unchained from the factory, tucked away in the South of France.

It felt like stepping into another life. Long mornings spent tangled up in crisp hotel sheets, slow breakfasts on sun-drenched balconies overlooking sleepy coastal towns. They rented a little convertible and drove with no real destination, winding through golden hills and lavender fields, the radio humming low between them.

Amelia wore tiny sundresses and braided her hair, and Lando kept finding excuses to kiss her bare shoulders. They swam in cold, clear water until their fingers wrinkled, then collapsed on the beach, salt still clinging to their skin. 

At night, they fell into bed full of good food and exhausted. 

It wasn’t some extravagant, carefully curated holiday. It was just… easy. 

And somewhere between the lazy afternoons and the late-night kisses, Amelia stared at him and thought, “I could spend the rest of my life with you.” 

— 

The evening was warm, a soft breeze rustling the leaves around them. Lando had set up a speaker on the patio, the faint sound of acoustic guitar playing in the background, but they weren’t paying much attention to the music. Amelia was sitting on the edge of a chair, arms loosely draped over her knees, looking out at the stars above. Lando was sitting on the stone steps, watching her.

“So, how was it?” He asked. 

Amelia smiled faintly, but her eyes were tired. “It was… fine,” she started, kicking the edge of the chair with her foot, watching the dust float up into the air. “A bit awkward, but that’s probably normal. Online therapy, you know?” She rolled her eyes, but there was a lightness to her tone, as if she was still trying to find the right words. “It felt like… trying to untangle a knot in my brain, but someone else was holding the other end.”

Lando nodded thoughtfully, shifting on the stairs so he was facing her more. “I get that. Did she—” He paused, checking her expression, making sure she was okay. “Did she help at all?”

Amelia shrugged, a soft exhale escaping her. “Not yet. I mean, we talked about a lot of stuff. Things I didn’t realise were connected, you know? I think it’ll take a few sessions for it to click. It’s hard to explain. But I felt… heard, I guess. Which is something.”

Lando nodded again, his gaze softening. “Proud of you, baby.” He looked over at the empty space beside him. “Come here.”

She raised an eyebrow but stood up, moving to join him. As she sat beside him on the steps, she rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re really good at this whole comfort thing.”

Lando chuckled, sliding an arm around her waist. “I try my best.” After a beat, he stood up, holding out a hand to her. “Wanna dance?”

Amelia looked at him, surprised, but the quiet night seemed to make everything feel a little more possible. She took his hand with a grin. “We’re really doing this?”

Lando smiled, tugging her to her feet. “Why not? It’s a slow song.”

The music played on, soft and gentle, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Just moved together, swaying under the dim glow of the patio lights, with the sound of the wind and distant waves in the background. Amelia closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of the moment settle into her chest, her heart still thudding, but in a different way now.

“You know, you’ve been pretty great,” she murmured after a while, her hand resting against his chest. “With everything.”

Lando’s smile was barely visible in the dark, but she felt it in the way he pulled her just a little closer. “Always.”

She closed her eyes.

Always sounded pretty good.

NEXT CHAPTER

[poisonofthepaint]

thinking of you

jack broke up with you because he said you needed someone younger. yet, he's still offended when he hears you're going on a date with someone else. you show up to his apartment to set the record straight.

cw: MDNI, make up sex to the max, pinv, no protection, kind of angsty but like not really, reader is independent and sort of snappy (for good reason), nipple sucking, pet names (angel, honey, sweetheart), not sure what else lmk if you see anything!

a/n: i wrote this off two beers so i'm gonna say i proofread it, but who knows...

wc: 2k

Jack didn't get pissed off. Sure, he would get mildly annoyed. He could snap. But he was never filled with unbridled rage. He could contain himself, calm himself down. He learned it in the military. He knew you couldn’t fight as well if you were angry, it clouded your judgement too much, you have to keep, at least a little bit, of a level head.

But tonight, Jack was pissed off. Robby had told him you had a date tonight. He told Jack over text, saying he, ‘figured he should know.” Jack couldn’t decide if he was thankful for the message or not.

That is what he said to you, when it ended. That you needed someone your own age. That you needed to get out there and act your age. It wasn’t good to work with someone and date them, act older than you need to. It was self-defense, he later realized. He was insecure about himself, and what he could or could not give you, so he ended it. He couldn’t believe you had listened to his incoherent ramblings. What he said made no sense, and he knew that now, but he also knew he had to take a step back and leave you the hell alone. He had fucked up, that was for sure. Begging for you back, when you had no reason to come back, would be even more fucked up.

He was regretting that mentality right now, all he wanted to do was call you. To tell you to come home. To come back to him. That guy didn’t know how to treat you, he didn’t know what you needed. He was only there to get in your pants. You were far too fucking intelligent for some immature douchebag. Jack knew what you needed, he was the only one who knew how to treat you right. He would give anything for you. This kid would not. Jack didn’t even need to know his name to know that.

Jack’s finger hovered over the call button on your contact. He tried to think of some emergency to get you to come see him instead of being on that date. But he couldn’t think of anything. There was no reason, fake or real, why you shouldn’t be on that date. 

He sighs, puts down his phone, sits in his recliner. His cushy chair, one of the only things he has splurged on in his life, faces the window, which overlooks the city. The buildings sparkle at him. It’s around seven, usually he’d be at work by now, but it was his day off. He wishes it wasn’t, he wishes that he had something to distract him. He thinks about grabbing his go bag, thinks about changing into what he wears under his scrubs and telling Shen and Ellis to just leave him the hell alone and let him work. But, he hears you in the back of his head, telling him to slow down, telling him to wait a moment, to sit with what he’s thinking instead of shoving it down.

So that’s what he does. He sits. And he thinks. And he fucking prays to whoever is listening. That you’re safe. That you’re having an okay time. That maybe you’ll come back. Even though he’s a piece of shit. Even though he’s the one who told you to leave. You’re just following his orders, after all. 

Three small, basically unhearable, knocks strike his door. He pushes off his chair with a sigh, thankful he didn’t take off his prosthetic yet. He figures it’s a neighbor, he lives by a lot of older women who tend to check up on him. 

He opens the door with a force, but his eyes get heavy when he realizes it’s you standing there. 

“Did he fucking hurt you?” Jack thunders.

“What? How do you even know where I was?”

“Answer me.”

“No, he didn’t hurt me. He just–”

“You’re scaring me a bit, sweetheart.”

You let out a long breath, Jack has both of his hands on your shoulders, giving you the eye exam of a lifetime.

“He didn’t hurt me, he’s just not you. He’s too, spritely. Too eager. I don’t know.”

Jack fights a smile, he bites the inside of his cheek. “No one is me.”

“Not the time to be fucking cocky, Jack. We need to seriously talk.”

The smile he was fighting fades from his face. He becomes pale, his heart is tachy. 

“You fucked me up real good. You told me I was wrong about something that felt so right–” you say, crossing your arms and staring. You’ve entered the apartment at this point. You stand at the island in the kitchen.

He cuts you off. “I was wrong. I’m wrong. You’re what I need. I need you more than I need work, and I’ve never said that about anything.” 

Jack swipes a hand over his face, crossing the room to come stand in front of you. “I was scared, I was being a fucking pussy. Worrying about what people would think, worrying about you.”

“I don’t need anyone to worry about me.” you state firmly.

“I know that. I know that. Please, give it another go with me. I won’t fuck it up. I won’t. I see what it’s like now. I see it. I hear it. Loud and clear.” he’s inches from your face, holding you at your hips. 

You don’t move just yet. Your eyes scan his, you're used to his eye contact by now. You’re searching for any signs of lying, any signs of unseriousness, but there isn’t any. Jack gives you a sharp nod. His eyes are so sharp, you think that they could cut daggers into yours.

You swiftly nod back, just once. Up and down. And that’s all it takes.

Jack’s lips are on yours before you can inhale. All teeth and tongue, he wastes no time showing you how much he missed you. The grip at your hips tightens, and he pulls you closer to him, so that your hips grind against his. So that your stomach can feel his abs through the worn gray cotton t-shirt he has on. You try not to notice that it’s the shirt you would sleep in when you slept over, but you do. Because he’s a sentimental man, because he’s obviously been punishing himself with his memories of you.

He comes up for air and shakes his head at you. “Thank you.” he kisses you again.

“Thank me?” you query.

“Thank you for coming back. You know what I need.”

“You know what I need. I never had to fucking ask for anything. You just knew. Before I did.” you admit.

“You know me too. You know me better than anyone does, angel.”

You pull his face back to yours. Eager to feel his lips after a long five months. 

He grabs your hips again, hoisting you up onto him. You wrap around his midsection. The friction from your jeans rubs you just right and you moan into Jack.  

“Tell me more,” is all he says in response. 

You groan. “I didn’t miss your old man jokes.”

“Yes you did, that’s why you’re here.”

He lays you back in the bed and doesn’t give you a chance to respond. The kisses become more fervent as he pushes the gym shorts off of himself. You make quick work of your jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them down, along with your underwear. 

You and Jack didn’t need to talk it through any more. You were on the same page. You just understood it. You two could go hours without speaking, and still say a million words to each other. 

It’s like at work, all you had to do was shoot him a look and he understood. When a patient wasn’t going to make it, when something suspicious was going on, when something hysterical was going on, but you couldn’t laugh. You didn’t need words to convey how you were feeling. And if your eyes weren’t going to tell him tonight, your cunt definitely was. You could feel yourself dripping onto his sheets. 

“I don’t think I have any condoms. I–” Jack’s eyes dance around his minimalistic bedroom.

“I don’t care. I’m clean, you’re clean. Please, I need it.”

Jack doesn’t need to be told twice. He lines himself up, groans at the wet spot on the bed. And then he goes in. One long, deep, thrust. He bottoms out. You throw your head back onto the pillows before you’re reminded of his ‘thing’. Your eyes snap up at him and he grins. A cheshire smile. One that you couldn’t forget if you tried. 

His cock curves inside you like you’re two puzzle pieces. You clench around him until he has to ask you to let up.

He sets his pace. Long, deep, hard. Jack wasn’t one to fuck fast. He needed to enjoy it. To soak it all in. To feel you, to remember every inch of your walls. He wanted to always remember each individual fuck. What sets them apart? How did you look when you came this time versus the other fifty times? He once told you he thought about starting a sex journal so he could become the best at getting you off. 

Jack has about zero thoughts in his head that don’t surround around making you finish. He wants it like a prisoner wants an escape. He feels like he just saw his parole officer and they set him free, or put him on house arrest, he’s sure he’s not completely out of the dog house, but none of that matters to him now.

He’s inside you, and you’re making the noises he’s dreamt about every night since you left. “That’s it, pretty girl. That’s it.”

You clench again, hard. “I wanna– fuck– be on top.”

He doesn’t respond, just flips you over.

You straddle his waist and he pulls you in closer, sucking on your pert nipple. Jack guides your hips up and down before giving into what he really wants to do. 

Instead of moving you, he holds you still, opting to drive his cock up into you. You hiss, make a noise between a groan and a squeal. You bury your head into his shoulder and it moves you impossibly closer to him. 

He shifts so that one arm has a hold of your waist. The other comes between your two bodies, searching for your clit. He finds it, without looking, and rubs sharp circles that follow his pace on it. Your head flies back. 

“Fuck I’m—”

“Yup, me too, honey. C’mon, let me have it. Let it all go.”

You gasp at the feeling. It rushes out of you almost as soon as you recognize the tight knot in your stomach.  You can’t control your noises anymore, and neither can Jack.

He comes with you, burying his cock into your heat. He groans, over and over, and then pants.

You hum against him, resting your sweaty forehead against his. He moves so he can place a kiss on yours, a sweet one, to tell you you’re okay.

Neither of you make any effort to move, pleased to stay intertwined after being separated.

“What was his name?”

“Here come the questions. Can’t you let me enjoy this?”

“Never,” Jack quips. He shoots you a look, waiting for his answer.

“His name is Jack.”

His face turns pale, all jokes leave his brain, “You went on a date with someone who has my name?”

“I thought it would make the transition easier! I was hoping you wouldn’t ask!” you shake your head in shame. 

“How old was he?”

“Oh my god. That I am not answering. It doesn’t matter. The whole time I just thought about you, and your bullshit excuses for ending it. Telling me I need someone younger, c’mon.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Forgotten. We’re here now. Just don’t ever fucking do it again. I hate working day shift.” your face lights up. “Is that how you found out? Did Robby say something to you?”

Your mouth falls open at Jack’s cackling. 

“So old men gossip too, got it. This is fucked.” 

Jack shakes his head at you, calms himself down. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here.”

“You don’t have to. I know.”

[aislinregin]

I don't like getting political anymore. I have too much to protect, too much that leaves me and people I love profoundly vulnerable in the current climate. But I feel like I have to say this, so I'm going to do something that makes me sick to my stomach: I'm going to censor myself.

I have always told myself, my partners, my friends, my children that when you're getting the measure of someone, you should definitely trust your gut. Or your pet, whichever gets there first. Animals have a keen sense for danger, and your gut is just the part of you that doesn't realize you're supposed to be a civilized human. But also, possibly even more importantly, people always tell you who they are eventually. It might take a while, they might put on a good show for years. But sooner or later, people always tell you who they are and what they want to do. That can look different in different people. Let me give you an example.

When I was seventeen I started dating a guy I worked with. He was 19, so only a little older, but where I lived he was a legal adult so there was definitely a power dynamic at play that I was not equipped to navigate safely. This guy said all the right things, made all the right moves, for months. And the whole time my gut was whispering "this isn't right, something is wrong." But I could prove it, not even to myself, so I told myself I was imagining it. I was not imagining it. One day I was riding in the backseat of a car with this guy and he wanted to go to a friend's party. But it had been a long day for me and I was tired and I knew his friends were the type who would want to drink a lot of beer and act foolish and I was just not in the mood. So I said that was fine but he could go by himself because I wanted to go home and read a book. He said "no, we're going to the party." And I said "No, you can go if you want but I'm going home."

And then he slapped me across the face.

He did it once. I think it surprised him how little I reacted (it wasn't the first time I'd been slapped, it wasn't even the hundredth). I looked him in the eye and I remember very clearly that my gut was suddenly louder than a bullhorn: "YOU KNEW THIS WAS WRONG, AND NOW HE'S SHOWN YOU HOW."

So I smiled, all coy and sweet, and unbuckled my seatbelt to scoot over like I was going to cuddle up to him and "apologize." Then I unbuckled his seatbelt, reached across him, opened the door of the car, and shoved him out of the car. It was moving, slowly through a neighborhood, and the driver was so shocked he slammed on the brakes while I closed the door and locked it. The now ex boyfriend was screaming like he'd been shot (he was fine, was barely bruised). I told the driver that if he didn't drive me home right then I was calling the cops.

All that to say that people will always tell you who they are and what they want eventually. If they're being honest, what they say won't change much over time, just as they grow and evolve. You can track those changes, be part of them. But if they're lying or putting on a mask, sooner or later they'll slip up and then you'll know. What you do next will tell them a lot: it will tell them if you're going to let them be who they really are, if they can continue to use and abuse you. Trump has never been anything but brutally honest about who he is. He has been telling us from the start who he is and what he wants. And the whole damn country or even world has been scrambling to assure us that it's fine, he can't do those things, we have all these things that protect us (Congress, police, the military, the Constitution). But I have been listening to Trump and his people. I've heard everything they've said. They've told us who they are. And when people tell you who they are, the trick is to take them at their word. Believe them. So you know what? I believe him. But I can't shove him out of a moving car. I can get out of the car though. It's happened before. It's happened before here. We have a secret history no one wants to talk about, one with mass graves under residential schools less than two hours from where I sit right now, chemically castrated queers, non consensual lobotomies on autistics and other neurodivergents, internment camps and forced migrations and outright fucking massacres. What Trump and his puppeteers want is not out of line with this country's soul. This is not new. This is what this country has always been. It's time to believe it. It's time to get out of the fucking car.

Let's connect some dots here

The Trump administration kidnaps and sends hundreds of people to a prison camp in El Salvador with no due process (meaning they never have to prove these people committed whatever offence the Admin claims)

The Administration sets the precedent that anyone, up to green card holder and naturalized citizens, will be subject to this for practicing free speech in a way the Administration doesn't like

The Administration puts out two Executive Orders, one which says they believe trans people and parents of trans children are all sexual offenders and another that anyone who criticizes Israel is a terrorist

The President puts out a statement, in public, saying he wants to find ways to send US citizens to those foreign prison camps

The Administration directly defies 2 different SCOTUS decisions that say anyone who is deported must get due process and (this one a unanimous decision) they must return a wrongfully deported man

The US President now tells the President of El Salvador, again in public, that they will need to expand their facilities because he wants to start sending "homegrown criminals" to El Salvador very soon

We aren't even in boiling the frog territory any more, we're in a flash frier.

Like I hate sounding like a fucking tinfoil hat nutjob, but it's clear as day, right? He's saying exactly what he wants to do. And no one is doing anything about it. They're just saying "hey that's illegal!" and then letting it happen anyway.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Dating in a Dream - Jamil Viper

SUMMARY: What would his dream be like, exactly the same as in the original story, but with the small detail that he is dreaming that you two are dating?

CHARACTERS: Jamil Viper x Reader 🐍🦐

TAGS: Fluff; a little angst; GN Reader; In a Relationship (kinda); Kiss

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 7 and Jamil’s dream (Eng Server)

WORD COUNT: 6.220 words

COMMENTS: This was written as a companion piece to the original dream story, so the parts that are the same as the game are just summarized.

I would also like to say: I kept the endings "sama" and "bocchan" because I thought they would make more sense, and since "sama", from what I researched, is gender neutral it could be used with Yuu. I don't know if Jamil's shawl has a specific name. And I'm not good with color names.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy 🐍

Dating in a Dream: Idia / Epel / Rook / Vil / Kalim / (Jamil) / ...

“Aether signal tracking successful.” Ortho announces. “We have arrived at the designated coordinates.”

Kalim seemed to have enjoyed the dream-to-dream journey, and even compared it to his carpet rides. But Vil didn't look or feel very well. It seemed like some kind of motion sickness specific to those dream travels. Everyone agrees that Vil should rest. Silver and Ortho stayed with him in the shade, while you, Grim, Sebek, Kalim and Idia, or rather his tablet, went for a walk to analyze the world of that dream a little more.

After walking around for a while, Sebek comments that it is as hot as in Kalim's dream. Which is explained by the fact that both dreams take place in Scalding Sands. Kalim recognizes the Camel Bazaar and suggests that you all should buy Vil some coconut juice, it's cold and refreshing and might help him feel better. Grim agrees, but Idia and Sebek fear that this could cause problems because they don't have the local currency. However, Kalim assures that everything will be fine.

Kalim orders, to everyone's surprise (or almost everyone's), TEN coconut juices. The vendor gives him a heap of whole coconuts with an opening at the top and a straw each. Kalim encourages you all to try a sip and you do so. It really felt good in that heat. Kalim prepares to leave with the coconuts when the vendor calls his attention.

“Excuse me, sir! You need to pay.”

“Pay? Sorry, I don't have any cash on me.” Kalim responds too naturally and tells the vendor that he can just bill his house like usual.

But the vendor didn't know what Kalim was talking about. When Kalim told him his name the vendor recognized the name, however...

“Al-Asim, huh? If that's true, that's even less reason to put anything on a tab. You think you can dine and dash at MY stall? You've got some nerve, kiddo!”

“This is going south fast...” You say. “There's no returning the juice now that we've drunk it...” You approach Kalim to talk to him about that situation and that's when the vendor finally sees you well.

“OH! (Y/N)-sama!” The vendor practically stutters your name and completely changes his attitude. “I-I didn't see you were in this group. Are they your friends? I am so deeply sorry for my bad manners. If you don't have money with you either, I can just bill the Viper's house if you'd like.”

“The Viper's house?” Kalim wonders. “Why Jamil's house?”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” Grim whispers loudly at your feet. “Just say yes and get us out of this!”

You accept the vendor's offer and he lets you go with all those coconuts and a smile on his face. But a slightly scared smile. Returning to Vil, Silver and Ortho, you all discuss what happened.

“So, (Y/N) seems to have more power here than Kalim.” Ortho observes. “And apparently they are also somehow connected to Jamil Viper's house.”

“But how?” Sebek wonders. “And why?”

“Well, by the way the vendor reacted when he saw (Y/N)...” Idia says. “I have an idea... but let's analyze this place better first.”

Vil and Ortho exchange glances with each other, probably thinking the same thing as Idia.

“We can start by checking my place.” Kalim suggests. “Jamil's place is on our grounds.”

Arriving at the place where Kalim's house would be, it was deserted... Literally.

“Wh... This can't be right... MY HOUSE IS GONE! The main building, the annexes, Jamil's home, they're all gone! Where'd everybody go?!”

A local resident who was passing by asked if you were tourists and told you that the Asim Palace had a change in ownership years back. The new owner had it relocated to high ground on the outskirts of town. He didn't know who the new owners were, but he know that the Asims had to give up their house after their business failed.

You go look for the palace.

You all go to where the palace was now and Kalim is shocked to discover that it was true that his house really did get relocated to higher ground. And not only that, but it looked like the exterior's been repainted too. The roofs have gone from teal to red, and the walls from white to black.

“Hey!” A Guard suddenly approaches. “What are you kids doing here? This is a private－ ah! (Y/N)-sama! It's you, and Kalim. My apologies, I hadn't recognized you from afar. Jamil-bocchan has been looking for you to go to school together.”

“Jamil?” Kalim steps forward. “Jamil is here?!”

“What kind of question is that? This is where Jamil-bocchan lives... Viper Palace!”

You discover that the one who bought up Kalim's home was Jamil's father, the head of the Viper family. He bought that manor from the Asims when they were in sore need of money, and know the Vipers were the richest family in Silk City.

After the guard's explanation, you hear music coming from somewhere and an elephant emerging through the front gates at the head of a whole parade. You see that the guy riding the elephant was none other than Jamil, wearing a uniform just like the one the fake Jamil wore in Kalim's dream, but this one was red and black instead of turquoise and white.You also see the dreamer's silver bird around his head.

“Make way! Coming through!” Another guard announced. “Make way for Jamil-sama!”

You all step aside.

“Why are YOU making way, Kalim?” The guard who was with you questioned him. “Take this parasol and join the procession!”

Since you were distracted looking at that guard and Kalim, you got startled when you suddenly felt something grabbing you by the waist and lifting you into the air. When that thing finally lets go of you, you are in Jamil's arms and you realize that that thing was the elephant's trunk.

“Where were you, my desert bloom? You are quite late.” Jamil asks you and then looks at your clothes. “Have you been shopping? Hm... no offense, but I've seen you in better clothes.” He smirks.

Jamil lands you on the elephant's back, but you can't stand on your own and cling to Jamil. He laughs.

“You haven't gotten used to it yet, have you? But let me just change those clothes real quick. You can't go to school without a uniform.” He uses his magic pen to turn your NRC uniform into a uniform similar to the black and red clothes with gold jewelry he was wearing. “Much better~” he says in a lower, slightly seductive tone. “Black already looks good on you, but red looks even better.” He grabs you firmly by the waist to hold you, before turning to the people in the procession behind you. “Get marching, and don't break formation!”

“Jamil looks like he's having a ton of fun!” You hear Kalim say right behind the elephant.

“You there, quiet down! Less talking, more walking!” Jamil orders him.

You look back and see two lines, in front of one of them is Sebek, followed by Vil and lastly Silver, in front of the other is Kalim, followed by Ortho and lastly Grim, who you imagine would be complaining.

“So...” You try to chat with Jamil. “How long is the path to school again?”

“Is it just me, or are you more spacey than usual?” He looks at you slightly suspicious. “Unless... Oh, you're asking because you're tired from shopping, aren't you? Well, Jahar Sahir College is on the other side of the city, but the path is straight so you'll see we'll get there in no time. Enjoy the parade.” His watchful gaze returns to the people behind the elephant. “You there － your parasol is drooping. Hold it properly!”

“Whoops, sorry! I'll fix that right away.” You hear Kalim apologize.

Jamil is very suspicious and attentive. If you take too many risks, he might realize that you are not one of the NPCs from his dream. And it’s not a good idea to take that risk more than 2.5 meters above the ground.

Suddenly, in the midst of the euphoria of the moment, Jamil pulls you to lie on his other arm, making you lose your balance and scaring you. Even if you shouted in fright, it was just another scream in the middle of the cheers. Jamil laughs before pulling you back to your feet and grabbing you to hold you steady. If you hug him or cling to him, he will like it even more.

“What was that?!” You ask, it really looked like you were going to fall off the elephant.

“Ha ha ha!” He laughs in a way you don't remember ever seeing. “I just felt like surprising you.” He smirks. “Or maybe it was a little punishment for disappearing on me and arriving so late to the parade.”

And as another surprise he kisses your lips quite lovingly, but only for a couple of seconds. When he breaks the kiss, he laughs at your surprised face.

“I know, I don't usually do this with so much attention on us. But no one will dare tell us anything.” his smile had a hint of menace.

“All right, we're here.” Jamil finally announces. “Parasols closed, elephants to the stables!”

Jamil leads your elephant to a special platform for you to get off, and he helps you, giving you his hand to support you. You look around and see a school just like the school in Kalim's dream, but once again red and black instead of teal and white. And the statue in the fountain was also different. It wasn't the Ruler of the Oasis's, but you recognized this one, it was a statue of the Sorcerer of the Sands, the same man from the Scarabia Dorm.

“We should go look for Kalim.” Jamil bends his arm to invite you to intertwine yours with his. You do so and he starts walking towards the fountain. “Kalim! Where are you?!” He shouts displeased.

“Oh, I'm right here!” Kalim waves with a big smile. “Hello!”

“Don't give me that!” Jamil retorts. “How can you loaf around without looking after your boss...? Wait. What's with that outfit? Did you botch your color-changing magic again?”

It was as if all that joy of his had disappeared as soon as he approached Kalim. It was a little sad to see, both from Kalim and Jamil's side.

“Huh? I didn't botch this.” Kalim explains. “It's supposed to look like the Ruler of the Oasis. Cool, right?”

“The Jahar Sahir College uniform uses traditional red and black colors like what the illustrious Sorcerer of the Sands wore. What were you thinking, bleaching them to your whims? The nerve.” Jamil takes his magic pen and changes the colors of Kalim's clothes to the same as his.

“Ooh, the colors changed! These are pretty nice too, actually. Thanks, Jamil!”

“I think you mean to say, 'Thank you very much, Jamil-sama, sir.’” Jamil corrects with an offended expression. “Honestly... You'll never let go of that pampered rich boy demeanor, will you? Look. The Asim family owes the Viper family more money than you could pay off with a lifetime's worth of work. So you should try to make yourself at least a LITTLE useful to me.”

“Jamil!” You say, as if asking him to moderate his words.

“I know, you don't like it when I'm like this to Kalim, but he needs to know his place.” He looks at you strangely, almost sulking. “You always had a soft spot for him that I never understood.” he addresses the group again. “By the way, who are you people? Jahar Sahir College isn't open for the general public to just waltz in.”

Silver explains that they are from Night Raven College and Vil says that the reason they came to Scalding Sands was a Film Research Club project, but that they had heard so much about Jahar Sahir College that they had to visit it. He said they were looking for the reception and it was shortly after that Kalim spotted them and approached them. Jamil seems suspicious at first, but after thinking about it for a while he supposes there is nothing strange about it.

“Considering their shabby attire and vapid expressions, I'm sure they're simply students.” Jamil murmurs.

“Hey, I heard that!” Grim informs.

“Oh dear, I beg your pardon.” Jamil says smugly. “I let my inner voice slip out there...”

“Wait a minute...” Grim notices the way Jamil talks to him. “You don't recognize me?”

“Recognize you?” Jamil repeats, confused. “My apologies, but I don't remember ever meeting a little beast like you.”

“WHAT?! You know (Y/N) but you don't know me?!”

“What does one thing have to do with the other?” Jamil turns to you. “Do you know this strange cat?”

As Grim complains that he's not a cat, you think about what to say. But what should you say? That you don't know him? That you met him once? But when? And how? The more time you let pass, the more suspicious Jamil would become.

“We crossed paths with (Y/N) before the parade.” Vil saves you. “I think Grim developed a special liking for them after meeting them.”

You see Grim look surprised at that excuse and then lower his ears a little sad, reluctantly accepting his new role in Jamil's dream.

“I can see why.” Jamil smirks. “I've never met anyone who wasn't enchanted by (Y/N). Which is ironic coming from someone who is not a mage. Allegedly.” He looks at you with that mischievous smile and raised eyebrow.

“Forgive my indiscretion if so.” Ortho says. “But would I be correct in concluding that you two are a couple?”

“Yes, you would.” Jamil answers casually.

“However, you said that they are not mages, but they are students of Jahar Sahir College?”

“An exception was made due to personal circumstances.” Jamil said defensively. “Nothing you need to... worry about.” He finished in a slightly threatening tone despite the smile. “Returning to the subject of your visit. As the student council president, I would be a far more fitting person to show you around campus than Kalim.”

“Oh, truly?” Vil smiles. “How fortunate for us to receive hospitality straight from the student council president himself.”

“I wouldn't want Kalim giving them the impression that our students are subpar.” He mutters.

Jamil says that, personally, he is interested in hearing about Night Raven College. He knows about the Dark Mirror and says that Scalding Sands also has long been a flourishing producer of magical artifacts.

“There's the Magic Flying Carpet, the Great Serpent Staff, the Hourglass of Clairvoyance...” He looks at you for a split second with a smile on the corner of his mouth, when talking about the hourglass. “And the Magic Lamp.”

Jamil says that the Sorcerer of the Sands himself employed such artifacts in his great deeds, and that to this day many people in Scalding Sands, including students from Jahar Sahir College and Jamil himself, are interested in them. He also brags about his family's treasure being bursting with artifacts collected from all over the world.

“I'd love to hear more about the ones housed at your school.”

“Ooh, wow! You liked (Y/N)? I had no idea!” Kalim says. “I'm so happy for you two. And you're the student council president? That's great, Jamil!”

“Why are you acting like this is the first you've heard of it? Not only do you GO to this school, but you and (Y/N) are friends. Now stop standing around and prepare a proper reception for our guests”

“Whoops! Right, I'm supposed to work for Jamil. Okay, a proper reception means a party, right? I got this!”

Kalim starts by asking someone to prepare a party, until Jamil reminds him that this was HIS job. Then Kalim says that a party needs drinks, but instead of going to the kitchen to get some, he uses his signature spell, Oasis Maker, to make it rain.

“You fool!” Jamil says to Kalim as he uses his own shawl to cover you and try to keep you from getting too wet. “Who goes around spraying water without any warning?!”

“We'll need food, too.” Kalim continues, oblivious to what Jamil was saying. “I'll go grab some food from the kitchen! Be right back!” The rain dissipates as he runs away towards the interior of the main building.

“What's gotten into him?” Jamil mutters again. “He's never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's usually not THIS bad.”

“Maybe he's just too excited that we have guests from so far away?” You suggest.

“Trying to alleviate his incompetence as always.” he mutters to you, slightly disapprovingly, before turning back to the others. “Ahem... I'm sorry you all had to see that.”

“Please, don't worry about it at all.” Silves tells him.

“Here you are, Jamil - uh, I mean, Jamil-sama!” Kalim comes back. “I brought a bunch of your favorite foods. Look! I've got a whole pot of curry, some dates... Oh, and lots of silky melons! Where should I put them?”

“I had a bad feeling, but seriously... Who brings the food out before they even set out rugs and tables?! This is beyond bad. You're utterly useless!”

“Ah hah hah! Sorry about that! I've never done this sort of things before.” Kalim apologizes, good-humored as always. “Jamil-sama, could you hold the pot of curry? (Y/N), Grim, you hold the dates and melons.”

“Mrah! Don't plop a whole pile of melons on my head!” Grim appeals unsuccessfully. “Geez, this is heavy!”

“Okay, I'll get some rugs next!” Kalim announces excitedly and runs away again.

“Hey, wait! What kind of staff makes their bosses and guests do the work?!”

“I thought you hated dates.” You say, looking at the large basket full of them that Kalim passed into your hands.

“And I do.” Jamil confirms. “At least someone remembers. Ahem... I'm so sorry about this.” he apologizes to Grim too. “I'll keep the dishes levitated with magic. You don't have to hold them.”

“Ooh, it's all floatin' now.” Grim says relieved. “That's much better!”

“Ugh, that dimwit gets on my last nerve. Mom and Dad are far too lenient. And so are you.” Jamil tells you.

“I see you don't like that about me.” You concluded as the others spoke amongst themselves.

“It's not that I don't like that side of you and you know it. But there are people who don't deserve it.”

“Well, I think Kalim deserves it.” You defend him.

“How stubborn.” Jamil sighs. “But I'd be lying if I said I disliked it. Depending on the situation, it's quite attractive.” he smirks.

You didn't know, but while the two of you were talking about Kalim, the others were also talking among themselves about Jamil and you.

Grim wondered if Malleus's spell wasn't supposed to be giving people happy dreams, but Jamil was in a snit, he didn't seem all that happy to him. The Shroud brothers concluded that this dream followed the same pattern as Vil's dream. Kalim was a source of stress for him, just like Neige was to Vil. But Kalim exerts an outsized influence over Jamil's personality and capabilities in reality. Removing a figure that influential would make the dream more prone to major paradoxes. Unlike Grim, and maybe that's why Jamil didn't remember him.

“Nonetheless...” Ortho sees Jamil smiling at you, even after that silly little argument. “He seems pretty happy with (Y/N).”

“True, he seems more relaxed with them.” Silver agrees.

“We must not deviate from the main point!” Sebek reminds them. “We need to make Jamil realize this is a dream as quickly as possible!”

“Right.” Silver agrees. “Between this place and the bazaar, Jamil's definitely got a strong imagination. I don't think a simple shock would do the job. How do we approach this...?”

Kalim returns, saying he went to Zahab Market and got some nice pieces from the rug merchant. Vil comments that those "nice pieces" look like they'd cost an arm and a leg. Jamil finally seems satisfied with Kalim's work, taking the opportunity to boast again about his family being the richest and most influential in the city.

“Anyway, check this out! Doesn't this carpet take you back?” Kalim shows him a carpet almost identical to the flying carpet of his that you knew, but instead of red, this one was purple.

“Take me back? Why would it?”

It was a regular, unenchanted replica of the flying carpet. Kalim talks about a time when the two of them and his father went to a rug merchant, Kalim thought it was a real flying carpet, spread it out on the ground and walked right onto it. That got him a scolding.

“How could I forget? The look on that merchant's face when you stepped on a vintage silk carpet with your muddy shoes－HRK!” The dream world begins to distort. “Wait... I would never take someone as overeager as Kalim to a high-end store. Rgh... What's going on?! I suddenly feel dizzy...”

Seeing Jamil wavering, the others encourage Kalim to keep talking. Kalim remembers a time when they snuck out of the manor to visit the Camel Bazaar and drank coconut juice together, but Jamil says that Kalim was the one sneak out on his own and Jamil had to scramble after him. Then he remembers a time, just before they enrolled in Night Raven College, when Jamil used his signature spell to make the bad guys fight each other to get him and Kalim out of trouble. But this time Jamil insisted that he didn't know what he was talking about.

Kalim says that he was always the best and most dependable friend he could have, and that he trusted everything would work out just fine as long as he left it in Jamil's hands. But he was the only one of them who felt that way and now he know that Jamil hated it all along.

“That's why you used (Y/N), Grim, and the students in Scarabia to try and get me kicked out and sent home, right? Winter break sure threw me for a loop. I was super crushed when you betrayed me and told me you hated me.”

“Used (Y/N)?! How dare you... I would never... I... I did... What I did... That Winter break...? Betrayed? Augh! My... My head!”

The world distorts a little more.

Kalim says he doesn't know what Jamil is thinking, but he knows that the person he is right now isn't the person he really wanted do be. He wanted to be the best version of himself, but that isn't this.

“Remember who you truly are!” Kalim transforms his clothes into his Scarabia Housewarden uniform, which makes Jamil start to remember.

“What was that scene just now? It shouldn't be familiar to me, but... it is. The... The real me is...”

“JAMIL-SAMA!” You hear someone shout, and a second Kalim, wearing a Jahar Sahir College uniform, appears running.

“There are two Kalims!” Silver says. “That means...”

“Yes, it must be the darkness.” Vil completes.

“Jamil-sama, when I heard you went to school earlier than usual. I scrambled to catch up...” Fake Kalim says, worried. “Oh no, how could this be?! Please, hold on! I'll get you to a doctor! Guards! GUARDS!”

The ground was painted black and Jamil began to sink rapidly into darkness, surrounded by a dark fog that prevented him from seeing you all well. And guards of black goop formed to prevent you from approaching them.

“Kalim...?” Jamil says with some difficulty.

“Yes, that's right. I'm the real Kalim, your loyal retainer.”

“Huh? Jamil, look again! That's not me!” the real kalim tries to warn him.

“He's an assassin sent to end you.” the fake Kalim tries to convince him “Don't listen to a word he says.”

“Wait...” Jamil looks directly at you with heavy eyelids struggling to stay open. “(Y/N)... they...”

Black goop rises from the ground and forms a figure, a perfect copy of you, also wearing Jahar Sahir College's uniform.

“I'm right here, my love.” your copy tells him. “They had the nerve to impersonate your beloved as well. But I'm here now. The real me. The real (Y/N). Look in my eyes. As long as you stay here, you can be a ruler forever. Money, land, freedom, love... Everything is yours!”

“Yes... That's the truth...” Jamil gives in. “You're absolutely right, both of you...”

“Wait! Trust us, not them!” Kalim shouts again. “JAMIIIL!”

But none of that stopped the darkness from swallowing Jamil.

“Stop disturbing Jamil-sama's sweet dreams, you street rats!” The false Kalim commands you.

“As if we'd listen to you!” Sebek retorts. “Let's do this!”

You all change your clothes and fight the darkness. And after defeating it, Kalim jumps into the pool of black goop without hesitation behind Jamil, followed by all of you.

When you open your eyes again, you see that you’re in the Hallway of Scarabia Dorm. By the red light that dimly illuminated the place and the dark fog, you realized that it was the same scenario as when Jamil overbloated. Suddenly, you hear a creepy laugh you've heard before and you all go to the lounge.

“I did it... I finally got Kalim ousted from school and claimed the position of housewarden for myself!” Jamil is the center of attention in the room, wearing his drom uniform, and had that psychopathic smile on his face. “Bring on the food and drinks! This calls for a celebration. The foolish king is gone, and the true power behind the throne has risen in his place!”

While the Scarabia students follow his orders, you see Azul next to Jamil with that red glow in his eyes.

“Wait a minute, those eyes...”

“Hey, (Y/N). You put it together too, right?” Grim tells you in a whisper. “Looks like Azul ain't fakin' it like he did during winter break. He's really under Jamil's control.”

Most of the dorm's students, who were all actually the darkness in disguise, were gathered in the lounge. You were decidedly outnumbered. Idia says that the best thing would be to get into a more advantageous position and make a surprise attack, so you will quietly make your way behind the students and then launch a coordinated strike on cue. Silver says that Idia should give the signal and the others would carry out the attack.

“Ahh, I feel on top of the world. So this is freedom! How sweet it is.” Jamil keeps chattering. “The biggest thorn in my side, Kalim, is gone. Azul has fallen into my hands.” he looks to his right side to see Azul standing right there. “And (Y/N)...” He looks to his left side, but finds no one. “...is trying to escape again? *sigh* Bring them back to me!” he orders the Scarabia students.

Silver pulls you behind a pillar and you all hide.

“Mrah! What do we do now?!”

“Hand (Y/N) over.” Idia says to everyone's surprise.

“What?! Have you gone insane as well?” Sebek protests as quietly as he can. “What about the surprise attack?”

“Listen, if Jamil really likes (Y/N) he won't hurt them.” Idia explains. “And (Y/N) can help distract him and provide a more effective surprise attack.”

Sebek, Silver and Grim are reticent, but you are the one who takes the initiative and gives yourself to the Scarabia students while the others remain hidden. Two students hold you by the arms and take you to Jamil. And to your surprise, as soon as they let go of you the darkness forms shackles around both of your wrists.

“It pains me to see you reduce to this, (Y/N).” Jamil tells you and pulls you by the chains of the shackles to bring you closer to him. “But you insist on resisting me. Oh, and those clothes... Let's give you more suitable ones, shall we?” He uses his magic pen to turn your NRC uniform into a Scarabia Dorm uniform. He laughs with satisfaction. “A beautiful desert bloom such as yourself should be on the arm of the most powerful housewarden in Night Raven College. What do you say, my dear? Why refuse to be my new Vice Housewarden, and partner?”

“To be honest... I also have a crush on you, Jamil.” you admit and he smiles, too pleased. “But not this version of you. The real you. Or rather, the best version of you, that I know exists behind this senior psychopath.”

“The... real... Hrk!” his head hurts and the world distorts a little, but Jamil pushes you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

“I'll teach you some respect... but until then...” he orders that the Scarabia students grab you by each arm and lift you up. “Let's just calm that rebelliousness of yours for a while.”

As the students hold you by the arms, he holds your chin to make you look at him. You knew what he wanted to do to you and struggled to keep him from using Snake Wisper on you. You are saved by Kalim, who attacked Jamil before the signal with a solid blow.

“Wh... Kalim?! What are you doing here?!”

Silver and Sebek attack the students who were holding you and free you from the shackles by breaking them.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Silver asks you, holding you in his arms in case you need a little comfort.

“Huh? I don't understand...” Sebek says. “The students aren't attacking us...”

“YOU BIG DUMMY!” You hear Kalim say.

“D... Dummy?!” Jamil responds in disbelief.

“The biggest one there is!” Kalim punches him again. “How can you treat (Y/N) like that?! I may not have realized you liked them, but I know you would never do these things to them. You don't want to force them to like you. You want them to like you for who you are. That's why you started getting nervous whenever we met with (Y/N), right?

“Nervous? ... Hrk!”

The dream world begins to distort as he remembers the first time he felt good around you and then begins to worry if you secretly hated him for what he did to you and Grim on Winter break.

“You don't want to use them, you don't want to deceive them.” Kalim continues. “And the same applies to competing with others. What you wanted wasn't a prize earned through dirty trickery! And you know it! Wake up right this instant, Jamil!”

“What I wanted? ...Hrk!”

The world distorts again with another memory: Jamil telling Kalim to shut up! Telling him not to give him orders! That he was through following other's orders! That he was going to BE FREE!

“Argh, you keep trying to tell me my business...” Jamil says, annoyed. “What would someone as oblivious as you even know about me?!” he punches Kalim.

And the two of them begin to fight while insulting each other. Until the insults are reduced to one adjective at a time between punches. Cynic, Imbecile, Jerk, Airhead, Blockhead...

“Such childish bickering...” Sebek comments. “The other students and Azul are all pawns made from darkness, but they're just standing there staring.”

He suggests that you aid Kalim, but Silver stops him.

“Let them get it all out of their systems.” Silver says. “Sometimes a fist fueled by emotion is more effective than any words. ...It definitely was for me.” He gives a small smile.

After some time of fighting, Kalim starts laughing.

“Huh? What could you possibly have to laugh about right now?” Jamil questions.

“Y'know, Jamil... I think this is the first time in our 17 years together that we've ever fought like this!”

“What?! Well, obviously! If I beat you up in reality, it would spell disaster for... Ah?!” The world distorts again. “Gaaah! Augh! It hurts... My head! In reality...? Why did I say that? Rgh, augh...!”

“That's right. This is all just a dream! Please, Jamil, remember! Remember the real you!”

“Right... That day... What I did to you... What I did to... Ah, aaagh...” Jamil remembers what happened on winter break, the dream shatters and he wakes up. “Heh. Haha... Ahahaha... That's right. I failed to oust you that day.”

Kalim celebrates that you all managed to wake up Jamil, but after a little chit-chat the ground starts to shake and fissures began opening all over the place. The dream was starting to break down because Kalim wasn't supposed to exist in it.

Idia warns everyone to get out of the dream as quickly as possible, but then the floor started giving out beneath Kalim. Jamil dove in to save him and the darkness began to dragging him in. Kalim grabbed Jamil to try to get him out of there, but Jamil told him to leave him and punched him when Kalim refused to do so. If you had also tried to help Jamil, he would have just push you too. And Jamil was swallowed by darkness.

When you returned to the dream after the Shroud brothers informed you that it was safe, you landed in Jahar Sahir College. And when you see Jamil he is wearing his Scarabia uniform. Kalim ran to hug him but Jamil dodged successfully.

You and Silver say you're glad he made it back, and Jamil says that he owe all of you a great deal before asking if someone could please fill him in on what was going on.

After the Shrouds show him the explanatory video he says he gets the general gist, and admits that he wasn't entirely sure the rest of you weren't more illusions he subconsciously conjured up, but he never would have thought of the cheat tools idea that Idia came up with. And continued talking about the possibility that it was part of Malleus' spell but it didn't make sense to bring it up to him at all, if that were the case.

“So it's probably safe to accept that all of you aren't illusions created by me or Malleus.” Jamil finally concludes.

“Dude, you were questioning our whole premise...” Idia comments.

“Why wouldn't I, after having my mind, my memories, and my whole world rewritten? But... if you're all real that means...” Jamil looks at you and starts to get worried. “W-when exactly did you get here?”

“Some time before you appeared riding an elephant at the start of the parade.” Ortho answers.

“Yes, we were even part of it!” Kalim adds smilingly. “It was super fun!”

“S-s-so... those people at the parade...” Jamil stutters as the panic grows. “T-the person w-who was with m-me on top of the elephant...”

“Aaaall that until we lost you to that black goop after our fight.” Kalim adds, oblivious to the main point.

“So... that means... that (Y/N)... that whole time...”

“Jamil Viper, please breathe.” Ortho asks him. “I am detecting worrying imbalances in your aetheric structure.”

“Jamil looks like he's going to explode with embarrassment.” Idia says. “I don't even know if that's possible in a dream, but I'd rather not find out.”

You realize the best thing to do is to calm him down, he was unable to say a single word anymore. You take his hands, tell him everything is okay and ask him to breathe.

“I-I-I'm really sorry...!” He says still in panic and almost petrified. “I-I don't know why I did that... I-I didn't want to... I didn't...”

You hug him and feel how tense all the muscles in his body are.

“It's okay. I don't blame you.” You say in a whisper close to his ear. “We don't control our dreams. If you remember what happened, do you remember what I told you?”

“W-what did you tell me?”

You confess that you like him too and that you knew that wasn't the real him. Maybe you even say that you’re willing to forget all that and start over as it should be when you return to the real world.

You then feel Jamil’s muscles begin to slowly relax. Until he reciprocates your hug, is as gentle as it is strong.

“I'm sorry...” He apologizes in a whisper, probably the most sincere you have ever heard or will ever hear from him.

“Aww, GROUP HUG!” Kalim says excitedly.

“NOOO!” Everyone else grabs him and stops him from joining you.

“My goodness, Kalim!” Vil scolds him. “You really need to learn how to interpret social insights.”

When you break the hug, he still tries to look you in the eyes, but can't. You chuckle and cup his face to make him look at you.

“Ironic.” You say with a reassuring smile. “You being the one who doesn't want to look into another person's eyes.”

A small smile begins to form on his lips and he brings a hand to one of the ones you have on his face. He looks at your lips for a second and when he sees you smiling connivingly, he kisses you.

A kiss that lasts until Grim loudly clears his throat. As soon as Jamil breaks the kiss and looks at the others, remembering that they exist, he... isn't embarrassed. He smiles smugly at them, still holding you.

“Hey, last time I checked, it was still my dream.”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[valleydoli]

𝜗𝜚 Only You 𝜗𝜚

Cw 𝜗𝜚 MDNI, Stalking, Obsessiveness, Controlling Behaviour, Love Bombing, Murder, Fluff, Kidnapping, Smut, Toxic Sukuna, Yandere Sukuna? Readers a sweetie, (Touch her you die… like actually…)

𝜗𝜚 Series Masterlist…

𝜗𝜚 Previous Chapter | Chapter Three…

𝜗𝜚 WC: 3k

Luckily for Sukuna, his extremely compliant twin agreed to let him pick up his son from school, but the weekend couldn’t have been any slower for Sukuna.

Anything he did to occupy himself and keep you from creeping your way into his mind was a dud. He’s starting to think you’ve put some sort of spell on him. A minute couldn’t pass without you running through his twisted mind.

Any second he had to himself, he would spend it scrolling through your Instagram, saving some, if not all, pictures you’ve posted into a folder he has already made specially for you. Lucky for him, you post a lot, a bit too much. He doesn’t like that, you can't do that when you’re finally his. You just seem too… open.

Too trusting.

Too naïve.

See, you’ve tagged your apartment complex as a location, and you’re wearing a shirt with your work logo in another one of your posts. Your profiles are public for God's sake.

You’re incredibly naive.

You don’t know half of the disgusting, evil men out there. But it’s fine, he’s here now. Sukuna will always be there to keep you safe. He’s your protector. He’s your saviour. He was put on this earth for the sole purpose of protecting you, his angel.

You are his angel.

“What’re you doing to me?” Sukuna whispers to himself. He’s never felt this way before. He's never had someone occupy his mind to this extent. He’s never wanted to be with a woman like this. He doesn’t do relationships, as cliche as it sounds, but he would have rather been alone for the rest of his life. He's never wanted to have a girlfriend by his side, to hold, to kiss, to love, to protect. But with you, it’s different, you’ve changed him for the better. He needs you, and you need him.

You need each other.

*Ping*

‘I’ve found some stuff on the girl…’ Toji messages

Sukuna sighs heavily. Toji really tests his damn patience.

‘Like what, Toji? Don’t beat around the bush.’

‘My bad…’

‘She’s studying Art at university, in her 2nd year, and umm, she’s also a teacher at Megumi's preschool. Yano with your nephew… probably should have mentioned that, huh?’

What. The fuck. Jin AND Toji knew who you were before him?!

‘Toji, don’t piss me off. I told you her name, you don’t know her fucking name?’

‘I’m sorry, I dont know her fucking name. They just call her Miss Fluttershy or somethin, from that kids' show? My little horse? I think she mentioned her name before, I just forgot…’

‘You’re so fucking useless sometimes.’ Sukuna runs his large hand down his face.

My God. Yuji talks about you every fucking day. You gave him those stupid colouring books.

“Miss Fluttershy.”

The kids’ just as obsessed with you as he is.

‘Do you know what days she’s working?’

‘Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays’

‘Perfect.’

~~~

As Monday finally rolls by, Sukuna couldn’t be more thrilled to see you again. There hasn’t been a second since he met you that he hasn’t thought about you. What will you wear? A dress? It’s quite warm today. What perfume will you use? Do you have a favourite? How will you style your hair? In a bun? No, a ponytail!

His body is practically buzzing with excitement just to see your face again.

To smell you.

To hear your voice…

The way you say his name... It’s been echoing through his mind.

So soft and delicate.

What would you sound like yelling his name? What would you sound like moaning his name, while he slid his thick inches into your tight walls.

“Fuck…” he sighs, as he rubs against his growing member—

No.

Stop.

It’s almost 14:00, he’s got 30 minutes until he needs to pick up Yuji, (and meet the love of his life again,) and he looks a fucking mess. Hair disheveled, five o’clock shadow. He looks nasty. It’s not good enough for him. It’s not good enough for you.

Sukuna finally pulls himself out of bed, throwing on a wife-beater, a grey tracksuit and shaving his five o’clock shadow.

Great. Presentable.

15 minutes.

15 minutes until he sees you again.

~~~

“Come on, Yuji, honey, your daddy’s here.”

“No, it’s not my Papa, it’s Uncle,” the pink-haired boy says as he grasps onto your hand.

Oh, the mysterious brother Jin always speaks about, and the Uncle little Yuji admires.

“Really? I can’t wait to meet him! I’m sure he’s just as lovely as you.”

“No, he’s a big meanie,” The young boy deadpans.

Oh…

As you turn the corner with little Yuji trailing by your side, you’re faced with someone you didn’t expect to see at your place of work.

Sukuna.

How does he know where you work— wait. Is he here for Yuji? He’s Jin’s brother? The brother Jin and Yuji mentioned countless times?

There you are, and you look so beautiful. He was right, you’re wearing a dress. A floral dress. How adorable. He just wants to dress you up like the doll you are— wait.

You’re flustered. Why are you flustered? Aren’t you happy to see him? Did he do something wrong?

“Sukuna? You’re Yuji's uncle?” You inquired, “Wow… Come to think of it, you guys look so much alike. I should have noticed the moment I looked at you, huh?”

You begin to chuckle to yourself

“Actually, I think Jin and Yuji are happier looking than you.”

“He’s always angry, Miss Flutter,” Yuji chimes in.

He’s holding your hand why is he still holding your fucki—

No, he’s not about to be jealous of his 4-year-old nephew, no way.

Control yourself.

“Mhm, that little brat is my nephew.”

“I’m not a brat!” Yuji calls out

“You’re right, sweetheart, you’re the cutest one here, but don’t tell anyone I said that, okay? It’s our little secret.”

He vigorously nods his head, “Mhm, I promise!”

You’re good with kids, you’re so good with kids. You don’t understand how attractive that makes you. Oh, how desperately he wants to make you a mother. A mother to his kids, his twin—

“Suku, can Miss Flutter get ice cream with us?” He hears his nephew say.

Oh my God.

Yuji, you fucking genius.

“He’s right, you should come, it’s by my place, ‘Kaspas.’ I can take you home afterwards?”

Say yes.

“I do love that place, but I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

Angel, there wouldn’t even be a point in Sukuna's miserable life where you could intrude. Ever. If he could keep you by his side forever. He would.

“You could never intrude. Come on, my treat before our date.” He smirks as he desperately tries to convinces you to get ice cream with him… and Yuji.

Just fucking say yes. Do you not want to be around him?

“Hmm… okay fine, I’ll come along. Let me get my stuff quickly.”

Thank fuck.

Sukuna lets out a relieved sigh. You’re difficult. Is that normal for you? If it is, he's got to correct it. He can't have a disobedient girl by his side.

No way.

Again, Yuji pulls him out of his thoughts, “Suku, do you like Miss Flutter?” The young boy asks as he looks up at his uncle.

Sukuna chuckles and leans down to the boy’s ear and whispers,

“Don’t be a nosy brat.”

~~~

As you make your way to the car park, with Yuji still grasping onto your hand, you come into sight with Sukuna's car, an extremely expensive car. What the hell does he do for a living?

“Detective,” He answers back.

“Huh?”

“You’re thinking out loud. I’m a detective,” he admits.

“Woah, it pays well clearly,” you say as he opens the car door for you.

“Aren’t you a gentleman?”

“Just for you, angel,” he winks.

You’ve been watching him drive for the past five minutes. You can’t help but stare. He’s so beautiful. He and Jin hardly look alike as twins. Don’t get it twisted, Jin is just as attractive as his brother, but there’s something so ethereal about Sukuna's features. Almost as if he’s not a real person. Does he have any flaws? He was perfectly sculpted by the gods themselves. His arms are… massive, he clearly spends a lot of his time in the gym. His nose… is so… rideable. My goodness, how did you get this guy to approach you?

“You’re staring, angel, you like what you see?” Sukuna questions, as he cocks his brow.

“Yes, I actually do.” You shyly replied

“Well, we don’t live far from each other, you’re more than welcome to see me more.”

“I know I’m just— I’m really busy, as much as I’d like to see you, I need to focus on school and work…”

Sukuna wants to be mad, but you’re such a good fucking girl. You should focus on your studies, yes, but what about him? His focus is on you right now, so why isn’t yours on him?

Bullshit

“But, maybe we could have dinner tonight?” You innocently ask.

“I’m making lasagna, do you like it?”

“I love it, Miss Flutter!” Yuji chimes from the backseat

Honestly, Sukuna forgot Yuji was here.

Sukuna sternly looks at the boy through his rearview mirror. “No, you’re going home after this, brat.” He asserts.

“Hmph,” you hear from the sulking child, as he crosses his arms and pouts his lips.

“I’ll love whatever you’re making,” He grins.

“You might be my biggest fan behind Yuji, Sukuna. You’re not gonna start stalking me, are you?”

Sukuna grin falters

“‘Course not, I’m a normal guy. I promise.”

Liar.

~~~

The three of you arrive at the dessert parlour, 20 minutes later. It’s understandably packed since it’s a warm day. You find a table in the corner of the shop, giving Yuji the seat by the window, and Sukuna sitting opposite you.

“Hi, what can I get you guys today?”

“Cookies and cream!” Yuji yells at the server

“And for you, pretty?”

Sukuna's eyes darken and snap towards the boy. The fuck did he say?

You giggle.

You fucking giggled.

You think that pathetic attempt at flirting is cute?

“Vanilla ice cream, please, and some cookie dough.”

“And for you?” the guy mutters at Sukuna.

Sukuna side-eyes the server and mumbles a quick “nothing.”

The audacity this kid has to speak to you like that and you like it?!

“Sukuna, are you okay? You don’t want anything?”

“I'm not big on sweet things,” he comments bluntly.

“Oh-kayy, it’ll be about five minutes.” He finally walks away.

That little shit. Who the fuck does he think he is. And why the fuck are you feeding into his bullshit?

“What a creep,” he hears you say.

“I swear, everytime i come here he does that shit, it’s boring.”

“Does he bother you?”

“Every damn time. I just pretend I’m into it now, he was way creepier before,” you pout as you look out the window.

Sukunas lips twitch into a smirk.

Angel, you're never seeing that piece of shit again after today. Don't worry your pretty little head.

He’ll protect you.

“Why don’t we take it to go? And I’ll take you and the kid home before dinner,” Sukuna proposes.

“Yeah, I’d like tha—“ you begin to say but that dumbass server cuts you off.

“Here are your orders. And this is for you,” he winks at you before walking away.

It’s his number.

“Well, I guess he’s feeling confident today, huh?” You awkwardly say.

“Come on, Yuji, let’s go,” you say as you grab his smaller hand in yours to leave. You make sure not to pick up the tissue with the server's number on it and make your way to Sukuna's car. But don’t worry, Sukuna definitely made sure to pick up the tissue and stuff it in the pocket of his joggers.

“How about you take Yuji back without me, and I get started on dinner? I'll text you my address,” you say, but you don’t give Sukuna the chance to answer back, you’re already walking away.

“Bye, Yuji!” You wave.

Sukuna hates to see you go but fuck, he loves to watch you leave. How long until he gets a hold of you, really? How long until he can see you every second of every day? Really, how long? What if he kept watch of you—no, that's too much… is it though? He’d be able to keep an eye on you from afar, for now at least. It's not too much if it's keeping you safe.

“C'mon, kid, let’s go.”

~~~

You've never cooked for a guy before. I mean, you've cooked for Satoru before, but he's not a guy, he's… Satoru. Satoru, who lives down the hall, Satoru. You know? You wonder if he and Sukuna will get along if you both continue seeing each other.

You've texted Sukuna your address, so he should arrive soon. Luckily, you're prepared to have guests today, your apartment is spotless, well besides your bedroom but he won’t see that. Fuck you’re nervous, over some guy? But he's not just some guy. You've known his brother, his twin brother, for over a year now. This is insane.

Finally, you hear a knock at your door. He’s here. Gosh, are your palms sweating right now?

Calm down, you’ve got this. The food looks good, and you look good. Everything's going to be just fine. Now just open the door.

Once you swing your door, you’re faced with the biggest assortment of flowers. Peonies, roses.

You're in awe.

“Sukuna… these flowers… they’re my favourtie.”

You tweeted that they were your favourite flowers in 2018… Yes, he scrolled that deep into your socials.

“Gosh, they're so beautiful, thank you. I don't know where to put them. Come in quick before the food gets cold.” You say as you hurry excitedly to your kitchen.

Your apartment's cute.

Cosy, for a girl like you.

Sukuna bets you’d feel cosier in his apartment. You’d have so much more space for your books, your pretty shoes, your dresses. You’d feel at home. Home is wherever he is. You need to live with him. You need his protection. But for now he can just watch you. How? He has 4 mini cameras stuffed in his pockets he's planning on hiding around your apartment. There’s already one outside your door so he can see who comes in and out of your place.

He just needs to figure out where he wants to put the rest of them.

“Here, sit. Do you want something to drink? I have wine, some tropical juice and water of course.”

“I’ll just have water, I've actually got to go into work later.”

“Work.” He’s actually going to beat the shit out of the server that’s been harassing.

That’s still work, right?

“So,” you begin as you take a seat opposite Sukuna.

“I still can’t believe you’re Jin’s twin. You just seem the complete opposite especially in looks. You’re fraternal, right?”

“Yeah, I’m 6 minutes older.” He tells you

You sigh longingly, “I’ve always wanted twins… girls of course.”

You were made for each other.

“Wow, so do I, what a coincidence,” he admits.

“We might as well get started then, huh?” You suggest as you sip your wine.

He chokes on his drink.

What’d you say?

But before Sukuna can reply back there’s a knock on your door.

“Hey, you in there?”

A guy? What man is looking for you at this hour.

You roll your eyes before pushing back your chair and making your way to open the door for said man.

“Yes, ‘Toru? I’m kind of busy right now.”

‘Toru?

“I’m sorry but I could really need some help… please?” This “‘Toru” says with a charming smile.

Annoying.

“‘Kuna, you don’t mind if I help my neighbour quickly?”

“Kuna…”

“No, not at all.” Now if he didn’t need to hide the 4 cameras in his pocket around your house, he would mind. But this “‘Toru” guy is honestly helping him out.

“Ten minutes,” you tell him as you shut your door.

Sukuna instantly rises from his seat and makes a Beeline for your bedroom.

It’s messy.

You didn’t make your bed. Do you leave your bed unmade everyday? There’s a bottle of water on your side table. You didn’t finish it.

Weren’t you thirsty last night?

Sukuna runs his large hands across your bed sheets. Running his fingers along each crease you’ve made.

What side do you sleep on? Away from the door, right?

Makes you feel safe.

“Who else has slept in here? That ‘Toru?” He spits as he kneels down to your bed level

He can smell you. So sweet. What perfume is that? He puts his face right into your sheets and breathes your scent in deeply.

“Fuck,” he mutters into your sheets.

He was practically drooling.

“God, I think I love you, Angel.”

He’s started to rub on his crotch, your smell is getting to him.

Rock hard.

He’s a creep but he doesn’t care. You’re like a drug.

An addiction.

His addiction.

He begins to pull out his leaky length from his boxers, rubbing his thumb across his swollen red tip.

So much pre-cum it’s dripping onto the side of your duvet.

He strokes himself back and forth steadily, still breathing into your unmade bed.

It’s your hand stroking him; pretend it’s you. You’re whispering his name softly…

Sensually

His pace quickens.

You might be back soon. He needs to hurry. You can’t see him in such a… pathetic state. You can’t see him in this state at all. Not yet at least.

The schlick sound of his length could be heard from the other room, he’s desperate at this point. Whining for you, pleading for you.

“L-love you. Ugh, I love you, Angel.” He cries out as if he's confessing to you.

“Need you. So b-bad.”

His core tightens, hands clutching onto your sheets.

Wishing the load he’s about to release was spilling into your womb instead.

Soon

His throat lets out a guttural moan, he’s cumming, but not into you.

Into his hand.

His fucking hand.

Pathetic.

After Sukuna recuperates himself, he places each camera in a spot he knows you won’t see, but he’ll definitely see you.

He also takes a few presents for himself from your washing basket.

He’ll definitely make good use out of them.

It’s been 10 minutes and you’re not back yet. What’re you doing with your neighbour?

Just as Sukuna is wondering where you are, you open your front door dishing out apologies for your absence.

He’s not mad… Only because he has a date to attend.

A date with the Parlour Boy.

𝜗𝜚 Chapter Three…

a/n: ehhhh. ehhhhhhh he was creeping me out at the end icl but uh what do you think? i’ve never write this much before. i know for a fact im gonna come back and rewrite things in the future but here you go! goodnight ♡

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

Could you write something where Tess is jealous with how protective Joel is over you? Please and thank you 😊

thank you for this request. i hope you like it. have a great sunday, sweetie!

warnings: Tess is not nice to you, smuggling, talks of leaving QZ, Joel doesn't play much of a role in it

[my masterlist]

"Are you okay?"

You straightened up and adjusted the backpack that was weighing you down. "I'm fine." You mumbled.

A snort behind you made you turn around. Tess rolled her eyes. "She'll kill us eventually." she said.

"Really?" you replied. "That board would have collapsed under you too."

"I wouldn't have stepped on it."

"Right, your fucking sixth sense."

Tess opened her mouth to say something, but Joel raised a hand, silencing you both. You listened for a moment, but the building was quiet.

"We should go now." Joel finally spoke. "Let's go back. We have enough goods to trade."

You and Tess exchanged a quick glance, but neither of you said anything more. The tension between you was palpable. Tess had seemed irritated by your presence for a while now, and it was starting to tire you out. Like her and Joel, you were involved in smuggling and other work at Boston QZ. They needed someone to do a job, so you joined their team.

It wasn't immediately noticeable. It started with eye rolls, then verbal sarcasm. You felt like it happened every time you spoke to Joel or he made any kind of friendly gesture towards you.

Joel never mentioned whether there was anything more between him and Tess, and you hadn't tried anything more with him. It was just work. Yes, he was handsome, and you weren't used to anyone caring about you, even in the slightest. But that was Joel, wasn't it? He was grumpy and seemed distant from people. You could even say he didn't like people. But he tolerated you, unlike Tess.

It was late when you returned to QZ. It wasn't until the next day that you showed up at the apartment Tess and Joel shared. The woman was alone, but she watched with interest as you pulled more and more goods from your backpack. The loot had to be divided and exchanged for reasonable goods. Each of you wanted to gain something from it.

“Are you looking for a car battery?” you asked, sitting down at the table and watching Tess’s skillful hands sort through what you had brought.

She looked at you with curiosity and irritation. "Where did that idea come from?"

You shrugged. "Joel mentioned something." You replied and immediately noticed that the woman snorted. "I know someone who can help you."

She looked at you. "And you'll do it for free? Because you like me?"

You crossed your arms over your chest, ready for a verbal argument with her. “Do you want this or not? I don’t know why you’re so hard on me. I didn’t do anything to you.”

“Yes, Miss Perfect.” Tess snorted. “You don’t want anything in return because you expect him to be grateful.”

“Fuck!” you hissed. “Who would I want to please?”

“Joel, of course!”

Your mouth fell open in surprise. You were sure Tess was joking, but she was looking at you completely seriously. Your eyes went straight to the bedroom door. “He left,” Tess replied. “He had something to do.”

You leaned in towards her. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but me and Joel…”

“I know that.” Tess waved her hand. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it drives me crazy when I see the way he looks at you. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed! He’s always more caring and protective of you.”

“When it comes to you, he’s also…”

“He’s changed since he met you. He’s a hard ass, but I’ve known him for a long time.” Tess plopped down in the chair across from you and pushed her hair out of her face. “I have nothing against you, you’re strong and smart. You saved my life too, so…” she sighed. “We want to get out of QZ. Joel has a brother he wants to find. You could be useful.”

You looked at her like you didn't believe her words. Just yesterday you were ready to throw yourself at each other, and now Tess was offering you an escape from Boston. Madness.

Finally, you spoke up. "I can help you with the battery."

“I’ll go there myself. Thanks,” she said. “And you? Will you come with us? Joel will definitely ask you. He wouldn’t want to leave you here.”

"We're just friends." you assured her again, but the corners of her mouth turned up.

"For now."

You wanted to say something, but the door opened and you noticed that Joel was back. You quickly stood up from your chair. “I have to go back.”

“You don’t have to,” Joel replied, looking uncertainly at Tess, as if she was the reason you wanted to leave this place quickly.

However, you had already thrown your bag over your shoulder and passed him.

“Thanks for everything!” Tess quickly called out to you. You nodded and a second later you were gone.

Joel stared at the closed door for a moment longer, then glanced at the woman sitting at the table. “Did you say something to her again? Do you have to be so fucking mean to her?”

“Your little bird found us a battery,” Tess said, and was pleased to see the change in Joel’s face. “If we can figure this out, we can get out of here.”

Joel nodded. Tess smiled, then stood up and began clearing the table. “You should talk to her. She could be useful to us outside of Boston. She’s good.”

“I know she is.” Joel swallowed. “But is she…”

“Fuck, Joel!” Tess groaned. “You’re a grown man. Just go to her and do it.”

He nodded and glanced at the door, as if he had expected you to come in. Tess was right, she always had been. You could be useful outside of Boston, and he couldn't imagine you being left here alone. Yes, he would talk to you. You would leave this place together.

[fairestwriting]

Hii!!!!!^^ I hope ur doing well!!

May I req Riddle and Epel with a gn!s/o that plays piano and sometimes plays the piano just for them (if that doesn't make sense I'm sorry I'm actually so horrible at explaining </3)

Have a nice day!! :D

you have a nice day too <3 and don’t worry it totally makes sense!!

𐙚 Riddle Rosehearts

Yeah, his mom was definitely was the type to make him take piano lessons as a little kid… They never really went anywhere, she didn’t want them to — because god forbid Riddle ended up wanting to be a musician or something — and it’s been a long time since his last lesson, but Riddle still holds some feelings for the instrument…

…Which are, basically, just a secret, mild distaste. He doesn’t dislike the way it sounds or anything like that, and it’s not something he mentions to anyone. Especially not to you, right after you reveal to him that you can play with that proud smile on your face. He’s not about to rain on your parade just because he didn’t want to play as a small child.

Riddle is kind of expecting it to feel some type of stressful when you offer to play something for him, he’s remembering the pieces he had to practice all those years ago, over and over again… But as soon as the first few notes come in, he feels the very opposite feeling starts to settle in his chest.

He blinks, watching you as you play. There’s a decent chance he’ll recognize the music, if it’s anything classical, perking up with a soft ”Oh, I didn’t know you could play that one.” Riddle is surprised at himself in how pleasant it feels to talk to you about the music, sharing small comments between stretches of wordless melody. It kind of flusters him, thinking you want to play for him specifically, but it’s overpowered by how comfortable it feels, too.

𐙚 Epel Felmier

Epel never really went anywhere near most musical instruments… Of course it’s not like he doesn’t even know what a piano is or anything like that, but the places he went to for elementary and middle school didn’t really have the budget to get a ton of music equipment…

He knew you played the piano because it came up in one of your conversations. He’s still kind of excited to finally be around more people his age even though it’s been months since he enrolled, so he always ends up asking people about what they do for fun — And he immediately thought of you when he found out one of the Pomefiore dorm’s many practice rooms was a music one.

”So, you said you missed playing the piano, right? I got a surprise for you.” He comes up to you one day, his excitement radiating through his words as he’s already dragging you towards the dorm. He didn’t ask Vil for permission to use it or anything, but… well, there’s no way that just letting you play for a little bit would harm anyone, right? It should be fine.

He hypes you up if you get hesitant over it. Then hypes you up again when your fingers are on the keys. He sits nearby, watching how you jump from one to the other all graceful-looking, he’s really starting to understand why some people go crazy over pianists— His eyes are twinkling with awe, even if you’re just warming up with something simple, even if you end up making a mistake. Ends up always asking you to play when you come over to the dorm… You’re basically the second coming of Mozart to him. Nothing you say will make him change his mind.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[pineconepie]

CHARACTERS: Seradiel, Kezareth, Reader/You

WARNINGS/TAGS: Parental yandere(s), religious themes and references, conflict, angels and demons, emotional reader, forced infantilization, cuddling, annoyed reader, manipulation, mentioned possession, Sera and Kez giving divorced parent energy 💔

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have finally wrote demon yandad! I didn't know whether or not to just make him his own character, but decided for now since I'll only be writing him with Seradiel, to not give him his own spot on series 3 (yet?)

It's dusk when it happens.

You'd already had a long day, made longer by Seradiel trailing behind you like your shadow, fawning over your safety like always. After a night out on the town with friends, you were exhausted. All you wanted to do now was rest in the comfort of your bed and maybe catch something on TV, before calling it a night and letting sleep lull you.

"I told you not to go out today," Seradiel murmurs for the seventh time, his voice gentle but cloying. His hands are folded neatly in front of him as he walks behind you.

"And I told you, I'm not going to change my plans because you 'had a feeling' it wouldn't turn out well," you retort. "Every single time you say that."

"And I am right every single time," Seradiel counters.

You don't respond. You don't even look at him. His constant hovering is wearing you down, and you have a feeling he's well aware of that.

The worst part is, you can't run from him, can't call anyone to get him away from you— because he's a celestial being. There's no escaping someone who doesn't live by human laws.

Suddenly the street darkens. The temperature dips. You look to the sky for some kind of explanation for the strange shift in scenery, but all you see are the same clouds you saw ten minutes ago. You look at Seradiel for an explanation.

His expression has shifted from irritation to wariness. He takes a protective stance in front of you. "Don't move." He's staring ahead, and you follow his gaze.

Standing there is a man who's slightly shorter than Seradiel, but with black wings, horns, and a thin black tail.

His hair is short and dark brown, and beneath his glasses are piercing green eyes, almost glowing. He wears a suit that makes him look like he came from a business meeting.

"Well, well, well," the man— probably a demon, drawls. "Long time no see, Sera."

Seradiel blocks you from the demon's vision with one of his wings. "Kezareth." Your guardian angel sounds downright hateful when saying his name. You never heard such poison dripping from his tone. "Why are you here?"

"New rules." Kezareth grabs a scroll from his pocket and unfolds it, clearing his throat. "Heaven and Hell's High Councils have come to a compromise; for every mortal human that has a guardian angel reveal themselves to them, a demon must also assign itself to said human, to balance out each side's influence." When he finishes reading, he puts the paper back into his pocket. "Since you angel's care about balance so much, this should be happy news for you."

"Oh, please," Seradiel scoffs. "There is no way anyone in heaven with a right mind agreed to this."

Kezareth shrugs. "Believe me, believe the document, or go ask God himself if you'd like. Now, let me meet my new kiddo..." He kneels down as if you're shorter than you are, waving hello. "Oh, aren't you just adorable!"

He reaches a gloved hand out to ruffle your hair, but Seradiel slaps it away. "Touch them and I will tear out your eyes."

"Wow, what a good influence," Kezareth snorts. He rises to his feet, dusting off his suit. "No need to be a drama queen about it, I'm not allowed to do anything harmful to our baby anyway. I'm just supposed to watch them like you do."

"Not 'our' baby," Seradiel growls. "And why on earth would you want to protect them? What even is your job description, if you aren't lying, that is?"

"We need more people in Hell," he shrugs. "While you're trying to get them into Heaven by encouraging them to do good things, I'm doing the opposite. Nothing crazy, of course. Just imagine me as the little demon on their shoulder."

"If you cared about them, why would you want them in Hell?" Seradiel narrows his eyes.

"So they can be with their superior dad? Catch up." Kezareth turns his attention to you again. "Sorry about all the boring bureaucracy. The main thing to know is I am taking good care of you now."

"And I thought having one overprotective asshole was bad enough," you mumble under your breath. Of course, both supernatural beings hear you.

"Language," Seradiel scolds. He hoists you up, giving you a chance to remember his inhuman strength. "And you, you stay away from them." He jabs his pointer finger at Kezareth. "You know nothing of safety."

Kezareth holds his hands up in a faux gesture of peace. "Even if I didn't want to, I don't have a choice in the matter. Rules are rules. And if you were to stop me, I think that'd be a big offense to both Heaven and Hell."

Seradiel runs a hand through his hair. "Fffffine. But if you put them in danger—"

"I'm not gonna. Demons can't harm mortals directly, remember? We can tempt them and suggest things, but we cannot carry them out. Not that I would." He offers his hand to you. "Now! Walk with me, tell me all about yourself."

...

Having two celestial beings in your life certainly changed things around.

The worst part is how Seradiel and Kezareth constantly clash on the smallest things, unable to agree on almost everything regarding your care. Like two parents in a custody battle, the only thing they share is their mutual desire for your safety. That doesn't stop them from bickering like two toddlers fighting over the same toy, though.

"How did you two know each other before?" you ask during dinner (which Seradiel made, refusing to let Kezareth even touch anything in the kitchen).

Seradiel sighs. "Kezareth was an angel once. We were... acquaintances."

Kezareth looks mildly offended. "If you think mere acquaintances spend every single day together, sleep in the same bed, bathe together, then sure, call us acquaintances."

You nearly choke on your food. "So you guys were an item?"

"Not quite." Seradiel dabs his mouth with a napkin. "That is neither here nor there, but yes, Kezareth was an angel until he fell." Disdain seeps into his voice. "He was never a good angel, mind you. Always questioning orders, never attending meetings. The only thing he was good at was slacking off." He glares daggers at Kezareth, who ignores his glower.

"Anyway, I didn't fall," Kezareth says. "I jumped. And I've never felt more free. That's why I don't want you becoming part of that life, (Y/n). It's not all rainbows and sunshine up there."

Seradiel's eyes narrow. "I'd say more strict rules are far better than eternal fire."

"Oh, please, that's just an exaggeration." Kezareth waves a hand dismissively. He turns his attention to you. "I have a pretty big social status down there. All I have to do is pull some strings and you can have your own mansion bigger than Earth. How about it?"

"Don't listen to him," Seradiel huffs.

Wow, this really does feel like a custody battle. "I just want to eat my dinner and go to bed..."

Seradiel pats your shoulder. "Finish your greens first. They'll make you big and strong." You notice Kezareth nodding to that.

...

A few days later, you attempt to shop for groceries, but you can't even do that without these two butting heads.

"Don't get that, that's loaded with cholesterol," Seradiel chastises, plucking the food from your hands.

"Hey, it's fine to be self-indulgent every now and then," Kezareth shrugs, grabbing the food back.

You groan. "It's fine, I don't have the money to get that anyway."

Kezareth puts a hand to his heart. "You're telling me Sera doesn't pay for your stuff?"

"I only pay for things I approve of. Food, rent, clothes. Anything else is a reward for good behavior." He puts the food back. "I haven't a clue why I'm explaining this to you, you wouldn't get it."

"I don't get anything that comes out of your mouth," the demon utters. He ruffles your hair, lowering his voice. "You ever steal anything before?"

Seradiel answers for you. "Don't even try putting ideas into their head."

Kezareth ignores him. "If you don't want to, I can for you. Just tell me you give me permission."

"(Y/n), don't. That is just as bad as stealing it yourself," Seradiel warns.

As much as you don't want to start any trouble, you do admit Kezareth's offer is tempting. A quick glance around tells you the coast is clear; there's no employees or customers around this area. "Alright, if it's just a snack, I guess so. Go for it."

At your agreement, a broad smile crosses Kezareth's features. He leans into one of the shelves and grabs what you're eyeing, shoving it in his jacket. "Perfect." He kisses the side of your head with a dramatic "mwah" sound, ignoring Seradiel's irritated glare. "Anything else you want around here that Mr. Grump would disapprove of?"

You open your mouth to tell him another thing, but Seradiel's disapproving glare makes you second guess your actions. "Uhh, I don't think so."

"That's correct," your guardian angel says firmly. "We're leaving before this gets anymore reckless." He grabs your wrist, dragging you to the check-out.

For the remainder of the shopping trip, there's palpable tension between Seradiel and Kezareth. You pretend to ignore it for your sanity's sake.

...

"Why do you look so upset, honey?" Kezareth coos a few days later, when he sees you trudge in the kitchen.

He knows why you're upset, of course. He had made himself invisible while watching you through the whole day, and knows you had a falling out with a friend (that he may or may not have caused, after all, you were starting to stray away from him, and he can't have that). He stops what he's doing to pull a chair from the table, ushering you over.

"One of my friends... or, well, ex-friends, isn't talking to me anymore. She blocked all contact with me out of nowhere," you utter, sitting down. "Found out she was gossiping about me behind my back with some other friends."

Kezareth starts combing through your hair with his fingers. "Aww, baby. Well, if she thinks so lowly of you, you can do without her," he says smoothly.

"She called me immature and annoying, too. Is that true?"

Kezareth clicks his tongue, moving a chair in front of you so he can sit face to face. He takes your cheeks in his hands. "Nooo, don't believe anything she said, or anyone else for that matter. She's an idiot. She doesn't know anything, baby."

You sniffle. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

He nods vigorously. "Of course I'm right, I'm always right!" He pulls you into a hug. "Besides, even if you are annoying, I don't care about that stuff. I still think you're adorable."

"I have a feeling you're only saying that because you're obligated to." Nonetheless, you return the gesture.

"Honey, I don't do anything I don't want to," Kezareth promises, voice sweet. "Everything I do is out of choice, not necessity." He brushes his thumb under your eye to wipe your tears. "Now, no more tears over someone like her. Okay, sweet pea? Now how about you take a much-needed nap." He hoists you into his arms like Seradiel often does, carrying you to your room.

"I feel too angry to even sleep," you mutter. "I know it's wrong, but I kind of hate her now."

"There's nothing wrong with hate, I don't understand why so many people are afraid of it," Kezareth says. "It's actually better to have a lot of it, otherwise you get walked over all the time." He sets you down on the bed. "And if you can't find it in yourself to hate her, I can hate her for you. In fact, I already do!"

You cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. "You don't even know her."

"If she hurt you, then she hurt me." He tucks you into your bedsheets like a burrito and presses a kiss on your nose. "Say the word, and I'll ruin her life for you. Not even joking!"

"As tempting as that is, I don't hate her that much," you chuckle.

"That's alright, sweetheart," Kezareth smiles. "But if you ever change your mind, let me know." He adjusts your pillow so that your neck and head are more supported. "I'll wake you in an hour or so, whenever dinner's ready. I think you're in need of some comfort food!"

When he walks into the kitchen, there's Seradiel, glaring daggers at him.

"Our baby was emotionally wounded, and where were you, hm? Off in cloudland, right?" He walks past the angel, preparing dinner.

"What did you do?" Seradiel snaps. Kezareth turns around, feigning innocence. "Don't give me that look. I can see the wickedness in you, clear as day."

Kezareth sighs. "Some mild possession, what of it? That girl was turning against them anyway."

Seradiel's eye twitches. "Why? Just so you could see (Y/n) cry?"

The demon puts a dramatic hand to his nonexistent heart. "You think so lowly of me! But yes, partially. I need a reason to comfort them and bond with them, since you hog most of their attention to yourself. But also because I need them to come to terms with their more human emotions. Hatred is a natural emotion of theirs that you've tried to suppress for too long."

"I don't discourage them to feel human emotions, I discourage them to act on said emotions," Seradiel points out. "There is a big difference."

"So even though you hate me, by your logic, you can't act on that hatred?" Kezareth challenges.

"You're an exception, since you are not human, and therefore are not bound to those standards," Seradiel says curtly. "I hope you aren't encouraging them to punch anyone."

"Nooo, I'd never want them to get their hands dirty. That's my job. Which is exactly why I offered to ruin that brat's life, but they said they didn't want that. For now, anyway. The offer still stands indefinitely." He adds oil into a pan with a sizzling sound. "Is jealousy eating away at you? Are you frustrated that they aren't crying to you anymore?"

"Stop making them sad just for your ego," Seradiel snarls. "It's sickening and selfish, even for your standards."

"Oh, please, you aren't an angel, either. Oh, actually, I guess you are. You know what I meant." Kezareth peels and chops the vegetables rhythmically, the knife clacking against the cutting board. "Your motives for being overprotective are no different from mine."

"They actually are. I just want them to live a happy, safe life. You just want to drag them down with you to Hell so you'll be less lonely." Seradiel folds his arms over his chest, leaning back against a wall. "At least my intentions come from genuine love and care."

Kezareth snickers. "You're just a control freak. I just want them to be with their superior dad forever. Not as crazy as you make it out to be."

"They are not yours," Seradiel huffs. "I am going to clean the living room. Do not make a mess in here, I already spent an hour cleaning your mess last night."

"Ugh, thank goodness we broke up. You'd make an awful husband, always nitpicking me."

"It wouldn't hurt to pick up after yourself," Seradiel grumbles under his breath.

...

A couple months pass after Kezareth's arrival. While still an adjustment, it starts becoming part of your new routine.

The more time passes, the more relaxed your guardians seem to be around each other too— although sometimes their arguments get intense. You're lucky enough to find them casually conversing with each other every now and then, too, although they still have their disagreements.

One thing that you notice is how Kezareth tends to push boundaries while Seradiel likes to enforce them. Both their protective natures clash horribly as a result.

With Seradiel, at least he doesn't bother trying to mask his controlling nature. On the contrary, it feels as if he takes pride in it.

When it comes to Kezareth, though, he's sneakier about it.

He makes you think you have a say in certain decisions, but ultimately he manipulates you into choosing what he thinks is best. It's clear the only reason Kezareth wants you to do bad things (in Seradiel's eyes, at least) is to not only get you closer to spending an eternity with him, but also to piss off your guardian angel.

But when it comes to things like privacy, independence, and personal freedom, they seem to share a similar perspective.

Just yesterday, you went to hang out with some friends, but of course your celestial babysitters had to follow you around. But with their ability to cloak themselves and disappear, your friends thankfully weren't able to see them.

Though you were, and you swear they thought you were crazy when you randomly shouted at nothing about how annoying they were acting.

To them, they probably just saw you yelling at a wall.

And now, you're trying to go hang out with your friends again tonight, but it seems like your guardians have different plans.

"It's a Saturday night, baby," Kezareth argues. "All of the parties will be crowded with drunk idiots that want to hurt you. Not to mention the possibility of kidnapping. Please stay home, for me? We can bake cookies. Doesn't that sound so much better than going to some concert in a sweaty nightclub with sweaty strangers bumping into you?"

"Not really," you mutter under your breath.

Seradiel cups your shoulders. "Listen, (Y/n), even if we allow you to go, we must accompany you at all times. No wandering off on your own."

"No!" You jerk away from his grip. "Look, this concert won't even last that late into the night. And I'm going with a couple of friends."

"Who?" Seradiel and Kezareth say simultaneously.

"A friend who you don't know and whose name is none of your business," you snap.

"Tone," Seradiel warns, voice stern.

"I'll let you get ice cream and order whatever movie tickets you want for the next month," Kezareth bribes.

"I'm not a baby anymore! Stop treating me like one!" you shout. "You both promised to be more lax if I behaved 'better', but I've done everything you've asked. Yet you still treat me like I'm a child! Well, I'm not. So let me go out by myself for once!" You gesture to Seradiel. "Isn't free will a big part of being a human? Why would you work against that?"

Seradiel sighs. "And you do have free will. Either you go and let us come with you, or you don't go at all. That is a choice you are free to make."

"Why is it the only time you two seem as if you're able to work together, is when you're making my life miserable?" You stomp away towards your bedroom, throwing yourself onto your bed.

Kezareth throws Seradiel a look. "Wait to go."

"Are you seriously throwing the blame on me?" Seradiel scoffs. "You are just as immature as I remember! Perhaps even moreso! Do you even truly care about them, or are you just using this as an excuse to torment me?"

The demon huffs. "Oh, please, you aren't that special. You claim I'm the egotistical one, yet you think I came here just to spite you? Sure, the first reason I came here was because I was curious as to how you're doing, but my priorities have changed! Believe it or not, I do care about (Y/n). And if you choose not to believe it; not my problem!"

Just as Seradiel opens his mouth to retort, they both hear you sob. It's muffled and quiet, as if you're trying to conceal it, but they can hear it nonetheless. At that, any irritation dissipates.

They share a solemn glance and head towards your room.

Inside, you're laying in bed, your blankets sloppily pulled over you, back facing towards the door. Even when the pair enters, you don't acknowledge them.

"Precious, please don't cry," Kezareth coos, sitting beside you. "It hurts our hearts so much when you do that."

Seradiel sits down on the edge of the bed on the opposite side. "Is there anything you desire? You know we would do anything in the world for you." Despite his affectionate tone, his expression is downright heartbroken when he gazes at you.

You shift your position slightly so they can finally see your face, red and tear-stained. "Both of you suck," you mumble. "Every single day, you argue. And the worst part is, I can't escape it! You follow me everywhere! Sometimes it feels like I have no choice but to put up with you guys constantly nagging each other... And when you two actually agree on something, it's something that takes away from my freedom even more!"

Tears well in your eyes again, but Seradiel's fingers are quick to brush them away.

"Baby..." Kezareth says in a small voice. He takes off his glasses to rub his eyes, tears threatening them. "I'm sorry."

Seradiel sighs. "I am, too."

"I'm tired of feeling like your marriage counselor, or having to choose between one over the other," you continue. "I just want you to get along. Or at least tolerate being in the same room as each other." You wipe the rest of your tears away. "And if you have to argue, just do it somewhere I won't hear. Please."

Both of your guardian's faces soften.

They seem almost guilty, which is a rare expression on either of their faces.

"We'll work on our differences for you," Kezareth vows, shooting Seradiel a look. "Yeah?"

Seradiel exhales deeply, then nods. "Yes, that's the very least we can do. Whatever eases your mind." He gently grasps your hand, pressing a loving kiss on your knuckles. "Please, no more crying, my child. May I hold you?" He opens his arms invitingly.

Still mildly upset, you simply crawl towards him, burying your face in his robes. He cradles you like you're made of glass, humming softly in your ear to ease you, gently patting your back in a soothing motion.

Kezareth shifts to lay right behind you. His wings wrap around your frame to keep you warm.

In a weird way, you feel at home, protected by both your caretakers on either side of you. Before you know it, your eyelids begin to feel heavier as sleep consumes you.

"Nighty-night," Kezareth whispers. He and Seradiel share a look, silently agreeing to stay for the rest of the night.

[gabseyoo]

END OF AN ERA — MIYA OSAMU / MIYA ATSUMU

content: established relationship (reader x osamu), female reader, fiancé!osamu, kind of atsumu centric, existential crisis. word count: 1,3k.

note: this drabble was inspired by this friend’s scene, love monica and rachel.

Atsumu sat on the couch, arms slung over the backrest, eyes staring blankly at the wall across from him. His thoughts spun in endless loops, tangled between frustration and a strange hollowness he couldn’t shake.

He knew this moment was coming—had known for a long time—but that didn’t make it any easier.

Osamu was moving out.

His twin brother, his other half, the person who literally had been by his side since the moment they were born—was leaving to start a new life with you, his future wife. Atsumu should be happy for him. Hell, he was happy for him.

But he also felt this gnawing pit in his stomach, an ugly feeling he wasn’t ready to name.

It had been creeping up on him ever since Osamu told him he was officially moving out and it only worsened as Atsumu helped you both pack, boxing up years of shared living, easy laughter, dumb arguments over who ate the last rice ball. 

And today… it was the final day.

“Need help with that, babe?” Osamu’s voice broke through Atsumu’s thoughts. Without even waiting for an answer, he plucked the last box out of your arms with a casual grin.

“It wasn’t that heavy.” You said, crossing your arms with a huff. Osamu chuckled, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“This the last one?” He asked, his smile widening when you nodded. “Damn. That’s really it, huh.”

Atsumu watched from the couch as Osamu practically radiated excitement. Like leaving behind a lifetime of being side-by-side with him didn’t weigh on him at all. And that stung more than he wanted to admit.

He had known from the start that you were different. He had known it from the moment Osamu had introduced you like you were the best thing that had ever happened to him. And it had been obvious to everyone—probably even before Osamu himself realized—that you were the one.

Still, Atsumu hadn’t expected everything to change so fast. The same guy who used to roll his eyes at weddings now talked about futures and family like he couldn’t wait to get started. He had even been there when Osamu nervously picked out your engagement ring, sweating like a man twice his age.

“You sure about this?” Atsumu had asked him then, half-joking, half-serious.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything.” Osamu had answered without missing a beat.

And that was that. No doubt. No second-guessing. Just certainty. 

Osamu disappeared outside with the last box, leaving you and Atsumu alone in the apartment. 

The silence between you two was thick, almost humming. Not awkward exactly—he had known you for years now, after all—but it felt heavy tonight.

You moved to sit beside him on the couch, close enough that your shoulder brushed his before asking, “You okay?” 

Atsumu shrugged a little too quickly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re unusually quiet.”

“Me? Nah.” He waved it off, forcing a grin. “Just tired from haulin’ boxes all day.”

“You mad at us?”

The question caught him off-guard. “No! Why would I be?”

“I don’t know.” You smiled a little and shrugged. “You just seem... upset.”

He opened his mouth to deny it again, but it stuck in his throat. Fuck. He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “Maybe I am a little.” He muttered. “I don’t know. Feels like everything’s changing and I’m... stayin’ still."

You didn’t say anything at first. Just let him sit there, stewing in it, which somehow made it easier to keep talking.

“Everyone’s movin’ on. You and ‘Samu are starting this whole new life. And I’m still here, in this stupid apartment, playing volleyball and eating frozen dinners when ‘Samu is out at night.” He laughed, but it sounded rough. “I mean, I’m happy for you. I am. I just…” He trailed off, obviously embarrassed for what he wanted to express.

“You feel left behind.” You finished for him.

After a few seconds in silence, Atsumu nodded. 

You leaned back against the couch, your head tilting toward him. “You’re not left behind, Atsumu. Life just moves differently for everyone. It’s not a race.”

He stayed quiet, staring at his hands. His throat felt tight.

“And you didn’t hear this from me, but—” You continued, softer now. “Osamu’s scared too.”

That pulled his gaze up. “Yeah, right. He looked like he was walking into Disney World out there.”

“He’s excited because it’s something new for both of us. But he’s gonna miss you like hell, Atsumu. He’s been pretending to be all cool about it, but he’s worried you’re gonna starve without him around.”

Atsumu let out a snort, a little offended. “I can cook!” You raised an eyebrow. “Well... I can try.” 

He rolled his eyes when you laughed as you bumped your shoulder lightly against his.

“And besides... just because Samu’s moving out doesn’t mean he’s not still your brother. You’re stuck with each other, no matter what.”

Atsumu bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to let the emotion show too much. He was used to being the loud one, the dumbass, the one who made everything a joke. Feeling like this—raw and sad and a little lost—wasn’t something he knew how to do in front of people. Especially not you.

Atsumu let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Yeah... guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

Despite everything, he chuckled. And somehow, the knot in his chest loosened just a little bit.

You sat in silence for a few seconds, breathing the same air, staring at the same wall, before you said quietly, “You know, Atsumu... you’re allowed to feel scared about changes. Even the good ones.”

He stared at you, something sharp and tender settling in his chest. You meant it. You saw him, the way so few people did.

He rubbed his hands over his face and muttered, “I feel like such a dumbass.”

“You’re not. You’re just human.”

Atsumu barked out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well... being human sucks sometimes.”

“It does.”

“Again, you’re right.”

What neither of you noticed was that Osamu had been standing in the doorway, quietly listening, a small, knowing smile on his face. It was moments like this that made him so sure about his future with you, you were so understanding and so loving. You comforted his brother in a way he never could have and that made him fall in love with you all over again. 

As soon as he made sure you were done talking, he finally stepped back into the room, holding up a bottle of wine triumphantly. “Our neighbor gave me this as a goodbye gift. Wanna crack it open?”

Later, as the sky blushed in soft purples and oranges, the three of you sat on the balcony, squeezed onto the same old outdoor couch that held so many memories. 

Osamu sat between you and Atsumu, an arm casually slung around each of you.

“I’m gonna miss this place.” Osamu said, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

Atsumu stared out at the view—the same one they’d shared for years—and tried not to let his chest ache too much.

“You sure you can survive without me?” Atsumu asked, smirking sideways at him.

Osamu scoffed, bumping his knee against Atsumu’s. “I’ll manage. Got help now.” He said, turning to you with a look so soft it practically glowed before he pressed a kiss to your temple, lingering there longer than necessary. “I got everything I need right here.”

The blonde made a gagging sound. “Jesus. Get a room.”

Osamu just laughed, unbothered, and reached over to smack the back of his twin’s head.

“You’re the one I’m worried about.” He said, mockingly serious.

“Yeah? Well, don’t cry too hard when you realize you need me to fix the wifi.” He shot back, smirking.

“You barely know how to work a microwave.” Osamu deadpanned.

“Is not even the same thing, dumbass!” Atsumu grumbled, but there was no heat behind it—only something fond and aching underneath.

When Atsumu glanced sideways and caught Osamu looking back at him—steady, steady in a way only his brother could be—something inside him settled.

They were going to be okay.

Maybe this wasn’t about losing something. Or staying behind. Maybe it was just about growing up. And Atsumu was okay with it.

[princess-charlie-of-hell]

"People only ship Charlastor because it's a straight ship!"

I ship Charlastor because they have amazing chemistry and i love how they interact with each other

I ship Charlastor because they have a similar humor and both enjoy pineapple on pizza

I ship Charlastor because it fits the narrative of the show how people can change

I ship Charlastor because i like how they look together

I ship Charlastor because after it turns out that Alastor is alive she is the first one to pull him in a hug

I ship Charlastor because after 5 minutes knowing each other they were already comfortable enough to dance with each other close like this

I ship Charlastor because Alastor is awfully touchy with her and Charlie doesn't have a problem with it

I ship Charlastor because he looks at her like that

I ship Charlastor because almost everyone who meets them thinks they're dating even Charlie's father

I ship Charlastor because the idea of Alastor,a cruel and sadistic Overlord, falling for the soft hearted and sweet princess of hell is hilarious

I ship Charlastor because I love the Heroine x villain/anti hero trope

I ship Charlastor because they remind me of my favorite Disney pairing, Rapunzel and Eugene

I ship Charlastor because he hates modern technology more than anything but he personally filmed the commercial for Charlie's hotel

I ship Charlastor because Alastor calls her charming demon belle and Mimzy called Charlie his little princess

I ship Charlastor because Alastor gave Charlie his cane despite him never putting it aside before

I ship Charlastor because Alastor defended her hotel and Charlie defended him against her father because he's doing it for her

I ship Charlastor because she was the reason he joined the hotel in the first place

I ship Charlastor because Charlie defended Alastor against her own father and girlfriend

I ship Charlastor because it's fun

There are many different reasons people ship them and not just because they are a "straight" ship. People should be able to enjoy ships whatever they are m/f m/m f/f NB/f. Just let us have fun

Just because you can't handle seeing a woman and men getting romantically involved doesn't mean everyone else isn't allowed to ship two people of the different gender

People are too obsessed whether a ship is gay or not honestly,i don't understand why so many are like " i would ship it if it were two men instead"

Charlastor in my opinion is one fanon ship which makes a lot of sense but for that people actually need to look in their relationship and not just reduce it to a simple father daughter relationship

[marsprincess889]

Astrology observations

Part 10

1. An interesting difference between Rohini and Mrigashira that I have not seen pointed out is in what they enjoy (in any way): regarding food, for example, Rohini might go for heavier food, meat, sticky sugary sweets, lots of fats, things that are rich with ingredients and are generally of that nature. Mrigashiras might prefer leaves and salads over meat. I think they like dairy but love moderation, and eat way more lightly than Rohinis.

Rohinis don't have much morality when it comes to enjoyment (generally), that might manifest as them not being ashamed to indulge in stuff that might be considered ulhealthy. Mrigashiras, being extremely alert and sensitive to things that Rohini just takes in, wants to analyze what they take in. That's why they might go for "the healthy" options. They also love feeling "light" in a sense of feeling free to move how they want to. That lightnes can sometimes make them feel anxious though, and then they start to crave stability.

2. Jyeshtas are very pure-hearted (let me explain).

As we know, it's a discharging and active placement, so it's free from the "extra" and the unnecessary. It's one if the nakshatras that can be considered "pure" due to its self-reliance and refusal to depend on others. There is a sharpness and a mobility to their essence that stems from deep within their souls, and everything that they touch has that "epic " feel to it.

I'm personally a big fan.

3. To return to a point from my previous observations, Jupiter and Ketu nakshatra people need to be wary of getting swept up be their own "grandiose", especially in serious subjects like guidance, morals and spirituality (in any sense of the word), especially because people tend to naturally listen to and trust them.

Jupiter nakshatra natives love everything "big" and meaningful. Even if they have the best of intentions, they should be mindful to not throw big statements around. They might love to attach meaning to everything, and I mean, anything. Jupiter is endless growth, which can be dangerous when not checked, contrained and/or directed. They are also the "supporters" of others, and their acceptance might lead them to support faulty things.

Ketu people might be prone to ignorance and similar to Jupiter people, they have people looking up to them. While Jupiter is endless growth, Ketu is an endless void. That unwillingness to see past their judgement gives them a self-posessed energy that can be interpreted as superior by the masses, they are often put on pedastels. As always, other influences in the chart play a huge role, as this tendency is significantly reduced when a Ketu person also has Venusian influence (Venus is the materialization of Ketu's spiritual essence, making it grounded and of value), while it can be increased with added Jupiterian influence (this is based on my observations of real-life people).

4. Tiger yonis should try to control their impulses and preserve their energy more. I don't know what the coorelation is, theoretically, between them and that behavior but I've seen it many times in real life. I'm not even saying this in an accusatory tone, because that harms tiger yonis themselves, first and foremost. They might be scattered and all over the place, not knowing what to do with their energy. They're not geared towards natural integration, energetic stability and unity like cow yonis, so they should use their drive to build to control their own impulses. If implemented, I think that they can achieve a lot (they have a drive to provoke, change, build or fix things).

5. Speaking of Cow yonis, they are more sensitive than it looks. They are naturally stoic and self-reliant so you won't notice it unless they casually reveal things that confirm that, because of their own natural tendency to be honest.

6. I've seen Ketu nakshatras really hyped up, whether in online spaces from astrology accounts or in real life. And people really like to talk about them and pay attention to them. I though, this can't be a coincidence, and here's my two cents as to why this might be: I think it all comes down the very nature of Ketu, which is absorbing, heated, passive, unresponsive and unaware. As I've said, I think that inspires admiration from the masses because they're percieved as superior, and when I say "superior", I mean that they get admiration because of anything and everything, not just because of one thing. And while many people might disagree with those who admire them and pour energy into Ketu individuals, it's not a question of whether they're actually deserving of it (they may or may not be, I've seen it go both ways), it's about what makes Ketu people get that kind of attention in the first place. Absolutely crediting Claire Nakti here, because she was right when she said that individuals who are not really integrated within themselves tend to rely on and worship Ketu people. Ketu, as a force, can be really dangerous, and I think people tend to ignore that very real danger. This is not to scare anyone, obviously, but I think if you attribute all kinds of positive or important things to one type of energy you might want to think if that's really true, and why you are percieving it like that.

7. Shravana people are interesting and I think that is not recignized enough!! I think their intellectual and intrapersonal or interpersonal abilities are ignored.

[fangirlingpuggle]

Thinking about AU with SVSSS where Binghe's protagonist halo the world works for him, if he'd wanted to know about why Shen Qingqiu changed if he would have been able to see system.

Binghe figuring out what happened and 'Thank you so much strange blue box god for giving me this amazing Shizun' until eh finds out about punishments Shizun has and suddenly 'How dare you hurt my shizun I will find a way to destroy you'.

Ge quickly puts 2 and 2 together and realizes that this blue box god cannot know Binghe knows or Shizun will be hurt, so he's trying very hard not to look at it or let Shizun know he can hear him talk to the god.

Shizun not sure why when he rants about how amazing Luo Binghe is the satisfaction points shot up.

Luo Binghe also seeing satisfaction points rise when Shizun and like 'Stop snitching you stupid blue box'

When he finds out about abyss him understanding and promising to himself he'll get out as quick as he can and then find a way to destroy that blue box and save his Shizun and then he'll free him (and they'll get married because he knows Shizun loves him he's heard all the rants).

Or

Alternatively Luo Binghe when breaking down in abyss begging to know why his Shizun did this actives protagonist halo and gets access to system, still in hibernation mode so cna't do anything but he can see logs all the interactions Shizun had with it and also access to OG source material so all of PIDW and all of Shen Yuan's comments.

Luo Binghe reading and understanding everything and also almost qi deviating from Shen Yuan's comments that are essays about why Luo Binghe is the best and deserves the world and how OG SQQ should be castrated and Binghe is perfect.

[yourlipstogodsears]

Injured on Duty Part 2

Summary: Robby stays by her side and checks on her.. his feelings for her become more apparent.

“Robby?” she says soft and sweet. It’s tone he’s fallen for. He has feelings for her but they can’t act on it because of the power dynamics in the hospital would be considered “taking advantage” of her.

His expression softens instantly at her sweet voice, his eyes locking onto hers. He swallows hard, pushing down the feelings he can't act on. "Yes?" He replies gruffly, trying to maintain some semblance of distance and professionalism. "What is it?"

“What’s the cafeteria got today”

He blinks, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. A small smile tugs at his lips as he plays along, grateful for the distraction from his inappropriate thoughts. "Uh, let me check." He pulls out his phone, scrolling through the hospital cafeteria menu.

“Morphine makes me hungry” she mumbles.

His eyes widen slightly at her admission, a mix of concern and amusement on his face. "Morphine does that sometimes. It can stimulate your appetite." He continues scrolling, trying not to think too much about the fact that she's high on pain medication and still managing to be adorable.

“Do that have the mash potatoes.. fuck I could eat a boat load of them bitches” she says lazily her head lulling on the pillow side to side.

He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. "Yes, they do have mashed potatoes. And I'll have them bring you an extra large serving." He sends a quick text, no doubt ordering her a heaping plate of comfort food. "Anything else my hungry resident needs?"

He nods when she shakes her head no, tucking his phone away. "Alright then. I'll make sure they bring it up to you as soon as possible." He pauses, his eyes softening as he looks at her. "You know, most people on morphine would be out cold by now."

“Thank you Robby I adore you”

He freezes at her words, his heart skipping a beat. He knows she doesn't mean it romantically—she's high on pain meds—but it still sends a jolt of warmth through him. "Yeah yeah, adore me all you want when you're high."

“You’re the best”

His face breaks into a genuine smile, trying not to show how much those words actually affect him. "Sweetheart, you're delirious." He checks her IV, adjusting the flow just slightly to make her more comfortable. "And stop making me melt right now, I'm trying to be a professional."

she nods and lays back on the pillow, “you gonna stay with me or do you gotta go be Dr. Mcsteamy elsewhere”

He lets out a soft chuckle, moving to sit in the chair beside her bed. "Dr. McSteamy has other patients, unfortunately. But I'll stay with you until your food arrives and you're settled." He reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

she mumbles, “my arms feel like jello”

He nods sympathetically, understanding full well the neurological side effects of morphine. "That's a common side effect with pain meds. Your muscles might feel weak and clumsy." He glances at her slender arms resting on the blanket. "Need me to check them for you?"

“Iss okayyy” she slurs.

He smiles softly, appreciating her nonchalant attitude even in her drugged state. "Alright, just let me know if you need anything." He pauses, watching her for a moment before asking, "Are you feeling any pain right now?"

“Nope I feeel good”

He lets out a relieved sigh, a small smile playing on his lips. "Good. That's exactly what the morphine should be doing—blocking the pain signals to your brain." He stands up abruptly, making her blink slowly. "I'm gonna go check on something really quick, okay?"

He quickly exits the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. He walks down the hallway, his mind racing with thoughts of her drugged state and how adorable she looked. He checks on another patient briefly before returning to her room, closing the door softly behind him.

she smiles, “tell a friend to tell a friend.. he’s backkk”

He chuckles softly, rolling his eyes playfully. "Well, at least someone's keeping track of my whereabouts." He moves to sit back in the chair beside her bed, his eyes never leaving her face. "Feeling any better now that your favorite doctor has returned?"

“My emotional support grumpy attending”

He throws his head back and laughs, a genuine sound that fills the room. "Emotional support grumpy attending? I like that." He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You know what? I'll take that title. Makes me sound almost cuddly."

He studies her for a moment, his expression softening. "You're something else, you know that? Most people would be curled up in a ball, crying and moaning after what you've been through. But not you. No, you're just smiling and cracking jokes like everything's fine."

she nods, “morphine is sooo nice”

He laughs again, shaking his head. "Yeah, morphine definitely has its perks." He stands up suddenly, moving to the foot of her bed. "Alright, since you're feeling so great thanks to the drugs, I'm gonna do something that might hurt a little bit."

“Oh?”

He grins mischievously. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to be extra gentle. I wouldn't want to mess with my favorite resident." He reaches out and gently lifts the blanket covering her shoulder he popped into place, his fingers brushing against her skin. "I just need to check something real quick."

He bites his lower lip, concentrating on his task. His fingers press gently against her collarbone, moving down to her shoulder. He grits his teeth slightly. He knows she's high on morphine, so her pain tolerance is probably through the roof. He presses down harder than he normally would, testing something.

He watches closely as her muscles twitch under his touch. He nods to himself, seeming satisfied with the results. He gently lowers the blanket back down, covering her shoulder once again. "Alright, all done." He walks back around to the side of her bed, sitting back down in the chair.

He watches her smile, feeling a strange warmth in his chest. He clears his throat, trying to shake off the feeling. "You know what? I'm gonna go get some coffee real quick." He stands up abruptly again. "Be right back."

She watches him leave.

He quickly exits the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. He leans against the wall outside, running a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. "What the hell is wrong with me?" He mutters to himself. "She's my resident, Off limits."

she lays in the hospital bed starting to fall asleep.

After a few moments, Robby pushes off the wall and re-enters the room carrying a cup of coffee. He pauses mid-step as he notices her drifting off to sleep. A small smile tugs at his lips as he approaches quietly. "Looks like someone's finally crashing."

He watches her sleep for a moment, his expression softening. He sets his coffee down on the side table and gently pulls up the blanket to cover her shoulders more securely. He sits back down in the chair, pulling out his phone to scroll through medical journals.

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 21/?)

The past has a cruel habit of clawing its way back — even when it's buried six feet under. No grave is deep enough to silence what was left unresolved

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 8,5K

Warnings: panic and anxiety attacks, betrayal and all the feelings that come with it, alternate reality being referenced, Vander and Silco's past, murder referenced, PTSD, hallucinations, Silco POV

Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 20

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

I've looked everywhere, but it's clear you don't want to be found. God I'm shit at this. I'm sorry. When she died... I lost my head. I told myself what I did to you was for the greater good, that you deserved it, but the dirt was on both our hands. Anyways, you know where to find me.

Blisters and bedrock.

V.

There were few things in life capable of truly unsettling Silco—few things that could rattle him enough to strip away his calculated composure, to leave him grasping for solid ground. Even fewer that could drag him into a state of melancholy, of raw uncertainty. But this—this—a single crumpled piece of old, stained paper, had somehow managed to do both.

Silco read the note again. A second time. A third. A fourth.

As if the meaning of the words might change if he stared hard enough. As if, through sheer force of will, he could bend reality to make them say something else—anything else. But they remained the same, etched in ink that felt heavier than any weight he had ever carried.

His fingers tightened around the edges of the note, the worn paper crinkling under the force of his grip. Outwardly, he remained unreadable—a picture of cold, practiced stillness. But inside? Inside, there was nothing but chaos, a silent, gnawing storm that had no beginning and no end.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

When he ordered the sweep of her home, he had expected to find something—a clue, a trace, the faintest whisper of where she had gone. He had thought he would piece together the fragments, follow the thread, fix this. That was why he had come himself when he had no business being here.

His injuries had not yet healed. The wound on his back was still raw, making every breath a quiet battle, every movement an exercise in endurance. He was pushing himself harder than he should, his body reminding him with every strained inhale that he was in no condition to be out here, let alone leading this search personally.

But he had to be here.

He had already been gone for more than a week, and that was time he could not afford to lose—not in Zaun. Not now. If he remained absent any longer, people would start to wonder, to notice. His men would begin to whisper. The other barons would start weighing their options, watching for signs of weakness, calculating the right moment to sink their knives into his back.

No. He couldn't allow that.

He was already bleeding. Already reeling and he refused to give them another reason to think he was anything but in control. Which he was, and for that he had Sevika to thank.

She had done her job well.

Sevika had kept everything under control in his absence—both during the days he had been unconscious and the four that followed, where he remained bedridden, regaining his strength. At the very least, the truth of his injury had been contained. Only three people knew the extent of it: himself, Sevika, and Singed—though the damned scientist had managed to cure himself far too quickly for Silco's liking.

Still, despite everything, despite the pain lingering in his bones and the other distraction clawing at the edges of his mind—her absence, the unanswered questions—there was now something else to contend withSomething he had thought long buried.

Vander.

Even dead, the bastard found ways to haunt him.

The emotions stirred in his chest were not simple. If they had been, he would have torn the letter apart the moment he realized who had written it. But instead, here it sat in his hands, edges yellowed with age, the ink faded but still legible. First, there was rage. That was the easiest to acknowledge. The fury that had burned in him for years had never truly extinguished, not even after he stabbed Vander. The betrayal, the injustice—what Vander had done to him could never be forgiven. Would never be forgiven.

And yet.

There was something else. Something far more unwelcome.

Surprise, perhaps. That Vander had even considered an apology, that he had felt the need to put it to paper after all those years. By the state of the letter, it had been written long ago—buried, forgotten, sealed away like some festering wound. And yet, even until the very end, until the day Silco killed him, Vander had still carried that regret.

It hurt more than it should have.

After all these years, after everything—Vander had finally apologized.

A hollow, belated thing. Words spoken too late, when the blood had already dried and the dust had long since settled. A sorry excuse for repentance that meant nothing now. And yet, it lingered, gnawed at him in ways Silco had thought himself immune to.

There had been a time when he wanted to hear it. A time when he told himself that, if Vander would just admit what he had done, just acknowledge the betrayal, then maybe—maybe—some part of him could find peace. But eventually, that desire had been buried beneath something sharper, something colder. Vengeance had been easier to cling to. There was no space for forgiveness in war.

Now, standing in the wreckage of what they had been, Silco felt rage.

Rage that it had taken Vander this long to feel any semblance of remorse. Rage at the audacity of it—that he would expect anything from Silco in return. And rage for yourself, rage for that feeling buried so deep it was barely worth recognizing, something quieter. Something bitter.

The ache of what had been lost.

Because once, once—they had been brothers.

Not by blood, but by something stronger. They had fought side by side, built something together, dreamed of a future together. Vander had been his partner, his family. There had been a time when Silco had trusted him more than anyone. But that time was gone and he did not regret killing him.

He couldn't.

Regret was a luxury he refused to afford himself. Too much had happened. Too many choices had led them here, down paths that had twisted and splintered until there was no way back. No way to undo what had been done. Silco had made the necessary choices to build a nation. To free their people. Vander had made the choices to stop him. In the end, one of them had to die for the other to win. Silco had won.

That was all that mattered.

But reading Vander's words, Silco couldn't stop himself from wondering. The thought crept in, unwanted and insidious, slithering past the walls he had built around that part of his mind.

Could it have been different?

In another reality—one where he had found this letter in time—would he have forgiven him? Could they have salvaged something from the wreckage of their brotherhood? He thought of the blood in the water, the searing betrayal, the years spent rebuilding himself from the ashes of what they had once been. Could they have found a way forward, past the chasm of their irreconcilable ideals?

Silco would never know.

And it was better not to dwell.

That was not the reality he had been given. It never would be. The past had already set its course, and in the end, it had buried Vander beneath the weight of his own choices. His choices. Silco had simply done what was necessary.

Silco stilled. For a moment, everything—the weight of the note in his hand, the dull, persistent ache in his body—faded beneath the weight of realization. She had a connection to Vander.

Not just a passing acquaintance, not just the knowledge any Zaunite might have of a once-revered name. No—close enough to keep something of his. A letter, written in Vander's own hand, tucked away among her personal belongings. A quiet, hidden fragment of the past. A past she had never spoken of.

Silco's grip on the note tightened.

Sevika had mentioned a few minutes ago a loose floorboard in the washroom, a small cache of old newspaper clippings and scattered pages tucked beneath it. He had dismissed it—unimportant, irrelevant. But now? Now, he would personally go through every single one of those papers.

The signs had been there all along.

The way she had slipped out of The Last Drop with such ease, as if she knew its layout. The way she had so vehemently defended Vander's actions that night on his balcony, her words laced with something raw, something personal. The way she had known Powder. And worst of all, the reference—the goddamn reference—to the friend who had helped her in the past.

Of course, it had been Vander. Of course. Who else could it have been?

A sharp breath burned its way through Silco's lungs, but it did nothing to steady the slow, crawling sensation beneath his skin. Something unpleasant. Something dangerously close to betrayal.

He had no right to feel it. He knew that. Not when he had betrayed her trust just the same. Not when he earned her trust, twist it, manipulate it, mold it into something that served his needs. But still— still, it felt like betrayal. And that, more than anything, infuriated him. Both of them had lied. But even Silco would admit—between the two of them, his lie had been the worse of the two. Because whatever she had done, whatever falsehood she had chosen to cling to, it had not broken him.

But his had broken her.

And that—that—was something he hadn't accounted for.

Even now, he could feel it. The weight of her gaze, scorching through him, lodging deep beneath his skin. That look—filled with hurt, with fury—had burrowed into his flesh, carving itself into the marrow of his bones. It refused to leave him. It haunted him. It felt so real that, for a moment, he almost believed she was watching him even now.

Silco exhaled sharply, shaking the thought from his mind, forcing himself to refocus. But the feeling didn't fade. His body went rigid. Slowly, he lifted his head, his gaze shifting, drawn instinctively to a darkened alley across the way. There was nothing there—only shadows stretching long in the absence of light. And yet, the feeling remained.

The sensation of being watched.

Something cold slithered down his spine, though he didn't let it show. Instead, he took a step forward. And that was when he saw it. A flicker of movement, barely noticeable—someone shifting, pulling away. For every step he took forward, the shadow withdrew further into the dark. Then, just for a second—a single, fleeting second—she moved through a thin beam of light, enough for him to see. Enough to know.

She.

Silco had barely caught a glimpse of her—just a flicker of movement, the briefest flash of familiarity—but it was enough. It had been so fast. A mere second, no more than that. And yet, he could have recognized her in a crowd of thousands.

His little dove.

She looked afraid. No—shaken. As if she had seen a ghost. As if he were the specter haunting her. Silco had seen many things in her eyes before—anger, defiance, even that quiet, unspoken sorrow she tried so hard to bury—but never this. Never this raw, wide-eyed shock that pinned her in place, staring at him as though reality had shattered around her.

Before his mind could catch up, his body moved. No strategy. No calculated hesitation. Just instinct.

It was a mistake—one he might have anticipated if he had given himself even a second to think. A moment to consider that this could be a trap, a carefully laid snare meant to draw him in and finish what she had started in that damned laboratory. But rationality meant nothing now. Not when it came to her. He had already accepted the truth long ago: he was a fool where she was concerned.

Sevika's voice barely registered behind him, calling his name—sharp, urgent. Then a curse, low and irritated, before she moved to follow. But by the time he turned the corner, by the time his breath was steady enough to shape her name, she was gone.

Vanished.

All that remained was the body of one of his own men, slumped against the alley floor. And Silco, standing there, realizing she had truly been there. That this hadn't been another ghost conjured by sleepless nights and an exhausted mind. 

She was here.

And then—just as suddenly—she wasn't.

Sevika appeared at Silco's side within seconds, crouching down without hesitation to check the body sprawled at their feet. Her fingers pressed against the man's throat, searching for a pulse.

"Still breathing."

Silco barely acknowledged the words. His gaze was already sweeping the length of the street, searching for someone that he knew was no longer there. A pointless effort, but still, his eyes lingered as if willing her form to materialize from the shadows she had so effortlessly melted into.

"She was here." he said at last, his voice steady. He didn't need to elaborate. Sevika understood. Then, sharper—commanding. "Search the area. She can't have gone far."

Sevika didn't hesitate. She whistled sharply, signaling to the nearest guards, gesturing for them to spread out. Within moments, boots pounded against the damp cobblestones, figures disappearing into the labyrinth of Zaun's streets in pursuit of a ghost.

Because that's what she was.

Silco knew it even as he gave the order. It was a wasted effort, a futile chase. If she didn't want to be found, they wouldn't find her. She had been trained for this. He'd known it from the beginning and had noticed it over their time together. The way she moved, the way she sometimes seemed hyperaware of herself and her surroundings. That damned Institute had shaped her into something sharp-edged and elusive, and if that alone hadn't made her impossible to track, then years under Vander's protection certainly had.

Years. Years he had hunted for her, pried at every whisper, followed the faintest hints of a ghost's existence, only to come up empty-handed every time. It was infuriating, impossible—a shadow among shadows, that hadn't changed now.

Looking for her was like trying to hold onto smoke. And there he was again, in the same situation.

[...]

It could have been hours. Was hours.

As he expected, they found nothing of her.

Sevika sat across from him, equally silent, equally grim, the two of them sifting through every scrap of paper they had pulled from her apartment. The room had grown dim with the encroaching morning, the weak light filtering through his office windows casting pale streaks across the table. The last note landed with an unceremonious thud, tossed aside in frustration, joining the scattered remnants of what should have been answers but were, instead, nothing more than ghosts of what she had left behind.

And yet, the longer he read, the more a different kind of knowledge settled deep into his bones, threading through the cracks like poison. A realization that didn't lead to understanding but to something far worse—something hollowing.

Among the torn-out newspaper clippings detailing the massacre, among the fragmented notes, the scribbled thoughts addressed to no one but herself, there were other things. Things about Vander.

Too many things.

Orders. Instructions Vander had given her. Some were tactical—telling her to keep watch over those wretched brats of his when he'd caught wind of one of their reckless little heists. Others were mundane. Insultingly domestic: Do you need new blankets? Have you eaten today? Tell me if you're still feeling unwell.

And worse—questions that felt far too personal, far too familiar, written in that same blunt scrawl: When's your birthday? Do you even celebrate?

She had kept these. Every single one of them. Not out of necessity, not out of some calculated purpose, but because she wanted to. Because they had meant something to her. And that—that bothered him. Silco sat back, exhaling slowly through his nose, forcing down the sharp coil of something ugly twisting inside him.

He had never asked her any of these things.

Not once.

It wasn't something he thought about. It wasn't something that mattered. But Vander—Vander had wondered. Had written it down, as if it was worth remembering, as if it had been something significant enough to carve into the back of his mind. The thought left a bitter taste in Silco's mouth.

He had spent years condemning Vander for his weakness, for his inability to commit to the cause, for the softness that had ultimately cost him everything. He had spoken of it with disdain, convinced that sentiment had no place in war, that attachment only bred hesitation.

And yet—yet—here he was. Sitting at his desk, drowning in old ink and wasted words, searching desperately for something, anything, that might bring her back. 

Perhaps Vander would have laughed at him for it. Perhaps, had he been alive to see it, he would have found some quiet, obnoxious vindication in knowing that Silco was no less vulnerable to such things than he had been.

Among the sea of papers scattered across his desk, one stood out. It was worn, the ink slightly smudged in places, the edges curled as if it had been read and handled more times than the others. But it wasn't its state of wear that caught Silco's attention—it was the words.

A directive. Another order from Vander, this one instructing her to escort Violet while she retrieved a shipment for the bar at the docks. Simple. Routine. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But it was the words beneath the directive that made Silco's grip tighten ever so slightly. A note—short but pointed, a final line scrawled in a hand that was careful, yet firm.

A demand.

"This needs to stop. We're not doing this anymore. No more notes. No more messages left in the dark. You don't have to speak to anyone if you don't want to but you're going to talk to me. At least once. Face to face. You can be the ghost you love to be for anyone else, but not for me."

It seemed she had always been this way. Lingering in the spaces between people, leaving traces of herself but never fully stepping into the light. She had kept even Vander at arm's length, existing just outside of reach, close enough to serve a purpose but never close enough to be held.

And it seemed like they both wanted to hold her, different times, but still.

"Well." Sevika muttered from across the room, breaking the silence as she poured herself a glass of whiskey. She leaned back into the worn leather of the sofa, exhaling as the tension left her shoulders. "That explains a lot."

He didn't look at her. He was still staring at the ink, his gaze dark and unreadable.

"Vander and her..." Sevika swirled the whiskey lazily in her glass, the amber liquid catching the dim light as she took a slow sip. "Pretty damn close, huh? Lovers, maybe?"

The question landed heavier than it should have.

Silco didn't so much as pause in his reading, eyes scanning over the paper in his hands, using the motion as an excuse not to look at her. His fingers gripped the parchment just a fraction tighter, an imperceptible tell—one he hoped Sevika didn't catch.

Just the thought —the damned thought— of her and Vander together in the way that Silco and she were, made him feel sick to his stomach. It wasn't a pleasant sight to contemplate, let alone think about.

"He's not her type."

He expected Sevika to move on—she was perceptive enough to know when to let something lie. But that didn't stop the way she tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. And then—there it was. That sharp, dry scoff, followed by the slow raise of her brow. A look so blatantly judgmental that, for a moment, Silco nearly set the papers down just to glare at her properly. He didn't. And thankfully, she didn't press.

"Anyway..." she drawled, stretching the word out as if they hadn't just brushed against something precarious. "I questioned Singed."

Silco exhaled slowly through his nose, folding the document back into the pile. "And?"

"He says he was 'compelled' to write that letter." Sevika said, rolling her wrist in an idle gesture. "Claims he was going to speak to you in person. That he wouldn't have sent a letter at all if it were up to him."

"Compelled..." Silco echoed the word.

Sevika nodded. "Described it like... a voice in his head. An order he couldn't ignore. So he wrote it." She took a sip of the drink. "Do we trust him?"

"Yes."

The answer left Silco's lips without hesitation. A single breath, a single second of silence as he pulled a memory from the depths of his mind—one that now carried far more weight than he had given it before.

"She told me something after the ball." he continued, voice even, measured as he leaned over to grab his cigarette from the ashtray, quickly lighting it. "That, at some point, she had been... taken. Not physically, no one had touched her. But her mind had been seized, lulled into something unnatural. A trance, she called it. Unlike anything she had ever felt before. And now, this?"

Sevika frowned, fingers tightening around her glass. "The same people."

Silco leaned back in his chair, exhaling a slow stream of smoke from his lips. The room smelled of it—rich, acrid, clinging to the air, curling in slow, deliberate tendrils that dissipated into the dim glow of the lights. Sevika's next words were spoken with the rare weight of genuine concern.

"Why Singed?"

It was a good question. A logical one. And yet, the answer had already formed in his mind before she even finished asking it.

"They were watching us, that much is obvious. How, I still don't know. Perhaps it was luck. Or perhaps it was an exceptionally calculated move. Either way, they knew precisely where to strike."

He let the silence settle between them before adding, 

"You were the one who told me she hated being near him." His gaze cut to Sevika, calm yet pointed. "Every time you brought her there, she recoiled. The disgust was visible. Singed never hurt her, and yet, she loathed him."

Sevika didn't deny it.

"That made it easy, didn't it?" Silco mused, voice lowering. "If you wanted to bend someone to their breaking point, you start with the weakest fracture. She despised Singed. He was the obvious target. Something to strip her control, to make her question herself. Make her question me."

Another drag of his cigar. Another slow exhale, the embers glowing, casting faint red light against his fingers before dulling to ash.

"It would be foolish, to think this wasn't deliberate. To think this wasn't designed to pull her out of my grasp, psychologically, if not physically. If she broke, she would be easier to reach. And without me in the way..." He trailed off, letting the conclusion settle.

Sevika released a frustrated breath, tossing her head back against the couch, clearly hating every second of this conversation.

"Great and here I thought this was already a mess." Her fingers clenched around the glass, jaw tightening. "Can't get much worse than this, can it?"

Silco smiled, but there was nothing amused about it.

"Sevika... It always gets worse."

He watched as Sevika stared into her now-empty glass, her brow furrowed in thought. The room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of burning tobacco and the faint clink of ice melting against the sides of her drink. Finally, she let out a sharp exhale through her nose, shaking her head.

"I don't get it." She spoke with frustration, her voice edged with suspicion. "I see the threat she poses. I've seen it firsthand. But this—" 

She gestured vaguely to the air, as if referring to the unseen forces at play. 

"This is Noxus we're talking about. You really expect me to believe they don't already have something just like her? A super soldier? A walking weapon? You think a nation built on war doesn't have a dozen others waiting in the wings?"

She poured herself another drink before looking back at him, eyes sharp, searching for an explanation. Silco took a slow drag from his cigar, giving himself a moment to consider her words. He exhaled through his nose, watching the smoke curl into the air, before finally speaking.

"Perhaps they do. Perhaps there are others with her level of... devastation. Others who can tear through bodies like paper, who move faster than the eye can track, who slaughter without thought or hesitation." He tapped ash from his cigar, his fingers steady, methodical. "But that may not be what they're after."

Sevika frowned, shifting in her seat. "Then what?"

"Something far simpler... maybe, her recovery."

Sevika's expression barely flickered, but Silco caught the way her fingers tensed around the glass, the way she suddenly became very still, absorbing the weight of his words.

"She doesn't stop." his voice was quiet, thoughtful. "Not when she's injured. She already took a shot in the chest and continued as if it were nothing. It's not just raw power, Sevika. It's endurance. It's sustainability. A soldier like that is invaluable. Not one that can kill, but one that cannot be killed."

She said nothing for a long moment, simply raising her glass to her lips and downing the rest in one go. Then, without so much as a pause, she reached for the bottle and refilled it. Silco smirked. 

"Now you see it."

Sevika exhaled sharply through her nose, rubbing a hand down her face. "Yeah, I see it." She threw back the second glass just as fast as the first, letting the alcohol burn its way down. "But that's not all, is it?" she muttered, wiping at her mouth.

Silco's lips curled slightly at the corners. She was always quick. "No." he said smoothly. "That's not all."

She rolled her eyes, already reaching for another drink. "Of course it's not."

"Consider this, Singed injected shimmer into her. That much we know. That altered her body, warped it in ways we don't fully understand, but it kept her alive when she shouldn't have."

Sevika nodded, unimpressed. "And?"

"And..." Silco let the pause stretch just long enough for effect. "What if the shimmer did something more than just keep her alive?"

That got her attention. Her fingers tightened around her glass, and she looked at him sharply. Silco exhaled another slow breath of smoke before speaking again. "What if this change in her body had made her resistant even to death? A kind of immortality."

Sevika choked.

Literally.

The moment the words left his lips, she took an unfortunate sip of her drink, and instead of swallowing it, she promptly coughed it back up, sputtering as liquid went down the wrong pipe.

"The fuck did you just say?" she demanded, thudding a fist against her chest, trying to dislodge whatever had caught in her throat—be it disbelief, or that liquor she drank.

Silco didn't flinch. He didn't do flinching. He simply arched a brow, calm in the storm of her disbelief. "You heard me."

Sevika barked out a half-cough, half-laugh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes were wild with a mixture of incredulity and barely-contained anger. "Immortal?" she echoed, like the word itself was offensive. "You're telling me she just... what? Can't die now?"

He tilted his head slightly, considering her. "Not in the traditional sense." he said coolly, tapping ash from his cigar into the ashtray. "Or at least, that's the implication from Singed's letter. His wording was... poetic, in that unsettling way of his."

Sevika scoffed, dragging a hand down her face. "That's fucking insane." she muttered under her breath. Her artificial arm clicked faintly as she poured herself another drink, fingers trembling just enough for Silco to notice.

"You don't actually believe that." she said, not as a question, but as a challenge. "Tell me you're not swallowing that lunatic's story whole."

Silco let out a low, humorless chuckle, leaning back in his chair. The leather creaked beneath him. "I believe that I've seen her survive things no one else could have."

She groaned, throwing her head back against the couch, her frustration bleeding into every motion. "Great. Fantastic. She's a goddamn cockroach now."

He smiled at that, a quiet, amused curl of the lips. "I wouldn't phrase it quite like that."

"Of course you wouldn't." she snapped. "Because you're fucking biased."

He didn't argue. No denial passed his lips. Sevika wasn't wrong, and they both knew it.

She leaned forward, her voice low, urgent. "So what then? We get her back and just hope she never turns against us?"

Silco's expression darkened, his fingers tightening just slightly around the cigar. He didn't answer immediately, and in the silence, the weight of his thoughts filled the room like smoke—thick, suffocating, and inescapable.

"She won't." he murmured finally, barely more than a whisper, but the certainty in his voice was ironclad.

Sevika watched him, studied him. The way his jaw clenched just a little. The flicker of something in his eyes—not fear, not doubt, but... protectiveness. Dangerous, blinding protectiveness.

She scoffed again and downed her drink in one go. "Fuck me." she muttered, slamming the glass down. "This just keeps getting better and better."

Silco took a slow drag from his cigar, letting the smoke coil around his fingers before exhaling it in a long, measured breath. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a certain weight behind his next words—one that made Sevika straighten slightly, her fingers twitching against the rim of her glass as she filled up again.

"This does not leave this room."

It wasn't a request. It wasn't even a command. It was a fact. A line drawn in the sand. A warning laced with quiet authority. Sevika didn't hesitate.

"Obviously." she taking another sip from her glass. She didn't even look offended by the implication—she understood the gravity of what they had just discussed. "You think I'd go running my mouth about something like this? Come on, Silco, give me some credit."

He held her gaze for a long moment, his visible eye sharp, unyielding. "It bears saying."

Sevika huffed, shaking her head. "Yeah, yeah. Consider it locked up. I'm not stupid, I know what kind of chaos this would cause if the wrong people heard about it."

"Good."

Another brief pause. His thoughts were already shifting. Turning toward the one man who might have the answers he needed. Singed. The only person who truly understood what had happened to her.

He let the last embers of his cigar burn down before extinguishing it with a slow press against the ashtray. "I need to speak with Singed." he murmured. "Directly. No more speculation. If anyone knows the full extent of what she's become, it's him."

Sevika hummed, rolling the glass between her fingers. "You want me to bring him here?"

Silco nodded, already deciding. "Yes. This afternoon. The lab is gone, until we rebuild, this will have to do."

She grunted, shifting in her seat. "Tch. That fire did more than just damage the place, you know. It wiped it clean. It's gonna take months before it's up and running again."

"I'm well aware."

Sevika scoffed, tilting her head back against the couch. "As if trying to kill you and gut Singed wasn't enough, she just had to burn the place to the ground too."

He let out a quiet chuckle, though there was no real amusement in it. "No half-measures"

"Yeah, no shit." She shook her head before pushing herself up from the couch, stretching her arm with a lazy roll of her shoulders. The bottle of whiskey that was once full was now almost empty. "Fine. I'll bring him here in a few hours."

Silco simply inclined his head. She lingered for a moment longer, then—perhaps sensing that his mind was already elsewhere—turned and left, the heavy door clicking shut behind her. Silco remained still, staring at the swirling tendrils of smoke rising from the ashtray, his thoughts shifting between the past and the uncertain future ahead.

No half-measures indeed.

He let his body sink further into the chair, exhaling as he tilted his head back against the worn leather. His good eye drifted shut, allowing the weight of exhaustion to settle over him like a suffocating fog.

It was an exhaustion that went far beyond the the stiffness in his limbs or the tight pull of the half-healed wound beneath his shirt. No, this was something deeper. He could endure physical pain—he had lived with it for years. But this... the sheer, relentless pressure pressing down on him was something else entirely.

A war was brewing, though its battle lines had yet to be drawn. Enemies moved in shadows, waiting, circling, gauging the right moment to strike. His empire stood, but for how long? And her—her absence left an open wound, festering, threatening to unravel everything he had worked to build. He had spent years mastering control, perfecting his grip on the world around him, and yet, for the first time in a long time, Silco felt something dangerously close to slipping.

For just a fleeting moment, he allowed himself the quiet.

A breath. A second. A rare indulgence in a city that never slept, never stopped bleeding. Silco allowed himself that stillness, just one moment of silence in the chaos, head bowed, eyes closed, a sigh coiled tight in his throat. The silence wasn't peace—it never was—but it was something.

Then, predictably, it shattered.

The door burst open with a force that rattled the hinges. Wood cracked against stone, reverberating through the walls. He didn't need to look. He knew who it was. Only one person ever entered like that. Without knocking. Without hesitation. Without fear.

Jinx.

Her footsteps were sharp, fast, punching into the floor like accusations. He heard the clipped rhythm of her boots before he saw her, felt the fury in every step. She came at him like a storm—quick, loud, and inevitable.

He opened his eye just enough to track her path, but he didn't lift his head. Not yet. Her face was twisted—not in the usual chaotic grin or gleeful twitch of mania, but in something darker. Her mouth was set in a hard line, and those wide, wild eyes he'd come to know so well were now hollowed with betrayal.

She didn't waste time. Didn't greet him. Didn't even slow down.

"She ran away again!" she spat, voice cracking like a whip across the room. It was raw—furious and trembling all at once. "And why, huh?! What did you do?!"

Silco didn't have time to straighten fully before she was in front of him, practically vibrating with rage. She stopped short of slamming her fists on his desk, but the energy was there—electric, dangerous.

"This is your fault, isn't it?" she snapped. "What did you say to her?!"

His jaw tensed. The headache behind his eyes throbbed with renewed venom.

"Jinx—"

"No!" she cut him off before the syllable had fully left his mouth. "Don't 'Jinx' me!"

Her voice wavered, cracking under the strain of something that went deeper than rage. She took a step back, then forward again, unable to stay still, hands clenched so tight her knuckles went white. "She was here! She was fine! And now she's gone! Just like before!"

She was trembling. Not violently, not obviously—but Silco saw it. The slight twitch of her fingers, the way her shoulders locked too tight for a child her age. Thirteen. Gods, she was still just thirteen. And yet she glared at him now as though she could set him ablaze with the sheer force of her will.

Jinx stood in the center of the room like a live wire. Her eyes—those too-bright, too-clear eyes—were wide, feverish, swimming in something between fury and heartbreak. The kind of look a child wore when their entire world had tilted sideways. Again.

"You made her leave."

Her voice cracked like flint on stone. It wasn't just an accusation—it was a verdict. One passed down by someone who had been hurt too many times to believe in coincidence.

Silco remained seated, calm, even as his own jaw tensed. He tapped his fingers slowly against the armrest of his chair, the old wood creaking beneath his knuckles. He didn't speak right away. Speaking too quickly with Jinx—especially like this—was like tossing lit matches into a powder keg.

Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet hers. "I did not make her leave. She made that choice herself."

The muscles in her face twitched, contorted. Her scowl deepened, and her nose scrunched like it always did when she was trying not to cry but refused to look weak.

"But why?" Her voice was quieter now, edged with something raw, something cracking. The shift was small but devastating. She wasn't yelling anymore. She was asking. Pleading. "She said she wouldn't go. She promised."

Silco stood slowly. Not quickly—not threatening. Measured, careful. Jinx's breathing was shallow now, uneven, her chest rising too fast. He knew that rhythm. She was spiraling. Not the explosive kind—yet—but the kind that came from deeper wounds. This wasn't the scream-and-shoot kind of rage. This was the silent breaking underneath.

And all of it was directed at him.

He wanted to reach for her. Gods help him, he almost did. But she would recoil. He could see it in her posture. She wasn't ready to be comforted. She needed a reason. A shape to her grief. Something—someone—to put it on.

So she'd picked him.

"I didn't push her away, Jinx." His voice was low, calm, but beneath it was steel. "She misunderstood a situation and assumed the worst. Then she decided to run away based on that misperception."

She blinked. Just once. And in that instant, her anger twisted into something worse.

"Liar."

The word wasn't shouted. It was whispered. Flat. Lifeless. That single syllable carved into the space between them like a blade. She was trembling harder now, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears, though she'd never let them fall in front of him. After Vander's death, Jinx never cried in front of him.

"You always do this." she hissed, her voice rising again, breath hitching. "You act like you're in control, like you know everything. But you don't. You just... you just make decisions, and people leave. They always leave!"

She turned her back to him, pacing now, frantic, one hand threading through her tangled hair, yanking at the strands as if trying to ground herself. Silco watched, jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached.

Silco approached slowly, his boots silent as he moved closer to where she stayed. He could see her shoulders tremble—not with fear, but with rage barely held together by the fraying edges of heartbreak.

"Jinx." he said softly, his voice lowered as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile thing before him. He crouched down to her level, lowering himself in a rare gesture of patience, of something like care. One hand reached out, palm open, steady. "Look at me."

She didn't. Not at first. She flinched the moment his hand neared her, recoiling like he was poison. It was a tiny movement—but it hit him like a bullet. She didn't scream. She didn't sob. She just stared ahead, eyes wide and glassy, and the sound of her shallow, erratic breathing filled the silence between them. Silco froze, hand still half-outstretched.

He could've handled anger. Rage was familiar—he knew how to shape it, how to weaponize it. But this? The crack in her voice, the tremor in her lip—this was betrayal. This was pain. And somehow, that stung more than he expected.

She finally looked at him, and her voice was sharp enough to cut.

"If she ran." she hissed, blinking hard but failing to stop the tears from breaking through, "If she left us, it's because you did something." Her hands curled into fists, nails digging into the sides of her legs. "You hurt her!"

Silco's jaw clenched. The accusation wasn't new—he had prepared for it. Expected it, even. But the way it came from her, with so much certainty, so much pain—it landed like a knife under the ribs. He kept his face composed, neutral. Emotionless. That mask he wore so well.

"I did nothing of the sort." he said calmly. Too calmly. A lie, of course. But one that needed to be said. She couldn't handle the truth—not now. Not in this state. Not when she was hanging by a thread, her faith in everything unraveling.

But Jinx didn't buy it.

"Bullshit!" she snapped, the word splintering in the air between them. Her voice cracked halfway through it, shrill and desperate, like the scream of a wounded animal. Her eyes blazing, her hands twitching at her sides. Her entire body was trembling now, not from cold, but from fury laced with confusion. She wanted to understand, but couldn't. And that tore her apart.

Silco exhaled through his nose, trying to keep his composure from slipping. His fingers went to his temple, rubbing briefly before he let his hand fall back to his knee.

"You need to understand—" he began, but she cut him off before he could finish.

"No! You don't get it!" Silco stilled. "She's broken, just like us!" Jinx shouted, her words tumbling over themselves, too fast, too forceful, like she couldn't contain them. "We were supposed to fix each other! Not fight... not leave!"

Her voice cracked on that last word, a sharp, splintering sound that made something tighten in Silco's chest. She shoved her fists hard against her temples, eyes squeezed shut, breath hitching in her throat like she was trying to dam up a flood that was already surging through.

He had seen this before. He knew the signs. The tremble in her limbs. The uneven cadence of her breathing. The way her mind began folding in on itself like a collapsing star.

"Kid." His voice was firmer now, steadier, a command more than a plea. "Listen to me."

But she didn't.

She just shook her head, faster and faster, like she could dislodge the thoughts clawing at her mind if she tried hard enough. Her arms crossed over her head now, fists pulling at her hair. "She was supposed to stay." she whispered, her voice almost childlike, broken in its simplicity. "She promised."

Silco said nothing at first. He watched—trapped in that awful stillness of knowing he couldn't stop what was already unraveling. She was coming apart, and all he could do was try to catch the pieces before they shattered completely.

She was curled in on herself now, the way an animal does when it knows the blow is coming and it has nowhere to run. Her shoulders shook violently, and her breathing turned to shallow, rapid gasps—panic beginning to take hold.

"No... no, no, no... shut up... shut up!" she cried, her voice rising with every word. "Shut UP!"

Silco stiffened. The realization struck him a second too late—by the time the sound echoed, sharp and jarring, and he saw the red bloom against her skin, it was already happening. Jinx had always been volatile—yes—but this? This wasn't one of her usual outbursts. This was deeper, darker, a panic that twisted her expression until it was barely her own. She wasn't angry at him. She was at war with herself.

She hit herself again.

A wild, open-handed slap against the side of her head—sharp, quick, almost mechanical in its desperation.

"Stop, stop, stop talking!" she cried, not to him, but to the voices she heard, the ones that lived inside her skull and scraped at her sanity. Each word was a plea masked as rage, her breathing too fast, too shallow. The kind of breathing that made your lungs burn but never fill.

Silco moved on instinct. Thought was irrelevant—useless in the face of this storm. He lunged forward and seized her wrists, firm but controlled. Her arms were small, bones like matchsticks beneath his fingers, but she fought like an animal cornered, eyes wide, pupils dilated, muscles coiled with sheer, panicked energy.

"Jinx." He said her name low, steady—but it didn't reach her. She writhed, kicking, twisting, her face contorted with fear, fury, something feral. Not at him, not really—at the chaos inside her.

"Let me go! Let me go!" she wailed, thrashing harder now, her body jerking in his grip. Her chest rose and fell with violent urgency, tears finally spilling over her cheeks, but even then, she didn't seem to notice them. She was somewhere else entirely.

And Silco, for all his calculated control, all his political power, all the blood that had stained his hands in Zaun's name—had no idea what to do.

This wasn't a battlefield he understood. This wasn't a negotiation or a coup or a threat he could snuff out. This was a child—his child—splintering before his eyes, drowning in a tide he couldn't see. Couldn't fight.

"Jinx!" he snapped, voice sharper now, slicing through the air like a blade. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't soft. And for once, he was grateful it worked.

She flinched. It was small—a twitch in her shoulders, a flutter of her lashes—but it was enough. She heard him.

Good.

She was still in there.

"You need to stop this." 

His voice was low and hard, his hands still wrapped around her thin arms. She was trembling beneath his grip, her skin clammy with sweat, breathing erratic and shallow. He gave her a small shake—not enough to hurt, never to hurt—just enough to pull her, to jolt her loose from the grip of whatever hell her mind had dragged her into. 

"Look at me."

But she didn't. Her head jerked to the side, her eyes refusing to meet his. She was teetering on the edge, lost in the between—between herself and whatever storm was howling inside her head.

Silco clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. He could feel it rising in him—that sickening twist of helplessness. He hated it. Hated not knowing how to fix this, how to fix her. This was not something that could be threatened into submission or silenced with a knife. This was something fragile, something wild and broken and innocent, all at once. And it was far more terrifying than anything Piltover had ever thrown at him.

He tightened his grip just slightly. Enough to still her. Enough to make sure she didn't spiral again.

"Jinx."

The name was heavier this time. Not barked. Not shouted. Just spoken with something close to urgency.

She twitched again—another gasp escaping her lips—and finally, her eyes drifted toward him. Unfocused. Distant. But on him. Her brows pinched, as if just beginning to recognize him. Like a child waking from a nightmare and struggling to believe it's really over.

"There's no one else here." he continued, his voice now lower, grounded, deliberate. "It's just you and me."

Her breathing hitched. She wasn't fighting anymore—not really. Her body was still coiled like a spring, but she wasn't thrashing. She was listening, or trying to. He could work with that.

"Focus."

He loosened his grip. Just slightly. Just enough to allow her to breathe, to remind her she had control—but not enough to let her slip away again. He'd learned that lesson once before. She needed to feel held. Needed something stronger than the fear clawing at her mind.

"You're safe." He said it like a fact. Like it was unshakable truth. "No one's talking to you. No one's here." His voice dropped again, quieter now, steady and low, the way you'd speak to something wild that might bolt at the wrong movement. "Do you hear me?"

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut, so tightly it looked painful, as if she could force the voices out by sheer will alone. He thought she might spiral again, might jerk away from him and disappear into whatever inferno her mind had pulled her into.

But she didn't.

Not this time.

Her chest rose in another shuddering breath—quieter now, slower. Not calm, not yet, but no longer desperate. The trembling in her limbs eased, just enough for him to feel it under his hands. Her fingers twitched faintly, uncertain. And then her eyes opened.

Only slightly.

Glass-like. Haunted. But focused—on him.

Silco exhaled. Not with relief. That would have been too vulnerable, too soft. But it came out anyway, low and measured, like steam released from a cracked pipe.

"That's it." he murmured, voice just above a whisper, low and grounding. The closest he ever got to tenderness. "Come back."

She blinked slowly, her lashes still sticky with unshed tears. And then, like someone had thrown a switch, the fight just—left her. The tension drained out of her bones like blood leaving a wound. Her shoulders sagged. A breath escaped her lips, raw and ragged and too big for her chest. Her weight shifted forward slightly—not a fall, but close. It was like watching a structure collapse after a storm, quiet but irreversible.

Silco didn't let go. Not yet. He held her wrists a moment longer, eyes narrowing, watching for the signs. Any flicker of relapse, any twitch that might betray another wave. But there was nothing.

Only a girl standing still.

Shaking. Small. Wrecked.

The moment Jinx launched herself at him, Silco barely had time to brace himself. Her small body collided with his, and he stumbled backward, losing his balance as they both tumbled to the floor. The impact jarred him, and a sharp sting flared up from the wound on his back, but he pushed the pain aside, focusing instead on the girl in his arms.

She clung to him with a desperation that made his heart twist. Her fingers gripped the fabric of his coat so tightly that he could hardly breathe, and for a moment, he feared he might break under the intensity of her hold. Her small frame shook against him, and he could feel the remnants of her panic still coursing through her, though the storm within her seemed to have calmed, at least for now.

Silco quickly adjusted their position, shifting Jinx's weight so that she wouldn't be uncomfortable. He pulled her close, letting her nestle into him, the warmth of her body contrasting sharply with the coolness of the floor beneath them. He was acutely aware of her breath against his chest, each inhalation a reminder of how fragile she felt in this moment.

"It's alright." he murmured softly, brushing a hand gently through her hair. The action felt foreign to him, a tender gesture he rarely extended to anyone, but it seemed necessary now. She needed comfort, and he would give it to her, if only to reassure himself that she was still here, still with him. "You're alright."

She didn't answer. Didn't move. Just held on. And Silco— Silco let her.

Time passed in slow, heavy seconds, the only sound between them the erratic rise and fall of her breath. Eventually, her shaking dulled. Not entirely. Not completely. But enough. Enough for Silco to tilt his head slightly, resting his cheek against her hair. He closed his eyes.

"I'll bring her back to us." he murmured, voice low, firm, absolute. No matter what it took. No matter what it cost. "I promise."

With Jinx still in his arms, her body trembling in the aftermath of her breakdown, Silco felt a weight settle deep in his chest—something heavier than exhaustion, something colder than anger. The room around him was quiet now, save for the uneven rhythm of her breath, but his mind...

His mind wasn't quiet at all.

His grip on her was firm, steady, an anchor in a sea of chaos neither of them knew how to navigate. But even as he held her, even as he focused on keeping her grounded, something surfaced from the depths of his thoughts—something that had been buried, discarded, left to rot in the forgotten corners of his memory.

"You know where to find me."

The words had meant nothing at first. A final sentence scrawled at the bottom of that damned Vander's note, a throwaway phrase that should have been insignificant. But it wasn't.

It wasn't.

Because there was only one place Vander could have been referring to and the realization made Silco's breath catch. He had forgotten. Truly forgotten. For all these years, the place had meant so little to him that it had ceased to exist in his mind, reduced to nothing more than a phantom of the past. The mines.

"I know where your mother is hiding, Jinx."

Part 22

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay, I need to apologize especially to all the readers who usually comment on every chapter and I reply. I was really overwhelmed these past two weeks and was focusing on writing, so I kind of forgot to reply. I'm really sorry. Well, I always wondered how Silco would react upon seeing this letter, after everything had happened, and this is my vision of it.

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[kingofthewilderwest]

Hi Haddock! I'm currently writing my master's thesis on Tumblr, specifically on the way the technology (e.g. the UI) offered to us through the years has changed and brought forth Tumblr culture! For that, I need to do a deep, deep dive into Tumblr history (among other things) and I struggle to remember what was different about the site 12+ years ago - both from the technological and the social angle. Since you & your mutuals are some of the oldest tumblrinas I'm kiiinda aware of, I wanted to ask if you'd possibly be able and willing to list some of the things that you remember... it doesn't matter whether those were mechanics you loved or if they sucked lol.

For example, we used to have a better ask culture when people without an account were still able to chime in, but on the other hand, I recall post formats to have been sooo shitty haha.

It'll also be interesting to gather some aged screenshots from back then. I wonder if the wayback machine will help, but other than that, do you have any idea where I could find photos of a 2013 dashboard or some blog posts or anything??? The internet's search functions are so broken by now that I've grown tired of struggling for workarounds.

Your insight would be greatly appreciated!!!

Cheers!

HEYYYYYY SO I DO NOT WANT TO DELAY REPLYING ANY LONGER SINCE I AM SURE YOU ARE ON A TIME CRUNCH AND I MIGHT BE TOO LATE ALREADY

I would LOVE to grab some things for you. I might even have screencaps and more for you of 2014 tumblr if I get looking on my old laptop

My life has been Chaos and a Half

I have been flying by the seat of my pants so hard that my pants should register with the Department of Non-Motor Vehicles as a flying carpet

Let me know when your deadline is and I'll try to help

I think things are finally going to be calmer after this Sunday [knocks on a forest of wood]

[moonlitcelestial]

Chapter 22 

Beyond the Lens - Logbook Videographer!Reader x OT8 Ateez

W/C 11,915

🎥 Series Masterlist 🎥

☽ Masterlist ☾ 

Inspiration Pictures

Pinterest Board Masterlist

Previous Chapter (Chapter 21)

Disclaimer: This story is purely a work of fiction. It is not meant to assume or mock anything about Ateez, Atiny, or anything relating to what I do not know about being a videographer. This story will follow several of the events that Ateez have done in the past year for Golden Hour Part 2, that being said I will not be able to include everything. 

Contains she/her pronouns.

The logo in the center is mine. Please do not reuse or copy.

I strongly recommend looking at the inspiration pictures and the Pinterest boards linked above (which will be updating as the story goes on).

General Warnings: slow burn, cussing, conflict, angst, fluff, and obliviousness. 

CHAPTER WARNINGS - None, let me know if I should add any.

Let me know what you think! <3 Moonie

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

You finally landed in Paris, after being in a plane for upwards of 10 hours you were absolutely exhausted and stiff. Most of your time was spent rotating between sleeping, watching shows, catching up on some of the editing you could with the shotty Wi-Fi, and switching between listening to your most current audiobook and your favorite playlist. As soon as you landed you started moving to get your bags. Thankfully you had been in one of the first rows so you got off the plane quickly. When you got out and into the main portion of the airport you pulled out your phone to message everyone that you made it safely to Paris. They rapidly fired responses back to you shortly after. You knew it was early in the morning for them because of the time difference so you told them to get back to bed. 

When you got out of the airport after grabbing your bag from the baggage claim you made your way out to get a cab. You finally flagged one down after a few minutes and the little old man was smiling at you, after a little while you safely made it to your hotel. Checking in was a breeze as this was a hotel you had frequented when you came up here. The older woman had recognized you and already had some of the things ready as you made it up to her counter. You thanked her with your very limited French and she giggled at your thick accent. 

Your room was the perfect size for you as always. You took off your Beyond the Lens Studios baseball cap, threw it on the bed, and ruffled your hair out before you started to unpack your things. First you hung your clothes so they wouldn't wrinkle too badly, then you got your computer set up on the desk on the far side of the room right next to the door to the balcony. At one point you found a stray Jjongrami and Hetmongi, those sneaky bastards; you set the two of them up by the pillows on your bed. When you had those things set up you started getting more of your smaller things out, plugging in your cameras and all of the chargers for your electronics. You changed out of your airport outfit and into the blue space sleep set you brought. Flopping yourself into bed you sent off another message that you were in and settled at your hotel and that you would update them as you could throughout tomorrow.

While you were sprawled across the bed you checked your emails and some of your socials. There were several confirming the schedules of the shoots you were participating in. You shot off responses stating that you just landed and got settled and that you would be there at the requested meeting time. There was something that you were CC’d in from Aurora but that could wait until tomorrow. You responded to some of the other emails you had before getting on your socials. In the end you were watching edits and all sorts of things until your brain had slowed enough that you could get to sleep. With heavy lidded eyes you took off your glasses and plugged in your phone. Shortly thereafter you fell into a dreamless and restless sleep. 

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

You woke up freely which generally meant early as hell. With a groan you moved to grab your phone. It had been lit up with several messages from everyone back in Seoul. They were already into their afternoon while you were just waking up. Forrest had updated you on the filming he was taking over for you with the Ateez boys. Willow told you about all of the things she was doing to keep you updated on the progress of the edits for the first logbook Beyond the Lens was in charge of as well as the other things you have filmed for them. She was nearly finished with her part and would be sending it back to you soon for final edits, sadly you would have to hang onto it until they debuted the music. Aurora was messaging you about the project you and her collaborated on giving you a general rundown of everything including the CC’d email. The boys had been giving you little updates on how everything was going throughout their day. Some of them had taken to sending you ridiculous selfies and odd blurry pictures of some of the other boys. You smiled and responded to all of them with a blurry selfie of you with the covers pulled up to just under your eyes the Jjongrami and Hetmongi next to either side of your head. The responses were immediate, most of them protesting that you brought only those two, the team was rolling as they watched the chaos. You had to explain that you hadn't packed them and the two in question were smug as they admitted to sneaking them into your suitcase. San and Wooyoung had sent a selfie together saying the real thing was better. You responded by telling them if they wanted to be that way you would buy plane tickets for Yeosang to come up here; you left Hongjoong out of it because he already was coming up here. They immediately stopped their ranting and instead sent good mornings and a few other stray pictures. You rolled your eyes at them and couldn't stop smiling. 

Despite the initial chaos it felt like you were finally a part of a family, one that loved you as much as you loved them. You layed in bed for a little bit before you decided to get up and start getting ready. You threw on your cropped tank top, comfy shorts and one of your zip up hoodies as well as a few of the necklaces and rings you brought with you. When you finished getting dressed you grabbed your small backpack and put one of your cameras in it along with your essentials for going out on the town. Today was going to be a jet lag recovery day, you always planned a day into your schedule so you could adjust so you would be at your best when you were working. It also was the day you had been anticipating for weeks, something that you were extremely excited about.

As soon as you were ready you headed down for breakfast in the lobby. With a wave to the front desk people you started piling your plate high with some of the breakfast foods they had. In all honesty the food here was one of your favorite parts of the trip. As you sat down in the back corner of the dining room you brought out your phone and took a picture of your breakfast to send out to the Never-ending Nonsense group chat formerly known as the Ministry of Chaos. The name changed as soon as the boys Forrest and Aurora started arguing in the chat about something you can't even recall now.  You dug into the breakfast and watched people as you ate. It was almost too quiet, the chaos from the boys was missing. It was weird how much the few days of chaos seemed to have ingrained itself into your mornings. Just as you were finishing up you were met with multiple vibrations of your phone. You checked it and your heart warmed with more cute responses of your favorite people.

After you finished your breakfast you started to make your way over to your first and most likely only stop for today. On the way you got sidetracked and decided to go into a small shop to grab some snacks for throughout the day. You snagged some danishes, croissants, a couple of donuts and macarons. As soon as you got to your destination you couldn't stop smiling. One of your acquaintances owned the shop you stood in front of; Midnight Inkworks. She must have seen you because shortly after the door opened with a cute ding. Aurélie was standing there with a large smile on her face as she peaked at you. Her tan skin and black hair was gorgeous as always. The colorful tattoos and silver piercings stood out against her darker outfit; very similar to your own. While she peeked out the door she was just about a head shorter than you. It always cracked you up how short she was compared to you. You laughed at her and started stepping toward the open door. As soon as you passed the threshold she hugged you.

“Long time no see dear,” You hugged her back and started chatting with her as she started asking her normal questions. You fell into conversation easily with her, the two of you had found common ground the first time you came here for the moon tarot card piece on your hip. She was thoroughly impressed with you because you sat through it in one sitting; she had said you were one of the best clients she had after the fact. 

You set down the bag of snacks you procured while she pulled out the design you had been working on together. When you laid eyes on it your jaw dropped. It was absolutely perfect. This was the first time you got to see the finished product, the two of you had been shooting it back and forth working on it together for the past few weeks. The last time you saw it it was still fairly raw and unpolished, she had taken your visions and drawings and made them into a masterpiece. The sword through the middle was beautifully detailed with stipple shading. The yin and yang koi looked absolutely amazing with the small amount of shading she added to your initial drawings. The small flowers she added made the entire piece come together. (Tattoo it’s the last one) It was going to look perfect on the back of your left leg. You turned around so she could place the stencil. Before she did she took the first of several before pictures. After she placed it you stepped away from her and took a look at it in the large mirror and absolutely fell in love with the way it flowed. 

Aurélie brought you over to her chair and made you stand there for a second set of before pictures. When she was satisfied with the amount of them she started her work. 

You got to watch as her partner came in and had several clients throughout the morning, each time they left with large smiles on their faces. The two of them were the reason this business was constantly busy. They both were amazing artists with the kindest souls; even if they could be intimidating at first with their multiple sets of piercings and tattoos. You saw through them immediately because you were almost one in the same. People were always too quick to judge but if they truly got to know the people behind the ink they would realize that they were some of the best people you could have at your side. 

There were only a couple of times you took a break for her and for you. At one point she sat in front of you while you snacked on some of the small pastries you brought. She asked you about how life was going in Seoul and how you were doing in the photography business. You filled her in about your old company and how you got Beyond the Lens. Throughout the story she was telling you how proud she was of you as she was once in a similar situation; which is how she ended up having a very successful tattoo shop. She also asked if you had any luck in the dating pool; to which you told her yes without giving too many details. You talked about all of the qualities of the different boys making it seem like it was one person you were discussing instead of eight. She was absolutely swooning at the mention of how you were treated. 

While you were laying on your stomach in the chair you kept up with messaging everyone so none of them would get suspicious. Thankfully every time one of them asked how you were doing you could give a short noncommittal answer and then ask them what they were up to. Which generally resulted in a flurry of a bunch of different messages with everyone’s replies. 

Before too long the constant chatter of a couple of other people, the buzzing of the tattoo gun, and the soft lofi music lulled you into a light sleep. Apparently you hadn’t gotten enough last night; like always. 

You were awoken with light pats on your arms. Aurélie was squatting in front of you with a large smile on her face. The first time you fell asleep in her chair she panicked, almost calling the medics. After talking her off that ledge you told her that you fell asleep for most of your tattoos especially the large ones; which is what most of your body was covered with. This time was no different, “You're done doll, it came out amazing if I do say so myself.” 

She helped you stand and you turned to look over your shoulder at the large tattoo spanning from your thigh just under your butt down to your calf and to your achilles. The way she made the koi fall on either side of the bend of your knee made it look perfect. You couldn't stop smiling and immediately lunged at her to give her a hug. The two of you laughed and you praised her talent while you rocked back and forth in her arms. 

You separated from her and put your hands on her shoulders. “You are a saint, it looks absolutely magnificent. It is better than I imagined it being, I can't wait to show everyone back home!” 

“I'm glad you like it Y/n! Let's get some after pictures!” You nodded at her and let her stage you for the several pictures she was going to take for her profiles. After she had enough pictures you pulled out your camera from your backpack and took one over your shoulder with her standing proudly in the mirror. Then came the large clear bandage to keep it from drying out for the next couple of days. When the two of you were finished you made your way over to the register as she was half assed explaining the aftercare to you; she knew you already knew what she was telling you anyway. When you got to the register you pulled your cash out and handed it over to her, making sure to tip generously. She had tried to give some of it back but you were already halfway out the door. You waved to her and stepped out of the store as she was protesting the amount; she was worth it for the work she did. By the time you got out of the shop it was already close to two, you had been in there for just about six hours. You decided to head back to the hotel to possibly get some of your work done. 

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

When you stepped into the hotel you were met with the smiling face of the front desk receptionist. She watched you as you passed and went to the elevator. You unlocked your door and as soon as you stepped in you were met with the overwhelming scent of roses. Peeking around the room you spotted the bouquet of beautiful deep red almost black roses on the desk next to your laptop. You approached the desk and looked over the roses, there was a small note attached. 

Our Treasure,

We are happy you made it safe and sound.

With love, your Pirates 

How in the fuck did he even know where you were? You pulled your computer forward and turned it on so it could get booted up. While it was booting up you opened the balcony door so the fresh air could get into the room. Before you got too into work you decided to call the boys, it was getting late in Seoul and it felt odd not having them around.

You pulled up facetime on your Mac and clicked into the 9 Makes 1 Team group chat to start a group call with them. When it started ringing you moved over to the horizontal monitor on the left side of your laptop to see which projects you could help with in the Beyond the Lens Cloud. There were still some photos that needed editing for one of the shoots you were helping Willow with. You clicked into a few of them and brought them into Photoshop on your vertical screen which was on the right. While you were in the middle of adjusting the brightness of the first photo you heard the call ping alerting you someone had joined. Glancing over you realized Wooyoung was the first and only one to answer the call so far. 

“Noona! Hi! How is the city of love?” 

“Hi Woo, it's beautiful as always. It was absolutely gorgeous outside so I went out for a bit of a trip around the area and visited some shops.” You hadn't quite looked at him just yet, when you had the picture to a spot you wanted it to be you fully looked over.

“Did you get anything interesting?” He was watching you with a cute small smile. You grabbed one of the pastries you had leftover from earlier today and showed it to him before taking a large bite. 

“That looks really good!” You covered the bottom half of your face and you nodded while Wooyoung laughed at you and your chipmunk cheeks. Yunho and Mingi popped up onto your screen next. The two of them looked slightly out of breath like they had just been dancing. They both waved at you as they took large drinks of water. 

“Hi Princess! How are you? Is jet lag kicking your butt?” 

“I’m doing really well. It was but I got a decent amount of sleep on the plane and took a nap earlier today so I’m good to go.”

“Yuyu took one too, he was worn out from being up so early.” Yunho lightly smacked Mingi for revealing that bit of information. You and Wooyoung laughed at the two who started to lightly bicker. Hongjoong popped onto the screen and immediately clocked the twin towers bickering, he shook his head with a click of his tongue. 

“Hi Shutterbug, what are you up to?” He was looking at something beyond his phone, from what you could tell he had his phone propped up against his monitors in the studio. Sometimes you forget how similar you were to him. Workaholics at their finest.

“I think I am doing just about the same thing as you, talking to our loves while piecing some work together.” You started clicking around to see the before and after your quick edits. They looked good but there was still something you wanted to do to bring the focus to the model in the middle. There were a couple of clicks that came through his call as well. The two of you looked back at your respective devices at the same time which prompted a giggle from you and Wooyoung who was just watching everything. Mingi and Yunho’s bickering match paused hearing the two of you laughing. Hongjoong smiled at you before looking back up and speaking to someone. Shortly after, Yeosang popped into your view on Hongjoong’s call. 

“Hi Sangie! Having fun recording?” He gave you a small wave before looking at Hongjoong and taking a step back. He motioned violently that he wasn't, you could tell it was in a joking manner. Hongjoong was watching him from the reflection in the monitor. He turned around quickly in his chair and Yeosang froze. Your eyes widened just like Yeosang’s did as he stood up deliberately slowly and murmured something that the microphone on Hongjoong’s phone couldn't quite pick up. Yeosang turned beet red and his mouth was in a tight line trying to suppress what you could assume was a smile. You could only imagine what he had said to him. You looked at Wooyoung’s little box and he was watching it with a sly grin. Mingi and Yunho were doing the same. San popped up behind Mingi and Yunho and startled them, they must not have been paying attention. 

“Hi Sannie!” 

“Hi Y/n-nie” He gave you a small wave and kissed Mingi and Yunho on the cheeks before squeezing himself between the two of them. You looked back to your right screen and a lightbulb went off, you knew exactly what you needed to do to get the picture where you were imagining it. A smile and a noise of triumph left you before you started furiously clicking around in Photoshop to adjust the things you needed. When you zoomed back out from the picture you clapped your hands, it came out perfect. You saved it quickly and sent off the several saved versions to Willow and put them into the cloud under the correct file. When you focused back on the laptop screen you realized that you were being watched by all eight of your boyfriends; even Hongjoong had looked away from his computer to watch you. When Seonghwa and Jongho had gotten there you had no idea. You felt the heat rush to your face as you tried to suppress your bashful smile. 

“You're cute.” the words fell from the maknae’s lips before he could think anything of them. You crossed your arms with a small huff. 

“You're one to talk, Aegiya (baby). I have to repress the urge to squish your cheeks any time I am in your presence” The responding laughter at your muttered phrase made the smile you were suppressing finally slip free. With a quick glance you saw that he was suppressing a smile and his face may have been just a little red. He was also rolling his eyes at you and the rest of your boys. The teasing of the maknae never stopped. 

Your afternoon consisted of most of the boys chattering with you while you listened and worked. For the most part you have been productive until someone demanded your attention away from your photos. The first time it was Wooyoung, when he finally got your attention he made several aegyo faces at you. You rolled your eyes at him and continued your work with a smile. A while later the second time was Jongho who had taken you into one of the practice rooms with him. He serenaded all of you while he practiced. You had stopped all together to watch him while he sang, the smile never left your face. The third and final time was when Mingi, Yunho, and Yeosang had demanded that you watch them practice next. As soon as the music started you were absolutely a blushing mess as they started the choreography to Wake Up. When they finished they picked up the phone and took you with them to head back home. Most of the other boys did the same within the next 30 minutes. San had sent you pictures of the giants as soon as he made it to your house. There was also a video of Toothless screaming at him while he stood in the kitchen which made you laugh.

As it got later they slowly trickled out of the video call to go to bed. You had given them warm goodnights as they left. The only one that was there now was Hongjoong, he looked absolutely exhausted but you knew his mind was flowing with creative ideas and that he wouldn't stop any time soon. A little while later you glanced down and saw that it was just about 6 p.m. where you were, which meant it was almost 1a.m. there in Seoul.

“Joongie, you should probably go home to sleep some time soon.” He was in the middle of putting something together when you spoke. The only indication that he had heard you was the quick flicker of his eyes to his phone and then to something behind it. He opened his mouth like he was going to speak but as soon as the track he was working on started playing he muted himself. You tilted your head at him but after a minute of not being able to hear him shook your head and continued working on the last couple of photos in the album. You continued like this for a while before your stomach rumbled. 

“Joongie, I know you can hear me. If I have to I will call someone to go pick you up and drag your ass home if you continue much longer. I know it is nearly 2 a.m. there.” He looked down at his phone and then to the computers behind it, the dark circles under his eyes were fairly prominent. He leaned forward like he was going to unmute himself and started speaking, not even glancing at you on his screen. You tried to get his attention to let him know he was still muted, you spoke, you waved your hands in front of your camera but nothing was working. 

After a few more minutes of this continuing you decided to get up and go to your room’s phone. You called down and ordered yourself some room service for dinner. When you finished you looked back at your screen to see him still talking, but now you could see someone in the frame. That’s why, he was talking to someone and most likely deafened you. You made your way to the bathroom in the hotel room and looked at the back of your left leg. There were a couple of spots under the wrap that had blood on them but other than that it looked amazing. You ran your hand over the wrap that was on it, there was a slight twinge of pain as you made your way toward the back of your knee. It honestly surprised you that Hongjoong hadn't seen it when you were on the room phone. There was a small knock on the door to your room. You smiled widely at the man as he rolled the cart into your room. 

“Thank you!” He sat the dinner on your dresser as the desk was full of electronics. 

“Of course, have a great evening.” He nodded to you and started back out the door. You followed him and closed the door to the room. The food smelled absolutely divine. With quick steps you moved to the desk to push your computer back so you had enough room to eat; taking special care to avoid the roses. When it was situated at a good place you grabbed the tray of food and sat down to eat. Hongjoong was bopping to something while you ate. You just watched him quietly. He was so in his element but he really needed to go to sleep.

“Joongie, I don't know if you can hear me but I think you should go home, you have other schedules tomorrow morning and a packed full week. You need sleep if you're going to survive it without making yourself sick.” He was looking at something off the screen. You continued to watch him while you finished your meal, he had been completely silent and you had no idea if he could hear you anyway. With a sigh you decided to just hang up the call, “Please take care of yourself.” you whispered. Maybe if the light changed and you disappeared he would finally realize what time it is. 

When you were completely finished with your food you took the plate and placed it outside the door. You decided to grab your camera and go sit on the balcony. The air was warm as you stepped outside from the open sliding door. You lifted your camera up and started taking pictures of miscellaneous things. First it was the small flower shop across the way, then it was the couple standing in front of it smiling at each other while they picked out flowers for a bouquet. You turned to look at the beautiful one that was sitting on the corner of your desk. With a small smile you turned back to look over the city, your eyes caught on the Eiffel tower. Your body moved before your mind registered, your camera came up to your face and you had taken off your glasses and set them on top of your head before snapping the picture. Most of the time you had the camera close enough to your face that you didn't need your glasses, it was either that or you smacked into them while moving quickly. You watched as the photo popped up and quickly disappeared. It went on like this for what felt like a few seconds, it could have been an hour for all you know. There was no concept of time to you when you were taking pictures. You followed the streets and captured the genuine interactions of the couples coming out of the restaurants with large smiles. You almost wished at least one of your boys was here right now so you could do the same. 

A vibration came from beside you on the chair you tossed your phone into. You picked it up and held it extremely close to your face to see Hongjoong calling you. With a light roll of your eyes you answered the facetime call and put your glasses back to their normal place. He was pouting on the other end, before you could greet him he spoke. “You left.”

“You were in the middle of something, I tried talking to you but you had me deafened and you were muted.”

“I'm sorry Shutterbug, Maddox came into the room and was asking me a bunch of questions about the track I was working on.”

“That’s okay Songbird, I just figured I would be one less distraction you had to worry about while you were working, even though the both of you should be asleep because it is nearing” you tapped your phone which showed it was about 7:30 pm here, “2:30 am. You especially because I know you have a schedule tomorrow morning and then a flight here soon thereafter.” he rubbed the back of his neck with a small sheepish smile. 

“I’m heading home now, I promise.” He flipped the camera and showed the back of one of the company vans. You nodded to him and flipped your camera to show the city, more specifically the Eiffel tower. 

“Wahh, you've got a great view of everything! I love that you can see the tower without being too close to it.” He was leaning in close to his phone as he inspected the view. The wonder on his face was almost comical. You took a screenshot of him with a small smile. 

“That’s why I chose this hotel forever ago. Every time I come here I use this hotel, I've been here enough that some of the long term staff recognize me at this point.” You flipped the camera to focus back on yourself. He moved away from the screen slightly and you smiled at him. 

“Now that is a breathtaking view.” Your smile turned bashful and you could feel the heat creep up the back of your neck. When he saw that you were blushing his smile widened. The simplicity of the compliment made your heart flutter in your chest; it really didn't take much to make you blush like a schoolgirl talking to her crush. 

“Joongie, I have a question for you.” He nodded at you indicating he was listening as he got out of the vehicle. 

“How did you know where to send the bouquet you got me?” A small laugh left him at your question. 

”Magic.” You rolled your eyes at his answer. Of course he wouldn't tell you, you should have known. 

“Stalker.” There was a small snort of laughter that came from him as he walked in a door. You watched as he brought the phone up to his face and peered into your soul. All you could see was his eyes and forehead for just a brief second. He took you with him as he made his way through the darkness of the dorm. He changed out of your view and ended up carrying you to the bathroom and set it down on the counter while he brushed his teeth. It was so domestic, something that despite the several days they had spent at your house you haven't seen. 

“Shutterbug, you're staring,” you straightened slightly, zoning back in and looked everywhere but the phone in your hand. What you didn't see was he was watching you too. You moved and settled yourself on the seat your phone was previously on. When you looked back at the phone he was laying in bed. The small smile that graced his face was beautiful. 

“Stay with me?” You nodded at him as he settled. His small whisper showed how tired he was. You watched as his eyes slowly started to droop as soon as he was completely comfortable. There was just a little movement behind him that caught your eye. An arm moved around him and pulled him closer; you may or may not have wished that was you. There was a small sigh as the two of them got comfortable with each other. Hongjoong’s eyes had finally fallen closed and his breathing was just beginning to even out. The phone started tilting and before you knew it you were looking at the ceiling of his room. You stayed just a little longer making sure he was actually asleep before you hung up. 

The warm air had kept you comfortable as you basked in the quiet, the only noise was the bustling city below you. For as much as you loved the chaos, you also loved the quiet. It may have felt odd before but now as you were sitting in the quiet you realized how much you almost missed it. The same quiet that sometimes destroys you. You sat there for a while just watching the sky change. Mother nature was always the best artist; you grabbed the camera from around your neck and started adjusting the settings to be able to capture the beauty. When you were finally satisfied that it looked good you took several shots. 

Something overtook you then, the want to take more pictures. Your body was moving before you completely realized. You had slipped on your shoes, put on your Beyond the Lens ballcap and started making your way to the first floor. As soon as you stepped off the elevator you heard the laughter and clinking of glasses from the restaurant to your right. With a small smile you walked out to the street. The hustle and bustle almost overtook you but knowing how the flow worked here worked to your advantage. Falling into the rhythm of foot traffic you made your way wandering wherever you could. There was music coming from somewhere and you paused to listen for where it was coming from. When you found the source of the music you had completely stopped and watched the people dancing to the violin and piano. Everything was alive with joy, the people dancing, the crowd and the musicians. The warm lighting was perfectly shining to create soft shadows from the people scattered around. You lifted your camera and started taking pictures of the beautiful moment. The people were all smiling while you took pictures, you captured the genuine love in their gazes. You started garnering more and more attention as you took more pictures. This made you happy that you were wearing the hat that had your company logo, your personal photography social, and the QR code that brought people to your website. 

While you moved expertly through the crowd the smile didn't leave your face. This, this is what you are meant to do. You are meant to capture people’s favorite memories. You moved toward the people playing the violins and piano. You took several action shots of the three of them, there aren't many people that would ever think of capturing the people that were creating the moments for others. That’s where you always wandered, someone needed to take care of the people taking care of others. As you were taking pictures the pianist glanced at you with a large smile, it was the perfect opportunity to capture his picture. With a quick movement of your fingers your camera shuttered. You tipped your hat to him before wandering over the duo playing the violins together. A man and a woman who were smiling at each other as they played. You captured the moment from several different angles before they caught sight of you. When they did they slightly bowed as they kept playing. Just like the pianist their fingers were moving quickly over their instrument. 

You needed to move fast if you could capture the picture you wanted to. Gently you moved through the crowd to some of the chairs at a nearby cafe. You grabbed it and set it up so you could stand over the crowd that was laughing and clapping. Just as you were getting up onto the chair the end of the song was nearing, your movements were quick and precise as you brought the camera up above you. With a quick flip of the viewfinder you held and adjusted it to get the best angle. This was going to be either an amazing shot, or a blurry one. You took the chance anyway. Holding your finger over the button you let the shutter do its job. The musicians finished the piece with a flourish. You came off the chair and clapped along with the rest of the people. 

There were a few of the couples that had seen you approaching you. You smiled at them while they approached. When they asked about where they could find the pictures you told them about your socials and the website QR code. There was a general spiel that you started spewing without thinking. 

“We are a photography and videography business based in Seoul, South Korea. We travel all over the world for our clients and when we visit anywhere we always make a point of getting some more genuine pictures instead of the posed ones we always see. We do this not for the clout or money but for the people beyond the lens. We want to be able to make your memories come to life through our pictures. It will take a little while before I can get the pictures up but I promise it'll be within the next couple of weeks.” The couples listened to you while you spoke, the most rewarding thing was being able to show some of them their pictures. The gasps and general excitement that flowed from them made your heart happy. You took off your hat and offered the back of it so they could get the link to your website. When they had dissipated you slid one of your business cards to the man still sitting at the piano chatting with a couple of people. You did the same by dropping one in the violin cases for the violinists who were standing near a table talking animatedly with some people. 

After you had made it away from the crowd you meandered around. Somehow you ended up in front of the Eiffel tower. You took a seat and just watched the people mill by you, some were dressed casually some were dressed to the nines. There was a couple that you saw standing together just looking everything over. You quickly got up, a gut feeling was telling you that you needed to capture the moment. When you got close enough the man separated himself from the woman. You knelt and brought the camera up to your face as quickly as you could; smacking into your glasses in the process. After a moment’s hesitation so you could recover you started snapping the pictures as he knelt in front of her. 

Her hands flew to her mouth in shock, the man was grinning so widely as he held a box out in front of him with a gorgeous ring. The tower was perfectly behind them from this angle, the lights twinkling like starlight just like the ring in the box. You watched in real time as she nodded and threw herself into his arms. The both of them tumbled to the ground in a fit of giggles, she was laying on top of him just smiling while he slid the ring on her finger. You continued getting pictures intermittently as you approached the couple. They had gotten up by the time you finally got to them. They shared a sweet kiss while they held hands, you took one more picture.

You got closer to them and they both acknowledged you. “Hi, I’m so sorry for interrupting your absolutely beautiful moment, congratulations by the way. I just so happened to be nearby when I saw the two of you and felt the need to capture some pictures for you.” The woman squealed and looked over to her now fiance who was staring at you gaping. You let out a small chuckle at the two of them and moved forward to show them some of the pictures you captured of their life changing moment. The woman’s enthusiasm reminded you of San and Wooyoung. She was bouncing around excitedly and every once in a while she would smack her partner’s shoulder lightly when a picture came out particularly good. You stood there for a couple of minutes showing them the pictures, in the end you exchanged emails with the woman and gave her one of your business cards. They both thanked you several times before you parted ways. 

There was a perpetual smile on your face the entire way back to the hotel. As soon as you walked in there was a younger woman who greeted you as you passed. In the elevator you hummed to yourself a tune that had no name. When you stepped into your room you started getting changed and plugged in your camera so it would be charged for the first of many shoots tomorrow. You pulled out your favorite all black suit and hung it on the back of the bathroom door for tomorrow. After doing your nighttime routine you got under the covers and cuddled down grabbing the two small plushies and squishing them as close to you as you could. Your mind took a little while to shut down but as soon as it did you were brought into a dreamless sleep. 

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

Your alarm woke you up, you smacked around blindly and grabbed it before turning off the offensive sound and getting up. Trudging your way to the bathroom you checked your messages. Most of them stayed fairly consistent with yesterday but this time there were more pictures of the boys being professional from the team. With a light smile you saved all of the pictures you could. You did your morning routine and made quick work of light makeup. When you were done fixing yourself up to look at least somewhat professional you made your way over to your cameras and started packing everything up for the day. Before you left you grabbed your glasses chain and put it around your neck before attaching it to your glasses then you clipped your name tag to your blazer. You and the team had these made so people would recognize you and put a face to the name. Yours was a black name tag with white text; the other’s had colors corresponding with their alias’ Aurora with white, Forrest with gold, and Willow with purple. On your way out of your room you snatched your sunglasses and settled them over your normal glasses. You walked out of the hotel after grabbing a small breakfast to take on the road with you. Thankfully hailing a cab was fairly quick, you gave her the address and were there within thirty minutes.

You walked into the building closest to the bridge and immediately the woman at the front desk greeted you and asked for your credentials so you could get back to where everyone was. Once you got all of the things sorted and had a photographer’s pass you made your way back. When you walked in it was absolute chaos, the models were sitting at their stations with makeup artists surrounding each of them. The stylists were surrounding the racks of clothes and there were people running around trying to cater to everyone’s every whim. The chaos from your boys seemed to pale in comparison to this. You were approached by someone who held an air of confidence among the chaos. It was an older woman holding a clipboard, one that you recognized as the manager. She was beaming at you while she walked. 

“Onyx, wonderful to see you again. We are preparing for the initial shoots and then the show later. We are going to be taking the pictures on the bridge so once you get everything taken care of here we can head outside. Let me show you where you can get yourself set up.” You nodded to the woman and followed her through the crowd of people. You and her weaved through it with expert precision having done this many times. When you got into the makeshift studio you relished in the quieter nature of the room. She smiled at you and left you to get yourself set up. First the harness, then the extra lens holders, and finally your cameras. You made your way back out of the room and were met with her standing there speaking to someone. When she realized you were ready she led you back to the large room everyone was in. she already knew how you ran things so she let you take the lead. You grabbed a chair and stood on top of it and put your middle finger and thumb into your mouth to let out a loud whistle. Some people gasped and others completely froze at the high pitched noise. Perfect. 

“Alright everyone, my name is Onyx. I am the designated head photographer for today. I will be relying on all of you to help me make this go smoothly. I know all of you are stressed for the show later tonight, so if we can make this as quick and seamless as possible you will have less on your plate to worry about as the clocks tick down. I know that there is a tentative schedule all of you have for the shoot. That being said, I am going to be relying on all of you to help me through this process. Stylists, I am relying on you to have each model ready for me as we finish the shoots and get approval of the pictures. If there are group shots it will be your job to coordinate them with each other. Makeup artists, I would like a few of you on hand just in case we need touch ups. The reason I request only a few is because I need all the room I can get without having to worry about tripping over people. Staff, I will be counting on you to keep everything in a decent order, I will need you to be bringing out the models as they are finished among other things like keeping everyone on schedule. While I know that is a monumental task considering how many people we have here I know you can do it. Models, pre-show jitters are normal, in my years of working in this industry I have seen them in even the most experienced models. Do not forget you are the stars of the show today, I know this is stressful so I will try to make it as easy on you as I can.” Your voice carried over the large room and as you spoke each of the groups you spoke to were smiling and nodding along with you. Some of the crowd was whispering amongst themselves as you spoke to them, hopefully to create their gameplan. 

“All of that being said, I look forward to working with all of you. Let's make this a memorable shoot and kick ass on the runway together!” You held up your fist in a fighting motion like you had almost every other time you had photographed someone in Seoul, it was an unconscious habit at this point. There were cheers from some of the people as you stepped down off the chair. You made your way out and past the large group of people with the manager. The first model appeared shortly after and you gave him a smile. You gave light instructions to each model as they came through. When they finally got into the flow you smiled and joked with them; something you found made them loosen up a little. When you did this it made for the best pictures. 

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

Most of your day consisted of getting the pictures taken care of. Throughout the entire thing the miscellaneous staff kept you informed of the time and some of them even brought you things to snack on between the models. At one point between models you had gotten too warm so you ended up taking off your blazer, after adjusting your nametag and harness, and threw it over your shoulder. The woman who had become like your assistant gently took it from you shortly after. Some of the people gaped at your tattoos, most of the models had come closer to inspect them as you waited for the approval of their shots. It was endearing how they were fascinated by you, most of them expressed the want for a tattoo but they couldn't because it was a one way ticket out of their industry. 

When the final pictures got approval everyone started celebrating, yourself included. It had been a fast paced eight hours, but this is what you loved. Most of the models were laughing and celebrating having enough time to be able to relax before the chaos of show time started. You made your way away from the large crowd of people toward the back of the large bridge. When you were finally far enough away you pulled out your bluetooth headphones and hooked one of them up to your phone. You grabbed your phone out of your vest pocket and clicked on one of the members you knew you could just bask in the quiet with. 

After a couple of rings Yeosang appeared on the screen. “Hi Y/n-nie!”

“Hi my Sangie, how are things back home?” 

“They’ve been hectic. Joongie-hyung is trying to cram lots of things in before he leaves.” There was a lingering exhaustion in his gaze. “How are things in Paris?”

“It's also been hectic, I just finished an eight hour shoot for Louis Vuitton and then I have their runway show at eight. I wanted to at least see one of you today, and you are okay with just being in the quiet so I thought of you.” He nodded with a small smile. The two of you just sat there with each other, soaking in the moment of peace between your hectic schedules. In the background you could hear some of the other boys rustling around. His eyes flickered to who you could assume was Jongho by the sound of his voice. Just a second later the man in question appeared on the screen. 

“Hi Sojunghan,” you tilted your head at him.

“It means precious,” Yeosang was quick to come to your rescue. The flush that came to your face was instant at the realization of what Jongho just called you. You thought he would have been more reserved with nicknames. He had just proven you so absolutely and utterly wrong. 

“Hi, Aegiya (baby), how are you?” The small smile on his face widened just slightly at your term of endearment. Yeosang was looking back and forth between the two of you as you just looked at each other for a second. 

“I’m surviving the chaos of the rest of the children around here.” Yeosang let out a noise of complaint and you laughed at the irony of his complaint. Of course he was ‘suffering’ through the childishness of the other boys. You shook your head at the two of them. Jongho was snickering at his own joke as he leaned back with an arm around Yeosang. 

“Onyx, we are about to order some food for the staff, do you want anything?” The woman that approached was someone you had worked with in the past; you just couldn't for the life of you remember her name. 

“I'd love some,” you gave her your order and she took it down in her phone before offering a small wave goodbye. 

You turned back to your phone, Seonghwa had joined the two sitting in the frame. You smiled at him and gave him a slight wave. He returned the gesture and continued to look at something beyond your field of view. The three boys were just chatting quietly while you watched them. Being in their presence, although not physically, brought you a calm in the middle of the chaos. There were several voices that echoed toward you, with a glance you saw several of the staff coming your way. They probably wanted to escape for a little while too. 

“Loves, I think I should probably go. It is getting close to the chaos starting back up before the show.” the three of them whipped their heads to look down at Yeosang’s phone as you spoke. There was a slight pout on Seonghwa’s lips when he realized what you said. 

“Okay our treasure, good luck with everything. We can't wait to hear about it when you get back.” Seonghwa was the first to speak up after his exaggerated pout. The other two boys echoed something similar before you hung up the call. You stood up and slid the phone into your vest pocket before getting up and making your way back to where the main portion of people were hanging out. As you were walking you procured a couple of the younger models. They had asked you several questions about how things worked and what you did in the field. You animatedly answered them, happy to be able to talk to someone about your interests. The other models rotated in and out of the conversation as you walked telling you that they had fun and that you did an amazing job. When the food finally got here you sat in a large circle of stylists and makeup artists and ate.

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

It had been about an hour before people started showing up. You were led to where you would be taking pictures of the celebrities that were showing up. When you got into it the moments blurred by. You recognized several of the people you got to take pictures of. They were all kind to you, especially the ones who recognized you from your work in Seoul. BamBam and Jackson Wang in particular were a couple of the people that gave you some of the most dazzling smiles before they gave you quick hugs and left you with a pat on the shoulder. 

When everyone had finally trickled in you had to bust your ass to get out to the opposite side of the bridge. You passed some of the models on the way and gave them a large smile and thumbs up. At this point you were practically running to make sure you got to where you needed to be on time, your cameras were in your hands as you were moving. Some of the people you passed cheered you on, there was a shout of that's my friend from someone that had a very thick Korean accent. You didn't have time to look and see who it was but you had to guess it was BamBam. When you finally skidded to a halt you were met with some of the other photographers lined up. There was a space in the middle for you held by a couple of the staff members. As soon as you got yourself planted there the music started and Pharrell Williams made his appearance. Your brain was already moving your hands to get your long shot lens. When it was connected you started getting the shots. 

Your night consisted of much of the same thing. This was one of the times you had been happy to have two cameras on you. When the models were walking you used the long range, when they were closer you used the closer range. You expertly flipped between the two while the models walked. Amid some of the shots you took off your glasses and let them hang from the small star and moon chain around your neck. You moved with some of the models as you were getting their pictures. One of your favorite moments was when all of the models walked in a large group, it gave you some of the best shots from the night. Some of the people were blurred while you focused on one in particular, it gave it a sense of movement that you always loved to capture in pictures. There were a couple of times you directed some of the other photographers so they could get some more sideline shots. They surprisingly listened well. Generally there was a power struggle when a woman, who was obviously younger than most of the other photographers, was bossing people around. The camera crew that was filming above you was a well oiled machine, you didn't even have to worry about them. 

When the show came to an end you lingered and took more pictures. At one point someone was yelling your name through the crowd. It confused most of the photographers in the group that didn't know you well enough. The staff had been laughing at the confusion before BamBam and Jackson appeared in front of you. A large smile appeared on your face as they approached you at a quick pace. You gladly accepted their hugs. 

“You've grown from the little shy photographer from forever ago.” You rolled your eyes at Jackson. BamBam was just standing there nodding along with him. You were happy to have people that you knew here. Crowds of this size generally freaked you out a little bit, but knowing that someone you knew and appreciated was here eased your mind a little. 

“You did amazing! I can't believe you were heading this whole thing! Y/n-nie, I am so happy for you. It's awesome watching someone that is like a little sister to me doing such big things.” 

“Yah, I’m only a few months younger than you.” you were smiling the entire time you interacted with the two men. They had stuck by you while you were making your rounds. After a while a lot of the crowd had cleared. Some of the other photographers said their goodbyes while others continued to take pictures; your time was officially over as the show was over. You had been walking toward the building your things were in while talking animatedly. There had been a couple of people that looked at you weird as they passed, they must have been confused as to why you were speaking Korean. Oh well. BamBam had insisted on getting a picture with you and Jackson before you had to part ways. You posed with the pair holding up your camera and a finger heart. They continued taking pictures, both rotating doing some sort of cute poses while you laughed at them. You smiled as you watched them leave, they had unknowingly provided you with a little calm amongst the storm. Your phone pinged and it was a message with the pictures you just took with BamBam and Jackson. Your smile grew as you saved the pictures. 

Quickly and methodically you packed your things up and made your way out. Several of the models and other people stopped you and thanked you for making the day go so well. Most of the staff gave you waves as you passed. Even Bernard Arnault stopped you and thanked you for your services. In the time that you worked with Louis Vuitton you had only met him a handful of times. You were smiling ear to ear and offered him a polite bow out of habit. He chuckled at you and gave you a small pat on the head before he was called over by some other people. Finally you made it outside and far enough away from the event that you could hail a cab. When you did it was fairly quiet on the ride over, you could feel your shoulders slump as more time went on. As you walked into the hotel you could feel the exhaustion of the day physically weighing on you. When you finally made it to your room you gently set your bag on the chair in front of the desk and plugged everything in. Muscle memory took over for you at that moment. You checked your phone and realized that most of the boys had sent you goodnight messages. You sent a couple of pictures BamBam had taken with the caption “Look who I ran into!” Before plugging in your phone and flopping into the bed. You fell into memory lane, a good one this time. 

Today was one of the longest days you have had in a long time. You wouldn't trade it for the world. This opportunity was huge for your little on the rise company.

You had gotten many opportunities in college to intern with your professors, which gave you connections with JYPE, BigHit, Pledis, and Dreamcatcher Company. You were integrated on the idol side but you also knew that if you wanted to excel in the field you would have to be well rounded. You had come out of college and immediately chosen your old company for their rap sheet within the fashion and idol worlds not knowing it was going to be a shitty place to work in. Your extensive portfolio had impressed them and they almost immediately hired you after your initial interview. You excelled there because of the freelance work you did, and with the help of the professors that personally vouched for your skills. It also may have been because they could barely keep anyone on their teams. 

That's where you came in, your attitude was different. You didn't tolerate too much bullshit, you helped where you could and you made it so they were not competing with each other. That company thrived while you were there and sometimes you wondered what happened. If you had to guess they lost a lot of their business when your team left. You didn't have many things you were thankful for with that company, but the opportunities they gave you was one of the few. Those thoughts led you into sleep, a small smile gracing your face. 

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

You were awoken by your phone vibrating incessantly on the bedside table. You reached for it and squinted at the name. San? You sat up and answered the facetime call, the look on his face was worrying. He was wide eyed and ramrod straight. The first words out of your mouth were “Are you okay, is everyone okay?”

“I think there is someone in the house.” It felt like a bucket of ice water was poured over your head as the words left his mouth. You were definitely awake now. You grabbed your glasses and quickly put them on your face, almost stabbing yourself in the eye in the process.

“Where are you at right now?” 

“I'm in your room with the giants, we were cuddling before I had to get up like we have been for the past couple of days and then I heard someone shuffling around on the first floor.” 

“Fuck, okay. I need you to go close and lock the door.” You watched as he got up out of the bed, this was the first time you noticed that he had been shirtless. Now is not the fucking time for admiring your beautiful boyfriend. You heard the soft click of your door closing and the lock turning. 

“Okay, there is a bat in my closet. I want you to grab it and hang out while I figure out what the hell is going on okay.” He nodded at you while you clicked out of the facetime app and got into the cat cams you had all over the living room and kitchen. When you looked through all of them you spotted the culprit. Your mother. For fucks sake, you told her that someone was watching your children, generally that means you don’t need to show up. You clicked back into the facetime app and saw him sitting on your bed with the bat next to him. He looked like he was in the middle of debating his life choices.

“Sannie, everything is okay, the person downstairs is my mom. I guess she decided she needed to come check on the giants even though I told her someone was taking care of them.” His shoulders sagged and you heard a heavy breath leave him. 

“Jagi, this is not how I wanted to meet your mother.” You let out a laugh at his frazzled state. 

“I know Sannie, it's not how I wanted it to go either. But here's what we are going to do. You're going to put on a shirt and we can go downstairs and scare the shit out of her like she did to you. Don't worry, she's pretty chill.” He gave you a questioning look before nodding, he set the phone down on your bed while he moved around the room. Beans was investigating San’s phone as you cooed at her. She had gotten up fairly close and you took a screenshot of her while you waited. A minute or two later San had gently relocated Beans and grabbed his phone. You smiled at him and he matched it. 

“Before you start going to scare her, are you okay with me telling her you're my boyfriend and then telling her about the rest later?”

“Yeah, I'm okay with that Y/n-nie. This really is not how I expected my morning to go,” he muttered while walking toward the door. He was being silent as a cat while he made his way through your house, he had you looking out the back camera. You caught sight of your mother looking in the cat treehouse for the giants. San’s simple greeting to your mother elicited a scream from her, she leapt back and whipped around. Your laughter rang through your hotel room and you slapped a hand over your own mouth. You had neighbors that most likely wouldn't like being woken up by your giggles. You watched with amusement as she sized San up, she greeted him and looked into the camera. Your view moved to San’s pretty face as he approached her and handed her the phone. 

“Hi mom, having a fun drop in?” She shook her head at you and fixed you with one of the most motherly glares she could muster.  

“You are just like your grandmother I swear. You even got him into it.” Your grin widened, that was the ultimate compliment. 

“Yeah well you scared him first so we are even. Mom, this is San, my boyfriend.” She gaped at you, her gaze flickered between the two of you several times before she settled it back on you. 

“Boyfriend? You haven't told me about a boyfriend.”

“It’s fairly new, I wanted to be able to introduce you in person but since you decided to make a drop by visit you moved it up.” Her face turned just a little red at your comment. Serves her right, she should have just left well enough alone. 

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” You could just picture the polite man he was being. The small bow that he had most likely just given her was stuck in your head. You could also see the smile on his face clear as day, even if you couldn't physically see him, his dimples on full display. 

“Likewise San, when Y/n gets back we will have to go out to dinner to get to know each other better. I’m sorry that we had to meet like this and that I scared you. I just wanted to see the grand kitties and wasn't expecting anyone here.”

“I look forward to that,” She had transferred the phone back over to him after giving you a knowing look. The smile on his face was exactly how you pictured it as they chattered while he walked her to the door. Honestly, you couldn't have thought of a better one of your boyfriends to meet your mother first. While you absolutely loved the other boys they could be a little too chaotic, San had perfect manners and it really showed here. As soon as they had parted ways San looked fully at you. You were grinning already at him. He seemed to have recovered from the shock of everything. You heard the deep breath he let out like he had been holding it the entire time she was in his presence. 

“You did good Sannie, I’m sorry she just popped in.”

“That's okay jagi, I’m sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night.” You shook your head at him.

“I would rather you have called me than you scaring yourself shitless, and then scaring my mother shitless with your shirtlessness while you walked around my house.” That was a damn tongue twister. San was laughing at you while he made his way back to your room. 

“Jagi, you should go back to bed, I can see how tired you are.” You took stock in your body and felt the exhaustion pulling at you, you could feel your eyes drooping without you even noticing it. 

“Alright, I love you Sannie, I hope your day goes a little better than this morning has.” 

“I love you too, jagi. Have a good day when you actually wake up for it.” You smiled at him before he hung up the call. When he did you set your phone on the bedside table and cuddled back down into your comforter. You would have never expected your mother meeting one of the boys like that, but life had a weird way of taking the reins. A little while later when your body had gotten rid of the little bit of adrenaline in your system you fell into sleep. 

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Next Chapter (Chapter 23 Coming Soon)

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