#14% banter (dangerous)

[little-jana]

"Truth or Dare?"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: angst, fluff at the end

Warnings: spoiler!!!, guns, canon-typical violence, emotional conflict, stress, danger, kissing happy end

Words: 2.3k

Summary: During the events of “Truth or Dare,” the reader, an FBI agent and Spencer’s close friend, is present when JJ’s confession changes everything.

a/n: This takes place during the finale of Season 14! Changed it up a bit so the reader could be more part of everything!

⚠️ SPOILER AHEAD ⚠️

It's been two days since the last case — a rare chance for the team to let loose. Rossi’s wedding was coming up, a brief reprieve from the darkness they encountered daily.

But as always with the BAU, peace never lasted long.

The phone call came in, cutting the evening short.

You’d ridden with Spencer to the scene, the two of you sharing a comfortable silence in the SUV. Being around him always felt easy, even in the chaos of your jobs. You’d worked with the BAU on several cases over the years, though you weren’t a permanent member of the team. You were an FBI agent stationed in DC, but you and Spencer had grown close, your shared love of books and intellectual banter creating a bond that felt unshakable.

What you didn’t share with him—what you hadn’t shared with anyone—was the way your heart raced whenever he smiled at you, the way his quiet strength and vulnerability had captured you completely.

The case eventually leads Spencer, JJ and you to trying to chase the unsub, Casey, down.

When you arrived at the shop where Casey had barricaded himself and his hostage.

“Are you okay?” you asked Spencer softly.

He glanced at you, his eyes softening slightly. “I’m fine. I just... I hate situations like this.”

You nodded, understanding. It was one thing to deal with unsubs in the field, but hostage situations always carried a heavier weight.

Hotch had once said Spencer’s empathy was both his greatest strength and his greatest burden. You’d seen it firsthand—the way he carried the pain of others, always striving to do more, to save more.

When he takes JJ and Reid hostage, the situation threatens to escalate.

---

You stood outside with the team, monitoring the situation.

As the conversation unfolded, you could feel the tension rising. Casey’s demands were erratic, his behavior unpredictable. When he pulled JJ and Spencer into a twisted game of truth or dare, your stomach twisted with unease.

“Truth or dare?” Casey asked, his voice cold and sharp.

“Truth,” JJ replied without hesitation, her voice steady despite the situation.

“Tell him something you’ve never told him before,” Casey said, gesturing toward Spencer.

You froze. JJ’s gaze flickered to the camera, her expression unreadable. Beside you, Spencer’s entire body went still.

“I—I can’t do that,” JJ stammered, her usual composure slipping for a moment.

“You can, and you will,” Casey said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Spence...” JJ began, her voice trembling slightly. “I’ve always loved you. I was just too scared to say it before. And things are complicated, and... I’m sorry.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Spencer stared at her, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. You wanted to say something, to reach out to him, but he was in there, in danger.

JJ’s confession hung in the air, heavy and unresolved. You couldn’t process what you were hearing—couldn’t reconcile the woman you admired and trusted with the pain blooming in your chest.

You’d always known Spencer cared deeply for JJ, but this... this was something else.

---

The situation inside the restaurant escalated quickly. Spencer was able to shoot Casey. The hostage was safe, and JJ and Spencer emerged physically unharmed. Relief washed over the team as the threat dissipated, but the emotional fallout lingered heavily in the air.

Back at Quantico, Spencer was quieter than usual. He barely spoke during the debriefing, his mind clearly elsewhere. You wanted to give him space, but a part of you ached to know what was going through his head.

Hours later, after everyone had gone home, you found him in the break room. He was sitting at the small table, nursing a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold.

“Spence,” you said softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he looked away. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you replied, sitting down across from him. You watched him for a moment, taking in the way he was fidgeting with the mug in his hands. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He hesitated, his gaze fixed on the table. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted finally. “I don’t know how to feel about... any of this.”

“You mean JJ?” you asked gently.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “She’s been my friend for so long. Her confession—it caught me completely off guard. I never saw it coming.” He paused, his brow furrowing. “But it’s not... I don’t feel the same way. I never have.”

Relief flooded through you, though you tried not to let it show. “Does she know that?”

“I think she does now,” he said quietly. “But I’m scared things are going to change between us. Our friendship is important to me, and I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t,” you said firmly. “JJ cares about you, Spence. She wouldn’t have said anything if she didn’t think your friendship could survive it.”

He looked at you then, his expression softening. “You really think so?”

“I do,” you said with a small smile. “Friendships like yours don’t just disappear overnight. It might take some time, but you’ll find your way back to each other.”

He nodded slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a little. “Thanks,” he said. “I needed to hear that.”

You smiled, but the tension in the room hadn’t completely lifted. There was something else he wasn’t saying—something weighing on him.

“Is there something else on your mind?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, his hands tightening around the mug. “There is,” he admitted. “But it’s... complicated.”

You waited patiently, giving him the space he needed to find the words.

“Tonight,” he began, his voice quiet and uncertain, “when JJ said what she said, it made me think about a lot of things. About relationships, and feelings, and the people I care about.”

Your heart began to race, but you kept your expression neutral. “Okay,” you said, encouraging him to continue.

“And I realized something,” he said, finally meeting your eyes. “I’ve been scared. Scared of ruining things, of making things complicated. But I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “Spence...”

“I like you,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve liked you for a while now, but I didn’t know how to tell you. And after everything that happened tonight, I was scared it would make things... messy between us.”

You stared at him, your mind racing to process what he was saying. “You like me?” you repeated, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I do. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way, or if this complicates things for you, but I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”

For a moment, you couldn’t find the words. But then you smiled—a soft, genuine smile that lit up your entire face. “Spence,” you said, reaching across the table to take his hand, “I like you too.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You do?”

“I do,” you said, your voice filled with warmth. “I’ve liked you for a long time. But I was scared too. I didn’t want to risk losing what we have.”

A small, relieved laugh escaped him, and he squeezed your hand gently. “So we’ve both been scared for nothing.”

“Looks like it,” you said with a chuckle.

For the first time that night, Spencer’s shoulders relaxed completely, and a genuine smile spread across his face.

“Does this mean we can stop being scared and actually see where this goes?” he asked, his voice laced with hope.

You nodded, your heart swelling with happiness. “I think it does.”

Spencer’s smile grew wider, his cheeks tinged pink as he looked down at your joined hands. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the moment settling between you. It was as though the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet warmth of the room.

You shifted in your seat, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “Spence...” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “I never thought you’d feel the same way. I thought it was just me.”

“I thought the same thing about you,” he admitted, his voice soft and full of wonder. “You’re amazing, and I didn’t want to ruin what we already had by saying anything. But tonight... everything that happened with JJ made me realize how important it is to say what you feel before it’s too late.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but they weren’t from sadness—they were from the overwhelming relief and joy flooding your chest. “I’m glad you did,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “Because I don’t think I could’ve kept this to myself much longer.”

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m glad we’re finally on the same page.”

You both fell silent, the weight of unspoken emotions lingering in the air. His eyes searched yours, the vulnerability in his gaze tugging at your heart. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned forward, his hand still clasping yours as if afraid to let go.

“Is it okay if I—” he started, his voice faltering.

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you closed the small distance between you, your free hand reaching up to gently cup his cheek. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, as though neither of you could believe it was really happening. But then Spencer’s hand moved to your face, his fingers brushing against your skin as he deepened the kiss. There was a quiet intensity to the way his lips moved against yours, as though he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every buried feeling, into that single moment.

Your heart felt like it was going to burst, the warmth of his touch and the sweetness of his kiss consuming you entirely. Time seemed to stand still, the world narrowing down to just him—the softness of his lips, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his hand trembled slightly as it rested against your cheek.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. Spencer’s eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed, and his lips curved into a shy, almost disbelieving smile.

“That was...” he began, trailing off as he struggled to find the words.

“Perfect,” you finished for him, your own voice shaky but filled with certainty.

He laughed softly, his forehead resting against yours. “Yeah. Perfect.”

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, your foreheads touching as you reveled in the newfound closeness. The weight of the night’s events still lingered, but it felt lighter now, less daunting.

Spencer pulled back slightly, his hand still resting against your cheek. “I don’t know where this is going to take us,” he admitted, his voice filled with quiet sincerity, “but I want to find out. With you.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. “Me too, Spence. Me too.”

And as you sat there together, the promise of something new unfolding between you, the world outside the room seemed a little brighter.

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 14.

viktorxfemale!OFC explicit!

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.15.

word count: 6,5K

tag: #what was that

author’s note: @rennethen as beta reader and co-author of nsfw scenes. Big decisions are made as we inch toward the ending, more big decisions to come in the next chapter. This one has a bit of angst and making up :')

Cross-posted on AO3

—

A crumpled piece of paper stared at her from the desk, almost offensively. Don’t come. Ekko had been very clear about what was happening in Zaun—how they needed help and supplies—and yet, at the same time, he’d written, “Don’t come.” The words, scratched out in haste and frustration, outlined the chaos unfolding in the Undercity, painted in vivid, heart-wrenching detail. He spoke of the Chem-barons pushing harder, of the Grey spreading faster than anyone had anticipated, but it was the final sentence that cut deeper than the rest: Things look bad, but don’t come.

It was an incredibly stupid thing to say to someone whose first instinct was to do the exact opposite.

She knew how to sneak in unnoticed. She knew how to blend into the Undercity’s shadows, how to remain invisible on its streets even while carrying a massive bag filled with meds and supplies. She knew where to leave the packages and how to find Vander if the need ever arose. Her wardrobe even included the most inconspicuous clothes for this exact purpose, and she had practiced her most inconspicuous stroll to match. Yet nobody wanted her to go.

Ekko had told her not to come. Jayce would probably say the same. Was it fear for her safety? Or was it a plea for her to stay out of a war that had already begun to consume everything? Viktor—though he hadn’t said it so firmly—had shown it in his eyes. More than anyone, he didn’t want her to go. He’d all but forbidden her. The same way she had tried to forbid him from using the Hexcore.

Her chest tightened as she thought of his fractured resolve, of the utterly betrayed look on his face when he had found her clutching onto Jayce in the lab. How she had cried her heart out to Jayce, how she had confessed her complete, unfaltering devotion to Viktor. And yet it was Viktor who should have heard those words. Not Jayce. And certainly not like that. Not stolen or overheard in a desperate attempt to turn him away from his goal. He deserved so much better. He deserved to hear it in the safety of their bed, spoken with love and certainty—not anguish.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she smoothed the paper on her desk, her mind returning to the fleeting moment when Viktor had said, I am happy. How quickly that happiness had faded, replaced with another want—one far more dangerous and unapproachable than the concept of being loved. Or perhaps, she thought bitterly, they were equally alien to Viktor.

A knock on the door wrenched her out of her own head.

She glanced around her apartment, taking in its natural state of controlled chaos. Papers were scattered across her bed and floor, a few too many cups for one person splayed across various surfaces, clothes draped haphazardly over the chair. A scented candle burned faintly on the table, its singular ember a small, grounding presence in the midst of her internal monologue.

She sighed, stretched—she’d been sitting in the same position for what must have been two hours—and walked toward the door on wobbly legs.

When she opened it, Viktor stood on the other side, and her first thought was whether he had felt the same as she did now when she had shown up at his doorstep after their week apart. She mirrored his movements from that moment, fighting the immediate urge to pull him into an embrace. Instead, she settled for a gentle chin tilt, a silent beckon for him to come inside.

Wordlessly, she closed the door and turned to face him, only to find his gaze fixed on the floor. His trembling hand gripped his cane tightly, his knuckles white with tension. He looked awful—worn, hollow somehow—but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.

Before she could form the words to greet him, he suddenly clutched onto her like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline.

“Forgive me,” he whispered desperately against her neck, his voice raw and unsteady.

His cane clattered to the floor. Viktor clung to her with so much need, his breathing laboured and erratic, as though every exhale cost him more than he could bear. Renly froze for a moment, startled by the sheer force of his grip, but instinct soon took over. She raised her hands, resting them lightly on his back, feeling the faint tremor coursing through his body. His arms encircled her neck, holding her so tightly it almost hurt, as though letting go might shatter him completely.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice raw, cracking under the weight of his anguish. "I’m so sorry."

Renly’s fingers pressed gently against the fabric of his coat; her touch uncertain but steady. "Viktor," she began softly, but he interrupted her with another broken apology, his words tumbling over one another like a prayer.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered again, the sound of it splintering her heart.

She tightened her hold on him, grounding him as best she could, though she couldn’t understand what he meant. Her mind spun. He did it, didn’t he.

"Viktor, talk to me," she said, her voice calm despite the storm she could feel radiating from him. "I’m here. Whatever this is, you don’t have to carry it alone."

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he pressed his face against her neck, his breath hot and uneven on her skin. She could feel his weight bearing down on her, not just physically, but emotionally, as though the very act of standing upright was too much for him.

"I’m afraid," he murmured at last, so softly she almost didn’t hear him.

"Afraid of what?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle him.

"Of losing you," he admitted, his words breaking into a sob.

The sound sent a sharp pang through her chest. Viktor, who always carried himself with an air of precision and control, now stood before her utterly undone. He was a man stripped of his defences, standing on the edge of a precipice with nothing left to shield him.

"You won’t lose me," she promised, her voice firm despite the tears welling in her own eyes. "I’m right here, Viktor. I’m not going anywhere."

But he only clung tighter, as though her words weren’t enough to break through the crushing weight of whatever he was carrying.

"You don’t understand," he whispered, his voice cracking under the strain. "I’ve done something… something I cannot undo."

Her breath caught. She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands moving to his shoulders. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, his face ashen with guilt and fear.

"What did you do?" she asked, the question gentle but unyielding.

Viktor shook his head, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I thought I could… fix—," he said, his words halting, as though even admitting it out loud might unravel him completely. "But I… I made a mistake, Renly. A terrible mistake."

A cold dread settled in her stomach. He did it. At least attempted it. She could feel her hands trembling—not just with fear, but with anger. Betrayal coursed through her veins, sharp and biting. How could he?

The thoughts poured into her mind, gnawing at each other, each one more vicious than the last. He’d gone ahead in his anger, in his stubbornness, and risked everything. Risked his life. Left her teetering on the brink of losing him entirely.

And for what? Because what she offered wasn’t enough? Because her care, her devotion, hadn’t been enough to make him stop, to make him reconsider?

The realisation burned her, stoking the flames of her own insecurities. She could feel the edges of her composure fraying as she stepped back from him, her arms dropping to her sides. The absence of her touch seemed to hit Viktor like a physical blow, his gaze snapping up to meet hers, wide and filled with something that might have been regret—or terror.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice colder than she’d intended, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Viktor flinched, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of her words pressed him further into the ground. His lips parted, but for a moment, no sound came. His hands hovered uncertainly at his sides, as if reaching for something—her, maybe—but they didn’t move.

“I…” He muttered another apology, his voice barely audible, before finally forcing out the words. “The Hexcore. It… it nearly destroyed me.”

Nearly was an understatement. It had destroyed him—briefly—and then put him back together. Or rather, he had put himself back together with the last ounce of his will, while being consumed and pulled apart in every direction.

In that moment, a fleeting thought had crossed his mind, as one of the possibilities presented to him was an end. An end to his pain, to his indecision, to his fear. A blissful nothing had glimmered faintly before him, just within reach, offering peace and absolution. To become a part of the Arcane, forever forgotten and undisturbed.

Wrenching himself away from it had been the hardest thing Viktor had ever done—until now. Now, standing before Renly, he was faced with something even more daunting: proving his worth to her again. Explaining, somehow, that he had found all the answers he thought he needed, only to realise that none of them mattered without her. Explaining that he had stepped away—not because she was a consolation prize—but because she had always been, and would always remain, his first choice.

Emptiness echoed through Renly’s mind. Her anger faltered quickly, replaced by despair. She had despaired for him so deeply. Part of her wanted to reach back out and shield him from the world, to gather him in and protect him. But another part of her was so deeply wounded by the possibility—one that had never come to fruition yet had still clawed a gaping hole in her—that he had chosen otherwise, even briefly.

She willed her legs to move and passed him wordlessly on her way to the kitchen, granting him only a fleeting moment of her hand resting on his shoulder. She put the kettle on and pulled out two cups to later join her ever growing cup display across the apartment.

Viktor dragged himself behind her, eventually slumping into the chair like a defeated dog. They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity until she finally placed a steaming cup before him and took a seat across the table, facing him directly.

“All right. What happened?”

“Renly, I—” Viktor sniffled, struggling to gather words that would make sense. “I am so sorry.”

“Stop apologising, Viktor. It already happened,” she said, exasperated, her voice tinged with annoyance. But seeing how he shrank under her scolding, she softened, reaching out to take his hand.

“I was so angry,” he admitted, his voice low and trembling. “With you, with Jayce. I suppose I felt exactly how you are feeling now.” He looked up, meeting her eyes with raw vulnerability. “I… I touched it. And it just devoured me. Broke me. Showed me what I could become—and the price for it. And I realised… I hated it.”

Renly held her breath, her hand retreating from his. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Well, slightly,” Viktor winced, his lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s mostly my mind that’s hurt. My pride.” He thought of the way the Hexcore had terrorised him, its merciless grip, and how he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the full truth.

“I can’t believe you threw it all away on a whim,” she blurted, unable to keep the accusation from slipping out.

“It was not a whim!” Viktor’s voice rose, but only briefly, before it broke into a sigh. “It was a promise of something better. For you. For me. Mostly for me,” he admitted, his gaze falling, his thoughts spiralling into incoherence.

“Viktor.” Renly’s tone was heavy, her emotions warring within her. “I can only imagine… No, actually, I can’t imagine what you feel every day.” She stopped him with a sharp look when she saw he was about to interrupt. “I’m so sorry that I don’t know. I was… I was afraid to lose you too.” Her voice cracked, betraying the pain she had tried to hide.

“Renly,” he said, his words weighed down with difficulty, yet he forced himself to continue. “I would understand if this were something you cannot forgive.”

“Viktor, how can you—” she began, but the tears rolling down her cheeks choked the words in her throat. She raised a crook of her elbow to cover her eyes, desperately trying to steady herself.

A hysterical thought shot through Viktor’s mind—that this was their teary goodbye—and for a moment, he was certain he’d start crying as well. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat gathering under his lids, when her hands found him again. Her weight settled on his lap, her face nuzzling into his hair.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, a full-blown cry that dampened his sweater and neck. “You’re so… good, and I haven’t told you,” she said, her voice breaking as she wiped her tears on him. “I didn’t know what I would do if you…” Another sob tore through her, ugly and raw, overblown with all the feelings she had bottled up for far too long.

 Viktor wrapped his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer as he tried to suppress his own tears. His chin rested lightly on her shoulder, and he whispered hoarsely, “I know.”

And he did. He knew it with a clarity that terrified him. That feeling of being so completely entwined with someone else, so dependent on them for a piece of his own happiness—it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. Never in his life had he allowed himself to need someone like this, to let someone burrow so deeply into the carefully constructed walls around his heart. But he couldn’t fight it anymore. He didn’t want to.

“Will you…” His voice wavered as he pulled back just enough to meet her swollen, tear-streaked face. “Will you have me back?”

Renly blinked at him, her brows knitting together as if she wanted to argue, to challenge him, to tell him just how wrong he was. She’d never gotten rid of him in the first place. But the words didn’t come. Instead, her trembling hands cradled his face, and she leaned in, pressing a sloppy, tear-soaked kiss against his mouth.

“Yes,” she muttered, her lips brushing his as she spoke the word straight into him, warm and raw and final. “Yes.”

Viktor shuddered under her touch, relief washing over him. He kissed her back, softly at first, then with more urgency, needing to feel the truth of her words. It wasn’t elegant or perfect—it was messy and desperate, as he swallowed her tears down as if they were his own.

Wordlessly, Renly took his hands and guided him toward her bedroom, minding all the obstacles along the way, her movements impatient. Viktor stepped carefully behind her, taking in the clutter of random objects. Not much had changed since the last time he’d been there; she had just added more colourful lamps.

Once they had reached the bedroom, she pushed the door shut before pinning Viktor against it, her hands reaching for his neck to pull him into a desperate kiss. He gave away a startled gasp, as she bit his lower lip and slid her palms underneath his shirt. His coat, long abandoned on the hallway floor, left him wearing the same clothes he had worn the day before, and they gave off a faint metallic smell of blood and gear oil from the lab.

Viktor let out a chuckle, as her needy fingers rushed to undo his buttons and rush him out of the layers, scratching his chest with her fingernails by accident. With almost restrained movements, he did the same for her, as if his regard for clothes had vanished, and he only obliged because of her decency in not ripping the fabric right off his back.

With their mouths still glued together, Viktor let his weight rest on her, as he backed them toward the bed, positioning himself to sit first and pull her into his lap. He cupped her face and pulled her in for a tight embrace, his forehead resting in the curve of her neck. He pressed his face into her hair and breathed in deeply through his mouth and nose, hoping to keep her scent with him forever.

Renly ran her fingers down his spine, the bolts embedded in it, as she gently detached all the parts that corseted Viktor’s frame, rubbing her palms flat along the dents and marks it left in his skin. He let out a relieved exhale, as her mouth came back to his into a messy open mouth kiss, his hands pressing on her shoulder blades. Her lips needy, giving away moans of urgency, as if there wasn’t enough of him.

She stood up, guiding him with her, before she leaned down to take off his leg brace with a few quiet clicks and placed it by the bed. Viktor felt her hands sliding down his thigh, her fingers pressing gently around his knee. She then returned to level with him and licked the seam of his mouth as she unbuckled his belt.

Viktor hesitated; his hands travelled to steady hers before she could pull his pants down. There, below the layer of material, was the very proof of his infidelity, of his weakness. The purple, fluorescent vein that burned itself into the fabric of his flesh—a forever reminder of a moment when he almost let himself be corrupted.

She squeezed his palms and broke the kiss with a sigh. Her hands then cradled his neck, pulling him in so she could ghost his forehead, his eyebrows, his eyelids, his moles, the corner of his mouth, the side of his nose, the spot under his jaw, his neck, with her lips. A silent signal of acceptance, of forgiveness, of the fact that nothing had to be forgiven in that moment. Viktor’s hands hovered in the air patiently until her last kiss, when they rested on her hips, curling under the waistband of her pants.

They rid themselves of the last bit of clothing together, Renly’s eyes lingering for a moment on the alien string in Viktor’s body, his own eyes closed as he slid her pants off with the dull movement of his palms, cradling the skin of her legs. Standing close, but not close enough, Viktor reached out to slowly pull her flush against him. Their mouths came together wrenching breaths out of each other, his thumb stretching the muscle of her cheek as he sunk his tongue in her, breathing heavily through his nose, pressing his chest, his groin, his legs to her and her to his chest and groin so he could feel her naked against him.

Renly’s arms cradled his waist, her palms splayed flat on his back pushing him in, her teeth bringing blood onto his tongue. The fleeting moment of loss was gone, but the feeling of it still present, as they met each other truly for the first time—in hunger and longing, both searching for absolution in each other’s bodies.

Viktor lowered himself back to the edge of the bed, breaking the kiss only to sit her on top of his thighs, her legs straddling him tightly. He clung onto her for balance and for kindness, all their rituals previously established now abandoned for the sake of the urgency of feeling one another, sealing all the things that were close to breaking. He searched for consent in her eyes when his cock found her entrance, and she gave him a silent eager nod against his nose.

Viktor pressed himself in and paused mid-movement, noticing a wince cross her face. “Are you alright?” Of all things, this couldn’t hurt—it mustn’t.

“Yes… ah, yes,” she breathed into his mouth, sinking onto him up to the hilt, the stretch so gratifying she could cry again. A quiet ‘yes’ kept falling from her lips as Viktor’s hips thrusted upwards, their lips and noses bumping against each other in erratic rhythm.

She steadied herself, gripping his chin with one hand and his shoulder with the other, letting him take over, when his hand seized her palm and guided her fingers between them, where their bodies met. A bead of sweat travelled from the pool of her collarbones, down between her breasts, down her belly, to where she touched herself for him.

Her brows knitted together, her mouth hung open between quick breaths, waiting for him, when Viktor cranked his neck to rub his face against hers whispering, “Come on my cock, lásko.”

A full body shudder went through her, as she leaned her weight on him, her thighs clutching around his hips, his bones digging into her flesh, her walls clenching and she muffled a cry of completion into his mouth.

Viktor groaned soon after her, the tightness hugging his cock almost unbearable, as he spilled himself inside, caging her body with his arms, his tongue and teeth dragging across her shoulder. He then collapsed them to the side, still buried within her core, his waist resting on her thigh, his legs curled up under her bum, face nuzzled into her neck.

He kissed her again, his arm stretching out to grab the pillows from the bed head, one to tug under her pelvis as he rolled them over onto it, the other propped under his knee as he hooked his leg underneath hers, their bodies still connected. His tongue exploring her mouth, slowly this time, when his cock slipped out of her, and she let out a disappointed gasp.

Splaying his body on top of hers, their stomachs pressed against each other, he kept kissing her until he felt himself grow hard again. Her belly began to raise and fall more frantically, his own abdomen flexing as he propped himself on one arm and spat into his hand. He reached between them to cup her cunt and rubbed it gently, the slick spreading around her entrance.

He gave his cock a couple of wet strokes to then cage himself around her, one hand above her pressed into the mattress, the other entwining their fingers together, pinning her palm next to her head.

Gently and slowly, he entered her again, his movements soft so she could get used to him once more. The feeling of her walls around him washed over his senses, their scents mixing together, his hips rolling languidly against hers with reverence, as her body accepted him fully. In a pledge of utter devotion, Viktor murmured between his gasps, “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” she immediately whispered into his mouth. Viktor was being careful and precise, drawing out her pleasure and prolonging his. He wanted to savour the slide of their bodies melting into one, memorizing every moan that fell between them. Their noses pressed together, breathing heavily, her brows furrowed, mouths agape as their lips brushed against each other with each push of his hips.

His movements grew more intense, though the pace remained the same. Each slow deep thrust he gave her made her gasp quietly, as his cock kept hitting the right spot. He released her hand to slide his palm between them, his fingers finding her cunt, spreading her lips before resting on her clit. He rubbed it lazily, timing the action with the rolls of his hips and building the pressure withing her as her walls begun to clench around him desperately.

Renly dug her nails into his hips, her brows scrunched together, her mouth panting, breathless, and Viktor only smiled and whispered a quiet, “Yes, you are doing so well.” Her thighs squeezed his hips as she reached another climax, her head lifting from the pillow, crying out into his mouth.

He carefully worked her through the orgasm, before picking up the pace of his thrusts to reach his own completion, her name falling from his lips in a quiet chant. Her walls squeezed against his cock, his arms wrapping around her, face buried in her neck, gasping and panting. His movements grew sloppier the closer he got, when he finally spilled himself inside her with a loud groan, his body collapsing onto hers.

For a moment they both breathed heavily, their stomachs connected, rising and falling together. Then, Viktor rolled off her, pulling her with himself to give her a kiss sealing his devotion to her. He withdrew his cock with a quiet sleek sound, letting his seed leak out between them.

He felt her arms tightening around his neck, her breath growing unsteady, and the flutter of her heartbeat. Then he noticed her chest trembling next to his and pulled back to look at her, only to see tears streaming from beneath her closed eyelids.

“Did I hurt you?” was his first instinct to ask as he eased himself out of the vice grip of her thighs to cradle her face against his chest. “Are you in pain?”

“No, no—” Renly croaked, laughing through her sobs as she dampened Viktor’s chest. “I just feel… empty.” Empty of pain, of anger, of the horrible dread she’d felt when he crossed her doorstep. Empty of doubt and insecurities. All the empty space left to be filled with something new.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” she chuckled, trying to wipe her tears away with her hand, but there were too many. “It’s never happened before. I’m so sorry.”

“Lásko, it’s normal. Cry it out—it’s… beautiful,” Viktor murmured against her ear, his fingers combing gently through her hair. He felt his ribcage swell with contentment, a feeling of utter peace flooding his body from head to toe. Her tears felt like a silent confession etched onto the skin covering his heart.

“What is this?” Renly sniffled again, quieter this time, as she began tracing circles in the damp patch on Viktor’s chest, exhaling slowly through her mouth.

“Temperance,” Viktor mused, cradling her to him as though she were a precious gift. “We’ve been… reforged in our heat, tempered in your tears.”

His words left her gaping into the space in front of her, tracing lines between Viktor’s freckles and moles with her fingers. Silence followed for a while. It was comfortable, with something unfolding. Not love, which wrenched and wounded. Not love, which came only once.

When a yawn tore her mouth apart, Viktor nudged her gently with his chin and asked, “Shower?”

“Yes, shower.” Renly stretched across the bed, pulling Viktor along with her. She grabbed his hands and pulled them above their heads and pressed her toes on his feet, drawing a low chuckle from his throat.

They did all the things they usually did, but somehow it all felt new again—in a new space, with a new emptiness to fill. Renly let the shower run until the water turned warm and prepared fresh towels for them.

They stepped into the shower together, the steam curling around their skin. The first blast of water hit Viktor’s shoulder, and he winced, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Too hot?” Renly asked with a smirk, already reaching for the handle to adjust the temperature.

“Do you usually scald yourself in the shower?” Viktor teased, the corners of his mouth quirking up despite the discomfort.

Renly rolled her eyes, turning the dial until the water was just shy of lukewarm. “Better?”

“Much better,” he said, his tone playful. “Though I’m still recovering from the trauma.”

Renly huffed a laugh and grabbed a bar of soap from the shelf. “I’m afraid you’re going to smell like a coconut,” she said, holding it up as if presenting evidence of her crime.

“Good,” Viktor replied without hesitation. “I love coconut.”

She grinned, shaking her head slightly before beginning her task. Her hands glided over his arms and chest, the soap lathering into creamy bubbles as she worked. She moved with deliberate tenderness, kneading his muscles as though to coax away every last knot of tension that had taken residence in him. Viktor let his eyes drift shut, exhaling as her hands trailed over his shoulders and down his back.

She hesitated when her hand landed on his thigh, the oppressive purple vein even more visible on his flushed skin. Feeling the hover of her touch, Viktor took her palm in his and kissed her knuckles. “It’s alright.”

“Does it hurt?” she asked quietly, and then a thought popped into her head. Of course, it did—it had always hurt.

“No. It just feels… strange.” Viktor pulled her in and wrapped her arm around his neck. “I’ll have to get used to it. It’s a small price.”

When she reached up to wash his hair, he leaned into her touch like a weary traveller finding solace. Her fingers threaded through his damp curls, massaging the soap in gentle circles over his scalp. Every now and then, Viktor caught her hands, pressing a kiss to her fingers and wrists in a gesture that felt reverent. The simplicity of it—the quiet intimacy—made Renly’s chest ache in the best way.

When she finished, Viktor turned her by the shoulders, swapping places with her under the stream of water. He took the soap from her, his hands warm and sure as they smoothed over her skin. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if mapping her anew. The steam curled around them, the water running in rivulets down her back as he pulled her flush against him.

When he reached her hair, his fingers worked through the strands with a skill that surprised her. His thumbs pressed into her temples, eliciting a soft moan as her eyes fluttered shut, rolling back in her skull.

“Good?” he murmured, his voice low and rich.

“Perfect,” she breathed, leaning into him.

They kissed lazily under the stream, the water running between them as their mouths met in unhurried synchrony. Their hands found each other’s skin, not in hunger this time but in care—an exchange of solace, of connection. Every touch felt like a quiet vow, a promise that they didn’t need words to seal.

When they got back to bed, which had been changed by Renly’s insistence—Viktor said he didn’t mind, and he really didn’t—she started to drift off almost immediately. His hands traced the lines of her tattoo, lingering around ‘his place’ in it. After a long pause, he finally took a deep breath and asked, “You’re going to Zaun, aren’t you?”

“Will you hate me if I do?” Renly murmured, barely keeping her eyes open.

“No. Will you let me come with you?” Viktor’s voice was low and steady, though there was a hint of something uncertain beneath it. He truly couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone in there, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her constantly looking over her shoulder to see if he was safe if he went with her.

She shifted slightly, meeting his gaze in the dim light. “Viktor, you know I can’t do that. You will suffocate.” It was a statement that carried no judgment and no guilt. It was just a statement, saying the obvious, and yet—it made Viktor feel like he was just about to suffocate.

He inhaled sharply, but his hand gently found its way to hers, his fingers threading through hers. “I can wear a mask. But… we can talk about this tomorrow.” His thumb brushed her knuckles, a subtle gesture of reassurance. “Just know I’m ready to come with you.”

***

As they walked, Viktor’s grip was tight on Renly’s hand. Their morning was quiet, almost warm, until she made him laugh by dropping half of her sugar dish into his coffee with a smirk. He glanced at her with concern when he saw her putting on her Zaunite clothes, but dared not say anything.

They arrived at the lab together, and Jayce, relieved to see them both, looked up. "Mel fought off the council," he said, almost hopefully. "For now, the Hexcore is to remain as an 'on hold' project. We’re to seal it and put it away." Viktor sighed, a mixture of relief and disappointment flooding through him. Renly placed a hand on his shoulder, cradling his cheek gently with the other.

She moved on to pack a bag with supplies, medications, and gas masks for her trip to Zaun. She felt Viktor’s eyes lingering on her the whole time; she knew exactly what he wanted to do and say, and all the bones in her body ached with that knowledge. Jayce glanced at her and asked, "Are you going?"

Renly replied with a weak "yes," her gaze flicking over to Viktor. He shifted his stance on his cane, his voice soft as he spoke, "Renly… please take me with you. I cannot bear it." The weakness in him tore him apart. The weakness of his body fought the weakness of his pride, and his fragile heart—one that had only just reconciled with Renly’s—beat unsteadily in his chest when he saw her eyes, an apology pouring from them.

"Viktor, I beg you. Please, don’t make me choose," she replied, stopping her packing for a moment. She took his hands in hers. "Because if you make me, I will stay, and you will resent yourself for it."

"I will resent myself either way," he whispered weakly, the shape of his mouth askew as he tried to hold all of his weaknesses back. And even though he knew that none of the options presented to him in his agonizing journey through The Arcane were acceptable, for a fleeting moment, he longed for his body to be whole and able.

"I will go." Jayce’s voice was firm and present, so present, in fact, that both Renly and Viktor turned their necks to look at him.

"Jayce, you can’t—" Viktor shook his head in disbelief. He took a step forward toward Jayce, as if trying to physically stop him.

"I will go, and I will come back—with you." He gripped Renly’s shoulders while making his plea. "I’ll deliver you to Viktor’s doorstep, unharmed, I promise." And that promise was meant for Viktor, as Jayce turned his head to look at his partner.

"I… Jayce," Viktor’s words failed him. He knew, of course, that this was the solution to their conundrum. He admired Jayce so deeply in that moment. And even though his mind still whispered horrible insults to himself, he exhaled a breath of surrender. Because he trusted Jayce.

"I told you. You don’t have to carry this alone. And you don’t have to carry this—" Jayce pointed to the bag, "—alone. This is what I can do." He said, his face painted with a reassuring smile, as all three of them stood in a small circle, as if there was no grave danger before them.

Viktor pulled Jayce into an embrace, his voice barely a whisper as he said, "Please, bring her back to me." Jayce hugged him tighter, knocking the breath out of Viktor’s lungs.

They all packed the necessary items into three convenient bags. Jayce’s hand rested on Viktor’s shoulder from time to time, as if to reassure him he would be true to his word. When everything was ready, they stood before the front door, staring at the floor. Viktor let out one last sigh before kissing Renly deeply, for the first time on full display in front of Jayce.

She squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to his wrists. He rested his forehead against hers and whispered, “I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself.” Renly let out a shaky exhale, then opened her eyes and cradled his face.

“Viktor, I admire you. I respect you. I adore you; I love you so much my heart aches.” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and kissed him again.

They were startled by a muffled choke coming from Jayce, who had been completely forgotten in that moment. “Guys, this is so beautiful,” he said weakly, pressing his fingers into his eyes, trying to hold back one, maybe two tears.

Renly and Viktor exchanged an embarrassed chuckle, the tension of the moment dissolving. Jayce wiped his eyes, smiling apologetically as he slung one of the bags over his shoulder. “Alright, let’s get moving before Viktor convinces me to restrain you and keep you safe here.”

Renly stepped closer to Viktor one last time, smoothing a hand down his chest. “I’ll be back,” she whispered, leaning in for a final, tender kiss. “Promise me you’ll rest.”

Viktor nodded; his throat too tight to speak. He held her hands in his for a moment longer, his grip unsteady but firm. “Be careful,” he managed to say, his voice breaking just slightly.

Renly squeezed his fingers before letting go, turning to Jayce. He gave Viktor a reassuring nod as if to silently repeat his earlier promise. “I’ll bring her back,” Jayce said softly, the sincerity in his tone like a steady anchor.

With that, the two of them stepped through the door. Viktor stood frozen as he watched them go, his cane trembling slightly in his hand. The sound of the door closing echoed through the room like a final note, and for a moment, he stood there in silence, staring at the empty space where they had been.

The sound of his own sob startled him in the silence. He tried to shy away from it by hiding his face in the crook of his elbow, but it was a futile attempt. His shoulders shook as a full-blown wave of weeping overcame him. The weight of everything—the worry, the helplessness, the love that threatened to swallow him whole—poured out in sobs that filled the empty hallway. His heart, so fragile and raw, cracked under the pressure of letting her go.

He clutched his cane like it was the only thing keeping him upright, tears streaking down his cheeks as he gasped for breath. Viktor rarely allowed himself to cry, but now, in the solitude of the lab, there was no one to witness his unravelling. No one to judge the vulnerability that poured out of him in rivers. For the first time in so long, he let himself feel everything, unrestrained and unapologetic.

He cried out all his anger, cried out his leg, his spine. He cried out the unbearable thought of Renly getting hurt—or worse. He cried out the failure of his dream, the loss of Rio, his lungs, himself—every oppressive thought that gnawed at him, every splinter in every bone of his body. When his throat began to burn, a thought ignited weakly, like an ember. You are good at something. Wiping his tears away, chuckling at the absurd of his outburst, he turned back to the lab and sunk back into work.

[nobody-viii]

The Turks - Context Clues (The Kids Are Alright)

@accala posted an excellent inquisitive post about the Turks here and their motivations and to add some The Kids Are Alright: A Turks Side Story book context, imma leave this here. Couldn't find the quote I was looking for, but here's some things I found interesting. NOTE: I feel like Advent Children did the Turks a little dirty, but I really loved the banter as a kid. This book has some of the same campy shortcomings, but take it or leave it, here's what I found.

1.) The Healen Lodge from Advent Children was an R&R facility for Shinra, universally accepted as the worst one by employees. The Turks/Rufus chose it for its tactical advantages, but it also shows how far back on their heels they were. "The Shinra empire had ruled most of the world up until two short years ago, and it didn't sit right with Elena that the company president had to live in such a desolate place. Yes, medical treatment was available, security was way better away from the city, and the commute was only two hours by car; the staff could have had it much worse." - pg. 14

2.) The abandoned rec hall was being used by Shinra as a lab to convert SOLDIER stimulants into geostigma treatments. The project was Elena's idea, with the resulting medication being donated free of charge to city medical professionals and the WRO. (pp. 16-17)

3.) Reno & Rude were sent into the city to retrieve a stolen item from a teenager (read the book for details I'm too lazy to go into it), and when he started crying and shaking, Reno and Rude switched to a new script. "Aw, look. The kid's really scared." The redhead sounded sympathetic now. "That's what we came to do," the bald one pointed out. And: "Now, we put on our best tough-guys acts on the way over, so we can't just leave without roughing anyone up," said the redhead. "Our job is to teach a lesson to anyone who tries to mess with us." I was still scrambling for an explanation to give them. "Y-you mean, kill me?" was what came out instead. My voice even cracked for good measure. "That's one way to teach a lesson. But we're trying to strike a balance for Shinra, here. We want everyone to love us and maybe be a little bit scared. Killing you would have the opposite effect." (pg. 23) Reno opted to punch the kid in the face, then tell him to keep his chin up, so...balance? Sure. Shinra is, at this point, technically trying to figure out their PR while simultaneously leaning on old habits. Also, the kid calls Reno and Rude a knife and a fork and I thought that was funny.

4.) Reno is described as someone who looked like he 'turned delinquent as a teenager and never grew out of it, like those kids in the Sector Eight warehouses who I still hated and admired in equal measure.' (pg. 23)

5.) Elena roughs up one of the protagonists, but reins herself in when context is presented: She'd paid a visit intending to break Fabio's dominant arm, but when she saw him fight back to protect the child, she changed her plan. Her objective was to punish a thief, not deprive a child with geostigma of his only guardian. (pg. 47)

6.) Reno calls a doctor for the guy he roughed up. Kyrie nodded. "I figured, these guys must have phones, so I asked them to call Dr. Drake. 'Evan's in a bad way 'cause you guys beat him up,' I told them. And guess what? They said they don't know any Evan. So I lost it and said, 'Yeah, 'cause Evan's the one you whaled on when you mixed him up with Fabio. You owe him..... So then the redhead--his name's Reno--he called a doctor. Not Dr. Drake, he said, but a good one..." (pg. 55)

7.) Evan (the protagonist) is trying to work out who would be the easiest Turk to try to forge an alliance with and we get a glimpse of how the Turks are perceived by outsiders (Tseng is an unknown entity to Evan at this time): The most dangerous one was probably the lady Turk who went after Fabio. A close second would be the slab of muscle out there, Rude. Maybe the redhead Reno was more on our level. I thought back to my first impression of him--the grown-up teenage delinquent. Guys like that generally looked out for their own. A sense of solidarity. There had to be an angle I could work. (pg. 57)

8.) There's a whole scene where Evan and Kyrie try to ambush Rude. They choke him, break a chair over him, kick, scratch, the whole shebang and he just brushes himself off and manhandles them to a car (which made me laugh).

9.) Reno and Rude take the protagonists towards Healen in a truck and there's a few moments I found interesting. "So anyway..." Reno was looking at me in the rearview mirror. "Sorry about the shiner, dude. We totally did think you were Fabio. But y'know, I'm impressed you stayed mum and protected your buddy," Reno went on. "Even if you were about to piss your pants." (lol) Then, "Some of us have been slower to to adapt to the new way of doing things," Reno continued. "How many Turks are left?" asked Kyrie. "Can't tell you. That's Shinra's most closely guarded secret." "It's just you three, isn't it?" "Not telling." "But I'm right." "Yeah, you keep thinking that." (pg.63) Rude sleeps through the majority of the ride despite Reno trying to keep him awake. They talk quite a bit about Aerith, because Kyrie and Reno both knew her. Reno warns them not to get mixed up with Shinra's science department.

10.) Evan gets introduced to Rufus for the first time after believing the former president has been dead for two years and Tseng finally exists in this book for two seconds. "He's alive...?" Evan was still speaking to Reno. "I am. The decoy who took my place is not," Rufus replied. "You're a candidate for the position--and from what I can see, you'll do." Evan's jaw dropped, and he stared agape at Reno, then Rufus, then Tseng. Tseng looked down at the ground, trying to hide his laughter. Evan's description of Tseng: He looked like a Turk, too. The very definition of one, in fact. Reno and Rude both showed an awkward humanity--well, sporadically in the latter's case--but this guy was pure ice.

11.) An ill-conceived escape attempt by Evan and crew sees Rufus temporarily kidnapped, as Tseng and Elena are investigating an explosion. Reno and Rude try to stop it, but are ordered back. "Reno, stay back!" Reno obediently halted. I had expected to see fury in his eyes, but all I say was sorrow. Surprisingly, I felt a pang in my chest, too. But there was no other way. I pulled Kyrie's knife from my pocket and opened it--a sad, flimsy little blade, but it could still slice open a throat. "Hey, don't be stupid." I ignored Reno and held the knife to Rufus Shinra's neck. Then, "Reno, take Rude and check on the lab." Suddenly Rufus was giving orders. "Tell Tseng not to get involved here." "Wait, what? Boss, are you sure?!" "Don't worry. I'm as interested in staying alive as you are." Reno reluctantly descended the stairs, glancing over his shoulder almost every step. (pg. 77)

12.) Reno and Rude talk about family and have a lil tiff. "If I found out about a brother I'd never seen, I'd make way more of an effort than those two," Reno insisted. "That right?" Rude said. My colleagues are all I need. "You're not much into family, eh, Rude?" "I'm a Turk," Rude said flatly. "Coolheaded and cold-blooded." He turned and headed for the truck. "Hey, Rude. You pissed at me?" Reno called, an unabashed whine. "C'mon, man. You can't cold-zone me now. Tseng and Elena aren't answering my calls, and the boss just tells me to finish the monument. I know they're starting something awesome without us. We're outcasts! Me and you, you and me. If we don't stick together, then what?" Rude looked back. "Tseng isn't answering calls?" (pg. 94) Reno goes off several times throughout this book about how he'd act if he got the chance to meet family, which makes me wonder about him. "So how'd it feel, meeting your brother?" "I don't think it's sunk in yet." "Well, it's a process, I guess," said Reno. "But you gotta visit once in a while, you know? Then you'll get to figure each other out. Break the ice." (pg. 97)

13.) Reno and Rude are actually partially responsible for the monument in the city. This lil bit kinda gives weight to how long they've been in Shinra. Evan was one of those types who wasn't quite grounded in reality but was full of bravado. A show-off. A scared kid determined to buck people's expectations by pretending he had no fear. And if he kept it up, he was gonna do something stupid enough to get himself killed. Both Reno and Rude had known too many kids like that, from rookie Turks to infantrymen to SOLDIER operatives wet behind the ears from mako infusion tanks.

14.) Reno & Rude get amused by Kyrie treating them like they're not scary. The concern over redemption makes an appearance. "Now what?" Rude stepped closer from his vantage point. Apparently, he'd been watching the whole time. He was pretending he didn't care, but inwardly, Reno was convinced, Rude was intrigued by every act of the farce. Which only made the whole thing funnier. "She said she's hungry," said Reno. "So she's gonna grab something to eat." "It's like she's never heard of the Turks. It's almost refreshing," Rude remarked. So this is what happens when Shinra wins hearts and minds. Reno chuckled again but then remembered that the girl was still afraid of them. He'd seen the goosebumps on her arms. Her toothless threats were her way of gauging the danger he and Rude presented. Evan might trust them, but not Kyrie. Despite what Rude said, she knew what they were and what they were capable of. "You know," said Rude. "She reminds me of Aerith." "Yeah, I was thinkin' that too." Maybe helping them out will redeem us, at least a little bit, he thought. A guy can hope. (pg. 106)

15.) Shinra's resources are thin...and that chopper that ate it in AC was one of the last ones left (cue gross sobbing because in the words of a certain Puppy, Shinra makes good stuff). No one knew exactly how many helicopters the Shinra Company used to have. Within a half a year of Meteorfall, many of them had been looted. Accidents, mechanicals, and other circumstances had taken out others, and now Rufus Shinra and the Turks were left with only three. But even with so few, it was a constant battle to keep them in working order. Also, Rude has mechanical experience and is the one on repairs.

16.) A civilian points out the flaws in Reno's hopes for the future of the Turks. "Well, to be honest, maybe my opinion of you guys is changin'." Doyle looked at Reno again with a level stare. "You're up to better things." Reno couldn't help averting his eyes. Unless it came from a fellow Turk, approval tended to make him uncomfortable. "The monument and the medicine are only one step, you know. Just wait. It might take a while, but Shinra's gonna get off the ground again. Rise again, you hear?" That general idea had been floating around in his head for some time. This was the first time he'd said it aloud. "How?" Doyle scowled, his thick eyebrows lowering. Reno cursed himself for the thoughtless comment. "Can't tell you." "Yeah, I figured. But no one is going to let a violent regime lord it over them again. Not anymore. You tell your president that."

17.) Tseng and Elena bring up the notion of inviting old Turks back into the fold. "For any one person, finding it (Jenova's head) may well seem like a futile task. But there is still a nonzero chance. Either way, staying in contact with our agents and meeting regularly are essential to maintaining organizational cohesion." " But how many...?" Elena glanced around and spoke in a stage whisper. "How many former Turks can we expect to help us?" In his mind, Tseng saw the faces of the old Turks, his former subordinates. Of those, he had made contact with-- They get interrupted and Elena rushes off to investigate something. Tseng watched his operative go with a wry smile. Below the hem of her sundress, old scars marked her legs. Once you joined the Turks, you were in for life. Even those who tried to get out and build new lives could be summoned back with a single phone call. Maybe it was a cruel call to make, Tseng thought. and he sighed.

18.) Reno & Rude defy a direct order from Tseng. "Dumbass," Reno muttered. "What are you waiting for? Engage!" Tseng's command rang from the speakers. "Evan's down there," Rude answered in Reno's stead. "He's already done for," said Tseng. "Fire." "No can do," said Reno. "Reno." Tseng made his name a sharp rebuke. "He's our friend." "Fine. Let me briefly explain--" Tseng's voice abruptly cut out. "Radio trouble," Rude mumbled, his hand drifting away from the radio's master switch.

There are a lot of quirky, funny, violent, or neato moments I didn't list, so check out the book if you want more insight. Hope this gave you some headcanon fodder.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

y'all it's uh. it's Done. and this "random lil snippet just because i think it'd be Neat :)" clocks in at um. 10k, give or take

delighted to report that one of my all-time favorite pastimes CONTINUES to be nerfing the absolute shit out of lucius and watching him figure out how to win Anyway :)

in related news: four (4) hours of writing time on this random-ass wednesday fixed me, more news at 11

[velveteenoutlaw]

Perchance do you do any headcannons? For rdr2 (specifically morston)

OH HELL YES I DO.

oh gosh this got a little long ok i’m 97k into a Morston longfic, so uhm i just bear with me. i have a lot of thoughts uwu

──★ ˙ ̟

I hc John as bi and Arthur as gay (which i wish i saw more of!! he is the gayest bear!!!)

──★ ˙ ̟

Before John left, Arthur and him were inseparable. They had their spats and petty fights/arguments, but they respected each other, they were partners. Something akin to Dutch and Hosea's relationship.

──★ ˙ ̟

John has had a crush on Arthur since the dawn of time. Like 13-14 year old John was crushing hard, but he didn’t really have a grasp on what those feelings meant.

It was just a cute childhood crush where he likes being around Arthur and maybe trying to impress him a little.

Later teens hit him like a freight train and he struggled to navigate through his feelings for Arthur. Like it’s a fight for his life not to grab Arthur and kiss him, but things like that could get him beat or worse. So he did his best to bottle it up and ignore it.

Arthur is completely oblivious. Literally no clue.

──★ ˙ ̟

It's when John is around 20 that Arthur realizes he might care about John a little too much. John isn't a scrawny kid anymore, he's tall and broad and god damn his voice just does something to him.

Of course this scares the ever loving shit out of Arthur. He'd done pretty well at pushing down his attraction towards men, but this was different. John wasn't some stranger on the street, this was his best friend.

──★ ˙ ̟

John 100% makes the first move. Despite Arthur also pining for John, he’s way too scared to act on it. Worried John wouldn’t reciprocate, worried that John would hate him for it, or even worse, he might leave again.

──★ ˙ ̟

Their dynamic doesn't change much, just a lot less venom behind their banter.

──★ ˙ ̟

John is obsessed with Arthur’s beard. He loves the way it feels against his face when they kiss and all but nuzzles up against him. Beard burn is a constant issue for him.

──★ ˙ ̟

John is like a goddamn vampire. Any time he can get to Arthur’s neck he takes it. Arthur loves the attention but hates all the marks John leaves.

Arthur’s more conservative about their relationship, and gets flustered when folk around camp tease him about John “marking his territory”.

──★ ˙ ̟

John’s scars drive Arthur fucking wild. He loves that scowl John usually has and the scars make him look a little dangerous. Just completely smitten with his face, which John refuses to believe. Arthur loves feeling the scar on John’s lip when they kiss, and can hardly resist trailing a few kisses down the scars on his cheek whenever they’re alone.

──★ ˙ ̟

Yeah, they're the cringe trope of "human furnace + always cold". Arthur almost radiates heat, and good god, John's hands are always like ice.

──★ ˙ ̟

Arthur loves holding John's hands. He loves kissing his knuckles and trying to warm them up. He'll find himself subconsciously grabbing John's hands, just being a big sap and always wanting to hold them. It always gets him flustered when folk around camp point it out.

He also likes holding John's saddle horn when they ride out together. u//w//u

──★ ˙ ̟

Once they're out to the gang they're almost always near each other. The most touching Arthur allows is their shoulders and/or legs touching when they sit by each other, maybe a hand on the other's thigh. John just wants to sit on his lap.

How the rest of the gang reacts

Dutch LOATHES it. He completely and totally hates their relationship. He doesn't like Arthur's loyalty being split. Dutch has to have control over Arthur and he can't handle that slipping, especially to his other child soldier. He pushes back and tries to "talk sense" into Arthur. He calls it foolish and tries to assure both of them it won't last. He "encourages" them to keep it quiet if they insist on being together. 100% tries to break them up.

Hosea does not care. Like at all. He's glad that they're in a position that they can be together, always being on the run ironically keeps them safe. He just wants John to quiet down if they're going to be fucking in camp.

Bill's upset because he's not the hottest bear in camp since Arthur came out. :( AND ARTHUR GETS A SLUTTY-WAISTED TWINK?? WHY DOES ARTHUR GET EVERYTHING?? >:( (he's thinking about making a move on Javier since this gay thing is cool in camp now)

Tilly, Karen, and Mary-Beth are GOSSIPING. The staunch Arthur Morgan has finally settled down and it's with John fucking Marston??

Sean teases John about it whenever he can as Arthur made it very clear this is not something he's joking about. Sean once asked "Why does English keep your ugly mug around?" to which John made eye contact and shoved all four fingers down his throat without gagging. For once in his life, Sean was stunned into silence.

Lenny's allowed a little ribbing with Arthur (much to Sean's dismay). A little nudge and a teasing "Marston, huh?" He doesn't care, and wishes Arthur would quit being so tense about it.

Javier is a little awkward with it. He's unsure how to act around them for awhile, it really bothers John that Javier won't look him in the eye anymore. He wants to ask John about some...stuff, but he's too shy. (he's hoping Bill makes a move on him since this gay thing is cool in camp now)

Micah is with Dutch on this one (shocker), though he's much more outwardly vehement about it. Claims it's a disease, that it's "unnatural". Makes it a point to avoid touching either of them.

Abigail is hurt at first. She had pretty much given up on the idea of her and John reconciling, but it still hurt that the possibility was gone. John had talked to her in private about it, he was stuttering and nervous. She of course cried and yelled at him and told him he was a good-for-nothing dirt bag, but after she was done crying and berating him, she just felt a little empty. Tired. She thought about it for days, and eventually started to come around to the idea. Arthur had begged her for forgiveness, she offered it but told him there was nothing to forgive, everything was okay. She was thankful that somehow the relationship seemed to get John to step up with Jack (Arthur threatened to kick his ass).

18+ nsfw

Arthur is a top through and through. Which works out great because John is a versatile bottom.

──★ ˙ ̟

Arthur is a total sap in bed. Kisses, praises, near worship. He’s used to being the thankless workhorse and it’s no different in bed. He loves when John is a pillow princess, just lying on his back looking pretty and breathless. Arthur’s own pleasure is an afterthought, his only goal is to draw out all those pretty sounds from John.

──★ ˙ ̟

They're both sappy enough to prefer positions that let them face each other. But John also likes being on his knees so Arthur can pull his hair.

──★ ˙ ̟

It took John a while to get used to all the praise (though he has the biggest praise kink ever). All it takes is for Arthur to purr good boy and John is weak in the knees. He still gets a little flustered when Arthur compliments his looks though.

──★ ˙ ̟

John literally cannot shut up in bed. Arthur teases him about sounding like an animal (but Arthur lives for all the noise). If John isn’t growling and moaning he’s giving orders; harder, faster, yes!, right there.

──★ ˙ ̟

John gets a little irritated sometimes with how slow Arthur wants to go. He has no patience and wants to get right to it while Arthur wants to take his time, making sure John is comfortable and properly prepped.

──★ ˙ ̟

John likes it rough. Biting, scratching, hair pulling, spanking, slapping, a little bit of choking ─ Arthur being the only person allowed to put their hands anywhere close to his neck.

John wants to be a drooling, panting, incoherent mess by the time they're done, and Arthur doesn't mind obliging.

──★ ˙ ̟

I cannot stress this enough, John is a total cock slut. He loves being on his knees worshipping Arthur. He loves choking on Arthur's dick and watching Arthur come undone and lose his composure while he's sucking him dry.

It was a little difficult for Arthur to get used to the idea that John wanted to blow him, that John gets off on it as much as Arthur does.

Embarrassingly Arthur still doesn't really know what to do with himself, as he's not used to being the one that's getting the pampering and attention. He usually has a hand in John's hair, sometimes petting him, sometimes just resting there to feel the way John's head bobs, sometimes if John's been a good boy he'll take a fistful of his hair and fuck his throat u//w//u

──★ ˙ ̟

Despite all that, Arthur is better with his mouth.

Arthur has dick sucking lips. all i'm sayin

thank you for reading!

[moonteaa]

your dad teba stuff has me frothing at the mouth like a squirrel that needs to be put down. You got any head cannons to share?

AGH!! Thank you!! Hehe 🤍🏹

AND OH BOY DO I EVER!! Let’s see..

1. Teba literally sees every single member as his own, but definitely imprinted immediately when it came to Zelda and Riju. Teba now has 2 teenage daughters and he loves them. They banter and tease each other and Teba sometimes has to deal with typical teenage girl angst and it’s both hilarious and endearing 😭

2. If someone made Zelda cry, well Teba is gonna take that PERSONALLY. You’ll be dead where you stand if a single tear falls from Zelda’s eyes.

3. Teba is FULL of puns and terrible dad jokes. And he’s very nonchalant about it too 😭 the others will absolutely eat it up LMFAO but Zelda will literally look at him like “WHY” (he loves to annoy her like that.)

4. Teba has this paternal instinct to wrap his wings or place his wings over the others when there’s danger. It does not matter if they can handle themselves, he’ll just shield them instinctively.

5. That goes for weathers too, if it’s raining or the sun is too hot, he’ll place his wing over any of the others as means to shield them.

6. If Kass is performing a song and each member is joining in on a dance, Zelda will constantly want him to join in. Though he refuses at first, Sidon will push him towards the others and practically force him to join with a wide smile on his face, much to Teba’s dismay HAHA but he’ll have fun and if it makes Zelda happy then he’ll accept.

7. When they’re all done traveling and camping out, Teba will either (not sleep at all) or wake up in the middle of the night to do a run down and check on everyone as they sleep just to make sure they’re doing okay and not in danger or having any nightmares.

8. If one of them has nightmares, Teba is immediately there for them and stays up with them until they fall back asleep.

9. He’s protective. Like FEROCIOUSLY PROTECTIVE. You touch a single hair on their head? You’re dead.

10. If someone even dares to try to be mean to Zelda, or blame her for the events of the calamity or Hylia forbid, CALL HER A FAILURE? Oooof..you will be taken care of before those words can even leave your MOUTH.

11. Teba nicknames Zelda Sparrow/Linnet. The first time he did, it made Zelda cry because it reminded her of Urbosa and her mom (little bird) ☹️ Teba didn’t even realize he had nicknamed her something so close to Zelda’s moms. He felt so bad about it and thought he had done something bad by calling her that, but Zelda reassures him that it just means a lot to her. 🥹😭 🤍

12. The reason Teba calls Zelda sparrow is because she small and it literally translates to “little bird” and as to why he calls her linnet, is because Zelda has a pretty singing voice like a linnet bird. (I headcanon that Zelda has a hidden talent for singing 🤍)

13. If Riju asks Teba to look after one of her sand seal plushies, yeah he’s guarding that plush with his LIFE.

14. Teba taught Zelda archery

15. Teba and Zelda often go on little trips together and when Zelda begins to happily chat and geek out about ancient history and sheikah tech or what not, Teba happily listens and indulges with her. He even actually enjoys learning about it and discovering things with her.

16. If Teba finds some ancient looking artifact he’ll immediately tell Zelda or give it to her because he knows how much she loves to study it.

17. He constantly makes sure they’re all appropriately dressed for the colder weathers

18. Can and WILL intervene on a creep that’s trying to hit on Zelda or Riju. He will go feral and probably shoot any creeps with a bundle of bomb arrows. LOL

19. Absolutely helps Link try to get with Zelda (but he still also feels a little protective? Like?? Duh, it’s link. Ofc they’re gonna be together but he’s a dad, he can’t help feeling a little protective of Zelda at times even if it’s Link HAHA)

20. Each of them have all accidentally called him dad and he just accepts it at this point.

21. Teba wants to throw hands (wings?) with King Rhoam.

23. despite how close they are, in the beginning Zelda actually had a hard time trying to get comfortable with Teba for a short time. Because her experience with her dad wasn’t BEST, it was absolutely bewildering to see Teba be such a supportive and good father figure to everyone, she’s not used to that. She would watch them all interacting and analyze it, trying to understand but couldn’t. Teba however, was always very good to her and they quickly got really close and bonded.

24. Teba shows parental affection by placing his forehead against the others

25. Tulin now has 5 older siblings 🤍

(I HAVE SO MANY MORE ID BE HAPPY TO SHARE MORE IF THATS WHAT YOU ALL WOULD LIKE LOL)

[kvysvdilla]

𝑩𝑬𝒀𝑶𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑷𝑶𝑻𝑳𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻

idol/Jk x supermodel/reader -Aria Jeong-

GENRE: Romance | Fluff | Celebrity life

Chapter 04

Aria steps into the elevator beside Jungkook, the hum of soft instrumental music filling the air. She watches as he presses the button for the 14th floor. The golden number lights up, and the elevator begins its smooth ascent.

“Level 14?” Aria asks, tilting her head curiously. “Fancy number.”

Jungkook chuckles, his lips curling into a small smile. “Yeah, they rented out the whole floor just for me.”

Her brows lift in surprise. “The whole floor? You don’t like neighbors?”

He leans casually against the elevator wall, one hand tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. “It’s more about privacy. Only my manager and room service have access to the floor. Less…chaos.”

Aria grins, crossing her arms. “So, I’m the exception? Maybe I’m lucky.”

Jungkook glances at her, his smile widening. “Maybe you are.”

The elevator dings, and the doors glide open to reveal the lavishly quiet corridor of the 14th floor. The carpet is plush underfoot, the lighting warm and inviting. Aria steps out first, taking in the silence that seems almost surreal.

“This feels…exclusive,” she murmurs, her voice low as they walk down the hallway.

Jungkook smirks, pulling out a sleek keycard from his pocket. “It is.”

They stop in front of a door marked 1407. He swipes the card, the lock beeping softly before the door clicks open. He pushes it ajar, revealing the spacious suite beyond. The room is minimalist yet elegant, with a massive floor-to-ceiling window offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

Aria whistles softly. “This is next level. No wonder you don’t want neighbors.”

Jungkook steps inside, leaving the door open for her. “It’s not as fun as it looks. Gets lonely sometimes.”

As Aria steps into the room, Jungkook gestures toward the sleek vanity table near the mirror. “You can put your stuff there,” he says casually, his voice warm but calm.

“Thanks,” she replies, heading over to the table. She shrugs off her jacket, revealing her grey hoodie, then places her bag down. Carefully, she takes off her cap, letting her hair fall freely, and finally removes her black sunglasses, exposing her bare face.

Jungkook, now seated at the edge of the bed, finds himself unable to look away. Her natural features, unhidden by makeup, feel disarmingly honest and raw. There’s something about her simplicity that strikes him.

Noticing his lingering gaze, Aria chuckles softly. She turns and starts walking toward the couch, but as she passes by the bed, she pauses in front of him. Leaning in slightly, she softly boops his nose with her pointy finger.

“You’re staring,” she teases, her voice light and playful before she continues her walk and gracefully sits on the couch beside the bed.

Jungkook blinks, snapping out of his daze. He nervously chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Can’t help it. You’re even prettier with no makeup on.”

Aria smirks, raising an eyebrow as she leans back into the couch. “So, what you’re saying is… I look bad with makeup on?”

His eyes widen in panic, and he waves his hands quickly, shaking his head. “No! No, that’s not what I meant!” he exclaims, his voice rising slightly in embarrassment.

She lets out a laugh, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction. “Relax, I’m just messing with you,” she says, leaning forward on the couch with an amused grin. “You’re too easy to tease.”

Jungkook exhales with a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“And yet, you let me in here,” she shoots back with a smirk, their playful banter filling the air as the city lights flicker through the large windows.

Jungkook leans back slightly on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on the mattress behind him. He watches Aria as she gets comfortable on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her.

“You’ve got a dangerous sense of humor,” he says with a small laugh, his tone softer now.

Aria tilts her head, giving him a faux-innocent smile. “It’s not my fault you’re so easy to fluster. I thought golden maknaes could handle a little teasing.”

Jungkook scoffs lightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, I can handle it. You’re just…unexpected.”

“Unexpected how?” Aria asks, raising an eyebrow as she grabs a throw pillow and hugs it against her chest.

He pauses for a moment, his gaze lingering on her, as if searching for the right words. “I don’t know. You’re confident, quick-witted… but you’ve got this softer side too. It’s… different.”

Her teasing smile falters just a little, replaced by something gentler. She tugs at the corner of the pillow absentmindedly. “Different in a good way, I hope.”

Jungkook nods immediately, sitting up straight. “Yeah, in a good way.”

There’s a brief silence, the kind that feels heavy yet comfortable at the same time. The hum of the air conditioner fills the space as they both take a moment to process the words exchanged.

Breaking the stillness, Aria chuckles lightly and leans back against the couch. “You know, I was kind of expecting this room to be a chaotic mess. Clothes everywhere, snacks on the floor…”

Jungkook laughs, his shoulders shaking slightly. “What kind of impression did you have of me?”

She shrugs, grinning. “Just saying, you’ve got this… boy-next-door thing going on. I figured you’d be a bit of a whirlwind.”

“Well,” he says, gesturing to the spotless room, “now you know I’m a neat freak. I hate clutter.”

“Duly noted,” she replies with a smirk. Then, after a beat, she asks, “So… what does a global superstar like you do to relax in a place like this? Play video games? Watch Netflix?”

He chuckles, pointing toward the large TV mounted on the wall. “Both, actually. I’ve got a gaming console set up and a pretty long Netflix watchlist.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Impressive. What’s on the watchlist?”

“Mostly action and thrillers. Oh, and some rom-coms,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.

“Rom-coms?” Aria says, feigning shock. “The tough, mysterious Jungkook watches romantic comedies? I’m learning so much about you tonight.”

He laughs, throwing a pillow from the bed in her direction. She catches it effortlessly, grinning at his playful attack.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he retorts. “They’re funny, okay?”

She tosses the pillow back onto the bed, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, maybe next time you can show me your favorite one.”

Jungkook leans forward, resting his arms on his knees as he looks at her. “Next time, huh?”

“Maybe,” she says with a small smile, her tone teasing but laced with something genuine.

The room feels warmer now, the earlier awkwardness replaced by a growing sense of comfort. The city lights outside continue to twinkle, as if reflecting the unspoken possibilities in the air between them.

Aria continues to gaze at the glittering city through the glass wall, completely unaware of Jungkook’s quiet movements. When he sits down beside her, she still doesn’t notice, her focus on the mesmerizing view.

Jungkook leans back slightly, resting his arm casually along the backrest of the couch. For a moment, he just watches her, taking in the way the lights from outside illuminate her features.

“You really like the view, huh?” he asks, his voice soft but carrying a touch of mischief.

Startled, Aria turns to him, her wide eyes betraying her surprise. “You’re too quiet,” she mutters, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t even hear you sit down.”

Jungkook grins, leaning closer, his voice dropping slightly. “Maybe I didn’t want you to.”

She raises an eyebrow at his playful tone but quickly returns her gaze to the city. “Well, congratulations—you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

For a moment, silence falls between them, but Jungkook doesn’t look away from her. He shifts slightly closer, his arm resting on the back of the couch now hovering just behind her.

Then, without warning, he leans in—just enough to close the space between them—and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers graze her skin lightly, leaving a spark in their wake.

Aria freezes, her breath hitching as her cheeks grow warm. She turns to him, her wide eyes meeting his. “What… was that?” she stammers, caught completely off guard.

Jungkook leans back slightly, his expression unreadable but his lips curving into a subtle smirk. “It was bothering me,” he says simply, his voice calm but his eyes holding something deeper.

She blinks, her face growing hotter by the second. “You could’ve just… said something,” she mutters, trying to play it cool, though the blush creeping up her neck betrays her.

“I could’ve,” he says, his gaze not leaving hers. “But this was more fun.”

Aria lets out a nervous laugh, breaking eye contact as she looks back at the city view. She hugs the throw pillow closer to her chest in an attempt to ground herself. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Jungkook chuckles, his tone teasing. “You say that a lot.”

“Well, you keep proving me right,” she quips, though her voice wavers slightly, still flustered by his boldness.

He watches her for a moment longer, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. “Maybe I just like seeing you blush.”

She whips her head back toward him, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t get used to it,” she warns, though her pink cheeks tell a different story.

Jungkook laughs again, leaning back comfortably against the couch. “Too late.”

The playful tension lingers between them, electrifying the air as they both try to settle their racing hearts.

Jungkook leans back into the couch, his arm draped casually on the backrest behind Aria. He turns to her after a moment, noticing her slightly tired expression.

“You hungry?” he asks softly. “You’ve been asleep for a while—you probably need to eat something.”

Aria stretches a little and nods. “Yeah, I could eat. I think I’m a little tired still.”

He pulls out his phone, unlocking it as he speaks. “Let’s order something. I’m sure some places are still open at this hour.”

“What are you thinking?” she asks, leaning closer to see his screen. Without realizing it, her shoulder brushes against his.

Jungkook stiffens slightly at the unexpected contact, but he hides his nerves by scrolling through the app. “How about pizza?” he suggests.

Aria’s eyes light up as she tilts her head to look closer at the screen. “Pizza sounds perfect. Let’s go classic—pepperoni and cheese.”

He chuckles softly, nodding. “Good choice. Can’t go wrong with a classic.”

She naturally scoots even closer, their shoulders now pressed together as she peers at his phone. Jungkook can feel his heartbeat quicken, but he keeps his cool, his voice steady as he asks, “Should we get a large? Maybe with some soda?”

“Definitely,” she replies, glancing up at him briefly with a smile before turning back to the screen. “And don’t forget some extra cheese.”

“Got it. Large classic pepperoni and cheese pizza, extra cheese, and soda.” He finalizes the order, swiping to confirm it. “It should be here in about 25 minutes.”

Aria leans back into the couch, grinning. “You’re a pro at this.”

Jungkook smirks, placing his phone on the side table. “What can I say? I’m good at feeding people.”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Well, thanks. I’m starving, so you just saved me.”

“Anytime,” he replies, glancing at her briefly. The closeness between them lingers as they both settle back into the couch, waiting for the food to arrive.

Jungkook leans back against the couch, his arm still resting on the backrest behind Aria as they wait for their pizza to arrive. After a moment of silence, he turns to her.

“Big day tomorrow huh?,” he says, breaking the quiet.

Aria looks at him, her brows raised in curiosity. “How are you feeling about it?”

Jungkook chuckles softly, running a hand through his hair. “A little nervous, to be honest. Even after all these years, the pressure never really goes away.”

Aria tilts her head, her expression thoughtful. “You’ve done this so many times, though. Isn’t it easier now?”

“In some ways, yeah,” he admits, his gaze shifting to her. “But at the same time, it gets harder. The expectations just keep growing, you know? And you want to outdo yourself every time.”

Aria nods, leaning in slightly without realizing it. “Makes sense. But you always manage to blow everyone away. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Jungkook smiles at her encouragement, his shoulders relaxing. “Thanks. What about you? First time attending, right?”

She laughs lightly. “Yeah, first time ever. I’m more nervous about not tripping on the carpet or doing something embarrassing.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jungkook reassures her with a grin. “Just be yourself. Everyone’s going to love you.”

“Easy for you to say,” she teases. “You’ve got years of experience. I’m just hoping not to accidentally photobomb someone famous.”

He laughs at that, his eyes crinkling. “Hey, if it happens, it’ll make headlines. ‘Aria Steals Spotlight with Accidental Photobomb.’”

She rolls her eyes, grinning. “Great, that’s exactly the kind of fame I want.”

As they talk, they both unconsciously scoot closer, their movements subtle but natural. Jungkook leans in slightly, while Aria shifts toward him to match his energy.

“So, what are you wearing tomorrow?” he asks, genuinely curious.

Aria smirks, crossing her arms. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would, actually,” he counters with a playful grin. “I need to mentally prepare for how you’re going to steal all the attention.”

She chuckles, her gaze softening. “It’s nothing too crazy. Just a dress. Simple but elegant.”

“Sounds perfect,” Jungkook says, his voice softer now. “You’ll look amazing.”

Then, as Aria glances at him, she suddenly feels a spark of courage. With a small exhale, she smiles shyly and says, “I… actually need to admit something.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow in curiosity, his voice low. “What is it?”

Aria pauses for a second, gathering her thoughts before she finally blurts out, “I’m a big fan of yours, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise, his mouth parting slightly in disbelief. “Wait… seriously?”

“Yeah,” she says with a sheepish grin. “I’ve been a fan of you for a long time. It’s just… it’s crazy to actually be sitting here talking to you. You’ve been one of my biggest inspirations for so long.”

Jungkook laughs softly, leaning in a bit closer, their faces now only inches apart. “Well, in that case I’m glad you did because you know… I’ve actually been admiring you for years too,” Jungkook says, his voice soft but steady.

Aria blinks, taken aback by his words. Her eyebrows furrow in surprise. “What?”

He chuckles lightly, “I mean, it sounds cheesy, but it’s true. Ever since I saw you on social media for the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about how amazing you were. You’ve always had this… presence. It’s hard to ignore.”

Aria stares at him, her mind struggling to process what he’s just said. “You’re serious?” she says slowly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Jungkook replies, his eyes meeting hers again. This time, there’s no hesitation. “I’ve admired you for a long time. You’re not just talented, you’re so down-to-earth, and I’ve always thought you had something special.”

A blush creeps up Aria’s neck, her heart skipping a beat at his honesty. She shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to say next. “l don’t even know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jungkook reassures her, his smile soft and genuine. “I just wanted you to know. I’m glad I’m finally getting to spend time with you.”

She laughs nervously, looking down at her hands. “This is a lot to take in… but I’m glad too.”

Jungkook leans back against the couch, glancing out the window at the city lights below. “It’s crazy, right? Two people who’ve admired each other for years, and now here we are.”

Aria lets out a small sigh, her heart still racing. “Yeah, it is crazy…”

The phone in the room suddenly rings, breaking the silence. He picks up the receiver and greets the person on the other end with a casual tone.

“Hello?”

Jungkook nods, even though the person on the other end can’t see him. “Thank you. I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up the phone and turns to Aria with a smile. “That’s our food. They’ve left it outside the door.”

Aria looks over at him, already starting to get up from the couch. “Oh, I can go get it. Don’t worry about it.”

But before she can stand, Jungkook quickly holds up a hand, stopping her. “No, no. It’s fine. Let me get it.” He grins playfully, a hint of teasing in his voice. “You just sit here and be pretty.”

Aria raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile. “Be pretty, huh?” She sits back down on the couch, crossing her arms with a teasing look.

Jungkook chuckles, standing up from the couch, giving her a wink as he makes his way toward the door.

As he walks to the door, Aria watches him with a soft smile, her eyes following his every move. She can’t help but feel a little warmth in her chest as he takes charge of the situation. He grabs the box and closes the door behind him before making his way back to the couch, where Aria is still seated.

He places the pizza down on the table in front of her, sitting back down on the couch beside her. “There you go,” he says with a satisfied smile. “You didn’t have to move an inch, and now we get to enjoy our food.”

Aria laughs lightly, looking at the pizza. “Well, if you insist on treating me like a princess, I’m not going to argue.” She takes a slice of pizza, her eyes still on him. “You’re too kind.”

Jungkook grins, his eyes glinting with a playful light. “You're a princess to me. So, anything for you, princess." Aria laugh loudly because of his statement.

Jungkook and Aria sit comfortably on the couch, each holding a slice of pizza, the warm, cheesy goodness filling the air. They both take a bite, savoring the taste.

“So,” Jungkook starts, his voice casual but his eyes locked on her, “What time are you planning on heading back?”

Jungkook leans back slightly, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Or… do you wanna stay the night here?” He gives her a wink, taking another bite of pizza, his gaze never leaving hers.

Aria’s lips curl into a smile, matching his playful tone. Without missing a beat, she counters, “Is that an offer for me to stay here?”

Jungkook’s eyes light up with amusement, his heart beating a little faster as he sets the pizza down on the table. He leans in just a little, lowering his voice slightly as he speaks. “I’d be the happiest man in the world if you stayed. Honestly.”

Aria lets out a small laugh, shaking her head as if she can’t believe his audacity. But she’s secretly flattered by his words.

Just as they share the lighthearted moment, he notices a small crumb at the corner of her lips. His gaze softens, and without thinking, he reaches out, brushing his thumb gently across her skin, wiping the crumb away.

He licks his finger afterward, his eyes still focused on her. “You know,” he says softly, his voice low but sincere, “I really want you to stay over with me."

Aria freezes for a moment, feeling the warmth of his gaze and the tenderness in his actions. Her heart skips a beat, and she feels a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She hesitates for just a second before she nods her head softly.

“I’ll stay,” she says quietly, her voice tender but firm. “I’ll stay the night, if that’s really okay with you.”

Jungkook’s heart swells at her words, a soft smile curling on his lips as he meets her gaze. “Of course it is. I’m really happy you’re staying.”

"But I have to wake up before 9am to head back to my place. Is that okay?" she ask him softly as he just nodded to her while take a big bite of the pizza.

The tension in the room fades as they both relax into the moment.

After finishing their pizza, Jungkook and Aria set the empty box and the cans of soda to the side. The atmosphere is comfortable, and the air is filled with the quiet hum of the room. Aria stretches slightly, feeling the effects of the late hour beginning to settle in.

She turns to him and, with a soft chuckle, asks, “Hey, do you have a hotel toothbrush I can borrow? I came here unprepared.”

Jungkook looks at her for a moment, his smile soft and understanding. “Of course,” he says, standing up from the couch. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

He leads her toward the bathroom, his movements calm and easy. Once inside, he opens the drawer and retrieves a new toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, and a fresh towel. He hands them to her with a gentle smile. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Jungkook,” she says, taking the items from him, her fingers brushing against his for a brief second.

He grins, his eyes twinkling with affection. “You’re always welcome, princess.” With that, he ruffles her hair playfully before turning to walk out of the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him.

Aria stands there for a moment, her cheeks flushed from the exchange. She can’t help but smile to herself as she looks into the mirror, feeling a warmth spreading through her chest. She takes a deep breath and begins washing her face, splashing water to refresh herself. Afterward, she brushes her teeth, preparing for the night ahead. It’s already 1:13 AM, and she knows she’ll need rest soon.

Once she’s finished, she walks out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed and more relaxed. The light in the room is dimmed, creating a cozy atmosphere. Jungkook is lying on the bed, he already change his black hoodie into an oversized black shirt with his back against the pillows, scrolling through his phone with an ease that only he seems to have. The soft glow from the lamp makes him look even more handsome, almost ethereal in the dim lighting. His tattoos are more visible in this setting, and his smooth hair and lip ring make him look effortlessly cool.

So boyfriend-able she thought to herself.

Aria can’t help but stare, caught off guard by how attractive he looks, feeling a flutter in her chest.

That’s when Jungkook glances up from his phone and, with a playful grin, says, “You’re staring.”

Aria blushes, realizing she’s been caught. She laughs softly and quickly responds, “Sorry, I couldn’t help it.” She then walks over to the wardrobe beside the bathroom door and hangs the towel.

As she turns back toward him, Jungkook pats the space beside him on the bed, his gaze warm and inviting. “You can come lay down next to me,” he says, a playful tone in his voice.

Aria raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “I thought I was taking the couch.”

Jungkook chuckles softly, his expression softening as he looks at her. “Well, the couch is nice and all, but it’s a lot cozier here.” He pats the space again. “Come on, just for tonight.”

As Aria settles beside Jungkook, she tucks herself under the comforter, pulling it up to her chin for warmth. The soft fabric envelopes her, creating a cocoon of comfort around her as she turns her body facing him.

Jungkook gently turns towards her too so that she’s facing his chest, their bodies now close. Her head resting just under his chin. Her eyes are heavy with the need for sleep, but she can’t help the comfort she feels being this close to him.

Jungkook looks down at her, his hand gently brushing her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear as he speaks softly, “Are you coming to the rehearsal tomorrow morning?”

Aria yawns, her eyes half-closed. “Yeah… I’ll go with Claire,” she mumbles, her voice thick with exhaustion.

He smiles tenderly, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says quietly, his voice low and soothing.

She nods, her eyelids fluttering as her heavy eyes threaten to close completely. Jungkook chuckles softly, the sound warm and comforting in the quiet room. He reaches out, his fingers gently caressing her cheek, the gesture sweet and affectionate.

“Go to sleep,” he whispers. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

Aria smiles faintly, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. “Goodnight, Jungkook,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, but full of warmth.

He leans down slightly, brushing his lips near her forehead. “Sleep well, Aria,” he replies softly, his voice full of care.

As Aria drifts off to sleep, her body nestled comfortably beneath the soft comforter, Jungkook quietly shifts his attention to his phone. His fingers glide over the screen, carefully setting an alarm for 8:00 AM. He wants to make sure Aria wakes up on time for the rehearsal, but he doesn’t want to disturb her peaceful slumber.

After confirming the alarm is set, he places the phone down on the nightstand beside the bed. He looks over at her, her face relaxed in sleep, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He can’t help but feel a sense of warmth in his chest, watching her rest so peacefully next to him.

Jungkook gently adjusts the blanket, making sure she’s tucked in well, before settling back down. He watches her for a moment longer, then closes his eyes, allowing the quiet calm of the night to wrap around him. The sound of Aria’s steady breathing and the soft hum of the hotel room lull him into a deep, peaceful sleep as well.

The alarm is set, and all he wants now is for her to sleep well and have a restful night, knowing the next day will bring a busy but exciting morning.

Chapter 05 --- Back to Series Masterlist

[celaenaeiln]

Out of curiosity and admittedly it’s been a bit since I touched my collection of New Teen Titans books but for the sake of it;

Has Dick ever recognized similarities between say Slade and Bruce in terms of how they operate, their behavior with their allies, loved ones and how they interact with him in particular, just they happen being in opposite sides of the spectrum between good and bad?

okay I don't know if Dick has explicitly recognized the similarities between Slade and Bruce but Slade was created to be a darker version of Bruce.

Evidence of this lies in the way Dick treats Slade vs the way he treats Bruce. The parallels are uncanny.

Deathstroke the Terminator (1991) Issue #14

"I want to talk to him--not be the one who brings him down."

This is exactly how Dick treats Bruce on his worst days.

Batman (2016) Issue #137

"I'm gonna head into Gotham to see if I can talk Bruce off his 'moral ledge'."

Note that Bruce here is the worst version of himself. He's gone almost evil, completely out of control. This is who Slade Wilson is supposed to be.

But at the same time, when someone hurts his family, Dick doesn't hold back at all.

Batman and Robin (2009) Issue #12

Batman (2016) Issue #138

Their relationship is extremely interesting because as we know, Bruce hinges on Dick to keep his sanity together. To prevent him from going to the dark side.

Slade and Bruce are essentially the same person. They both have fathers that left them, they both have sons that died, and they both are manipulative and abusive of their children. They're just two sides of a coin which is why Dick's rivalry with Slade is so interesting. Since Dick exists as a source of light for Bruce's darkness, he would view a dark Batman to be the exact opposite of everything he's fighting for.

However there are several instances in the comics where Dick treats Slade more as a dangerous ally rather an enemy but that's when Slade's not actively fighting him. He treats Slade the same way he treats Bruce but in a more wary sense because they're not on the same side. Maybe subconsciously Dick sees Bruce in Slade which is why he just banters back and forth with Slade on their better occasions but still fights him like a villain.

All this considered, it only makes sense why DC keeps writing Slade as the Moriarty to Dick's Sherlock.

[otasuneweek]

Welcome to Otasune Week 2023!

This is a week long celebration of the pairing of Solid Snake and Otacon which will run from September 10-16.

Here are our guidelines for participation.

Use the tab #OtasuneWeek23 within the first five tags of your tumblr post. It also helps if you @ us in your post.

Please also tag for any triggering content, especially on tumblr.

On AO3, use the tag OtasuneWeek23 and add to our AO3 collection.

On Twitter, use #OtasuneWeek23 or tag our Twitter.

NSFW content is allowed, but please make sure to tag appropriately.

Gen and ship content are both acceptable, but the focus should be on Otacon and Solid Snake.

Late entries are always accepted! However, if the event has passed, you may way to send us a link or submit your post for visibility.

Always feel free to send us an ask or to tag us if you have questions or want to bring something to our attention.

Below the read more is a more in depth look at our prompts. However, feel free to interpret them however you like. These are meant for inspiration!

Have fun!

September 10 - Flowers

The MGS series loves it's flowers, from blue roses to Star of Bethlehem flowers. Flowers can mean a wide variety of things, whether as a gift or if they're being coughed up, hanahaki style. What they mean to Snake and Otacon (if anything at all) is up to you!

September 11 - During the Mission

We only see a few missions playing out over the course of Philanthropy. What happens during the rest? Danger, banter, injuries, flirting, bad idioms and more!

September 12 - Nightmares

Snake and Otacon have been through hell. And that can lead to nightmares, which becomes especially noticeable when you live in each other's pockets. But sometimes, the worst nightmares are when you're awake...

September 13 - In Sickness and in Health

Philanthropy is a commitment, and that isn't just for the big missions. It's also for the little problems along the way: like if one of them gets sick. And if you'd like to run with the wedding imagery this prompt provokes, by all means!

September 14 - Supernatural

A celebration of the supernatural elements of Metal Gear Solid! Vampires, psychics, ghosts, parasites, and so much more. Canon and AUs are both welcome!

September 15 - Alternate Univere

A day for any sort of AU fic you could like! Fix-it, Canon Divergence, Coffee Shop, University, Zombie Apocalypse, Superheroes, Soulmates, Time Travel, ABO. The floor is yours!

September 16 - Free Day

There are no rules! Today is a day to fly free. Write whatever is in your heart about Otasune.

[welcometololaland]

almost uploaded a picture of my bank statement instead of this header! happy days!

thanks for the tags @hippolotamus @kiwiana-writes @happiness-of-the-pursuit @rmd-writes

@nancygillianmvp @terramous @tellmegoodbye @freneticfloetry @beautifulhigh

@orchidscript @myheartalivewrites and @strandnreyes (don't think that was a real tag but i'm taking it anyway to force you to love me).

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

49 (last time it was 46 but i feel like that isn't enough of a difference? disappointed in myself dfhskjh)

2. What's your Ao3 bodycount word count?

1,119,086 which does include some co-writes, but I also have around 200k of unposted WIP in my google docs so i'm counting it (including a fully written fic - someone put their hands around my neck and force me to edit it PLEASE).

3. Which fandoms do you write for?

red white and royal blue, 911 lone star, top gun maverick (flirting with winter's orbit always)

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

the order of these has changed but not the identity:

Speak for Yourself (RWRB) (you know when eminem said he'd never be able to top My Name Is? this is my version of that)

Fifty First Dates (RWRB) (oodie agenda reigns supreme)

The RIng-In (Lone Star) (otherwise, lone star is in danger of being eviscerated from this top 5 lmao)

(Not) A Cinderella Story (RWRB) (NDAs are hot, apparently)

Cursed is a State of Mind (RWRB) (cursed caffeine is the main drawcard let's not lie)

5. Do you respond to comments?

i try my absolute best to. i am currently really behind and i apologise for that (the problem is, i reply to comments before i post anything and i haven't posted anything in ages).

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

serious answer - Contaminated

my answer - oh baby i'm a fool for you because we never find out if they actually watch twilight and that's a damn shame

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

literally everything else - i don't really do open endings or sad endings! in the words of the great philosopher, skepta: "nah, that's not me."

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i used to, but i haven't in ages! thank god for that.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yes, although i have to say i've been moving away from pwp lately. i feel my best smut is written into longer fics where the sex serves a plot or characterisation purpose within the frame of the overarching narrative.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

yes, a RWRB/LS but i never finished it. ALTA is a veronica mars inspired tarlos fic which kind of feels like a crossover at times.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge :)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! Phonography (Lone Star) has been translated, as has Baby, Make Your Move (Lone Star) and Warm Whispers (Lone Star). I'm very grateful to the incredible people who have made these translations happen - you are so talented.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

yes, many with @dustratcentral. I also wrote a chapter of a co-written fic with a whole bunch of incredible RWRB authors called never the same twice.

@rmd-writes and I have created (Un)Professional Services and (upcoming) Call Me (By Your Name).

The Rainbow Fish was co-written with @strandnreyes.

I love co-writing so much and I am always open to anyone who wants to give it a go!

14. What's your all time favourite ship?

me + my unposted wips.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

probably the aforementioned crossover which was apparently also my answer last time.

16. What are your writing strengths?

i'm allergic to giving myself compliments but i would say maybe dialogue/banter and worldbuilding.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

keeping things short. also, exposition.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

kinda scared to because i don't speak any other languages and i'm so hesitant to annoy my very talented multi-lingual friends with my annoying questions.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

we don't talk about that.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

probably still Love Game because the experience was just so amazing and i never wanted to stop writing it.

heaps of people have already done this so leaving an open tag and also a couple of suggestions under the cut but apologies if you've already participated or been tagged 7 million times:

@bonheur-cafe @theghostofashton @thebumblecee @indomitable-love @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@tailoredshirt @vineofroses @liminalmemories21 @mikibwrites @birdclowns

@ladytessa74 @basilsunrise @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @rosedavid @sanjuwrites

@alrightbuckaroo @three-drink-amy @marjansmarwani @dumbpeachjuice @doublel27

@lemonlyman-dotcom @blueink3 @ambiguouspenny @clottedcreamfudge @emmalostinwonderland

@sail-not-drift @inexplicablymine @celeritas2997 @cricketnationrise @reyesstrand

@goodways @carlos-in-glasses @heartstringsduet @sunshinestrand @sherryvalli

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 13.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 6,9K

tag: #what was that

author’s note: @rennethen as beta reader. This the all-is-lost moment chapter, so tw would be angst, but I promise from now on it will only get better :')

Cross-posted on AO3

—

They kept missing each other for a week. Each of them was too stubborn, too proud, too scared to reach out. Renly had nearly turned nocturnal, convincing herself that she needed something concrete—something ready—before she faced Viktor again. Her guilt gnawed at her, pushing her forward and holding her back in equal measure.

Tonight, though, her newest iteration of the cure would finally be ready. She couldn’t put it off any longer. Steeling herself, she arrived at the lab earlier than usual, intent on finally confronting Viktor.

Only to be met by Jayce.

“Gods, Ren, I haven’t seen you in a week! Are you alright?” he exclaimed, his voice warm and filled with relief as he wrapped her in one of his massive, crushing hugs.

The embrace lingered a beat too long, and it wasn’t until Jayce realised she hadn’t answered that he loosened his grip, noticing her muffled protests.

“Ah, thanks. I might’ve actually needed that,” she huffed, her voice breathy as she smoothed her slightly wrinkled shirt. She gave him a sheepish smile. “I’ve been working nights. Sorry about that.” Definitely just turned out like this, definitely not avoiding Viktor.

Jayce stepped back, his brows knitting together as he scanned her dishevelled appearance. “Are you avoiding Vik?”

Ah, Jayce was smarter than her, of course.

“Not really,” she replied quickly, though her tone betrayed her unease. “It just… turned out like this, honestly. Is he here?” Part of her hoped he was. That she could get all of this off her chest, give him the new medicine, kiss his forehead, and say she was sorry.

“No, he went home early,” Jayce said with a sigh, his expression softening but still clouded with concern. “Ren, I think he feels like shit. You should talk to him.”

“Well, I was planning to,” she said, crossing her arms defensively, “but he’s not here, is he?” Dear Jayce, if he’d only known. Renly knew there was no bad intention underneath it and Jayce probably went through hell that week.

Jayce raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, save that look for later. I’ll leave the lecture for another time. Are you going to head over to see him?”

Renly hesitated, glancing at the stack of notes she’d brought with her. “Yes, definitely. Later.” Her gaze shifted back to him, catching the worry etched across his face. “Are you alright? Everything okay with Mel?”

“Yes, yes,” Jayce replied quickly, though his hand instinctively went to the back of his neck—a telltale sign he was holding something back.

“It’s not about her,” he added after a moment. “I just… got weird news from Caitlyn.”

“Weird meaning…?” Renly prompted, her brow furrowing as her concern deepened.

Jayce hesitated, his lips pressing into a tight line before he asked, “Have you heard anything from the Undercity recently?”

Renly thought for a moment, her mind flipping through recent events. “Uh, now that you mention it, Ekko hasn’t reached out since the last dispatch. Why?”

Jayce’s expression darkened. “Apparently, tensions are growing tighter down there. Caitlyn said they’re planning a diversion to flush out whoever’s been smuggling Shimmer through the gates.”

Renly’s stomach twisted. “Flush them out how, exactly?”

“They want to literally smoke them out. With the Grey.”

Her heart sank. “Oh, Gods.”

Jayce nodded grimly. “It’s reckless and dangerous, but they’re desperate. Caitlyn’s trying to keep the peace, but it’s hard to control the situation from above.”

Renly’s voice rose slightly. “Jayce, did you tell Viktor?”

“Yeah,” he admitted with a heavy sigh. “And he’s worried. He thinks the council will use this as an excuse to come after Hextech next.”

Renly’s eyes widened. “What are you going to do?”

Jayce’s jaw set with determination. “I’m on my way to talk to Mel about it. She might be able to sway the council or at least buy us some time.”

Renly exhaled sharply, her mind racing. “Be careful, Jayce. This could escalate fast.”

“I know.” He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You should talk to Viktor, Ren. He needs you.”

Renly swallowed hard, nodding. “I will.”

Her resolve solidified as she turned back to her work. With shaky hands, she carefully packed the vial of the cure she’d designed specifically for Viktor, enough to last him the next two weeks. She gathered her notes, stacking them neatly into a pile, ensuring they were ready to present to him. Her heart was pounding as she slung her bag over her shoulder and practically bolted out of the lab.

She had to stop herself from outright running to his apartment, though the attempt was futile. Her hurried steps turned into skipping over every other step, her bag clinking faintly with the bottles inside each time she slowed down.

By the time she reached his door, her chest was heaving, her breath short, and her heart felt lodged in her throat. She raised a trembling hand and knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.

A pause. Silence.

Then, faint footsteps approached, and the door cracked open.

“Renly?” Viktor’s voice was low, almost relieved. He let out a long exhale, as though he’d been holding his breath, as though her knocking on his door was a possibility he hadn’t dared to entertain. His hand rocked slightly on his cane, the hesitation in his posture betraying his uncertainty. For a moment, he seemed torn between pulling her into an embrace or keeping his distance. Finally, he settled on a small beckoning gesture with a tug of his chin.

“Hey, you.” Her voice felt so small, lodged somewhere in her throat. She stepped inside, only to find herself standing awkwardly in the hallway, unsure of what to do with herself.

This same hallway, she realised, was where Viktor would always sweep her into his arms, showering her with kisses whenever they came back to his place together. The absence of that now felt unbearable, a hollow ache settling in her chest.

She glanced at him properly, taking him in. He looked tired—no, beyond tired. Troubled. The crease between his eyebrows was deep and pronounced, etched into his pale features like it had been carved there. The flat itself mirrored his state: slightly messier than she remembered, with cups and scattered notes abandoned on various surfaces. It was a quiet confession that he’d been working endlessly, even here at home.

Renly swallowed hard, forcing herself to look past it all.

For a long, drawn-out moment, neither of them spoke. They just stood there in the dim hallway, their gazes falling to the floor. The silence stretched until it was almost unbearable.

Then, at last, she heard the faint sound of him shifting. And before she could process it, she felt his arms circle around her, pulling her close.

She exhaled shakily, her face tucking into the crook of his neck. He leaned against her fully, his weight pressing into her, his cane now hovering slightly above the floor. His fingers tangled in her hair as though to anchor himself, and she felt his chest expand as he took a long breath, inhaling her scent—a mix of flowers and disinfectant.

In that fragile moment, it felt like he was holding on for dear life.

“You came,” Viktor’s voice was soft, laced with disbelief and relief, as though her presence alone might heal him. He didn’t want to let go. The week had been unbearable. The silence at work was deafening, the emptiness of his flat crushing. Even his coffee tasted too sweet without her there to mock it.

“I... I’ve got something for you,” Renly whispered, shaking her bag gently so the bottles clinked together.

Viktor leaned back, but his arms remained loosely around her, as if afraid she might vanish. His brow furrowed slightly, his expression both tentative and curious. He glanced down at the bag she held out and then peered inside: bottles carefully labelled, a fresh notebook, sterile containers with syringes and needles, bandages, disinfectants, and other small items. He felt his chest tighten—not from his condition, but from the realisation that she hadn’t given up on him.

“Renly, what—” He stopped, unsure how to frame the whirlwind of questions swirling in his mind. What is this? What do you want me to do with it? Why are you doing this after our last fight?

“I’ve worked it out.” Her voice was steady but quiet, as though she feared his reaction. “You’re not going to like it, but this batch should work without a fault. For your breathing,” she added, almost as an afterthought, though it was far from trivial. She bit her lip, her gaze flitting to his face, trying to gauge his response.

Viktor finally let go of her, though reluctantly, and reached into the bag. He pulled out one of the bottles, turning it over in his hands. Each was meticulously labelled with dates, concentrations, and dosages. He glanced at the notebook and saw neat tables with dates and times, spaces for notes, and a carefully outlined regimen.

“Renly,” he began, his voice softer now, almost disbelieving, “did you work around the clock for this?”

“It only took a week,” she replied with a huff, trying to sound casual, but the faint bags under her eyes betrayed her.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by her attempt at nonchalance. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”

“I… might have to show you how to do the injection,” she admitted, deflecting slightly. “We could start today?”

“If I ask what went wrong, will I get a lecture?” he asked, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite the weight of the moment.

Renly’s face softened, and a knowing smile broke through. “I come prepared.” She reached into her bag again and produced a folder, thick with notes and diagrams documenting every second of the process. She handed it to him with the air of someone ready to argue every point.

Viktor sighed, setting the bag aside as he moved toward the kettle. “Tea first,” he murmured, as though they weren’t standing on the edge of something monumental.

Renly followed him into the kitchen, her fingers fidgeting nervously as she sat down at the small table. “So…” she began, her voice quieter now, “it would seem that I’ve… well, I’ve fucked up.”

Viktor turned to look at her, his expression unreadable, but he said nothing, letting her continue.

“I didn’t take the state of your immune system into account,” she explained, choosing her words carefully. “It was too strong, which is why…” She paused, exhaling slowly before continuing with clinical precision. “Your batch is crafted based on the samples I collected from you over time. Each one has a different concentration, designed to… coax your immune system into functioning properly, rather than attacking the islet cells.”

Viktor’s brow furrowed slightly, his mind working through her explanation. “What does this mean long term?” His tone was measured, though his chest tightened at the prospect of what she was about to say.

Renly met his gaze, her professionalism steadying her nerves. “It means you’d be dependent on it… indefinitely. But there’s a chance it could minimise your symptoms almost entirely.”

“My symptoms?” Viktor asked, his voice dipping slightly, as if he already knew the answer but needed to hear her say it.

“Your breathing affliction,” she clarified, her voice softer now.

For a long moment, Viktor said nothing. He looked down at the bottle still in his hand, running his thumb over the label. The meticulous care she’d poured into this, the endless hours she’d sacrificed—it all spoke volumes.

“Why?” he finally asked, his voice almost a whisper. “Why are you doing this for me?”

Renly’s lips parted, but no words came immediately. She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table. “Because you deserve better than this.”

Viktor’s gaze lifted to hers, his chest tightening for a different reason now. Longing warred with hesitation in his eyes, but he didn’t dare speak the thought that had lodged itself in his throat: I missed you.

Instead, he walked over to her, leaned in, and kissed her. The angle wasn’t ideal for his spine at the moment, but the sensation of Renly’s lips on his eclipsed any discomfort. At first, she froze, caught off guard, but then she softened into him, slowly rising to stand level with him.

Viktor pulled her flush against him, his hands travelling down to cup her ass as her palms fisted into his shirt. He pushed her gently until she steadied herself against the nearest countertop, breathing into her mouth, “I hated this entire week until now.”

“Viktor, I—” she began, her voice trembling, but she barely managed the words before Viktor captured her lips again in another kiss.

His touch was laced with guilt and remorse, wielded like unspoken words he couldn’t yet form. Every press of his lips, every movement of his hands, was a silent apology—a plea for forgiveness he couldn’t articulate.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting lightly against hers, he whispered his confession. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel like… you couldn’t,” Renly replied, her voice soft yet steady. Her eyes searched his face, looking for even a flicker of insincerity, but there was none. His raw vulnerability mirrored her own.

Her gaze shifted briefly to the bag resting on the table, then back to him. “Should we?” she asked quietly, her meaning clear.

Viktor hesitated, reluctant to let the moment shatter. He exhaled slowly, his eyes closing as he nodded.

Renly carried the tea and her bag with her as they moved to the bedroom. She stole glances at the space—messier than she remembered. Viktor had been working, not just in the lab but clearly here too. Sketches of the Hexcore, rune patterns, and scribbled calculations were scattered across the desk and even the nightstand. A faint smell of ink and parchment lingered in the air, mixing with something distinctly him.

She placed the tea on the bedside table, setting her bag down gently on the bed. Viktor eased himself onto the mattress, his posture slightly slouched, his cane set to the side. He looked tired—more so than usual—and she didn’t miss the weight of the week etched across his features.

Renly rummaged through her bag, pulling out the bottle and syringe, the familiarity of the routine grounding her nerves. Her eyes flicked up to him. “May I?” she asked softly, her hands hovering near his belt buckle.

Viktor looked at her for a long moment, his amber eyes holding hers. Then he gave a slow, wordless nod, leaning back slightly to give her access.

Her fingers worked carefully, unbuckling his belt and sliding his trousers down just enough to expose his upper thigh. The act, once clinical, now felt different. Intimate. She couldn’t ignore the quiet vulnerability in the air.

Renly reached for the disinfectant, but before applying it, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his thigh. It was tender, unhurried—a gesture she hadn’t planned but couldn’t stop herself from doing. Viktor watched her silently, his expression unreadable, though something in his gaze softened.

She disinfected the skin with slow, deliberate movements, her touch losing the sterility it once held. When she placed the needle in, Viktor didn’t flinch; he simply observed her, his gaze unwavering, as if her presence was more potent than the act itself.

Once the injection was done, Renly set the syringe aside and carefully massaged the area, her fingertips working lightly over his skin. Viktor’s head tipped back at her touch, his body leaning into the sensation. The tension in his posture seemed to melt away.

Renly finished and wiped her hands before sitting beside him. She reached out, tugging a few stray strands of his hair behind his ear. “How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice soft and laced with concern.

Viktor chuckled softly, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Exposed,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy. “But not like a test subject.”

Renly smiled back. “Would you like to be touched some more? Not like a test subject?”

Viktor’s smirk was faint but teasing, and she laughed, quickly correcting herself. “Not like that, you—” But the words faltered as her thoughts betrayed her, the unspoken desire lingering in the air. She swallowed and shifted the conversation. “Is there any pain I can help you with?”

“My back aches,” he admitted after a moment, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along her hand.

Renly nodded, standing from the bed with quiet determination. She disappeared into the bathroom and returned moments later with a small bottle of oil and a warm, clean washcloth. Without a word, she set them down on the bedside table and began to undress him.

Viktor stayed still, watching her with a quiet curiosity as she moved with purpose. His woollen jumper was first to go, tugged gently over his head. The linen shirt followed, her fingers brushing against his collarbone as she unfastened the buttons and slipped it off his shoulders. She folded the discarded clothes neatly and placed them on a nearby chair.

“Do you want me to take the brace off?” she asked softly, her voice carrying no judgment, only care.

Viktor hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding. “Yes, please.”

Renly knelt beside him, her fingers carefully working at the leather straps and metal bolts embedded into his back. She undid each one slowly, her touch reverent, her breaths quiet. The closeness brought their faces near, and she lingered at times, her focus entirely on the intricate task. Viktor didn’t look at her, but he felt her presence acutely—the warmth of her skin, the gentle pull of her fingers.

When the brace was finally removed, Renly placed it carefully at the side of the bed. “I’ll clean it later,” she murmured, almost to herself. For now, Viktor was her only priority.

“Lie on your stomach,” she instructed gently.

He obeyed, shifting with measured movements until he was stretched out on the bed. Renly sat beside him, brushing her fingers lightly against the nape of his neck to sweep his hair aside. Viktor shivered at her touch, a quiet exhale escaping his lips.

She pressed the warm washcloth along the line of his spine, letting the heat relax his tense muscles. Slowly, she worked her way down, the cloth tracing the contours of his ribs and the edges of his shoulders. When she reached the bolts embedded in his back, she paused.

“I’m going to clean around these,” she said softly, taking a small bandage and soaking it in disinfectant.

Viktor only hummed in acknowledgment. When she pressed it against one of the bolts, he winced slightly, the sharpness of the sting making him flinch.

“Sorry,” Renly murmured, her hand instinctively resting on his shoulder blade, a silent apology in her touch.

“How do you do this on your own?” she asked after a moment, her voice heavy with quiet concern.

Viktor shrugged under her hand; his response unbothered yet resigned. “I just do.” He always had. Once, he’d let someone else do it for him—a long time ago. There was even a time he allowed Jayce to try, but Jayce’s hands had been too clumsy, too heavy. Now, he managed the basic maintenance himself, convincing himself it was enough—until now.

Renly’s hands moved with careful purpose, her fingers pressing gently into the base of Viktor’s skull. She started with soft pinches, holding the tension in her grip until the tight muscle beneath her fingers gave way, melting slowly like ice under sunlight. He let out a quiet hum, his breathing deep and steady as if she were unearthing a hidden well of relief.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady, her focus entirely on him.

“It’s perfect,” Viktor replied, his voice muffled by the pillow beneath him.

Her hands moved lower, finding the stress coiled in his shoulders. She worked it slowly, methodically, using her thumbs to knead the tension loose. Gently, she pulled his shoulders upward, coaxing his chest to open as he released a soft, involuntary cough. The sound was small, almost embarrassed, but Renly smiled to herself, glad to see even the subtlest signs of release.

“You carry too much here,” she said gently, her thumbs pushing into the thick knots of muscle. “No wonder you’re so stiff.”

He huffed a breath, the closest he’d come to a laugh. “The weight of genius,” he muttered, his tone dry but laced with affection.

She pressed her thumbs deeper into the dense muscle, her touch firm but never harsh, and the tension slowly began to unravel. Viktor’s breathing grew softer, more rhythmic. As her hands travelled downward, she began to work along the length of his spine. With practiced care, she rolled the fascia beneath her fingers, gliding up and down the delicate column. She paused when she reached the lumbar region, where the tension was the most stubborn, her fingers pausing to gently probe and soothe.

“Here,” she murmured, taking note of the density. “This is the worst spot.”

Viktor only hummed in response, too relaxed to offer anything more.

Renly shifted her approach, gliding the heels of her palms along the muscles flanking his spine. She moved deliberately, tracing the length of his erector spinae, rolling and stretching the stubborn tension as she worked. The sigh that escaped Viktor was deep and unguarded, a sound of pure relief.

“There we go,” she whispered, her palms continuing their gentle, rhythmic motion. “Better?”

He nodded against the pillow, his voice almost a whisper. “Much better.” It felt... odd. To be touched for a clinical reason, but with love. Viktor found himself wondering if he could settle for his life to be this. If he could accept the momentary relief of her hands on him, the fleeting reprieve from pain. Could he make peace with his leg always being numb, his spine forever twisted? Would the ability to breathe freely be enough to outweigh everything else?

But the answer didn’t come.

Renly poured a small amount of scented oil into her hands, rubbing them together to warm it before smoothing her palms across the plane of his back. The aroma—something light and floral—wafted into the air as her hands moved over him, steady and deliberate. Her touch was soft yet firm, grounding him as much as it soothed him.

She began to hum quietly, the melody unrecognisable but comforting. Viktor let out a soft chuckle, the sound breaking the quiet intimacy of the room.

“What?” Renly asked, her hands pausing briefly before continuing their work.

“Nothing,” Viktor murmured, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “You hum like an old woman knitting by the fire.”

Renly gasped in mock offence, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “I’ll have you know this is a very sophisticated tune.”

“Oh, I can tell,” he replied, his tone teasing but warm. “It’s utterly riveting.”

She pressed her thumbs a little deeper into a particularly tight spot on his back, eliciting a small grunt from him. “Careful,” she warned lightly, “or I might lose my delicate touch.”

Viktor smirked against the pillow, his eyes falling closed as her hands continued their gentle ministrations. “I’ll take my chances.”

Renly shifted her hands under his arm to help him roll onto his side. Viktor grunted softly, his body resisting the change in position, but he let her guide him. Once he was settled, she nestled in front of him, her face close to his.

“Hi,” she said, her voice light but tinged with awkwardness, a small smile playing on her lips.

Viktor raised an eyebrow at her, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “Hi yourself,” he replied, his tone soft as his arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer against his chest.

Her hands rested on him instinctively, palms pressed flat against his skin. She began rubbing gentle circles over his chest, her touch soothing. His fingers drifted into her hair, combing through it absentmindedly, his motions slow and tender.

“Have you heard about Zaun?” Viktor asked, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Renly’s hands stilled briefly. “Yes,” she murmured, her tone cautious.

Silence stretched between them for a beat, heavy and tentative. She finally broke it, her voice trembling slightly with conviction. “I’ve been thinking... about going in. About helping Ekko.”

Viktor’s fingers stilled in her hair, his body tensing against hers. He shifted slightly, his gaze darkening. “You can’t,” he said simply, the words sharp and final.

“Viktor,” she whispered, leaning back just enough to meet his eyes. “I have something—something that could counter the Grey. If they actually drop it in Zaun, I have to do something. I can’t just stand by.”

His jaw tightened, and his grip on her waist firmed. “I can’t let you,” he said, his voice low but resolute. His mind churned bitterly, painting a narrative he didn’t dare to voice. How could he support her in something like this? Sending her into danger, knowing he couldn’t protect her—knowing what Zaun might become under the chem-barons’ desperation?

She stared at him, her eyes searching his face for a sign of understanding, of compromise, but he offered none. It was just another grain on the delicate scale of his mind. It teetered in the middle, tilting from one side to the other with each emotion that clouded his heart. Could he settle for this, for her safety at the cost of everything else? And yet, surely he couldn’t. If she went, he would have to be stronger, better. If she went, surely he would have to be more than half a man.

He pulled her closer, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “Will you stay?” His words carried layers of unspoken meaning: Will you stay here? Will you stay on the Top Side? Will you stand by me when I make an impossible choice?

Renly didn’t answer with words. She only nodded, her forehead brushing against his chest as she nuzzled into him, her warmth settling against his. Viktor exhaled slowly, his grip on her loosening just enough to rest his palm against the curve of her back.

The silence returned, heavier now, laden with the weight of unspoken fears and half-formed promises. The room seemed to hold its breath with them, the soft rustle of fabric and the faint hum of the city beyond the only sounds.

Eventually, their breathing began to even out, though it still carried an unsteady rhythm, a cadence of unease. Their brows remained furrowed, as if their worries had followed them into this fragile peace. Viktor’s hand brushed against her hair one last time before stilling, and Renly’s fingers idly traced the edge of the bed sheet where it bunched against his ribs.

Sleep came for them slowly, creeping in at the edges of their thoughts, until exhaustion finally overpowered everything left unsaid. They drifted off together, their bodies entwined but their minds restless, painted with doubts they couldn’t voice.

The morning found them clutching each other, and Renly felt as though the crease in her forehead hadn’t relaxed for even a minute during her sleep.

Renly poured them both coffee, the steam rising in the quiet room, mingling with the soft sounds of the morning. They sat close, the warmth between them shared not only through the mugs but in the tender way their fingers brushed against each other, lingering for just a moment too long before pulling away. Words seemed unnecessary as they both sipped in silence, the weight of the night still pressed onto their bodies, a quiet understanding passing between them without needing to be said aloud. Viktor reached for her hand across the table, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, a silent gesture of comfort and connection. But neither of them could completely shake the tension, the uncertainty nagging them like a splinter.

When the time came to part, they stood together, neither rushing to break the moment. Viktor’s hand found the small of her back as they exchanged one final, lingering kiss on the doorstep. “See you later at work,” he murmured, his voice thick with more than just the words. She nodded, her lips pressing into a tight smile. “Later,” she replied softly, her own heart heavy with the same unspoken thoughts. As she stepped away, the door clicking shut behind her, they both walked off in opposite directions, the promise of ‘later’ hanging in the air. But they knew, deep down, they would work through their struggles separately—for now, anyway. The heaviness in their chests weighed them down, both carrying the quiet burden of what was yet to come.

***

After a short routine back in her apartment, Renly made her way to the lab, her mind still clouded with uncertainty. She hoped she might find something—anything—that would help her make sense of it all. Inside, she found Jayce hunched over, deeply focused on the Hexcore runes scattered before him. His brows were furrowed, and a fine sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.

"Any news?" she asked, her voice laced with quiet concern.

Jayce let out a sharp sigh, pushing a few strands of hair out of his eyes. "The council is steering clear. For now."

"But?" Renly pressed, already sensing the tension in his words.

"The Grey plan is still on the table," Jayce continued, his eyes darkening. "And... now we have Heimerdinger against us."

"What do you mean, against us?" Renly asked, stepping closer to him.

Jayce gestured toward the Hexcore. "He... thinks we should destroy it. He doesn’t believe it’s safe. I really don’t understand—if this could save Viktor, save other people—how he can’t see that."

Renly folded her arms, feeling the weight of her own thoughts pressing down on her chest. "What if he’s right?" she asked quietly.

Jayce scoffed, but there was an edge to his voice. "What do you mean? You can’t seriously be suggesting that Heimerdinger is right. It could change everything. It could save Viktor!"

"Jayce," she interrupted softly, "please listen. He’s seen so much more than we have. He has what? Over two centuries on us? More? Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, when he says he’s already seen this... he means it?"

Jayce’s expression faltered, but he quickly recovered. "I... How is Viktor?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

Renly hesitated, her gaze drifting to the floor. "He accepted the cure," she said, her words heavy. "But... his mind is still stirring. I can tell."

Jayce frowned. "Well, what if Heimerdinger is wrong? What if it’s the only way?"

"What if he’s right?" Renly snapped, her frustration bubbling up. "What if he dies? What if it changes him? Is that a price you’re willing to pay just to prove a point?"

"Renly," Jayce said, his voice rising with urgency, "I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m trying to save my friend."

Renly took a step back, her breath shallow. "He can live, Jayce," she said quietly. "Comfortably. A long life. Loved and accepted. Isn’t that enough?"

Jayce stared at her, struggling to reconcile the weight of her words. "How can you know he’ll be comfortable? How can you know it will change him?"

"How can you know it won’t?" Renly’s voice cracked with raw emotion. "Jayce, I’m not asking you to throw away your work. I’m asking you to measure the risk. This isn’t just a procedure you can redo if it goes wrong. If you go through with it, you live with the consequences. And I’m not sure if I—" her voice got lost in her throat, the bitter feeling on her tongue burning her mouth.

"What are you saying, Renly?" Jayce interrupted, his expression softening in concern.

Renly’s chest tightened, her words stumbling over each other as the reality of what she was facing hit her like a wave. She struggled to keep her composure, but the dam broke. "I don’t know, Jayce..." Her voice quivered, and before she knew it, she was breaking down, her body wracked with sobs. "I can’t... I can’t just stand by, and watch Viktor destroy himself, not now, not ever." Her breath hitched as the panic overtook her, her chest tight and her vision blurring with tears.

She felt like screaming, but the scream died somewhere inside her.

Jayce was instantly beside her, his hands hovering around her as he tried to comfort her. "Renly, hey, hey, it’s okay," he said, his voice calm but insistent. "Tell me what to do. What do you need from me?"

Renly managed to lift her trembling hands toward him, clutching onto his shirt as she tried to steady herself. "Okay... okay, I have to..." She gasped, forcing herself to breathe through the tears. "Breathe, Renly. You have to breathe."

"Okay, okay," Jayce said, his voice soft but steady. "Breathe, Renly. I’m here. You’re not alone in this." He stayed with her, letting her take the time she needed to regain control, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions.

As her breathing slowed, Renly wiped her eyes, her face flushed with the intensity of her breakdown. "I can’t just let him do this, Jayce. I can’t stand by and watch him think that he’s doing this for me. I’ve never told him that he doesn’t need to. He’s perfect the way he is, and I’ve never told him that. And now... I think he believes he has to change for me."

“Renly, he is in pain,” Jayce said softly, holding her in his arms, her body folded against his chest. Even though his argument was intact, he wasn’t sure he believed it himself. He missed something, something important in all of this.

"So what!" she snapped, her voice raw and childish in its frustration. "There are ways, Jayce, to ease the pain." Her voice grew weak as she held onto Jayce’s hands, almost crushing his large palms in her grasp. "Have you ever told him? That you love him, that he’s perfect the way he is?"

Jayce hesitated, his throat tightening. "I... I don’t know," he admitted, guilt creeping in.

"I would give him my own leg if it changed anything," Renly whispered, tears brimming again. "But it won’t. As long as he believes there’s something wrong with him, it won’t change a thing. And he will die searching, and I..." Her voice faltered, choking on the enormity of her guilt. I will forever be guilty of this. I will forever be alone in the world without him.

"Ren," Jayce started, his voice softening, trying to soothe her, but before he could continue—

“What is this?” Viktor’s voice sliced through the tension in the room. He stood in the doorway to the lab, his expression tight and unreadable.

"Viktor," Renly gasped, her hands still clutching onto Jayce’s.

“What is this?” He repeated, his tone turning sharper, more demanding.

“Vik, we’re just talking,” Jayce said quickly, his words laced with a hint of nervousness.

"Really?" Viktor’s voice grew colder, sharper still. "Or are you debating what my life should or shouldn’t be, without me being present?" He took a step into the room, his gaze flickering between Jayce and Renly, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

Renly's heart pounded in her chest, and she felt the weight of everything hanging in the balance, unsure how to bridge the gap between her words and the truth they all needed to face. “Viktor, please—”

“I am not a child. Nor do I need to be guided and guarded. Nor do I need other people to tell me what to do with my life,” he said quietly, his eyes glinting in the dark. Anger tore him apart. Anger at her, at Jayce, at himself. Surely, if Renly was allowed to make her own decisions, he should be granted the same right.

“Vik,” Jayce started but was quickly cut off.

“I will ask politely for the both of you to leave,” Viktor’s voice was cold and final, the words biting as they left his mouth.

“Viktor, you can’t be serious,” Jayce pushed back, disbelief edging his voice.

Renly only looked at him, her eyes welling with tears again, her heart sinking with every second that passed. She couldn’t say the words she wanted to. She couldn’t explain why it hurt so much, why it felt like the world was collapsing in on them.

Viktor turned toward her as she stood to leave. “I will see you later.”

She nodded, her lips trembling, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything more. She simply turned away, the sound of Jayce’s scoff echoing in the space between them, followed by the loud thump of the door closing behind them.

Viktor stood still for a moment, his chest tight, and then a long, shaky sigh escaped his lungs. His eyes burned uncontrollably as the weight of his thoughts was pushing him down into the floor. He had measured everything, except for this. Except for Jayce’s anger toward him, except for Renly’s unspoken plea for him to listen. He had to. He had to try before it’s too late. Before Heimerdinger got his hands on the Hexcore and destroyed it. Before the Council turned it into a weapon. Before both he and his work went to dust.

A cruel joke. Finally, he was alone—with his own thoughts. The two things he had desired most, polar opposites of each other. Yet here they were, colliding in the same breath. He had to try, though.

Viktor walked to the centre of the lab; his steps measured but purposeful. He circled the Hexcore, observing it as if searching for any lingering hesitation within himself. There was none. It was so faint, so weak, and he was so ready. All the time he’d spent on this, all the sacrifices, the sleepless nights—it was all finally coming to an end.

Himself, born anew, was within arm’s length.

He sat down, his hand trembling slightly as he ran his fingers along its surface. The energy it emitted tugged at him, magnetic and undeniable. Tentative, almost reverent, his touch felt like brushing against something on the edge of existence—a fleeting spectre of both promise and peril.

Viktor’s hand trembled as it hovered above the Hexcore, a moth courting the flame. The air around it shimmered, thick and pulsating, as though it were alive and watching him in return. For a fleeting moment, his rational mind begged him to stop, to turn away, but the promise of what lay within drowned out reason like a tidal wave. He closed his eyes, steeling himself, and reached into the shifting glow.

The moment his fingers made contact; reality fractured.

It wasn’t pain, not at first. It was an unravelling, as though the fabric of his being was torn apart strand by strand. Threads of thought and self—unravelled in every direction, carried away by currents of something ancient and unrelenting. He saw visions—no, not visions, but glimpses of a thousand possibilities. Each one glimmered like a jewel, just out of reach. He could be whole. He could be more than he was. He could rewrite his limits, ascend beyond the constraints of flesh and frailty.

But every shimmering possibility came with a price. In the periphery of his fractured consciousness, he saw shadows, dark tendrils coiling around the edges of the light. They whispered to him in languages he didn’t know but somehow understood, showing him the cost. His humanity. His mind. His soul. The weight of it all crushed him, bearing down on him like the pressure of the ocean’s deepest trench.

Then the pain struck—blinding, searing, like molten metal coursing through his veins. It was excruciating, a fire that consumed not just his body but his very essence. His mind cracked under the strain, splintering into pieces as the Hexcore took its toll. Somewhere in the chaos, he realised the truth: he couldn’t pay the price. He wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t willing enough.

With a desperate, guttural cry, Viktor wrenched himself free, breaking the connection. He collapsed to the floor in a heap, his body shaking violently as he gasped for air. His vision swam with purples and blacks, the remnants of whatever the Hexcore had done to him. His limbs felt leaden, his chest tight, but as his eyes adjusted, he saw it—a glowing, fluorescent purple vein snaking its way through his leg, vivid and alive.

Terror seized him.

He stared at the vein, his mind racing with the implications of what he had just done. The Hexcore had marked him, changed him in some way he couldn’t yet understand. He curled up on the cold lab floor, trembling, his arms clutching his knees as he tried to slow his ragged breathing.

The price had been too high. And yet, he had paid part of it.

Fear coiled tightly around his chest, sinking its teeth into his heart. For the first time in his life, Viktor wasn’t sure if he had the strength to face what came next.

[shinycozytwistedglam]

Onyx Storm RECAP ch9-ch14

It's time to do some action/adventure plot to keep us all stressed the fuck out.

WTF is happening in ch9-ch10? 

Iron Squad shows up at Samara, both riders & fliers. The Lt. Colonel there looks exhausted & doesn't know what to do with them. Maren is worried about a village called Newhall over the border, where her family is living. They all pile into Xaden's old room, which is still warded, so everyone can sleep without getting a knife in the back.

Violet has a weird dream about trying to escape a fire with Cat and needing to grab a portrait of her family before she can leave.

Oh shit, Newhall is being attacked and there aren't enough dragons to protect it. Iron Squad votes to fly into the obvious trap go save Maren's family in Newhall. Big action sequence with wyverns & venin.

Damn, Garrick shows up? He's a distance walker & Xaden sent him to protect Violet. A tornado brings Violet & Garrick & their dragons down.

Violet meets her new nemesis, the silver-haired female venin Theophanie. They do some bantering. Theophanie wants to know which dragon chose Violet first, Tairn or "the irid." Cool, now we know what Andarna's kind are called.

WTF is happening in ch11-ch12? 

Theophanie knows about irids and wants to see Andarna. She alludes to the fact that she (Theophanie) is "immortal" – so this bitch has been around for awhile. Interesting.

Theophanie appears to be making lightning (!!) happen around them. She predicts that when Xaden joins the venin, Violet will come with him. She wants Violet to choose her as her teacher, not Berwyn (that's the Sage). Theophanie says she'll give Violet what she wants most in the world, "control & knowledge."

Confirmation that Garrick has 2 signets and is a distance walker. Iron Squad arrives back at Basgiath. First mention of arinmint, which is illegal to remove from Tyrrendor.

Aetos acts like an asshole to everyone. There's a lot of back and forth about who commands whom, but all that matters here is that Aetos is gonna be a dick and Xaden, Violet, & Brennan are gonna do whatever the fuck they want. You don't need an org chart.

Xaden orders everyone out & they think he's gonna yell at Violet but there's kissing instead. Xaden admits he was having Bad Venin Emotions because Violet was in danger. Says something is broken between his head and his heart. They do some relationship negotiation, but everything feels solid here.

Violet brings up second signets. Xaden admits that a lot of the marked ones have second signets, because their dragons came looking for them to "build their own army." More signets = more power.

Violet tells Xaden that Theophanie wields lightning, and that venin have signets. Classes are back in session & Xaden is at the border. Xaden slipped up and channeled from the earth again because he's beyond the wards.

Only mention of Emery & Heaton in this book (miss them!) bc they're guarding JfB. Violet interrogates JfB. He says Sages & Mavens can disguise/mask their presence, even from lesser venin. Jack clearly knows a lot of interesting shit that we'll be theorizing about for the next 2 years. "There's no cure because magic does not negotiate."

WTF is happening in ch13-14? 

Violet joins her friends for bantering. They roast the way Violet & Xaden fight, which feels like fan service acknowledging how much we all hated that dynamic in IF.

Sawyer thinks leadership loves Xaden + Violet and wants them to get married and make a new generation of powerful rider babies. Violet drops mentions of Loial (goddess of love) and Hedeon (god of wisdom) and this is where I started to realize that the gods were gonna be A Thing in this book.

They visit Jesenia in the Archives, where she's been demoted & bullied because she defected to Aretia. Sawyer + Jesenia are still adorable. There's a bunch of lore drop here but what's important is the isle kingdoms are happening in this book.

If you’re confused about what happened in the 400’s in Krovlan, don’t sweat it. You’re not supposed to understand and the details will come out in the next 10 chapters. Vi realizes she needs her dad's research to figure out All This Krovlish Shit.

Battle Brief. There's a lot of Poromiel geography here, but all you need to know is that the venin are still on the offense and everything is fucked. All the cadets get a book full of info about fighting venin, some of which was compiled by Drake Cordella.

Oh hello, Professor Riorson arrives as the new sparring professor (!!) in the quadrant and 500 new WIPs go up on AO3. Violet realizes that oops, she's not allowed to fuck her teachers (ha!).

[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Hi so I enjoyed Ur brotherly love series and decided to request a side chaoter.

Can u please write something for y/n and Dick since I don't think we had much of their pov or like interactions during the series just something fun and light w them bantering and one of them says these to the other

9. "Somebody's cranky." "Somebody needs to shut up."

14. "Do I look good?" "No." "Very funny."

Thank u love! 💖

Brotherly Love

Short story

Prompts: 9 and 14

Warnings: Reader playfully tells Dick to die,

Heheheh

I ♡ Dick Grayson.

Series Masterlist

~☆~

"Good morning, Y/N!" Dick greeted as you walked into the kitchen.

"Mmm, Die..." You mumbled, looking through the pantry. Nobody was home, Bruce was at work, Damian was off doing his own thing, Alfred was running errands, and your other two brothers didn't live at the Manor anymore. Dick was the only person there, other than yourself.

"Somebody's cranky." Dick teased.

"Somebody needs to shut up." You spat back, picking out a box of cereal, then moved over to the fridge for some milk. Dick let out a chuckle as he reached into cupboards for a bowl, then moved over to a drawer to retrieve a spoon.

"Mmm" was all you mustered up when he handed you the dish and utensil. You quickly prepared your breakfast then put up the ingredients. You picked up the bowl and walked over to the breakfast bar, sitting down on one of the tall chairs.

You looked over at Dick, who was wearing black slacks and a blue button up. "Why are you so dressed up?" You asked, mouth full of cereal.

"Goin' on a date." He smiled, subconsciously smoothing out his shirt. "Do I look good?"

"No." You told him with a dead voice, hiding the smile on your face as you took in another scoop of cereal.

"Very funny." He deadpanned, voice dripping in sarcasm.

As you continued to munch on your breakfast, Dick walked over and leaned in to press a kiss to the side of your head before walking off, leaving you to snicker at your comment.

~☆~

Yuhhh..this was beautiful, thank you Venomsvl...

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[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Writing Masterpost

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My writing tag has my writing posts, various WIPs, snippets, answered prompts, and mini fills from tumblr games. Also, general posts bemoaning the writing process or talking About writing.

Besides those, I have my fic/writing on AO3 and some crossposted here. Titles link to AO3 page, asterisks mark my current favorites.

DRAGON AGE

Chapter Fics:

Fallout from the Fade*

[In progress; posting hiatus] Hawke was left in the Fade to defeat Nightmare’s spider demon, but survives. She must fight her way back through the Veil to the physical world, but the experience has affected her greatly both physically and mentally. She must learn to cope with everything she has faced, and Fenris (her LI) comes to Skyhold to help. Lots of angst for now, but eventual happy (or at least, hopeful) ending. Tumblr: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [Chapters 14-29 not crossposted]

Lost to Night

  [Complete] “I do adore the heavy blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events.” Solas and Lavellan slip away for some alone time after the events at the Winter Palace, but before the party really ends. Fluff, musings, and (eventual) smut. 4/4 chapters completed; ~11,000 words. Tumblr: [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Less a man than a wild cat

  [Complete] Fenris leaves town for a few days while Hawke deals with business in Kirkwall. One night at The Hanged Man, while she and the rest of the gang recover after a hard day and wait for him to return, a small grey cat saunters in. And the bright white markings on its fur look extremely familiar. (so does the way he takes a swipe at Anders, and purrs whenever Hawke looks at him). Fluff, humor, pining, and just enough angst to make you care. 6/6 chapters completed; ~15,000 words. 

Provided it Tied You Down First

[Complete] In order to gain valuable information on the transport of Red Lyrium from Tevinter into Ferelden, Solas and Lady Trevelyan must infiltrate a group of magisters who hold hedonistic gatherings, and in order to be convincing, they have to play along… this one is just entirely PWP, with a much heavier emphasis on the ‘porn’ than the ‘plot’. Read AO3 tags before embarking, contains some more questionable kink content. ~17,000 words.

Banister Banter

  [Open-ended, no longer working on] Dorian and other Inner Circle members pretend not to be interested in the Inquisitor’s personal affairs, but they are all sneaky liars who gossip good-naturedly to each other about her blossoming romance with Solas. They eavesdrop & secretly keep tabs on the pair without them catching on. I mean, having all those personal conversations in the middle of the rotunda? That’s just asking for an audience. Fluff & fun. Tumblr: [Part 1] [Part 2]

One-shots and prompts:

Reunion*

Non-canonical (probably, Veilguard isn’t out yet) depiction of the reunion between Solas and Lavellan, and how this meeting culminates. ~6500 words, this is pure sorrow and angst and my personal weird narrative desires. I asked myself: what is the absolute worst case ending that could happen for Lavellan and Solas? And this is what I came up with. On tumblr here.

Like Teeth Against His Heart*

After Solas wakes up, he has many conversations with a variety of spirits. Sometimes they tell him what he wants to hear, and sometimes they don’t. ~1800 words. I wrote this prose-poem for the Solamancy charity zine in 2021, and it’s one of the few things I’ve written I put actual editing time into rather than just slapping it in place, so I remain very fond of it. RECCOMENDED VIEWING: see the correct spacing as it appeared on the pages from the zine on tumblr here.

Grief*

Prompt: “fenris/fem!hawke; Hawke is trapped in a coma post-Fade. Her mind is still shackled there, but her body is found by a new rift. Fenris arrives to Skyhold for her funeral, but what he finds is even more unbearable. Cue angsty bedside Fenris– stages of grief. Mad at her, pleading for her to wake up. Hawke can hear it all and after a time, she returns to him.” ~2500 words.  On tumblr here.

Like the leaves after a long winter

Prompt: “it’s the first Christmas/Satinalia since Leandra’s death, and Hawke is not in the mood for festivities – until she realises that everyone else will be spending it alone and finds herself hosting a party without even meaning to.” ~7700 words. On tumblr here. 

Fragments

A Solavellan ficlet, sort of musing on the way the lost Elvish language plays a role in their relationship. ~2700 words. Sweet & sad. On tumblr here.

Letters to Fenris

Minific; a series of 6 letters sent to Fenris from Hawke (and Varric) at different points during the timeline of Inquisition. ~1640 words. An attempt at humor, but also sad, because I can only write angst I guess. On tumblr here.

A Slip of the Tongue

Sollavellan ficlet. In which Solas forgets to watch his words, and has to face their consequences. ~3300 words. An argument, some pining, and an unintended revelation. Poking a bit of good-natured fun at the “da'len/hah'ren” trope. On tumblr here.

Only the Living

Prompt: “Everything is going to be okay + Fenris & Lavellan.” The DA2 companions come to Skyhold for Hawke’s funeral after Hawke stays in the Fade during DA:I. ~2000 words. On tumblr here.

Celestial Connections

Prompt:  “Things you said under the stars and in the grass” for Solavellan. Solas and Lavellan steal a moment alone together during their travels in the Emerald Graves, and contemplate the stars. Musings, bittersweet but hopeful. ~2100 words. On tumblr here.

A Letter to Zevran

Minific; a friend said “Jade make me sad” + suggestion of Zevran/Mahariel from another. Only 370 words.

MASS EFFECT

the people you love become ghosts inside of you, and like this, you keep them alive*

Prompt: What love was ever as deep as the grave? Snippets of a variety of Garrus’ thoughts and memories of Shepard, and a growing realization about the nature of love like theirs. Shepard is Earthborn & Sole Survivor. The numbers are rough chronology but you can just read straight through. Angst angst angst. ~2500 words. On tumblr here.

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[itsdappleagain]

i know csweekly is on hold now, but I still have to catch up on The Luchadora Tango Caper, so here it is!!

Season 3 is maybe my least favorite season out of any of them, but I still love it, so I'm really excited to get into this!

Notes under the cut as always and please ignore the fact that I'm a month late on this thx

NEW CASTLE!!! NEW CASTLE YAYYY

sometimes I think this whole series is Maelstrom just talking about shit for like 14 hours

cleo sympathizing with guys in skirts <3 she knows ur struggle boys

love how they slapped up a giant glowing green world map and copper sulfate burning chandeliers before they put in insulation or heat

brunt, girl, calm down. they were just doing their evil minion bagpipe job

british on british violence

that was such a cute nod when this season first dropped. haha theres been no sign of her all summer because of the hiatus you are so clever

they rlly thought they had something with the turn them against each other thing. i cant believe they thought they tvy7 rating would let shadowsan and carmen kill each other 🙄

"carmen is DEAD" (cheery tango music)

i mean it works because we know hes wrong and stupid but like

no offense but the tango dancers are animated in a way that is reminiscent of a kid manually moving their barbie dolls legs to make them walk

our girl <3

tell me why dropping 200 feet onto the top of the metal detector was more sneaky than literally anything else she could have done

ok. yes. but the fact she is robbing it does not negate the fact that she will be on the news for breaking into a bank dsjfsdghfkdsa

1021 is the number on the box- could it mean something? in a strictly doylist sense. october 21st doesn't seem to have any significant holidays...I can't find anything, might just be a random number set.

good god the "i...have his eyes." hits me like a truck every time

gina pulled it out with the voice acting in this one

she WAS a very cute baby

"another" link girl what else has there been you should be ecstatic

ayyy its the character literally everyone except spintrap-stan and amaryllis solely remember for being voiced by dante basco

i love how snarky carmen immediately gets. if he knows her name and what she looks like, obviously he's an operative, so she gets to have a little fun in immediately declining him while still gaining valuable information, almost immediately, about who he is and what his talent will be

everyone is very stretched today

this is not my favorite fight scene honestly (at least until flytrap gets here. dont even get me started on her fighting style im in love with it) because its literally just like ooh. he kicks. she dodges. wow. they really do try with the tango parallels but idk

wow!! other people can kick too??? who knew

she protected the face

cutely runs into oncoming traffic

those cars were not even slowing down girl they were just like HONK MOVE OR DIE

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS FLYTRAP MY GIRL

okay mini rant incoming i already did a post on this like a billion years ago but flytrap is one of my favorites because in my opinion she and paper star are the most dangerous villains we ever see in the show. let me. try to find that post actually

yeah here it is

flytrap is also so hot and has the same va as luz so she's just top tier. idk if the team put half the episode budget into celebrity voice actors and thats why we only got 5 episodes but you know what

love how carmen is literally stopping her attempts to get free to banter. girl. stop

shadowsan <3

love how they do not even bother showing the fight they just get their asses handed to them

why didnt they start in veracruz just asking

not the table

ok guys. you can stop with the tango thing now. its okay

that little conversation between ivy and shadowsan is so good

comrades??? sir its not the cold war

article from 17 years ago, thank you for that easy to understand slang

carmen plot armored her way out of getting her skull smashed in on that train so hard that she made maelstrom stupid

its canon both in and outside of the show that color theory is so prevalent that any sort of red at all immediately signals carmen

the colors are so beautiful in this scene. carmen doesnt have her coat or jacket on, everythings just a little desaturated as she searches

THE ACME GANG <3333

not the finger guns and glasses wheeze hes such a loser i love him

THE FORESHADOWING TO EGYPT WITH THE PYRAMIDS ON HER LAPTOP!!!!

love how all we get of julia this season is her being pissed off and then leaving

he was such an asshole for closing her laptop why did he do that 😭

has carmen just been ignoring vile missions for the last season of the year to research her mom or

girlie is so sad about everything

ah yes, the door, the thing you wish to have opened, the best place to lean your full body against after you knock,

i'M SOrry. did you NOT attend a school for THIEVES

HSDGGDG HEY. just broke into your house. im your long lost daughter

i love how she goes DONT TOUCH ANYTHING and then immediately drags her whole arm across the wall and cabinet

also her face when she sees the masks is perfect

okay be honest how many of you have replayed carmen saying maybe mommy at least once. who. raise your hands

shes sooo buff

love how everyone is taking this so seriously and then carmen is just completely apathetic about anything thats going on

dont deadname lupe, carmen

her hair catching a gust of indoor wind for the sole purpose of making her look sick as hell in her intro card is so iconic

as ivy absolutely obliterating zack in the foreground is so fucking funny

she got that "EH EH EH." titter of "HEY NO. DONT YOU DO THAT" down scary well

devineaux strutting im sobbing. julia was doing SO well and then she got paired with devineaux AGAIN

that cab driver looks so concerned about the hulking texan in his backseat

remember when the trailer dropped and we thought those roses were for julia. good times

everyone narrowly avoiding each other as they pull in

you just know ivy smacked zack when he protested to decoy time hdsafhadsg

gotta say the "EH?" while getsuring to the trophies is fucking hilarious. obviously julia knows she wouldnt go after those but its so funny

i do love the way carmen just shrinks any time brunt appears. she is soooo traumatized

VAMOOSE EL MASKO SHES SO ACCURATREIUSDHKFSKHFD SHES EXACTLY WHAT MIDDLE AGED AMERICAN SOUTHERNERS SOUND LIKE

LUPE IS SO FUCKING COOL

devineaux showcasing his braincells for a spilt second this episode

ah, so begins the not a good time mantra

devineaux getting absolutely decimated because he thinks coach brunt thinks hes handsome is so funny

the referee watching two apparent civilians enter the ring: 🙂

carmen is so funny here. she uncuffs herself and then just leaves devineaux to die like fuck his ass he can get smooshed

carmen getting increasingly mad at devineaux while she drags him places is my favorite part of the episode

also, either carmen got stronger or devineaux had a few bouts of crazed research where he didnt eat, but she can drag him easily now as opposed to when she was struggling back at the trap in poitiers

they put this shot in the trailer and without context it just looked like carmen was standing there glaring at brunt menacingly

the cat burglar <3

worst fucking ref on the planet i love him

was carmen stopping to listen to julia's voice i would like to think so

ah the devineaux and cars gag. i mean, to be fair, it wasnt his fault this time

starts beatboxing

carmen really just dumped her whole life story on lupe thats so funny. girlie started the day preparing for a match, got her house broken into, and then ended the day learning about a global crime syndicate

they really ended s2 going THE NEXT SEASON WILL FOCUS ON CARMENS MOM and then started s3 going well actually um okay so

theres our transition sentence

lupe's yellow and blue palette btw!! cs color theory i love you

lupe is more of a mom than carlotta ever gets to be thats sad honestly

carmens little smile ough

here is a shot that very succinctly illustrates the dynamics in the coming seasons. the three at the table stand strong- always have. roundy is basically a footnote no one cares about him and then brunt...brunt is sort of on the edge. this carries over all the way into s4 when malestrom tries to drown her

oh my god i forgot about the weird halloween thing the faculty has going on this season i love it

my analysis is right in time for spooky season >:) halloween IS nearly upon us!!!

OKAY well my thoughts on the luchadora tango caper...pretty good. honestly its kind of net zero information because we introduce the premise of finding carmens mom and then immediately abandon it but it sets up um....well....it sets up....what does it set up

anyway- not my favorite episode, even though lupe is fucking awesome. i think it suffers a little from deviating from that classic caper structure and jumping around, but it does its job as an introductory episode.

until we return, sayonara, mon amigos!

[buttercupsandboys]

Sunshine & Rainbows

Alfie Solomons x Livy (OFC) — Chapter 15

18+ NSFW - minors don’t interact 🙅🏻‍♀️

MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

CHAPTER 15: only love could hurt like this

Summary: The Shelby women torment Alfie and secrets are revealed ...

TW: language typical of Peaky Blinders, a touch of angst

Word count: 3273

A/N: It’s been a while, so here’s a super quick recap! (Or click here to read Chapter 14 again!)

Alfie found out Livy was missing, then beat the crap out of Tommy. A few hours later, Polly and Esme show up at his hotel room ...

This chapter picks up right where we left off. 

“Well, go on then,” Alfie demands. “We haven’t got all fucking night. Where is she?”

Polly chuckles darkly, looking far too amused for his liking. She takes a moment to light a cigarette, raising it to her painted lips before replying. “And what makes you think I’m just going to hand over that information?”

Fucking hell.

The room goes deathly silent, save for the ominous tick of the clock, reminiscent of a bomb just waiting to explode.

… much like Alfie's stormy expression.

He’s exhausted, and his patience has officially run out. A volatile mix at the best of times, but with Livy gone, the look on his face is more than a threat. It’s a promise of violence.

But Polly doesn’t notice or, more likely, doesn’t care. Instead of backing down, like any sensible being, she stands with one hand on her hip and the other in the air, smoke dancing from her fingers, chin raised like the Queen of fucking England.

“‘Cause that’s what you said, ain’t it?” He glares at her through narrowed eyes. “You asked if I wanted to find Livy.”

“Exactly,” she smirks. “I asked if you wanted to find her. I didn’t say I would tell you where she is.”

Alfie considers snatching her cigarette and shoving it down her slender throat. Polly’s asking for trouble, pushing his buttons at the worst possible time, and they all know it. It’s almost like she wants to see him lose his temper, or at least expects it.

But he is nothing, if not unpredictable.

Despite the displeasure written across his features, Alfie remains seated. He doesn’t speak, barely even blinks as he raises his fist and cracks his knuckles, slowly and methodically, one by one.

The women watch on, seemingly unfazed, but the longer Alfie sits and stares, face like a predator stalking his prey, the more their facade begins to crumble. They are bold, not stupid, or so it seems. The minutes pass, and Polly takes a hesitant step backwards, Esme following suit, dropping her boots to the floor as they brace for an explosion.

Alfie surprises them all. He should be fucking furious, but his blood cools when he recognises this for what it is: a negotiation. And despite the high stakes, the familiarity of it all is comforting.

This is one game he knows how to play.

“Right, then.” Alfie grins as he leans back and spreads his arms wide. Everything is still fucked, Livy is still fucking missing, but at least he has something to work with. “Let’s talk, love. Why don’t you tell me what you want, yeah?”

“For you to fuck off,” Esme mutters, confidence restored now that the danger has passed.

Polly shoots her a stern look before returning to Alfie. “What makes you think I want anything, Mr Solomons?” she asks, cool and composed behind a cloud of smoke.

Alfie laughs; in another time, another place, he might genuinely enjoy their banter.

“Don’t play coy, sweetie. It’s three in the fucking morning. Now she”—Alfie waves in Esme’s general direction—“she might be here for Livy. But you?” he huffs. “You’ve got too much Shelby in you.”

Polly’s mouth falls open, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but Alfie cuts her off with a raised palm.

“I don’t want to hear it, yeah. Normally I’m happy to go along with these little games you fucking gypsies love so fucking much. But tonight, I’m going to need you to get to the point, ya hear?”

Alfie watches as Polly visibly bristles, her lips pressed in a firm line, her spine impossibly straighter. But the Shelby matriarch quickly recovers.

“Of course, Mr Solomons,” she replies, her voice and smile sickly sweet. “You’re obviously a very intelligent man.”

Polly waits for a reaction, but unfortunately for her, Alfie is a very intelligent man. So he ignores the trite tactic and gives her 30 fucking seconds to explain herself. The clock continues to tick, and he resumes cracking his knuckles; it’s a veritable symphony of unspoken aggression.

“Fine,” Polly huffs, rolling her dark eyes when it becomes clear they're doing this on his terms. “I need your help,” she reluctantly admits. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I have a son….”

Livy wiggles her toes, delighting in the morning dew against her bare skin. The sun is low on the horizon, but it’s already promising to be a beautiful day. The air is crisp, the birds are singing, and she half expects rainbows to fall from the sky. She breathes deeply and, for a few minutes, finds peace.

Almost.

Because then she remembers what brought her here.

With a groan, Livy flops on the grass, not caring about her state of dress—or her hair, for that matter, her scarlet locks tangled, free from adornments save for a few twigs and burrs. She’s feeling quite sorry for herself as she drapes her arm across her eyes, the weight pressing her into the damp earth. If only it would open and swallow her whole.

“Well, Holy Lord God, it’s Livy Lou, queen of the fairies. What would your father say if he saw you like this?”

Livy smiles at the familiar voice, lips curling despite her melancholy.

“That we should bury our sorrows and rise like the sun,” she recites.

“Rise like the sun,” Aberama repeats as he drops into the grass beside her, stretching his long legs and propping himself on an elbow. “A mighty wise man, your William.”

She hums in agreement, grateful for the company, and together they sit in comfortable silence, watching the sun rise higher in the sky. Minutes pass until it blinds—not the light but the unfettered hope that for once feels so fucking foreign—and Livy turns away, tracing the ground, wishing she could take her father’s advice.

But her sorrows refuse to stay buried.

As she inspects the dirt beneath her brightly painted nails, Livy can’t help but wonder if she made the right decision. Which is strange in and of itself; usually, she’s so confident, trusting her gut and following it faithfully, eyes on the horizon, never looking back. It’s her life’s motto and often the only thing keeping her sane.

Except now she’s in love with Alfie—and doesn’t that just change everything?

She wipes her hands on her dress and closes her eyes to avoid Aberama’s curious gaze. Being here with him reminds Livy of those first months after escaping Bernard. It was all new then; the kind faces and open fires that chased away the darkness, smoke and songs accompanying them into the night. As joy and laughter replaced fear and pain, she was, in many ways, reborn.

How fitting that she should find herself here again.

Last night was a turning point, and Livy knows it, although she’s not ready to face the truth. Instead, it would be easier to ignore altogether, to fall into the comfortable rhythm of life on the road and let it consume her as she rides out this chapter.

With enough time and enough whiskey (or perhaps that broody Shelby gin), she might come to see this nightmare as a blessing in disguise. Livy was truthful with Esme; she missed the life, the freedom, even the creaky wheels beneath her bed.

One door closes, another opens—right?

Livy snorts before she can stop herself, drawing another look from Aberama, who she continues to ignore. Her usual optimism has bolted, much like Cyril, who is off in the bushes chasing a rabbit. This is no blessing, of that she’s sure. More like a lesson—the universe punishing her for holding too tightly onto something that was never hers to begin with.

Of course, Livy knew this day would come, but she wasn’t expecting this.

Only love could hurt like this.

His scent still lingers on her skin—warm and slightly spiced, like rum and sweat and home—and despite everything, a part of her wants him back. She misses Alfie dreadfully; those beautiful lips, maddeningly distracting as they trace the valley of her breasts, his whiskers teasing her flesh, leaving his mark behind.

Just like the mark he left on her soul, and he should be hers, even though logic and reason tell her to run and run and run.

And she will because as much as Livy hates to admit it, the truth is she’s terrified.

Not of Bernard McCall or Thomas Shelby, as one would reasonably expect…

No, Livy is afraid of Alfie.

Because if he knew about Bernard and still chose to do business with him, he couldn’t possibly love her back.

And how on earth is she supposed to survive that kind of heartbreak?

Livy shakes her head.

She’s always been impulsive, but she’s never been in love, and sometimes it’s easier to give everything up than to have it all taken from you.

She picks a blade of grass and pretends to be fascinated by the vibrant shade of green when Aberama reaches over and plucks it from her fingers.

“You know…” He pauses, eyeing Livy from beneath his low-slung hat. “I didn’t expect to see you again. At least, not anytime soon.”

Livy blushes at the unspoken question, her thick lashes kissing her cheeks as she averts her eyes. How can she explain when she barely understands herself? Everything is jumbled, and she’s never felt so confused.

“Yes, well, you see …”

She bites her lip and considers how much to share with Aberama. He’s fiercely protective of those he considers family, and Livy’s fortunate to count herself among the few not related by blood. But she doesn’t want to see a bullet with Alfie’s name on it. At least not yet.

“I’m taking precautions,” she finally replies. “Keeping a low profile for a bit.”

“Precautions?” Aberama repeats. He stares for a long minute before wiping his palm on his thigh and extending his hand. “Well, come on then. You know the promise I made to your father.”

Livy nods in relief and accepts his hand as he pulls her to her feet. She’s grateful for the help—and the lack of questions—but it’s still too much. The weight of everything is drowning her, and she needs a distraction, something familiar to ease her troubled mind.

“Aberama, darling, do you still keep that blade inside your boot?”

He flashes a brilliant smile.

“What the fuck does Michael have to do with anything?” sputters Esme, the shock written across her tired face.

Polly ignores her, keeping her chin raised and eyes hard, refusing to wilt beneath Alfie’s probing stare.

“Michael has recently shown an interest in joining the family business,” she continues. “But Thomas has … ambitions that come with unnecessary risk. Risks I cannot allow my son to be exposed to.”

“Right…,” mutters Alfie, stroking his beard as he contemplates her words. It’s just as he suspected: a fucking mess. “And what the fuck does this have to do with me?”

“I need you to terminate the deal with Bernard McCall. Ensure Thomas no longer has access to Liverpool.”

“Why would you want that?”

“Does it matter?” she snaps. “Help me, and I’ll help you find Livy.”

His heart clenches at the sound of her name, and in that moment, he’d sign away his fortune, his bakery, anything to get her back.

But then he has a better idea.

“Tell me more about your business in Liverpool,” Alfie demands.

Her eyes flash darkly. “Our business is not your concern.” Polly exchanges a look with Esme, and her face softens. “But I’ll make you a deal, Mr Solomons. Agree to help me, and I’ll tell you more about Bernard McCall. And trust me, there are things you need to know.”

“Trust you,” Alfie repeats, the words hanging heavy in the air. “Right, well that’s just it, Mrs Gray. Trust is a fragile thing.” He strokes his jaw. “And what about your boy? Is he … fragile?”

Polly leaps forward. “Are you threatening—“

Alfie stands, towering over her with his broad frame. “I don’t make threats,” he warns, advancing slowly until she has to crane her neck to face him. “Now, you’re going to tell me about Liverpool, you’re going to tell me about Bernard, and you’re going to help me find Livy. If she’s safe, nothing will happen to your precious son, and in exchange, I will end things in Liverpool.”

She glares at him, and Alfie can only imagine the gypsy curse she’s placing on his black soul. But he’s already damned, so he returns her cold stare. Livy is all that matters now, and he’d deal with the devil—or worse, a Shelby—to get her back.

“Fine,” Polly finally agrees, spitting on her palm and extending it to him. Alfie responds in kind, and she nods, inhaling deeply from her cigarette.

“Thomas is working with a group of Americans who support the Bolsheviks,” she begins, taking a seat. “He’s importing weapons from them under the protection of Shelby Company Limited. But security is tight in London, which is why he needs Liverpool.”

Alfie briefly closes his eyes. “Fucking hell. Meddling with the Russians, that silly boy.”

She snorts. “Exactly. It’s going to blow up in his face, and I don’t want Micheal around when it does.”

“And what about Livy?” he asks sharply. “Don’t fucking tell me she has anything to do with—“

“No, not the Russians,” she reassures him. But something in her tone has him on edge.

“But what?” he demands.

Polly gives him a sad smile. “Alfie.” It's the first time she’s used his given name, and a chill runs down his spine. “I’m assuming you know that Livy had a … difficult past?”

A growl escapes from his chest, a feral sound, raw and violent. “Yeah, I fucking know. And when I find the fucker responsible….”

Alfie trails off at the look on the women’s faces.

No.

Oh, fuck no.

The table goes flying, splintering into pieces, just like his heart.

“Bernard?”

“Yes.” Polly and Esme reply in unison.

He wants to vomit.

Alfie has a strong stomach—after France, not much offends him—but when he thinks about Livy, he nearly drops to his knees.

And he will soon, to beg her forgiveness.

But for now, violence will have to do.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking kill him.” He stalks forward, reaching for Polly, unable to stop himself. “Does he have her?” he roars, yanking her to her feet. “Does he fucking have her?”

Polly remains oddly calm. “No,” she assures him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Alfie lets go, visibly relieved. “Right, then where the fuck is she?”

Polly and Esme exchange another look, and he glances around for something else to throw.

“Stop with the fucking faces and tell me where to find Livy before I cut off your—”

“She doesn’t want to be found,” interrupts Polly.

“I don’t give a fuck what she wants—“

“Maybe that’s the problem,” snaps Esme, arms folded defiantly across her chest. “You men are all the same. How do we know you’re not working with Bernard?”

“Esme, shut up,” retorts Polly.

“No, you shut it. Neither of you care about her, it’s all about Michael with you, and fuck knows what he wants—“

“Enough,” roars Alfie, his temper at breaking point. “Fucking, enough. I love her, yeah, and that’s all you need to fucking know. So gather your shit, and let’s go get her.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before Polly nods, looking relieved as she collects her bag and makes for the door. But Esme stares at him, eyes dark like the window to her soul.

“I don’t give a fuck what they say about you,” she announces, stalking forward until she’s toe to toe with him. The top of her head barely grazes his chin, but Esme speaks with a confidence that betrays her small frame. “If anything happens to her, it’s you that will be afraid of me. Do you understand? I’ll be watching you, Mr Solomons.”

She takes a few steps backwards. “Always watching,” she repeats before turning on her heel, leaving Alfie no choice but to follow.

Bloody Shelby women.

“Fuck off, no. Categorical.” Alfie pokes the side of the wagon with his cane. “That there, right, is a coffin on wheels. If you want to travel like the living dead, knock yourself out. But you see, for my people, it’s a matter of principle, ain’t it?”

Polly sighs. “Do you want to find Livy or not? We can’t go any further by car, and it’s too far to travel by foot. So unless you want to ride a horse, this is your only option.”

“Ride a fucking horse,” Alfie mutters as he steps forward and nearly loses a shoe in the mud. “This is just fucking perfect, innit? Drag me out in the middle of nowhere, in one of your curious gypo wagons, yeah? Then you put a bullet in my fucking skull, and when my poor Jewish soul is liberated from my body—“

“I can’t fucking do this,” mutters Polly, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. She takes a deep breath and gathers her strength. “Mr Solomons, please, I implore you. Get in the fucking wagon. If there’s any hope of finding Livy, we need to move quickly.”

Alfie nods and, for once, does as he’s told.

The mud and wagon had provided temporary distraction, but now his nausea returns with a vengeance. His head is spinning, his mind frantic, desperate to pinpoint the moment where everything went so horribly wrong. How the fuck did this happen? All his men—a network of spies, a fortune in bribes—and not one goddamn whisper about that bastard McCall.

Because they’re all bad men, but there are just some lines you don’t fucking cross.

Alfie grits his teeth and settles into the vardo (which is surprisingly comfortable, although he’ll never admit it) when the truth hits him squarely in the face.

Thomas fucking Shelby.

It’s the only explanation. Somehow he knew the truth about Bernard and Livy, and purposely kept it from him to protect the Liverpool deal.

Because of the fucking Russians.

Alfie groans and runs a hand down his face, recalling the conversation in Tommy’s office. It’s all coming together now, and it’s not fucking good. Livy is gone, and he’d bet his left nut both Bernard and Thomas are searching for her, making this whole fiasco a race against time.

And here he is—creeping across the countryside in a fucking box.

To make things worse, his fate lies in the hands of not one but two Shelby women and for all he knows, he’s riding headfirst into a trap. But what choice does he have? He’s armed and angry, a dangerous mix, fueled by emotions that are entirely new, fucking raw, and he will find Livy because right now nothing else matters.

Of course, what happens after he finds her is another story.

Fucking hell.

Just 24 hours ago, he was working up the courage to share his feelings. Now he’ll be lucky if she doesn’t cut his fucking balls off.

And that’s if Livy agrees to see him.

Alfie shakes his head and sits taller in his seat. He’s negotiated ‘deal or die’ offers with some of Britain’s most dangerous men, and this is Livy. His Livy. When he finds her, he won’t give her a choice. After all, it was God himself who delivered her to his doorstep.

Some things are meant to be, and once he has her in his arms, he won’t let her go again.

A/N: So ... let me know what you think! I really wanted this chapter to be longer, but honestly, I’ve been sitting on this for months. It got to a point where I think I just needed to publish it, so I could get creatively unstuck! 🙈

Or at least, let’s hope! 

Thanks to everyone still reading this story. I appreciate all of you xx

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