#Slow Burn Fic

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? Part 4

In which you finally come back home.

Warnings: alcohol use. angst. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Word count: 1.9k plus social media posts

- What's A Soulmate? - Part 1 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2.5 - What's a Soulmate - Part 3 - Master List

LittlestSainzSis honey, i'm home. user433 isn't it weird she's working for McLaren and not Ferrari??? >>>user3928 nope! hope this helps! user2918 press officer job right out of school? must be nice being a nepo baby >>>user328 she literally worked for Carlos and Lando for two years before going to uni at NYU??? And she has a double degree in PR and business??? >>>usesr322 just say you're jealous next time, it'll be quicker. McLaren So glad to have you back in the paddock!!

LittlestSainzSis fast cars go vroom OscarPiastri so you're who Zak was yelling at to get behind the barrier over the radio??? >>>LittlestSainzSis oops!

LittlestSainzSis that feeling when you wake up and realize it's race day!! user3928: face card never declines user298: blah blah, proper name, place name, back story stuff LandoNorris: don't let that cute face fool you, she was yelling at Oscar and I ten seconds after I took this. >>>LittlestSainzSis neither of you were listening!!! God, this is 2019 all over again, isn't it? >>>user992 ariana what are you doing hereeeeee??? >>>user9383 seriously the first time Lando's in the comments in literal years. tf??? >>>user938 so we're all just going to ignore him calling her cute??? okay???

LittlestSainzSis the boys are ready for race day!!! McLaren best press officer award goes to you bby! >>>user382 admin is unhinged today, I see user0392 i just love seeing Lando back on her feed. >>>user3938 seriously. i feel like mom and dad are back together again. >>>user3844 i'm so glad i don't have to be a child of divorce anymore.

LittlestSainzSis caught someone being a grumpy gills today during the presser. LandoNorris i was probably hungry >>>LittlestSainzSis i think oscar had just told you he was getting sushi with Lily tonight and you got all pouty >>>user948 not her selling out Lando in the comments user938 Chaos Gremlins back to terrorizing paddock! war is over!

Miami May 2024

“Fifteen times Lando Norris has stood on the podium, but never on the top step, until now! It’s a landmark day for Lando! Lando Norris wins for the first time in Formula One! It’s victory in Miami for Norris and McLaren! The British drivers dream is realized and at the 110th attempt, he’s done it! He’s won it! Look what it means to Zak Brown! At long last, Lando is your winner!” 

Tears stream down your face as you listen to Alex Jacques call the end of the race in your headphones, his voice filled with glee and excitement that matches the feeling in the McLaren garage. After yesterday’s DNF for Lando, it had been pretty doom and gloom on his side of the garage. 

Your heart had ached when you caught sight of him that afternoon, sitting in the glass enclosed conference room that the team used to go over race data. He had been all alone, spinning aimlessly in one of the chairs, face drawn and shuttered. You had wanted to go to him then but hadn’t worked up the courage. 

Things were still…delicate between the two of you. After that first night in Australia, Lando had kept his promise to win your friendship back. You more often than not found your morning coffee order sitting at your desk waiting for you during the week with a silly note written hastily on a posit in his chicken scratch writing that only you seemed to be able to decipher. 

A few treats and free coffee weren’t going to be enough to bring back that casual intimacy that you and Lando had though, you both knew that. The walls you had built up so high around your heart designed specifically for the British driver were still solidly in place and you refused to go running back into his arms so easily. 

And then, Miami happens.

The hot sticky humidity clings to your skin as you watch Lando climb out of the car behind the black and white number 1 sign, the first time he’s been able to park his Formula 1 car right in the middle of parc fermi. You’re not entirely sure where the humidity of Florida ends and the tears still falling from your eyes begins, you’re such a mess. 

If you were to think too hard about it, the fact that you were a complete puddle of jumbled up emotion would surely scare you a little. Those walls, they couldn’t be crumbling now, could they? They couldn’t be slowly tumbling down, allowing for the while possibility of allowing Lando back into your life like he had been before? 

You don’t have time to get too lost in those dangerous kinds of thoughts though because soon after he hops off the car, he’s running straight over to the garage crew and leaping into their waiting arms. He’s waited for so long for this, so many poor performances, so many mistakes and problems with the car had sent him spiraling for so many years. There had been too many nights you had spent with him when he was barely more than a teenager, sat on the floor lamenting about how shit his car was, how shit his driving was, and if he was destined to be one of those midfield drivers that never won anything in their career. 

All of those doubts are erased now and your tears are falling again as the weight of what he’s done settles over the paddock. His engineers and mechanics eventually place him back down on the ground and he’s hugging Zak next, the CEO of McLaren more of a father figure to him by now. Will gets a hug too, his engineer since he joined the team five years ago. 

And then, icy blue green eyes snag yours and everything else falls away in a muted hush. He’s smiling at you, that megawatt grin making his eyes crinkle up at the corners. It’s one of those genuine Lando smiles that you haven’t been on the receiving end of for far too long. Your heart stutters to a stop when you realize you’re his next target. What is he doing? You think frantically, mortified that you’re about to be the center of attention if he does what you think he’s going to do. 

And he does. He throws his arms around your shoulders and buries his head deep into the crook of your neck, a move that has camera shutters clicking furiously all around you. You, of course, instantly find your arms wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing him to you despite the metal barrier between you. 

“You’re here.” He sounds surprised that you’d miss this moment. 

“Of course I am. My best friend just won his first Grand Prix.” You whisper into his ear as the crowd continues to grow louder. 

Lando pulls back then, tears shining in his eyes. The weight of your words settle on his shoulders and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look at you the way he is now. He tucks a strand of hair that’s fallen out of your pony tail behind your ear, looking at you like you’ve hung both the moon and the stars in the sky just for him. “I’m so glad you got to be here for this, pretty girl.” 

God, that nickname. It’s the first time you’ve heard it in years and it does significant damage to those carefully constructed walls. 

You smile up at Lando, a little bashful that everyone is watching you two talk so closely together. He returns the smile before turning around to answer a question from one of the officials. He needs to take care of post race inspections, which he does but not before turning back and tossing a wink at you over his shoulder. 

LittleSainzSis It has been a pleasure and privlidge watching you grow over all these years. Life may have taken us in different directions over the last few years but when I say there is no place I would have rather been this afternoon, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Your friendship means the entire world to me, Mr. Norris. I'm so proud of you. One win down, so many more to go. LandoNorris so glad you got to be there today, pretty girl xo >>>user948 WE GOT A PRETTY GIRL COMMENT. >>>user0383 i can die happy now user0832 i'm sorry but guys, she literally just friendzoned him so hard in that caption. >>>user9383 yeah, poor lando

LittlestSainzSis You're going to smell like champagne for weeks LandoNorris worth it user948 EXCUSE ME WHAT IS THAT FACE. explain yourself lando norris. user928 did we mean to post this on main ma'am??? user9482 @/littlestsainzsis giving us what we all crave: lando thirst traps. >>>littlestsainzsis don't say i never give you guys anything ever again ;) >>>user9482 omg hi queen

LittlestSainzSis find yourself a man that looks at you like Lan looks at that trophy user0382 LANNNN??? >>>user9484 I am unwell CarlosSainz He's sleeping with it tonight, isn't he? >>>LandoNorris who told you that??? user9383 i feel like i'm interrupting something here... user0309 this picture is...a choice...

The music of the Miami night club pulses through your body as you sink deeper and deeper into the VIP booth later that night. Lando hadn’t given you any room for arguments after all the media duties were done. You were coming out with him and the rest of the team to celebrate. You had barely tried to refuse, not giving him much of a fight because you secretly wanted nothing more. 

Now you sat in the leather booth situated high up in the dark Miami Beach night club that had invited Lando out the moment he had crossed the finish line earlier in the day. There were what felt like thousands of people, most of them were there to celebrate with Lando, hoping to get a glimpse of the driver. 

Alcohol burns at the back of your throat, blurring your vision nicely as you wait for Lando to return from the bar. You had insisted that he wasn’t the one who should be making drink runs tonight but he had insisted on getting you another one and hadn’t taken no for an answer. Carlos is sat next to you, nursing a drink while talking to Charles on his other side.

A small glass is set down in front of you, drawing your attention away from the DJ booth, where you had been starting. 

“Vodka sprite for my pretty girl.” Lando murmurs in your ear, the words sending a cool shiver up your spine.  

You desperately tamp down the way that being called his makes you feel. You cannot be going down that road. Not now when the friendship between the two of you is so fragile. You knew what it was like to lose him in your life and you weren’t sure if you were willing to risk losing him again. 

The same worries you had back before it all went sideways worm their way back into your consciousness. He was too important to you, too integrated into your soul that when he disappeared, it left you broken in a million pieces. You couldn’t risk that again. This had to be strictly platonic between you if it was going to work. You couldn’t afford to lose your best friend again. Those walls around your heart needed to be reinforced and brought back into working order because there was no way you could let this happen. 

“Dance with me?” The question is a husky one, whispered in your ear so no one else is privy to it. 

You know it’s dangerous. You should say no. But the vodka already in your system convinces you that it’s fine. It’s just Lando. So against your what your sober self would consider the best judgement, you feel yourself nodding, allowing Lando to tangle his fingers with yours and pull you out onto the dance floor. 

If you had been paying better attention, you would have seen the looks Carlos and Charles exchanged behind your back. They were well aware of the frosty relationship that Lando and you had over the last few years and this was a development no one had seen coming but everyone had been hoping for all the same. 

The EDM beats are strong and sensual as Lando leads you out onto the floor, hand firmly gripping yours. He finds an open spot and pulls you towards him, the heat of his body radiating off of him in waves. His hands land on your hips, fingertips gripping at your skirt a little harder than really necessary. You shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want his hands on your hips, his breath mingling with yours, his curls so dangerously close that you could easily rake your fingers through them. You shouldn’t and you can’t because he’s left you before and he could do it all over again. He’s abandoned you and didn’t come back and every sane thought in your body is screaming at you that this man is dangerous. He is dangerous to your heart and your head is thrashing around so loudly but it’s drowned out by the music. 

You simply can’t fight it when he pulls you impossibly closer, hands sliding from your hips lower, lower, lower until it’s almost indecent. The alcohol blurs the edges of your usually sharp judgement and it’s not helped by the fact that this man seems to have cast a spell over you. You can’t want this. Can’t love how the weight of his hands feel on your skin. Can’t adore how his lips tick up at the edges when he sees you walk into the garage during a race weekend. 

This is Lando after all. Your best friend. Your best friend who abandoned you once and had only barely just come back begging for forgiveness. You can’t allow him to knock down those walls so quickly, can you? 

His lips flutter over the damp skin at your temple, dusting the slightest kiss there, almost as if it’s a test. A test to see if you push him away or allow him in. 

A test that you fail. 

Because the moment his lips touch your skin, it feels like a bucked of ice water has been splashed over your head and you realize what the fuck you’re doing. Its too hot. Too close. Too much and you simply can’t have him touching you anymore. No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. Panic races through you as you stumble back out of his arms, logic finally winning out over your own heart’s stupidity. 

The delicate balance you had struck with him shatters in an instant because you both knew there was supposed to be more between you but you’re desperately scared and Lando is so wretchedly full of regret he can’t stand it. 

“I’m sorry.” Is all you manage to choke out before fleeing. 

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16

(Some of the tags aren't working? LMK if you want to be added/removed but I'm like 99% certain I have everyone!)

[goldsbitch]

Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Lando can't stand Y/N, the first female driver in F1. He also can't stand not having her with her clothes on.

warnings: please don't be offended by weak ass feminism debate, swear words, minors do not interact, just generally don't take this one too seriously, smut (that's what we came for)

He radiated stupidity. Reckless, annoying, careless and just plain stupid. Blood boiled hard and fast in Y/N when he entered the room. Cocky smile, as if he was the shit. And those poor fans did not even realize, because his PR managers worked around the clock to stop the scandals getting out and to remain his bubbly, down-to-earth image he seemed to hold in general public. Now, she never doubted his driving genius. It was honest respect on that part. No, this was about everything else. Even the way he grew his "so called" beard annoyed her.

She radiated arrogance. Being the first female driver on the grid had everyone looking differently at her, as it would be the opposite if she was just another rookie driver. He could not stand that. It felt strangely misogynistic. But what sent him to levels of annoyance he had not discovered prior to meeting her, was how she did absolutely nothing about this. Danced around as if she did not see it. But Lando could see through her, she was a calculating bitch that knew exactly what was happening.

It's not like either of them got it wrong really. Lando had his personality that did not correlate with the desired persona the public wanted him to maintain. For as long as he remembered, he had to be a grown up, missing his young adult experiences completely. Sometimes, it just got the better of him. Lando was not exactly proud of that or anything. Y/N was indeed calculating. But it would be hard to argue that she could have chosen not to do that - yet, the world was simply not ready for any kind of female driver to enter the grid. She had to be smarter than an average rookie. There is a possibility that this was all just in her head, but it was hard to prove it at this point.

They avoided talking to each other like they would avoid the plague. Lando felt like all the years of media training lead to the moments where they shared the interview room. Their disenchantment with each other was not exactly a known thing, they were deceitful enough to do keep it between themselves. Well, the more observant drivers and members of their team were well aware of the truth. There was not a single member of the close inner circle that would dare to speak about how when these two had to share the pre race interviews, it would be the driest interview of them all. Frankly, drivers dreaded that. Daniel would be the one to try and break the ice. George found it mildly amusing. Max could not give two shits about them.

And to the luck of everyone involved, there was Lando, set next to Alex Albon, who was sat next to Y/N. He sighed heavily before taking hold of the microphone.

First interviewer asked about the lasted updates on Y/N Aston Martin car. The second one went to Lando, with a request to address the bad strategy the team had on the last Grand Prix, which he answered very diplomatically.

Third interviewer asked Y/N on whether the talks have started regarding her contract for the upcoming season.

"Yes, we are talking about that. I love racing and I'm planning on staying here," she laughed lightly. "I want to be here to...possibly to inspire and attract young girls, same as those like Fernando was a role model to both Alex and Lando. The female audience of F1 is growing and that is absolutely amazing. And perhaps now will the female fans have an opportunity to cheer for one of their own."

"May I have a question?" Lando entered the chat. His tone was indicating fire being lit within him and him intending to spread it wide. The game was on. Y/N tensed up. Alex smiled nervously.

Both Lando and Y/N shot a look at the interview moderator, who was prepared for many scenarios, but not this one exactly. Once Lando received an unsure nod, he continued. "We both know the numbers, we sit on similar meetings. The percentage of female audience is now nearing almost half, is that correct?"

"Well, we are nowhere near that - more like 30-40%"

"Right. And this trend has started prior to you joining the grid, right?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"Are you saying that the female viewers did not have anyone to connect with before that?"

"I'd be brave enough to assume so. Where are you heading?"

Alex wanted to stop them, he shot looks to multiple people who had the power to end this. Members present from both teams woke up from their slow mundane afternoon. But the conversation was too fast for anyone to interrupt.

"So, what was the motivation of the female viewers to watch F1? Why were they watching?"

"Um, well the sport is fascinating and can capture one. The quality of our media teams has risen greatly, social media and-"

"Yes. So are you saying that young boys and teenagers were watching this for a different reason that girls and any other genders?"

"Like I was saying, it might be hard to connect. Young boys and teenagers can relate and even imagine themselves as the future F1 driver."

"So why do, in your opinion, little girls and female teenagers watch races? Are you saying that prior to your start, their reasons were less valid? Less noble? Does miss misogyny over here think that female audience is now validated due to her representation in the sport?"

The room went silent. Y/N took a deep breath and without missing a beat she replied.

"I'm sorry, there must have been something foul in your cornflakes this morning. After all, even in these progressive times, some of the people involved did not get the memo about the way how to interact with the fanbase in a healthy manner. It must be hard hard to think straight and not draw over-the-top conclusions when one's mind is stuck in an endless cycle of "Hello, gorgeous" and "Sure, I'll text you back.""

Alarmed looks were shared accros the room. Alex tried to laugh it off. The moderator ended the discussion. The pair kept staring at each other, until their prompted their exits orchestrated by their team.

//

Asshole. Obnoxious idiot. She wanted to slap him. The social media was on fire, this topic clearly resonating among fans. It was clear the opinions were divided and this was just not good to have on your track record. She was mad at herself as well. Got caught up like a fly to a spiderweb. He won this one. She'll just have to beat him during the race or shoot him in the leg at the next opportunity.

"Stay true to your beliefs" was the caption under his newly posted photo. Smiling as ever. Some photographer with under-appreciated talent managing to capture him in the perfect light. Total thirst trap. Her PR team was figuring out how to salvage this, but everyone knew Lando stuck a good one this time.

But that was not the opinion of the McLaren media team, who really did work their butts off the last few months. This was not good, as his haters were currently busy pointing out holes in his argument, making Y/N the hero they wanted to have. PR team picked the photo of him they had in store in order to play it safe and nonchalantly. Lando got a big threatening talk right after the press conference. McLaren was not letting the word misogyny be connected to their brand. He defended himself for a while, but at the end agreed to avoid bringing these subjects to light prior to the knowledge of the team. In his eyes, she won. He got her free attention. The nickname miss misogyny was not going to stick. The only thing this brough him was a headache and built up anger.

She was bursting with anger and was not about to leave it in for herself. "You can stick this bullshit up you ass, Lando."

"Don't assume I like the same things you do," was his immediate response.

Confidentiality. That was the only thing she believed he could uphold. Both of them had too much to loose.

//

They were bad for each other. Bringing out the worst traits, putting others in discomfort and creating drama out of nowhere. But the once the night covered the daily routines and worries, the truth would start crawling out. Once the chequered flag got packed up after a race, it was time for a parade of red flags to begin.

It was suppose to be a one time mistake. Party that go out of hand. Club bathroom sex that was better than they'd be willing to admit. They never spoke of it. Nobody knew.

Like magnets they circled towards each other on the quiet nights on the road. Always her place, never his. As if she'd make the effort to come toward him. Like he would ever let her invade his private safe space. It worked for them, transforming the anger into rough bites and hickeys. Lando enjoyed leaving them on her, just at the line where he knew she'd have to think about how to cover them up and made sure she never made any mark on him. Hate fucking, that's what that was.

Once again, his hot breath cut through the crispy Monaco night air coming from the opened window of her bedroom. He had her handcuffed to the bed side and legs wrapped around his toned torso. He was driving her crazy, not letting her stay on top this time, robbing her of the pleasure of watching him submit to her moves and direction. He watched attentively, making sure he changed his tempo whenever she was about to climax. She was not one to enjoy delayed gradification, not when this obnoxious idiot was watching her and having fun with it. One thing he had to admit was that she was fucking hot, mainly in the way how she able to carry herself around. From the first moment he had the misfortune to see her in person, it had been the one thought unable to leave his mind. What did she look like when she was just about to come? Was she the one to make any sounds? Did she like it rough or soft? Would she be able to dominate him? During the day, he let his frustrations out verbally, during the night he thrusted into her as if there was no tomorrow. Like a drug addict getting his hit. She was even more mad at him when he was fucking her. Because it was just so good. They had the same rhythm and their bodies spoke in a language no one would have understood anyway. So she just surrendered. It drove her crazy, not being on the top. He licked and bit her nipples and did forbidden things - like stopped fucking her out of nowhere and buried his head in her waist, slowly twisting his tongue around her clit. When he felt like she adjusted to that, he continued back with thrusting in her. He moved so fast that she started get dizzy from the motion, the heavenly kind of dizzy. Lando watched her like and animal would observe his prey. Not often did he manage to get completely under his control, but tonight was one of the precious days he'd be recalling in the shower days after. He delayed his own orgasm for as long as he could, but there was a point where he just gave in and released him into the condom. There was always a hint of disappointment in the joyous moment. His darkest wish was to have her walk the day after with his cum dripping out of her. She was his little work slut, his nemesis, his Vegas girl.

Y/N never wanted to cuddle afterwards. She appreciated that Lando always swiftly got up and left without a word. Because what if he had spoken, what if the oxytocin started flowing in and she'd loose her guard and get herself in even bigger of a mess than this little game was. She was the first female driver. There were things she had to prove to the world. Fucking one of the other drivers was not one of them.

p2

[almostfoxglove]

SEE YOU AT THREE

chapter thirteen: DARLIN'

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Pairing: Young!Joel x f!Reader OC (Ellie's aunt)

Word Count: 7.8k

Full Content Warnings under the cut to avoid spoilers if you don't want them!

read from the beginning | series masterlist | almostfoxglove masterlist

SUMMARY: Joel calls you late at night after Sarah gives you the third degree.

CHAPTER PREVIEW:

“Ellie,” Joel says when he answers, play-acting the stoic slant of his mouth and a curt nod that makes her giggle. Then Sarah’s voice calls from some corner of the house and your niece rips off in a cartoon dust cloud to find her, leaving you and Joel once more not quite alone. Divided by the open door frame, staring at each other. A look in his eyes that makes you want to crawl out of your skin and into his. It’d be nice, you think. It’d be warm. He’d take care of you. What a horrible, harrowing thought.

continue reading chapter 13 on ao3.

dividers by @saradika-graphics - tag list & some mutuals below the cut!

CW: Belligerent sexual tension, yearning, mild fooling around, mild discussion / implication of smut.

@thethirstwivesclub @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @hediondoamor-blog @biggetywitch @tuquoquebrute

@thundermartini @la-eterna-enamorada29 @pastelpinkflowerlife @ak-vintage @sjc7542

@harriedandharassed @noisynightmarepoetry @jessthebaker @sweetpascal @guiltyasdave

@littlemisspascal @evolnoomym @moel-jiller @misstokyo7love @pedritosgfreal

@missladym1981 @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack @mellymbee @kyberblade @melancholyy-hill

@luxurychristmaspudding @for-a-longlongtime @jolapeno @bambisweethearts @joeldidnothingwrong

@persephone-girl @mandicular @madinthemoon @picketniffler @stellaiuna

[silentmacabre]

IMAGINE ☁️

art donaldson x fem reader (y/n) // slow burn // foundation/universe building // gym romance // college!art // quick read (~900 words)

(a/n: I am such a sucker for reciprocated crushes and mutually nervous meet-cutes so I had to write one with stanford!art. pls let me know what you think and drop any imagine prompts you have in the comments!)

🪽

-

walking into the gym was always somewhat of an embarrassing routine. digging your id card out from the bottom of your bag as keys and coins jingle, receipts shuffling to the side. scanning the card, you offer a ginger smile to the girl behind the desk who doesn't bother to look up from her phone.

on the way to the locker room you pass the weight racks. a group of about six tall, fit boys hollering and talking amongst themselves captures your briefest attention. recognizing a few from around campus, however, only furthers your social anxiety. the first few people file past you into the yoga studio, unrolling lush mats that match their water bottles and headphones.

rushing to the locker room now you turn the corner sharply and hit something solid with a thud.

“shit! im sorry i-” he instinctively grasps your upper arms, prepared to hold you steady.

you look up, frozen from the interaction. the blonde haired boy’s expression is soft and you can’t help but notice his eyes. his pupils are wide despite the blinding fluorescents that line the gym, each iris speckled with different spots of turquoise and mahogany.

“it’s okay!” you rush to offer.

his hands relax their grip, his thumbs in delay as they trail over and then off your shoulders.

you attempt another pained smile like the one offered to the receptionist except this time it’s met with a sweet, slanted grin. his jaw hangs slack slightly, lips parted in anticipation of conversation when another boy, slightly bigger and with a mess of brown curls, turns the corner from the men’s locker room.

“art, man…” he says gruffly, slapping the boy in front of you firmly on the back with both hands. he makes no effort to move.

the taller boy enters your field of vision and his steps halt, eyebrows raised then corrected.

“oh- my bad.”

both boys stand in front of you now, obstructing your path to the girl’s room. adjusting your grip on your yoga mat you clear your throat, the weight of their gaze finally too much to bear.

“well excuse me,”

“oh! sure yeah,” the blonde boy shuffles aside, his friend slowly following suit. “…wouldn’t want to, uh- miss that,” he stutters lazily pointing at the mat under your arm. he lets out an anguished, embarrassed sigh as his friend stifles a laugh.

your eyes lock a final time, the bridge of your nose rosy and hot. as you disappear into the stillness of the girls’ room you hear the two boys speaking in hushed voices.

“who was THAT?” a voice you can only attribute to the brown haired boy asks.

“I- I don’t know. I think she’s in my math?” his voice like gravel, words spoken carefully.

“she’s bangin’, dude.”

“c’mon man…”

“what!”

this observation of you in your self described “frumpiest” state makes your ears burn, the back of your neck prickle with sweat and nerves of having been truly seen.

shoving your belongings into a locker, you collect your water and yoga mat. on your way out of the room you pause at a mirror, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

‘I guess im not too bad,’ you allow.

-

as class winds down, you lie flat on your back allowing the melodic whine of the music to rock you gently as you catch your breath. consciously loosening every muscle in your body one after the other, you open your eyes to sneak a look at the others in the class, all lost in their own moments of reflection alongside you. a series of laughs moving through the hallway causes a few of them to open their eyes but their interest quickly wanes. instead, your eyes trail out the door just as the boys from earlier make their way past. their biceps glisten with sweat and otherwise floppy hair sticks to their temples.

a particularly ragged mane of gold glues your eyes to him. his dimples are deep, his flushed lips framed by smile lines as he grins, deep in conversation. your chest rises and falls faster now, seeing him, remembering his hands fixing you in place.

before he’s out of view again, he turns to peek into the class room, eyes dancing from student to student and finally landing on you. the undeniability of your eye contact forces his head down, the beginnings of a blush dusting his cheeks just as he is out of sight.

you release a breath you hadn’t realized you held at the sight of him. he made you nervous, that much was apparent, but why?

-

leaving, the gym feels emptier without the chime of boys’ abrasive cackles. stepping out into cool autumn air, you’re about to start back to your apartment when you see it.

leaning against a fence post lost in something on his phone it’s as if he can sense you’re there. looking up, his blue eyes seem darker under the cloudy afternoon sky but the smile that pulls at his lips is profound.

“hi,”

he had waited just to see you again.

“can I walk with you?”

-

🪽

[agaypanic]

slow burns are fun until you’re the one writing it.. like wdym i can’t make them kiss yet ???

[jdjksnsks]

“Pretty boy”

Completely ignore how they’re ss of google docs!! (Also it’s my first time ever writing any kind of fan fic EVER, so pls bare w me)

[obeydehjess]

Huskerdust is just something I do now I guess. I don't even know what people wanna see I simply let my possessed fingers move. Touch starved husk is my new favourite thing I GUESS.

[nothoughtsjustmhaandotherthings]

Me reading the slow burn fic that I’M writing: God I wish these two would kiss already

[hazel-islivingtrash]

New chapter heading your way this Saturday!

Things seem to be getting better, but Satoru seemed a little... off last chapter. Find out what happens this week in the newest chapter!

I can't believe we're in the final five chapters off this fic :') it means so much to me and I'm gonna be real sad to end it, but that means new beginnings for new fics! Also, happy 4 months to From the Start officially being published on Ao3, can't believe it's already been so long.

Enough rambling, here's what you came for: This week's sneak peak! ❤️❤️

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Sneak peek of Chapter 21: Tell Me How to Breath In and Feel No Hurt (very slight spoiler warning)

Yuji and Megumi were walking down the stairs as he left the bedroom, awkwardly making, then avoiding, eye contact.

The boys sat down at the island counter and Suguru stood against it, his back to them, also awkwardly. Everything felt awkward. The tension in the air was thick with it.

He could feel their eyes on him, scouring over his body like little ants.

“Suguru?” Megumi said quietly, quieter than he ever heard the boy before. Suguru turned around, noticing how Megumi’s eyes were downcast and Yuji’s looked at him like huge saucers.

“I’m sorry,” Megumi said, “We’re sorry.” His little green eyes poked up at Suguru before jumping back down. “We didn’t know something happened. We’re sorry.”

“Yeah,” Yuji said next to him, nodding his head, “We’re sorry. Satoru told us yesterday something happened. We’re sorry.”

Suguru noticed Megumi’s facial features contort at the mention of Satoru’s “explanation” from the day before, twisting his gut with guilt. He made a mental note to talk to him about it later.

Yet, Suguru couldn’t help but melt against the counter, relief finally flooding his veins. “It’s okay boys, you didn’t know.” His eyes turned briefly to the hallway, where he could've sworn he heard a noise, but when Satoru didn’t appear moments later, he brushed it off. 

He took a deep breath, looking back at the boys before speaking softly, “I'm willing to tell you both what happened to me, if you’d like.”

Megumi’s eyes finally looked at him, a poorly masked curiosity seeping through them. They both nodded hesitantly, mouths slightly ajar.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

For those of you who are seeing this for the first time, welcome! If this intrigues you, it would be amazing if you could check out my fic! Updates are (usually) posted every Saturday around 3pm est!

Current status of fic:

Current status of fic: 20 out of 25 chapters complete, just over 124K words ❤️❤️

**The story is rated mature and with a warning of graphic depictions of violence.

[goldsbitch]

Hypochondria

part 4 to p1, p2, p3

He can sense her emotions, she feels his pain. Baby steps, that's the only way to go.

author's note: guess who's back - and a promised smut chapter turned into slow burn. any reported typos are appreciated. there will be p5.

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

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

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

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

Lando was on cloud nine. He was just staring at her as if she was a miracle. Her deep eyes unable to stay away from looking at him and lips that had a silent invitation written on them.

He was high on the way how relaxed she felt, proud that he made her feel like that. It was as if there was no yesterday or tomorrow. Just them and the couch. And after few moments of silence and collecting his bravery, Lando leaned in and kissed her.

It was clear to him from the moment he took her upper lip in that he'd give anything for this moment to take at least a thousand years. She did not hesitate and kissed him back immediately. The sweetest touch a woman can give. Leaned in and let nature do its miracles. He smiled into her lips and pushed himself closer to her, making her sink in the couch.

It was right then when a loud, impatient knock nearly sent them both into shock. Lando froze and back away from Y/N little bit, furious with whomever that dared to disturb a key moment in their lives.

"Lando, I apologize, but we have an urgent matter on our hands."

He rolled his eyes and let a deep breath out, recognizing the voice of his workoholic PR manager. This was not the first and probably the last time he had to tell his team off in the dark of the night. Internet never sleeps.

"Can it really not wait this time until tomorrow?" he said before he gave Y/N shameful and apologetic look. She just kept herself quiet, sunken into the comfy couch.

"I'm afraid we will need some immediate action," came from behind the door after another impatient knock.

Lando got his phone out to check the time, only to see 17 missed calls from several people.

"Ok, I'm coming."

He half opened the door to a very flustered PR manager, who looked like he was about to announce a coming tornado. Lando just raised his eyebrows, encouraging him to spill the beans and then planning on dismissing him.

"Anita released a break up TikTok. It's going viral."

As far as emergencies go, this one felt to Lando like a second-tier one. He was more concerned about the anxiety he felt coming from Y/N. Kind of wished she was kept out of it, for her own good.

"I'm sure we can address this in few hours," Lando replied calmly.

"She accused you of cheating. In a very colorful manner, I must say," the guy continued, as if he was not confident enough to fully explain the situation. "I'm in touch with her publicist, so that we can come up with a joint statement online. Apparently she won't talk to anyone but you."

Lando stayed silent, the only thing he really wanted was to close the door and return to the couch.

"We can't have another cheating scandal. McLaren will get involved," he pleaded once again in hopes of finally convincing Lando.

Deep breath. "Sure. Can I meet you at the lobby or somewhere in few minutes?" Lando caved in. A puzzled look flashed over his PR's manager, because usually Lando preferred to solve his crises in the comfort of his suite. The driver hoped no comment would come his way. After few seconds, the guy finally nodded.

"Understand, sure. I'll see if we can get the conference room."

He closed the door and tried to brace himself for any type of reaction Y/N might have. But deep inside he knew - seen it countless times. She abruptly got up, fixed her clothes, flashed him only one quick look before avoiding his face completely.

"Um, I'm gonna-"

"Yeah," he said, letting her pass by. The reality hit hard. She barely knew him. Somehow, the air got flooded with inescapable loneliness.

//

Y/N tried her best to follow her daily routine the following week. The memory of her running away from Lando's room like a little child chasing her like a nightmare. It was just so humiliating. The guilt, unjustified, was eating her up. She tried to stay away from social media, but her will was not strong enough. Late night scrolling included absorbing lot of Lando hate.

He also did his best to keep himself busy and focus on his job. If it had been any other person, he'd already be chasing Y/N down and try to reason with her, get this experience behind them and keep starting fresh. Perhaps he was lucky, that he knew her and if he's pushed immediately, she'd just hide even more.

He found himself on the track during free practice, constantly stealing glances over to the medical tents, just to get a glimpse of his guilt ridden soulmate. All he wanted to do was shake some sense to her. That evening he finally snapped. No more hiding. He was about to get creative.

So there he was, alone once again in a random hotel room in a city he barely remembered the name of, trying to get a hand of morse code. Something he never thought would be his issue, ever. It was a shot in the dark. Pinch a message into his arm and hoping she'd understand his intention. After all, she felt his pain, so he figured if he was annoying enough, she'd have no choice but to show up. Many curse words were uttered about the absurdity and difficulty of it all, before Lando got a hand of it. He opted to focus on the rhytmn and after he felt confident enough, abandoned tapping into a table and began pinching his left hand.

Let's talk. Room 1014. Please.

Over and over again. It was so incredibly annoying. But, he was going to persevere even if it meant having a bruise tomorrow.

After what felt like like seven thousand years - a knock on the door.

This was it, he thought as he opened the door to another annoyed person. She shot arrows from her eyes and he could not help but smirk. He won, she cracked the code.

"Now, let's get one thing clear. You are not going to use this trick outside of an emergency. Ok?" she opened with, having hard time to admit he won that round. It's been few days since they last locked eyes. She could practically sink in his. He just gave her a small nod, definitely not planning on misusing this ever again. Absolutely not.

"I'm glad you understood," he said and let her walk in. Was he nervous? That was probably the closest thing to describe it.

"I don't know the Morse code, so that made it super fun," she proclaimed and stopped in the middle of the living room, not sitting down on any of the chairs or couches.

"Me neither. But you better learn it, you never know..." he teased and walked dangerously close to her. She kept her gaze down.

She spoke before he could say any more cheeky lines. "So, I'm here. Anything specific you wanted to say that exceeded your ability of speaking in Morse code?" Her coldness hurt. However, he was not going to let her push him away so easily. "Y/N, this is not going to work on me. You can't push me away so easily, so just try and stop it. Please." Big gulp on her part followed by a light nod. "Good. Listen, I don't want to let this fizzle out so easily. It's hard to think about anything else once I've met you. I'm sorry about the whole break up mess. It's not fair to you. But, in my defense, I had no idea I'd just randomly be sat next to...you," he said, practically breathing out the last word.

She began walking frantically. "It's...um, it's a lot. Your world. And then the fact you seem to know things and are so far ahead in this game."

"It's not a game to me, Y/N," he said, watching her pace around the room.

She stopped by the bed and sat on it, finally able to look at him again. "Ok, bad word, but still," she paused and searched for the right words. "We have nothing to connect with...I mean nothing real."

Lando was not going to buy into doubts. His mind was set. Slowly, he walked towards her and sat next to her.

"Does it scare you? That you are tied to me basically against your will?" he asked the one thing he was afraid to hear the answer to. But he figured that the beginning was never suppose to be easy anyway.

"A little bit. Actually yes, it does," she said, in a strangely releaved tone and his heart sank just few stories lower. Lost in his own head, he nearly missed her giving up on sitting and landing on her back with a thud, eyes locked with the ceiling.

"I never liked being pushed into things. It's my life, I get to call the shots," she began to let her thoughts run freely.

"Choosing something that comes to you willingly does not have mean giving up your free will...I'd just like to at least give this a chance. I know already that I can't be your friend," he whispered, turned his look towards her and slowly lowered himself on his back as well, lost in his thoughts once again.

Lando's body laid still, but his heart was beating as if he was in the final quali lap. He had the advantage, drew the better card. Unique insight into another human's soul. Short cuts and few cheat answers for any test ahead of them. So why did it make him feel all the more lonely? He was reaching out, confused in the exact same capacity as she was, but she was not giving him much back. Yet. If was obvious. He was miles ahead of her, not thanks to his own doing. He could be there for her, but it would take some time and a lot of luck for her to be able to be there for her.

"Can you stay here? For the night?" he asked in a soft low voice, unable to hide his own vulnerability. "Not like, you know," he added immediately, hoping he comes off the least creepy as possible, "Just like this." Baby steps. He was praying for just that.

The body next to him also laid still in a very stiff manner, the exact opposite of relaxed. But the pull towards him was just too loud to resist. It was stronger than her. Curiosity tripped over the tiny fear inside her, grabbed the innate desire for human connection by the hand, and together opened the door for Lando to enter.

"Yes," she whispered, wondering if there is anything she wanted to add.

A small smile crept onto Lando's face. He got up and shit the light off. Both of them settled in a more relaxed pose, albeit still fully dressed. If by some miracle he manages to fall asleep, he will be waking up next to this magnificent, magical being for the first time. And hopefully not the last.

They laid next to each other, like the strangers they were, for few minutes, before she found her own little hand reaching out for his. Soft fingers mixed with his. At that moment, you could hear a pin drop. Lando's heart almost stopped, his breath caught in and resulted in gulp, too loud for the current setting. She could not help but smile and tried to hide it with pressing her lips together - even though it was dark night and both of them had their eyes closed. He mimicked her movements and traced her fingers as well. Every little place he touched burned with intoxicating intensity. He held her index finger lightly while she brushed up and down his thumb.

For the first time in years, Lando was careful. He'd rather lie next to her in silence than risking her wanting him to leave. The guilt from bruising her with his crash still hadn't left his mind. But when her hand crept more and more inside of his, he could not help but circle around it, until he was covering her hand completely. The air was still. Two scared souls discovering each other, tiptoeing around as if they were made of glass. Once Lando started drawing little circles on the palm of her hand, he finally felt her beginning to relax. He was still trying to get his mind wrapped around how the whole connection worked. Perhaps the more open she was to communicating with him, the more of a window he got. His next words slipped through without much of a thought.

"I've dreamt about you probably thousand nights."

Y/N could not recall the last time she heard a sentence that sounded so honest. Raw, it was almost childlike. She thought about her own countless nights when she slept alone and longed for a soul to crawl to. And also all those times she wasn't alone in the middle of the night, yet it still felt like eating someone else's dinner. The emptiness never truly filled. Hand never fitting someone else's like a well-fitted glove. Was there ever anyone who told her something like this before? Probably not. Of course not.

"I'm scared," she repeated.

"I know," he smirked for himself only. "I can feel it...But can you please tell me what's scaring you at this moment? I'd love to understand."

This time it was her who chuckled and squeezed his hand a bit. His heart once again beating so loudly he was scared she could hear it.

"I randomly meet this man, this devilisly handsome guy, who seems to know things I've never even told anyone, is hyperaware of my emotions as if they were his own...How am I suppose to resist this?"

"Why would you?"

"If we proceed with this, I am basically allowing you to become a weapon designed to destroy me. If, or more likely when, I fall for you...How can anyone else ever top that? If you decide that you're bored with me, I'll quite literally only be left with bruises."

He listened to every word as if it was a gospel and this time took a second to calculate his response. Lando opened his eyes to try and see a glimpse of her face in the dead of night, only to find her already looking at him.

"As far as I remember, you were always a part of my life. The one constant that does not leave," he said and licked his dry lips. If she was becoming vulnerable, he'd have to do the same. "If I fuck this up, if you decide that I am not worth spending time with and if you walk away...I'll still be left with the glimpses. I'll have to watch from afar, knowing you don't feel this. Funnily enough, you have the option to choose. I don't."

"And do you even want it? Would you-" she tried to continue with her question, but he interrupted her immediately.

"Of course. Hundred times over. I know you're scared, but I am scared too. Because there is a perfect piece of puzzle right in front of me and if I fuck it up, I am ruined for life."

She only saw a small reflection of light in his eyes, but that was enough to understand he was serious. Her shoulders relaxed and she let a breath she didn't know she had been holding, out.

"Well, good to know you are a dramatic person," she responded, trying to lighten up the mood.

It worked, his small smirk entered the chat again. "Yeah well, get use to it," he said with a new found confidence, tried his luck once more and scooted over to her just a little bit.

"Sorry, there was a hard spot in the matrace," he said cheekily and closed his eyes, trying to play it cute.

His body heat radiated towards her. "Of course, a hard spot in this top-of-the-world matrace," she questioned his argument with a smile, his magic getting her head-over-heels.

"Yes, I'll complain with to the staff tomorrow, these things can really fuck up your sleep, you know."

"So true. And what, have you solved it now?" Another door opened. Lando smiled.

"Still not perfect," he remarked, pretended to have a moment to think and finally scooted over and put his arm around her. "Yeah, this is the only way I'm afraid."

She was glad his eyes were closed, because her smile was impossible to hide. Both of them were fully aware there is no hard spot on the matrace. "Of course it is," she commented, as she settled down in his embrace.

Her face was now settled in crook of his neck, her uneven breaths leaving goosebumps on his skin. His light stubble teasing her forehead. Once again, Lando was overwhelmed just how well she fit in his embrace. He had to actively try and breathe regularly, because he was anxious about giving away just how much he was enjoying having her in his embrace. Her hand was pressed against his chest and Y/N had to fight every cell in her body, because the urge to explore his body was overcoming her. Lando shifted a bit, having to to try and find a spot where his belt wasn't pressing on his body in a way that hurt. Immediately, he felt a sudden wave of guilt coming from her and she bolted straight up. Had he fucked it all up? He cursed himself, he should have just pushed through it.

He forgot to take in the fact she felt his pain. "What's wrong?" he asked shyly, as he also sat up to match her moves.

She took a deep breath. "I don't want to seem like I'm suggesting something, but can we get out of our daily clothes? I hate sleeping like that." Who would like that anyway, was the thought that crept into Lando's mind, but he kept it for himself. "Sure, no problem."

"Do you have some t-shirt I could borrow?" she asked, turning on the light next to his bed, sitting with her back turned to him, perhaps trying to hide away. Lando tried his best not to get shaken up and loose his cool. This wasn't her running away and it was also not her suggesting anything.

"Of course," he said and got up to search up the best clean t-shirt her had. She took a deep breath as she tried not to stare, guessing by the sounds that he was getting undressed. But, as she did, she was happy he did not see her blush. Just like he did before, she forgot to take in account that he felt her sudden arousal and curiosity without having to look at her. For a change, he was happy he had his advantage. He peeked over to her, seeing her abrupt turn back. It was hard not to be amused by her.

"Here you go," he said as he strolled back over to her and handed her his t-shirt. "Don't worry, I won't look," he informed her and as the cheeky guy he was deep down, added his signature wink. "I'm sure there is an extra tooth brush in the bathroom, if you wanna join," he continued and walked over to the other side of the suite, hoping she was watching him walk around in boxers only.

Finally having some distance and a minute to contain herself, she carefully undressed, leaving on only her panties and his shirt on. Only then she noticed just how intoxicating his natural smell was. Knowing well enough she was doomed.

When Y/N finally joined him in the bathroom, he gave her the second toothbrush in silence and kept brushing his own teeth. It was refreshing seeing her in such an intimate setting. He tried as best as he could not to notice just how hot she looked in his t-shirt. Watching her in the reflection, he realized he never appreciated a moment like that with anyone else before. He smiled at her, because he could see her shy nature peeking through causing her hair behind her ear.

She was about to join him back in the bed when she saw him placed right in the middle of the bed, far from when was last time she approached him like that.

"It's the hard spot, there is no other way," he brushed over it nonchalantly and tucked himself in the bed. "Come on, here, here," he patted a spot next to him. In the dim light, with shadows only highlighting his toned chest, curly hair falling over to his eyes, innocent smile and opened arms, he was like a mystical creature created only to entrap Y/N. At least, that's how that felt. No way back.

She slipped in the bed with him, to the exact position as they were just minutes ago and turned of the light once again. This time, Lando was way more relaxed even Y/N noticed the difference. With each passing moment it was becoming less and less stiff or awkward. Comfort replacing natural stress of sharing a bed with a stranger for the first time. For a brief second, it was as if they'd done this every night before drifting off to sleep. Lando was happy to take things slow. Not expecting anything more. He was content with knowing she was not planning on leaving him there alone that night and that was enough. Not for Y/N. Her body was acting way before her mind could stop her. Her now warm fingers started drawing little stars on his exposed chest. It was peaceful. Until her finger moved a little lower. Another gulp from Lando. She felt him tightening his grip on her.

"Careful now...I might get the wrong idea," he breathed out for only her to hear.

Their lips were so riddiculously close, yet too far away. The only thing she wanted to do was kiss him. All restraint suddenly gone. But she needed to be sure - did he wanted to kiss her? If she dared to ask him, he'd laugh out loud at the obviousness of it all. Poor guy didn't notice her desire because he spent all of his energy trying to hide his.

She licked her lips. "Wrong idea...like sending me away?"

Loud sigh from Lando. "No..the wrong wrong idea," he whispered, being so close to her she could feel his soft breath, as he started to move his hard up her arm, under the t-shirt he gave her. She became very aware of the fact she was not wearing a bra, something Lando noticed the moment she came to the bathroom. His arm stopped momentarily at her shoulder. " Wrong idea that you want me to do this..." he continued moving his hand again, "...or this," reached up to her collarbone while pressing her closer to him with his other arm. "Or heaven forbid..." he whispered a question as his lips were nearly touching hers. Lando was too scared to make the first move, still afraid she might vanish into thin air.

She was brave enough to close the gap. "Or this." With that, she kissed him.

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

@ushygushybaby

[clumsy-jiminie]

ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀ

❝ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ʜᴏᴏᴅɪᴇ ❞

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 4.7k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, angst without resolve, smut - marking, unprotected sex, creampie

↣ notes :: pretty pretty please don't let anyone treat you like this 🥺 small argument or not, there are healthy ways to communicate this type of insecurity 🫶🏽

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"I can see that look in your eyes, the one that shoots me every time you grace me with your cold shoulder."

- ᴄᴏʟᴅ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀ, ᴀᴅᴇʟᴇ -

Kiara stuffed her hands in her oversized hoodie pocket as her feet led her through the hustle and bustle of the city streets. The weather was getting more tolerable as they approached a new month in the year. But then again, you could have a full snowstorm in New York in the spring. She kept her outfit light today, as light as she could go without freezing: A hoodie, a pair of leggings, and a spring jacket. The sneakers on her feet were old—dirt and stains in the crevices while the laces started wearing out. Kehlani blasted through her headphones as she weaved through people. She missed the city dearly. There was something about the feeling here that was addictive. Everyone had somewhere to be—whether it was to a job that they hated or a job that they loved, to see a family member, to sell a hat, to shop until they created a debt, or to see something incredible. Everyone had a story, no matter how big or small.

Kiara's story led her to a quaint coffee shop. Tiny and modern, it is a perfect puzzle piece in the large-scale picture of Manhattan—the smell of dark beans roasting mixed with the semi-sweet scents of freshly baked pastries. Exposed brick and pipes gave the place an industrial feel, partnered with the greenery hanging from the walls. Furniture with dark wood and black metal legs contrasted with the grey concrete flooring.

Despite it now being a crowded place where teens and adults alike could get their daily fix of the dark liquid, she knew this place from its humble beginnings. Mr. Choi brewed a mean cup of Joe, and she would sip it during the early morning rush before class in college. She and her best friends practically lived in this shop during school. They were always the first to arrive and the last to leave. Mr. Choi almost adopted them, considering how often they were there. Jeongguk even got a job here at some point, figuring if he was going to spend all his time here, he might as well get paid for it.

They still gather here occasionally, especially on days like today. When Kiara arrived at the door, she pushed it open. A crowd greeted her upon entering. Most had drinks in their hands already but were struggling to find a seat in this small coffee shop. Kiara squeezed through the people until she arrived at her usual table. A seat by the window had her name engraved on it, and she slid into it with ease. She finally pulled off her headphones, greeting the midnight-haired girl across from her.

Samira glanced up from her tablet, her lips forming a wide smile as she chewed her gum. "Sup Ki."

"Not much. You doing wedding work?" She asked as she watched Samira write on the device while looking at information on her phone.

She nodded. "I gotta get these bouquet choices to Momo later today. I also gotta show her these swatches of blue." She tapped on her tablet several times before lifting it to show the woman.

Kiara stared at the four squares on the screen. Each blue was the same hue, but the tints, shades, and undertones varied. Her lips pursed as she examined the options. "I, personally, like the first one," she said as she leaned back. "It's soft and kinda reminds me of winter. Like how the sky looks on a clear day."

Samira turned the device back to her, staring at the color while she nodded. "See, this is why it's always great to have an artist as a friend." Kiara rolled her eyes while Samira chuckled. "Speaking of, anything happening with that? Are you close to buying that house like the sugar mama you are?"

Kiara's jaw dropped before she lifted her leg to kick the girl under the table. Samira laughed loudly. "I'm not a sugar mama!"

"Is he helping you pay?"

"…No."

"Then you're a sugar mama." Samira was always so blunt, and that's why Kiara loved her. It wasn't always jokes, but she would always call the girl out when she was being dramatic or wrong.

"Anyway!" Kiara exclaimed. "I had a client dinner last night."

”Ooh, tea time." Samira locked her table and phone, giving the other her full attention. "Was he hot? Was he single? You had a little fun last night?" She asked as she wiggled her eyebrows. She leaned in, resting her elbows on the table while holding her face in her hands.

Kiara's face suddenly grew hot, and she reached up to involuntarily cover her neck with her hand. She had forgotten about the hickey Taehyung had left on her for a split second, hoping the hoodie would've covered it for her. "No!" She said quickly, hoping Samira didn't notice the red staining her cheeks. But she did, causing a smirk on her friend's lips. "He was that same asshat from the gallery."

"Oh." Her smirk quickly faded. She scrunched up her nose with disgust as her shoulders dropped.

"And turns out he wasn't just having a bad day. He was actually just a dick. He called me a coward, then selfish! All because I would rather separate my painter life from my regular life." Kiara pouted at the end of her sentence, leaning back into her chair. It was still a fresh wound, making her rethink every choice she had made thus far.

Samira scoffed. "He obviously doesn't know you. In fact, if you ever see him on the streets, let me know. I'll beat his ass."

Kiara's eyes widened as she quietly chuckled. "What is with you and Kookie being so violent?"

"Don't act like you're not the same. Just because you're in a little relationship that has you acting all prim and proper doesn't mean I don't know the real Kiara and how she used to beat ass because someone looked at me funny."

Kiara rolled her eyes. "I was younger back then and clearly had uncontrolled anger."

"Yeah, sure," Samira smiled while shaking her head. "Speaking of JK, when is he going up?"

Kiara shrugged as she grabbed her phone, looking at the time. "You know he never gives a time for these things." Suddenly, the coffee shop roared with cheers, grabbing the girl's attention. They looked towards a small stage along the shop's farthest wall. "Speak of the devil," she smirked as the tall man approached the stage. He wore a black T-shirt with a pair of dark denim jeans. There was a silver chain that hung from his belt loops. Sitting down at the piano on the stage, he tugged a stray strand of his midnight hair behind his ear. A microphone was attached to the instrument, angled perfectly so the person could speak.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen," his smooth voice entered the mic and echoed through the establishment. Samira and Kiara locked eyes before covering their mouths to hide the giggles that quietly escaped. "This song is called 17, and I hope you enjoy it."

His fingers began to press on the white and black keys, combining the notes until they formed a beautiful melody.

"I would need a million words if I tried to define all the things you mean to me…." 

His voice was like laying on a cloud — soft and fluffy, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Everyone in the store was mesmerized; even those who came in solely for a beverage stopped to listen for a few moments. They always left with a broad smile after. Jeongguk's voice has affected people ever since he was little. Kiara couldn't help but smile as she watched her best friend do what he loved. He shut his eyes as he sang, tuning out everything around him until nothing was left but notes. Kiara felt like a mother watching her child's first performance. 

She knew everyone in that room fell in love based on their reaction when Jeongguk sang his last note. It was overwhelmingly positive. The audience overfilled the tip jar near the bottom of the stage with bills and coins. Jeongguk stood up with a smile so wide on his lips that his eyes crinkled, smiling along with him. He bowed as the crowd cheered for him, leaning down to grab the tip jar before walking off the stage. Women who were bold enough stopped and flirted with him as he passed through the crowd. All Jeongguk did was laugh it off and politely turn them down, leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him. He reached his usual table, dropping the jar onto the table with an obnoxious thud. He made the same sound as he dropped down in the seat next to Kiara, letting out a dramatic sigh.

The girls exchanged a look before watching as his eyes closed, breathing heavily. "God, it's so hard being wanted." The two burst into laughter as he grinned, opening his eyes to look at them. "So? What did you guys think?"

"Not my favorite song," Samira said with a smirk.

"It's a good thing I don't value your opinion," Jeongguk quipped before sticking his tongue out, causing her to mirror his reaction. After a moment, he turned his head to Kiara, waiting for her answer.

"You know I loved it Kookie." She smiled at him, making his heart skip a beat as heat rushed to his ears. She chuckled as she poked at his reddening skin with her finger, making his body scrunch up like a snail recoiling into their shell. "How long did it take to write this one?"

"Only a few weeks this time," he answered with a smile. His silver lip rings glimmered as he spoke.

Kiara's smile was still etched on her lips, leaning over to the man. The scent of fresh laundry with the faintest hint of cologne entered her nostrils as she cupped his jaw in her hand. She squeezed Jeongguk's cheeks until his pink lips puffed out, shaking his head from side to side a little. "Look at him, Sammie! Our little bunny boy is growing up so fast!" Jeongguk chuckled, trying to pull her hand away, but her grip was tight.

Samira grinned, reaching her hand out to join in the fun of playing with Jeongguk's face. Her hand replaced Kiara's as she pouted out her lips. "I know! We did such a good job raising our little bunny boy." She teased in a baby voice.

Jeongguk rolled his eyes, pulling Samira's hand away from his face. "You know we're the same age, right?!"

The two girls glanced at each other before looking at the man. "And?" Kiara asked.

"Your point?" Samira added.

Jeongguk stared at them, shaking his head as he smiled. "You guys kill me." He reached into his tip jar, pulling out various bill amounts. "Y'all what something? It's on me."

The girls enthusiastically agreed before Jeongguk handed Kiara some money. She got their orders before standing up and walking towards the counter. She squeezed through the shoulders of random customers. Most waited for their drink orders, while others stayed for the atmosphere. Kiara hated crowded places like this. People had no respect for personal space or sense of how much space they took up. And because it's an establishment, she couldn't necessarily mow through people like she could on the streets. The crowd was less tight when she finally got closer to the counter. She sighed deeply, taking a single step before someone bumped right into her. She quickly felt something warm spreading from her chest to her abdomen, glancing down to see coffee all over her cream hoodie.

”What the fuck?!" She shrieked without taking a second to remember where she was. She reached for the napkins on the counter, frantically patting at her chest and torso.

"Oh my god, I'm so—" His eyes then met with the familiar golden skin Kiara possessed. He couldn't help the playful smirk that formed on his lips. "Well, doesn't karma have a funny way of working?" Jimin said, his words laced with smugness.

Kiara glared up at the blonde, huffing as she accepted defeat. Her hoodie was forever stained. "Eat ass, Park." His eyelids lowered at the girl. Why did his last name sound so unique, leaving her mouth wrapped in that annoyed tone? Maybe it was how she formed the noun—the light reflecting off lovely glossed lips as they parted to allow the syllable to roll off her tongue. It was intoxicating to watch. "You owe me a new shirt!"

His brows drew together as he tilted his head to the side. "Oh? If that's the case, I should send you my dry cleaning bill from last night."

"Fuck you, that was water!" She snapped at him. "And this is coffee! I'm never gonna get this out!"

His face remained unchanged despite receiving daggers from the girl. The most he did was shrug, causing her jaw to drop. "It wasn't that cute of a hoodie."

"What do you know about cute hoodies?!" She sounded a bit like a child, making the man chuckle softly.

"Enough to know yours isn't."

Kiara's eye twitched before she covered her face with her hands. She dragged them down her face, pulling gently at the skin as it relieved some of the building stress. She wanted to punch him in his nose. Or his mouth. Or anywhere on his body, in that case. He was such an asshole. The least he could've said was sorry. Maybe even offer to buy her a new hoodie. But no, even in moments where he was wrong, he still was an asshole through and through. "You are such a—"

"Woah, what the fuck happened?" She recognized Jeongguk's voice almost instantly. He stood beside her, staring at the massive stain on her shirt. Jimin eyed the new man, practically sizing him up despite the man being taller.

She inhaled deeply before sighing. "Nothing, nothing," she said as she shook her head. She wrapped her fingers around the man's tattooed bicep as she looked up at him. Eyes so big and round. Love, the blonde thought as he watched their interaction intently. How come she never looked at Jimin like that? But why did he want her to look at him like that? "Do you have a spare hoodie?"

The man looked down at her with the softest eyes, like she was the only person in the world to him. Jimin's brows furrowed again as he watched the warm smile form on Jeongguk's lips. "Yeah, of course."

She didn't need to say thank you; her eyes said more than enough. She then glanced towards Jimin, and for the second time, he witnessed that fondness instantly dissipating. Kiara's amber eyes were set ablaze once again. "Fuck you," she spat before Jeongguk led her away. They disappeared behind some door with a sign that read employees only. Jimin felt the same heavy feeling from before, sitting uncomfortably in his stomach. He didn't know why he wanted her to look at him with fondness so severely. She was annoying, a coward, a complete headache, and nowhere near his type. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment before rejoining the line.

"He's such a fucking jerk!" Kiara groaned as she followed behind Jeongguk to the break room area. "Who the fuck spills coffee on someone and doesn't even apologize?!"

He stopped in front of his locker and opened it, grabbing one of the two hoodies that were inside. When working at a cafe with clumsy newbies, spare clothing is more of a necessity than a suggestion. "Who the fuck was he?" He asked as he tossed her the hoodie, and she caught it.

"The same dickhead from last night," she grumbled. She pulled her hoodie over her head, leaving her standing in just a red bra with an intricate white lace pattern. Jeongguk's eyes widened briefly before quickly looking up at the ceiling. Heat flooded his ears and over his face, as he tried to forget the image he just saw. "Like, first of all, what are the odds?" Kiara continued to rant casually as if she wasn't half naked. She pulled Jeongguk's black clothing over her head, slipping into the three times too big fabric. "Second of all, he's lucky I didn't fucking deck him."

Jeongguk's eyes finally returned to the girl once she was clothed again. "Wait, what? The guy from last night?"

Kiara nodded as she picked up her dirty hoodie. When she looked towards Jeongguk, he was suddenly gone. Her eyes grew wide as she ran after him. "Kookie!" She yelled as he walked through the door. She returned to the central part of the cafe, seeing Jeongguk glance around with his brows furrowed. She grabbed him, but that didn't stop him from scanning the room. "You're on the clock!" She whispered.

All Jeongguk did was suck his teeth. "Man's lucky I like my job," he continued to look regardless, "and I can't find him."

Kiara rolled her eyes before patting his chest, "You need therapy."

"You need therapy," Jeongguk taunted quietly as Kiara joined the line again.

Kiara said goodbye to Jeongguk, watching him pull off on his motorcycle before walking inside her house. She sighed heavily upon entering, her energy drained from today's activities. After the coffee shop debacle, the three decided to hang out at Samira's house like old times. Little did Jeongguk and Kiara know that agreeing to hang out meant helping her with wedding planning. The woman was so passionate and dedicated to her job that it was something to admire, but only from afar. Her apartment was a wreck, littered with pictures and business cards. Kiara knew Samira's seriousness about her job, but since agreeing to be Momo's wedding planner, she has gone off her rocker. She ate, slept, breathed wedding details, and dragged the other two into it.

As she kicked off her sneakers, she could hear jazz music blasting from the kitchen. "Babe?" She called out as her feet led her amongst the familiar path.

Soon, Taehyung popped his head into the kitchen archway, causing a smile on Kiara's lips. "Darling! When did you get home? I'm just about done with dinner." His boxy grin made her heart skip a beat. She soon joined him in the kitchen while he resumed cooking. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she pressed her face into his back. She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent mixed with fresh laundry. Taehyung chuckled softly, "Long day?" Kiara nodded, moving along with him as he acted like she wasn't currently attached to him. "Wanna talk about it over dinner?" She nodded again, releasing him once he picked up the plates. 

They sat at their small dining room table, peacefully munching their food. Kiara looked up at Taehyung, who focused on his plate. That same warmth swamped her system. She felt so happy with him. She loved this small house they called home. She loved coming home after a long day to see his smiling face. She loved how comfortable she was with him. She glanced down at her left hand, eying her bare ring finger. If only this were enough for him.

"So?" Taehyung started with a mouth full of food. She filled him in on the events of last night and how they bled into today. Taehyung's features remained blank until the end, where he raised his eyebrows and shrugged a little. "I honestly wouldn't put that past him. He's a little snobby."

"There's a difference between being a little snobby and a complete dick. Like, do you think I'm selfish?" She asked as she placed her fork down.

He shrugged again. "You have your moments, but I don't think it's like what he's saying."

"Exactly! Everyone is a little selfish; it's just human. But he's making it seem like I wanna keep everything to myself on purpose." She folded her arms over her chest as she leaned into her chair.

Taehyung glanced at her, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Is that a new hoodie?" He stared at the dark fabric covering her body with a red skull and crossbones decal in the center.

"No, it's JK's. He gave it to me after Jimin practically dumped his coffee on me."

"JK's?" He repeated to himself, almost scoffing as he nodded his head.

Kiara watched his reaction closely—how his body suddenly tense up and the corner of his lips pushed downward. She rolled her eyes before shutting them as she leaned her head back into the chair. "Don't start."

"Don't start what?" He chuckled, absent of any joy. "I just find it funny that you come home in his hoodie. He drop you off too?"

"Yes, he did. And it's just a hoodie, Tae. I didn't want to walk around with a huge coffee stain on me, especially in public."

"Samira didn't have anything?"

"No?" She snapped a little, raising her head and opening her eyes to look at him. Taehyung's eyes narrowed at her. "Why would Samira carry around extra clothing?"

"But he did? Or did he peel his own shirt off to give to you?" He laughed, running his hands through his slightly curled locks. "Shit like this always seems to conveniently happen to you. You come home with a piece of JK on you; whether it's his clothing or his smell, you were wearing his boxer briefs once!"

"Oh my god," Kiara mumbled while pressing her fingers to her temple.

"What was that?" Taehyung suddenly raised his voice. Her eyes met his, and just as she opened her mouth to respond, he lifted his hand. He used the gesture to silence her, and it did just that. The words died on her tongue, abandoned sounds running around in her head. "You know, this is getting ridiculous. If I had a girl best friend doing all of this with me, you would've flipped your shit a long time ago."

"Taehyung," she tried her hardest to remain calm. It would've been over if she raised her voice or said something with a hint of sarcasm. "I have been friends with this man for years now. There is absolutely nothing between us."

He scoffed loudly, "That's a likely story." He stood up from the table and walked over to the living room. Kiara sighed as she got up, following after him. She noticed he grabbed his leather jacket and a white baseball cap. He put the hat on to hide his midnight hair.

"Where are you going?" She asked, but there was no response. She rolled her eyes. "Taehyung," she reached out to grab his hand, but he quickly pulled away. He glared at her over his shoulder, making her step back. 

She hated it when he looked at her like that. Like she was something vile, it made every insecurity she had crawl out of the depths of her brain and take center stage. Taehyung slid on some shoes, grabbed his keys, and walked out the front door, slamming it behind him. Her body jumped at the noise, tears stinging her eyes as she watched him pull out of the driveway from her window.

"Fuck," she sighed softly, turning to the table to grab her phone. She frantically clicked on Taehyung's contact, which was sent to voicemail each time. The tears filled to the brim before rolling down her cheeks silently. She used the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe away the waterworks, the hoodie that caused this whole mess. She never understood why he got like this and flipped a switch with ease. It was always over the tiniest things, too. She sat on the couch, chewing on her nails as she repeatedly called the man.

Taehyung was gone for hours, and by the time he returned home, he found Kiara passed out on the couch. She had replaced Jeongguk's black hoodie with one of Taehyung's grey ones instead. He carefully removed his jacket and shoes before walking to the sleeping girl and sitting in front of her. He gently wiped away her smudged mascara, causing her to scrunch her nose as she started to awake. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, and then her cheek. He gently persuaded her to wake up, her tired eyes finally fluttering open to meet his. There weren't any words exchanged between the two before he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was timid and soft. She followed his lead until she couldn't help but yearn for more of him.

The kiss guided Taehyung onto his knees, then to the couch with Kiara, where he found a place between her legs. Her hands ran up his arms, feeling his muscles subtly flexed underneath her touch. Within time, the kiss between the two grew heavier, his tongue gently appearing by grazing past her lip. She parted them just enough to let him in, their tongues gliding past each other as he pressed his hips into hers. Her hand traveled up to his head, where she swiftly pulled the cap off and tossed it to the ground. She ran her fingers through his soft hair, causing a soft moan to escape from his lips to hers.

He broke the kiss as his hand caressed her thigh. His lips found her neck, placing various kisses against her skin until her chest arched into his. And that's where he stayed, adding another bruise to her golden skin where the first one had barely healed. She moaned out for him, pressing her hips into his as she silently begged for more. He stuck his hand between their bodies, slipping his fingers underneath the fabric of her underwear. His middle finger found her clitoris with ease, gently circling it with the pad of his finger. Kiara tensed from his touch and then released. A chorus of moans parted from her throat as she tried to match the circling of her hips to his finger. 

After being satisfied with the bruise on her neck, he crashed his lips into hers again. Her hips bucked against his finger, making his cock throb in his sweatpants. He couldn't wait much longer, breaking the kiss once again. He pulled his hand out of her panties before swiftly sliding them down her legs. He didn't bother with taking his pants off, only pulling them down enough for his member to spring free. He aligned himself with her entrance, sliding his tip in between her lips to lube himself up before pushing forward. She sucked in through her teeth, her brows furrowing as she tried to get accommodated to his length. It stung a little, but Taehyung continued, slowly pulling his hips back and then forward again. As soon as Kiara's face relaxed, he increased his pace.

Her eyes shut as she moaned out for him, gripping his arm tightly as he stretched out her walls. He worked her into the couch, skin slapping together as he fell into a rhythm. He leaned forward, resting his temple against hers as he panted and groaned into her ear. She whined, her hands traveling to his back where nails dug into his skin through the fabric. The power of his hips increased, his tip pressing into her cervix until he suddenly bottomed out and stopped. She could feel him throbbing before he pulled out of her. There was a cool breeze on her lower region as he got up, pulling his pants back onto his waist. He sat down beside her, panting as he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. She felt uncomfortably wet, scared to move in fear of pushing Taehyung's seed out and onto the fabric of the couch.

"I'm going to bed," he said before getting up. He walked towards the bedroom before disappearing from her line of sight.

Kiara's eyes were wide with shock, and she scoffed quietly as she carefully pushed herself off the couch. She grabbed her underwear off the floor and shuffled to the bathroom, where she cleaned herself up. She couldn't understand how, even after that, he could still be cold to her. What was the point if he was still upset? After her shower, she walked into the room and crawled into the space next to him, feeling more alone than before.

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

[fiction70]

It's HERE!

The fic I've been working on has finally been published! It's not finished, unfortunately, but kind, chaotic people of the internet, I ask you to please stick with me on this one! All I ask for those who casually scroll by this post is to just read the summary and see if it intrigues you, that's all!

Thank you so much!

And for those who are coming from ao3, hello! It's wonderful to meet you! I eagerly look forward to hopefully providing more content for you all!

(And obviously, for those who were guessing the ship I hinted at in the previous post, guess no further! The ship is Bowuigi :D!!)

[roanofarcc]

PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER FORTY TWO → BREAK THROUGHS AND BREAK INS

summary: steve harrington x oc

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. 5.4k || masterlist

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

a/n: things are unravelinggggg 😎

previous chapter ← → next chapter

The backroom of Scoop Ahoy was perpetually cold and the metal chairs they were given to sit in during their breaks dug uncomfortably into Tamera’s thighs. She sat with her feet kicked up on the table, adding another tick to the number of health code violations she and her co-workers committed. Tamera was trying to focus on reading her book and eating the shared order of French fries with the girl across the table. 

Tamera probably should have been annoyed that Danielle Torres spent a lot of time at Scoops, but Danielle stayed out of their way while they worked, often brought them lunch or desserts from her mom, and kept Harrington occupied. That, and Danielle wasn’t bad company. 

However, a part of Tamera felt weird being alone with her because her name was tapped up on Calum’s bedroom wall and was surrounded by several facts on sticky notes. 

Last fall, Tamera was determined to shut down Calum’s pursuit of looking for his dad and tying Danielle and Will Byers disappearances to whatever happened to his dad. But, when they discovered the government file in their possession and a series of odd facts that were too close to one another to be a coincidence, Tamera stopped trying to get her friend to let it go and began helping him figure out what it all meant. Did she think they actually solved their web of mysteries? Not exactly, but she had come to like playing detective in her free time. Hawkins had gone from the bane of her existence to hiding something within. Tamera wanted to know just what business Calum’s dad had with Hawkins National Laboratory, and if it really was connected to just about everything. 

The place stuck with her, day in and day out. She swore she had heard something about it before, but as soon as she thought she had jogged her memory, it slipped out of her grasp. Calum had suggested they break into the Lab, but Tamera killed that idea right away. They didn’t need to get themselves arrested, not when they were so close to graduation and getting the hell out of their hometown. And if the build once held any sensitive information, it was probably removed before the place was shut down and locked up tight. 

“Did we get any deliveries yet, Mara?” Robin asked as she poked her head into the backroom through the window. Tamera shook herself out of her thoughts and met Robin’s eye. Somehow, Robin made their stupid uniforms look good, accessorized with a series of chain-linked necklaces, cherry-red Convers, and dazzlingly blue eyes. It was unfair, but Tamera wasn’t complaining about the view. 

“Uh, no, not till later this week, I think,” Tamera replied. 

Robin dramatically sighed and hung half her upper body through the window. “Well, if we run out of sprinkles and I’m mauled by sticky-fingered children, I’m suing the mall.” 

“I think you’ll have a solid case there, sailor,” Tamera laughed. 

“Hey, if I die, you have to avenge me. But write something cooler than ‘Death by Sprinkles’ on my headstone, m’kay?” 

“Sout’s honor.” Tamera gave Robin a mock salute. 

Robin ignored the annoyed look Steve threw from the front counter, where a line had formed, and eyed Tamera with raised brows. “Were you a Girl Scout?” she asked, curiously. 

Tamera closed her book, giving Robin her full attention, and discarded it on top of the table. She missed the way Danielle’s eyes darted between her and Robin curiously. “Oh, God no. My mom tried to make me join, just for the cookies, but Calum was a Boy Scout and I somehow managed to annoy his troop leader enough that he let me into their little boy’s club.” 

A smile stretched across Robin’s face, causing her eyes to crinkle and sparkle. “You are something else,” she said before she pulled her head back from the window and closed it to resume slinging ice cream with Steve. She went to resume her book, but she felt a pair of eyes on her and looked up to see Danielle staring at her. 

“What?” Tamera asked, clearing her throat as a nervous knot formed somewhere deep inside her stomach. That wasn’t a new feeling, but one she got often whenever someone aside from her best friend, Calum, caught her staring a little too long at a girl with a pretty smile and bright eyes. Their stares made her feel like an open, exposed wound. But, there was no look of malice or disgust on Danielle’s face, only a soft smile as she shook her head. 

Tamera sunk back into her seat and thought they’d fall into silence until Steve was done with his shift and offered to drive Danielle home. But Danielle had a different idea in mind. 

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked and worry instantly flooded Tamera. She hated that one, specific question that lingered in the air surrounding her in whispers. There were so many rumors built on her shoulders, and she knew it was only a matter of time before Danielle heard them. She didn’t attend Hawkins High with Tamera, not like Robin and Steve who she was sure already knew all the rumors about her but avoided bringing them up to maintain a civil work environment. 

However, the question Danielle raised was not what Tamera had expected. “Your friend, Calum, he’s been looking for his dad, right?” 

Surprised, Tamera replied, “Uh, yeah, he has been. Why?” 

Danielle spun a pencil around between her fingers as she said, “Has he found his dad yet?” Her tone was sincere like she genuinely wanted to know, but Tamera couldn’t shake the tension that slowly rose around them. 

“No, he hasn’t.” 

“Oh,” Danielle frowned. “I know how hard it is to lose someone like that-”

“His dad isn’t dead,” Tamera cut her off, a bit too defensively. She felt like Calum trying to reason his dad’s disappearance. “He’s missing, but he’s out there somewhere. We just haven’t found him yet.” In all honesty, she didn’t care that much about finding him for the sake of finding him, she just wanted Calum to stop blaming himself for the man’s vanishing. She wanted Calum to return to his old self. And she wanted to know what kind of shady business his dad had been dealing in. 

“Oh, n-no. I didn’t mean it like that. I just know what it’s like to not know, you know?” Tamera blinked in confusion. 

There were many odd things about Danielle, aside from her obvious magical reappearance in Hawkins after vanishing for ten years. Tamera didn’t know much about the effects of being kidnapped, so she wrote off most of Danielle’s behavior as that, but she couldn’t pin everything on that. She didn’t know why Danielle was so close to the police chief’s children, who no one in town knew anything about nor had ever even heard of them until less than a year ago. There was a closeness that Steve and Danielle shared that seemed to go deeper than their obvious crushes on each other or a reunited friendship; they always seemed to know what the other was thinking. And then there was the gaggle of children who were very close to Danielle and were odd friends with Steve. She didn’t know how all of them fit together; she was sure none of them were related. The only connection Tamera made was that Steve dated Nancy and Danielle was friends with Nancy, who had a little brother, Mike. The kids were all Mike’s friends, but that didn’t exactly explain everyone’s closeness or the way they all acted like estranged siblings to the younger kids.

Tamera didn’t know what to make of it. 

“I hope he finds him,” Danielle said after a beat, looking genuine. 

“Yeah,” Tamera said. “Me too.” For Calum’s sake. 

The door swung open, ending their conversation, and Steve waltzed in with something dangling off his fingers and the same stupid smile that he always wore whenever he was around Danielle. 

“Hey Sunshine, you dropped this.” He tossed a colorful bracelet that resembled one Tamera remembered making at summer camp and Danielle caught it with a sweet ‘thank you.’ He grabbed a couple of tubs of ice cream from the freezer and returned to the front counter. 

Tamera was about to resume her reading and soaking up the last couple minutes of her lunch break, but Danielle tried to tie the bracelet back on her wrist and was struggling. 

“Here, let me do it,” Tamera offered. 

Danielle hesitated but extended her hand across the table before handing Tamera the bracelet. Taking the red and pink strings, Tamera pulled them around Danielle’s bony wrist and started to tie it in the same fashion she had at camp a couple of years ago. Danielle always wore a lot of bracelets on her right wrist, and as Tamera began to wonder herself why, her eyes caught sight of something hidden underneath the beads and strings. Something was printed on her wrist, numbers to be exact. Three numbers in black ink.

007.

Tamera’s fingers worked in memory to secure the knot as her mind was thrown miles away. When she dropped her hand, Danielle pulled her arm back and smiled at her collection of bracelets, clueless. She said something along the lines of ‘thank you’ but it fell silent on Tamera’s ears. Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she stood up so abruptly, nearly knocking her chair over. 

007. The same set of numbers sprinkled throughout the file in Calum’s bedroom were on Danielle’s wrist. 

Holy fucking shit. 

Danielle glanced up, startled at Tamera’s sudden movement. She tried to act as casually as possible, clearing her throat and forcing a tight-lipped smile. “I-I forgot that I promised to call my mom. Be right back.” Without waiting for a response, Tamera shot through the door and rushed out Scoops, not sparing a glance at Steve or Robin. 

Tamera weaved between the mass of people at the mall, trying not to trip over her feet until she reached the escalator. People stood stationary on the moving stairs, leisurely chatting with their friends, but Tamera had no time for that. She pushed her way up the stairs, earning dirty looks and scoffs, but she paid them no mind; the only thing she was focused on was reaching the payphone that sat in the far corner of the second story, away from the main strip of shops and crowds. 

She fed her change and picked up the phone. Her fingers shook as she dialed Calum, wired with a cocktail of feelings she couldn’t make sense of. The phone rang twice before it was picked up, and Tamera wasted no time on pleasantries or greetings.

“What is the first year recorded in the file, again?” she asked, believing she already knew the answer, but she needed Calum to say it aloud to confirm the insane but possibly true theories swimming inside her head. 

“What? Why?” 

“Just tell me!” 

“Okay! Geez! You know, you can’t just call me up in the middle of the day to yell at me.” 

Tamera tapped her fingers against the top of the pay phone, mentally trying to envision Calum’s insane board on his bedroom wall, connecting strings and places to events and information inside the file. 

“1973,” he replied. 

“You’re positive?” 

He huffed into the phone. “I’m looking at it right now; yes, I’m sure. And shouldn’t you know that? We’ve read over this thing a million times by now. I’m surprised you don’t have it memorized; I practically do.” 

“There’s a month too, right?” 

“Yeah. June. June 1973.” 

“The same month and year Danielle went missing,” Tamera said in a hushed voice, nearly flushed against the payphone to mimic some kind of privacy. 

There was a beat of silence that she read as confusion. “Yeah, we’ve been over this, Mara. You said yourself it’s a coincidence because there’s nothing else to connect the file to her.” 

A mix of nausea and disbelief filled her stomach as she clutched the phone tighter in her. “I think I found our connection.” 

“What’re you talking about?” 

“I was wrong, I think. I-I’m pretty sure I was wrong. The, uh, ‘subject’ mentioned in the file was referred to as zero-zero-seven, right?” Calum hummed in agreement. “Guess who has a tattoo of that number on their wrist?” 

“Who?” 

“Danielle.” Silence followed Tamera’s revelation. She could picture him standing in front of his wall, rubbing his chin and mulling it over. It made the most sense and no sense at all at the same time. Why would someone like Danielle have a file on her or at least be mentioned in one but not by her name, rather by a number? Secrecy, maybe? But she was only six when she went missing, why would a six-year-old be in a position to have a file and a numbered code on her wrist? And why would Calum’s father have it? How connected were the two of them? 

“Are you sure?” Calum asked. 

“Positive. I saw it myself. A coincidence is she goes missing around the same time as the file starts, weird but not enough proof to pin it to her. What’s not a coincidence is that number being tattooed on her wrist. I don’t know how she could have anything to do with Project Solar, but I don’t see a lot of people walking around with 007 tattooed on their bodies, do you?” 

“No,” Calum replied. “But 007 was referred to as a ‘subject’ as in a test subject. Danielle was only six when she disappeared. Why would a six-year-old be identified as a test subject?”

Tamera chewed down on her lip, unsettled. “The height and weight in the file would fit a six-year-old. But I don’t understand how, if it’s her, she got to Hawkins National Laboratory in the first place. Her parents and the police chief himself said that she was kidnapped. But if she wasn’t?” 

Could it be possible that everyone was lying about Danielle’s whereabouts for ten whole years? Even if that was the case, that didn’t explain everything. Hell, it hardly explained anything. It felt like the more answers they discovered, the more confusing everything got. 

“What? You think some six-year-olds volunteered themselves for a government project? That doesn’t make any sense. And if it does have something to do with Danielle…this file came from Hawkins National Laboratory. That would mean she never left Hawkins. There’s no way.” He paused, making more sense than he had in a while, but for the first time besides when Tamera suggested they open the file instead of giving it back, she was the one with the outrageous theories. Calum continued, “But if she was there, for some reason, that would confirm her connection to my dad. That would mean I was right from the start. And I don’t know of any other reason why she has those numbers tattooed on her.” 

Calum’s dad worked at Hawkins National Laboratory, fact. Danielle was missing for ten years, another fact. Could Calum have been right the entire time? Could his father’s disappearance be linked to Danielle? 

There were too many questions still unanswered, but everything seemed to come back to the laboratory. She had heard of the place before she knew that Calum’s dad worked there; the memory was somewhere inside her brain. She squeezed her eyes shut and thought hard about where she had heard that place come up before. 

Then it hit her. “Oh, my God,” she gasped. “Do you remember Mr. G’s freshman year study hall?” 

“We are in the middle of something here-”

“Just shut up and listen to me!” she snapped, letting her forgotten memory unravel in real-time. “Mr. G was a loon, we all knew it. He would spend most of the study hall going off on rants about everything, but there was one of his rants that he always came back to and blamed for almost everything bad happening here in town. Droughts, rigged mayor elections, and even that dad who murdered his family in that creep house a couple blocks from you. He blamed everything on that lab!” 

“He hated the government, and that lab is government-owned. Old people will blame anything they can on the government. I don’t know if he’s a great source,” Calum said, but Tamera wasn’t sure. Sure, the old man was a little bonkers, but the more she thought about his rant in relation to the file and the weird things that happened in Hawkins, maybe he wasn’t entirely off. The Lab did kill Barbara Holland, not intentionally but via a chemical leak. Who was to say they didn’t have more secrets? 

“Besides,” Calum continued, “he was paranoid. Don’t you remember how he said he doesn’t use his landline because he thought his conversations were being tapped? He was let go for a reason.” 

Tamara held the phone away from her face for a second, examining it like Mr. G probably had done. She doubted that was true, Hawkins had its share of weird and unexplained things occurring, but it probably took more than that for the government or anyone to wiretap an entire town. The old man was probably paranoid, but maybe he had a right to be. 

“Just because was a little crazy doesn’t mean he was wrong,” Tamera countered. “He said that place was opened in the sixties, and they were doing some kind of…study, I think. I don’t remember everything that he said, but I do remember that he talked about his wife and how she volunteered for something there. I think had something to do with psychedelics. Like a medical study. He blamed them for his wife’s death.” It wasn’t a question in the man’s mind or a theory, he was sure someone in that Lab had killed his wife. “What if they still were doing studies like that up until they were shut down last fall?” 

“You think they either kidnapped Danielle or her parents gave her up to the government at six to give her psychedelics and see what would happen?” 

Tamera groaned loudly. No, that was insane. She was starting to sound like Mr. G. “Probably not,” she sighed. “But it’s something we could try to look into. Regardless, Danielle has to be connected to the file and that file is connected to your dad. Now we have almost full confirmation on that. We’re one step closer to figuring all of this out.” Maybe. 

“Maybe,” Calum voiced her thoughts. “Maybe he stole the file for a good reason, like you said. Maybe whatever was happening was bad, bad enough to kill Barbara and make them try to cover it up. And maybe my dad wanted to give the file to Danielle’s parents or hand it over to someone who he thought could help. If she was kidnapped, maybe he was trying to help her?” Tamara had never been a fan of Calum’s dad, but she didn’t think he was a bad person, so maybe he was on to something. The good guys almost never win in a situation like this, and maybe that was why his dad went missing. 

“Danielle came home after ten years and after everyone believed she was long dead. Do you think your dad had something to do with that?” she asked. 

“I’m not ruling it out. Maybe that sunk him into even deeper shit and he had to go on the run until the heat died down.” 

Goosebumps rose on Tamera’s arm, and she felt like someone was watching her. She snapped her head around, but there was no one lingering around, only a couple of scattered shoppers moving to and fro. The mall was probably not the best place for that kind of conversation, but there was no way she would have been able to sit on what she discovered until after work. 

She checked her watch and groaned when she realized her break had ended three minutes ago. Steve was not going to let her forget it. “I have to go, but after you are out of work tonight, let’s take another stab at the file with what we know now. I think we may actually get somewhere and then we can figure out what to do next.” 

“Okay.” They hung up after a brief goodbye and Tamera took a second to collect herself. She did not expect her shift to turn out like that. She was relieved that they were getting somewhere in their stale investigation, but she was still worried about them getting in trouble. 

Trouble seemed to follow everyone in and outside of Hawkins; they couldn’t run from it, and no one knew that better than Calum’s father. Ryan Miller did not account for the nosiness of his son or the brains of his best friend. He never anticipated the scale of what he had done or it all goes south so quickly. But Ryan was in far too deep to turn back; there were debts he owed and scores to settle. 

And in Hawkins, as Tamera hung up the phone and Calum left his home for his shift at the arcade, sights were set on the little house at the end of Cherry Street. The home of the Miller’s was entered with a little fight given by Calum’s mom, but that wasn’t the only thing happening on Cherry Street that afternoon. 

…

Calum had gotten off early from his shift at the arcade. The place had been dead since the mall opened and summer began so he managed to get out after only a couple hours of working the front counter. Tamera had to run home after work, much to her dismay but promised to meet at Calum’s house as soon as she could to further unravel their investigation with the new evidence she had come across. 

The revelation the file could have been about Danielle opened up an entire, confusing, world of possibilities and questions. Calum wanted to see the tattoo for himself, not that he doubted Tamera, but the whole idea seemed too crazy. He knew that she and possibly Will Byers had some kind of connection to the disappearance of his dad, solely based on the timeline of events that had occurred, but he didn’t account for some secret government project to be thrown into the mix of things. He felt like he had to reevaluate everything. 

Upon entering his house, Calum peaked into the living room and expected to see his mom in her usual daze in front of the television after her shift at the hair salon, but she wasn’t there. 

The floorboards creaked somewhere in the kitchen. “Mom?” he called out. 

His mom stepped out of the kitchen and Calum couldn’t mask his surprise. Ever since his dad went missing, his mom had been on a steady decline. She stayed put in front of the couch with a different bottle of wine every night, her hair had been unkept, and dark circles hung under her eyes. She only ventured to work half of the time and spent the other half locked inside their house. She didn’t speak too much to Calum, only small talk here and there that he didn’t think she paid attention to. Calum thought the only way to bring his mom back to her old self was to find his dad. But, as she stood in front of him, she looked like her old self again. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a slicked-back ponytail and her face was made up. She wore nice clothes, ironed and everything, and even put on the little cross necklace that she had abandoned on her nightstand for ages. Instead of a bottle of wine in her hands, she held onto a cup of coffee. 

Calum stared at her for a long moment, before she broke the silence with a warm smile. “How was work, sweetheart?” 

“Uh, it was fine…” he replied, trailing off as he kicked off his shoes and tried to figure out exactly what was going on. “What is…you-” 

“We need to talk,” she said, cutting him off and gesturing toward the couch. 

Calum felt his stomach drop; he knew it was about his dad, it had to be. Maybe she was cleaned up and back to normal because they had found him, and he was coming home.

His mom sighed and sat beside him on the couch. Her slim fingers wrapped around the steaming mug. He noticed her finger was absent from her wedding ring. “I know what you’ve been doing. I know that you’ve been trying to track down your dad.”

“Oh,” he swallowed thickly. “I know that you think he just left but I-” 

“I know,” she said, quickly with a shake of her head. “I know I said that he just walked out on us, but I think you figured out enough by now to know that’s not the full story.”

Calum never believed he’d get a real answer from his mom, but for a moment, hope bloomed inside his chest. He waited for her to elaborate, but then she paused, and her eyes drifted down the hall toward their bedrooms. 

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again, your father, he was a good man, once. Was. But he…he met someone he considered a friend. They become partners at work and that man,” she let out a dry laugh, void of humor. “That man led your father astray.” 

Calum’s eyes widened. “Partner? Who? Who did he work with? What did they do?” His dad had never spoken of his work outside of answering questions like ‘How was your day?’ He never mentioned anyone who he worked with. 

His mom shook her head. “That’s not what we’re talking about now.” She tightened her grip on her mug, turning her knuckles white before she shifted her gaze from the hall onto him. “You have to stop looking for him. You have to stop digging around where you don’t belong, not only for your sake but mine too, and Tamera's. You guys are done. And I am done with your father, with his business, all of it. I am done with this place. We’re leaving.” 

Every word out of his mom’s mouth hit Calum like a punch in the face. He shot up, nearly stumbling off the coffee table in shock. By the glint in her eyes, she clearly knew more about what happened to his dad than she wanted to tell him. They couldn’t leave; he wasn’t done with Hawkins, yet. Sure, he hated their little small town, but it was all he knew. He hated the summer heat and the blistery cold winters, but everything he knew was in Hawkins, including his best friend. And he felt like they were so close to the truth of the file and his dad. He couldn’t just pack up and leave it all behind. 

“What are you talking about? We aren’t done with anything! Dad is still out there somewhere I have to find him. And I can’t leave Tamera. I-I still have school. I have one more year here!”

His mom shook her head. “Your father is not coming back! He’s gone and we’re better off because of it. And, God,” she sighed, wiping a shaky hand over her mouth. “This place. This damn place is the last town on Earth I want to spend the rest of my life in.” She stood up and began to pace across the living room, spending Calum spiraling deeper and deeper with each venomous word she spat about his dad. “I waited and stayed put. I didn’t even ask any questions like I should have. I tried to forget what I knew about your father and his work but it didn’t work. I want to…no, we have to be done with this. All of it.” 

“Done with what?” he pleaded, begging for the answers he had been searching for years now. “Mom, what did dad do for a living?” He was flushed with a horrible sense of dread and curiosity. But she only shook her head once more. 

“We’re done. And you and Tamera are done digging around in his business. After the holiday, we’re going to stay with my friend in Indy until I can get us a place.” Calum opened his mouth to argue, but she silenced him with a glare he had never seen her wear before. “It’s not up for debate.”

Calum was drenched in utter disbelief. Yesterday, his mom was basically comatose in front of the television, and now she was ready to drag them out of Hawkins by the end of the week. He couldn’t swallow it all, not when it mixed with the information Tamera had spilled to him over the phone a couple of hours before. 

Without uttering another word, he took off down the hall toward his room. His door was cracked, and he felt panic rise steadily in his throat, burning like he had just down cheap whisky. Ever since he found the file, he had started locking his door from the outside with a key he hid above the doorframe. 

He shoved his door the rest of the way open. It took everything inside of him not to fall to his knees. The wall that had held everything they had gathered over the last six months was gone. Nothing was left besides sticky residue on his wall and the strings that once connected things to each other were discarded on the floor. 

The next place he checked was to his bedside where he kept the file hidden under his mattress. When he reached under, there was nothing left. Calum staggered backward and bit back the urge to scream. All of their work was gone. The file was gone. Everything was gone. Gone, gone gone.

“Cal?” a voice came from somewhere inside the house before footsteps echoed down the hall. A short gasp sounded behind him. 

“Holy shit…” Tamera’s mouth hung open as she stood in his doorframe. 

“It’s gone,” Calum whispered. “Everything. M-My dad…” 

“This is for the best,” his mom said, appearing behind Tamera with her arms crossed tightly over her chest and a far-off look in her eyes. Tamera quickly rushed to Calum’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You two are done with this.”

Anger ravaged Calum, suddenly. “Who did this? Why?” 

“I told you, we’re not getting involved in the same business that ruined your father,” she said, still not providing any information on what he did or why they weren’t to get involved. “Start packing.” She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Calum and Tamera to the ruins of their investigation.

Pressing his palms into his eyes, Calum took in a shaky breath as Tamera shut his door. “What happened to your mom? What is she talking about? What kind of business? And why do you need to pack?” The question flew from her lips in rapid fire.

“I don’t know,” he replied. He did his best to explain the conversation they had just had, from his dad’s partner to them moving to Indy.

Why did it seem like the entire world didn’t want him to find his dad? 

“Whoa! Wait, you can’t leave,” Tamera objected. “We just had a breakthrough! We’re finally getting somewhere and now it’s just gone? We’re just supposed to drop it without any kind of answer?” 

Calum sat on the edge of his bed, quietly for a long moment as he mulled over their next move. His eyes darted to his discarded backpack on the bed and grabbed it. Inside was a notebook, the one he started jotting things down inside since ‘83. Whoever stole the file back didn’t search his room very thoroughly. 

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “We’re still gonna figure this out. But we’re going straight to the source this time. You said, for a fact, Danielle had the 007 tattoo, right?” Tamera nodded. “Okay. Then we’re gonna put all of our eggs in that basket and hope to God that she knows more than we do.” 

He reached down and picked up a single string pulled from his wall. He thought of his dad and how, even if the man had done something wrong, he still owed Calum an explanation of where he had been and what happened. He was going to get answers one way or another. Clearly his mom wasn’t going to be any help, so Danielle was their best bet.

They had until the Fourth of July to get to the bottom of everything. 

Tagged. @sattlersquarry , @leptitlu , @drunkengodsofslaughter

[justdillydally]

Will You Still Love Me? (Gwayne Hightower x OFC) 3

Chap 1 Chap 2

Chapter Summary: The tourney comes to an end.

Chapter Rating/Trigger Warning for the chapter: Teenager and up audiences, non-graphic description of violence (they're in a tourney)

Note: I try to be fateful to the canon but I have to tweak up some details to make it work in the fic. Alicent in this story is a mix of book and Season 1 HoTd. Thank you for the kudos from the previous chapter. The dancing might be a cliche but it's hard to resist hehe

@deniixlovezelda @loverslikeghosts

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Rhaella’s feet were heavy with each step she took around Princess’ Rhaeanyra’s chamber while she carried Jacaerys on her arm. Her brief encounter with the Hightower Knight left her frustrated and nervous. Perhaps she should have held her tongue and went along with him just to be in his good graces when he knew a secret that she had. One that could jeopardize Ser Qarl and whatever freedom she had left.

What if he already informed our encounter in Roseroad to his sister? Will I be brought to them immediately? What if they sharply questioned Ser Qarl about it? Perhaps they are still busy with the festivities that they haven’t had the chance to speak with each other?

The Queen once warned her about selecting good company at court when she first arrived. She was not blind to see the tension between the Queen and the Princess yet she ignored it. Rhaella was convinced that there was no need to choose between the two as they have treated her well, and that once she returned to Runestone, she would leave all the politicking that existed in the Court.

The Princess and her fellow lady-in-waiting, Lady Massey, were speaking of plans once the babe was born and they have yet to hear Rhaella’s voice. “Rhaella?” The Princess asked for her cousin’s attention yet her gaze remained bounded on the ground.

“Rhaella.” Massey called out her name loudly and it seemed to have done the trick.

“Yes?” Rhaella spun around looking at the two with a frown.

“We are speaking about the babe. It can come sooner than what the Maester estimated.” Massey informed her.

Rhaenyra tilted her head on the side, eyes laced with concern for her cousin. “You’ve been distracted since you returned from the tourney. Has anything happened, cousin?”

Having both eyes on her, she heaved a sigh and lowered Jacaerys to the ground. The moment the little prince stood up, he walked on wobbly legs towards his mother. “I’m merely exhausted with the tourney, your grace. You need not worry.” She mustered up courage to look back Rhaenyra. “The babe is the one we should be worrying about. Looks like they are excited to come out.” She shifted the conversation to where they should be focusing into.

“I can’t wait to meet the babe.” Rhaenyra placed a hand over Jacaery’s back and rubbed it as he clung to his mother’s leg.

“Have you thought of names, Your Grace?” Massey asked, sitting opposite to Rhaenyra.

The Princess run her hand over Jace’s dark locks before she spoke. “If it’s a girl, it shall be Visenya. If it’s a boy, I’ll name him Lucerys.”

“Those are good names.” Massey complimented her choice of name.

Rhaella nodded her head, delighted with the names that were chosen by the Princess. “They are. I hope it’s a girl. No one has carried Visenya’s name ever since she passed.” She has read tales of the great Targaryen woman, and while she had distaste for violence, there was no denying the accomplishment she has done for their family.

With the attention successfully turned to Rhaenyra, Rhaella felt partial relief. The last thing she wanted was to have Rhaenyra worry about her antics when she’s about to deliver another Prince into the world. She could hide in the Princess’ chamber while the festivities went on and avoid any interaction with Gwayne.

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“Brother.” Queen Alicent donning a beautiful green dress greeted her brother, behind her was her guards and ladies-in-waiting. “You made our House proud with your winnings at the tourney.”

Gwayne said with a bow.  “I do what I can to make our House proud, Your Grace.”

The distance between the siblings grew as they went on separate paths. The Queen has to tread carefully around the Court since their father was sent back to Oldtown leaving her mostly to her own devices. “You already do, Gwayne. You’ve moved forward to the next set of matches for the morrow. I shall pray to the warrior to guide you.”

A faint smile curled on Gwayne’s lips. “I thank you for your prayers sister.” His sister, the forever faithful, with her unfaltering devotion to the Gods. He knew that she always meant well despite his lack of confidence in the Seven Gods. “And I know you meant well for my being but will our conversation include Lady Rhaella?”

The reaction that the Queen elicited at the mention of the woman was enough to confirm his suspicions. He did not see the point in skirting around the subject unlike his sister who grew up to the intricacies in the Court.

The Queen pursed her lips, and nodded her head to answer Gwayne’s question. “I saw you speaking with Rhaella at the tourney,” Alicent said, her face turning serious. “It concerns me what you have in mind for her. You do know Daemon is her father.” It crossed her mind and her husband’s to have a suitable match for her, House Grafton from the Vale reached out to the King but it was quickly stumped before it grew into any fruition.

Once the rumours circulated, it somehow reached Daemon’s ears. Gulltown saw the Blood Wyrm flying high above the sky, and soon a raven was sent to King’s Landing rescinding House Grafton’s intent to ask Rhaella’s hand in marriage.

A reminder whom her father was, was unnecessary. Daemon left quite an impression on him when he attacked his horse during a tourney many years ago. There was no question that it was considered cheating yet being a Prince, it paved way for it to remain ignored. It was his intention to learn if Rhaella was anything like the famed Rogue Prince. “It was a mere courtesy. I only sought her favor. I wish her no harm.”

Malice or cruelty doesn’t seem to have touched Rhaella as it did Daemon’s soul but the young lady can stir up unwanted trouble should she follow the footsteps of the Princess. “I know you do not mean her harm. It’s you whom I worry not only because of her father. Rhaella… She is young and impressionable. If Rhaenyra managed to influence her, she may behave…recklessly and in turn, she might bring you harm.”

It was easy to understand where the Queen’s concerns came from. Rhaella’s farce as a minstrel placed her in unnecessary danger but he only saw it as a mean of rebellious streak perhaps than one born out of malice. The question remained: Why was she pretending to be a peasant? Perhaps it was a question he could ask of her when they cross their paths again.

He would not raise the information to the Queen just yet before he learn as he was not cruel to subject the Lady to face the consequences without knowing the whole story. His brief visit to King’s Landing proved itself to be entertaining with her presence and he would not let his sister rob him of it when he sees no harm with it. “I’ll be careful, sister.”

His reply seemed to have satisfied the Queen. “That’s all I can ask.” Before leaving the court yard, the Queen put her hand on his arm, “There will be a feast tonight with all the competing knights at the tourney. I look forward to seeing you there.”

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Hiding in the Princess' chambers had proven to be an effective strategy to avoid last night's festivities. However, her absence at the morning's tourney would certainly draw unwanted attention, something Rhaella was keen to avoid. As expected, the tourney grounds were once again filled with spectators, all eager to see who would emerge victorious.

Rhaella sat in the royal box, young Prince Aegon on her lap. Princess Helaena occupied the seat beside her, with Prince Aemond and Prince Daeron next to her. Behind them sat the elder members of the royal family—King Viserys, Queen Alicent, Rhaenys, and Corlys Velaryon—along with the rest of the King’s small council.

House Royce had failed to secure a spot in the final round against House Lannister, but Rhaella felt proud of how far Willam had progressed in the tournament. Aegon squirmed in her arms, his little hand pointing at the knights on their horses below.

“Wook, wook!” Aegon cried in excitement, his eyes wide with wonder. “Gowden wion!”

Rhaella smiled at the boy's enthusiasm. “Yes, my Prince. The Lion is House Lannister’s banner.” She pointed to the field where the Lannister banner fluttered in the breeze. Ser Jason Lannister, resplendent in golden armor, sat proudly on his steed. Show off, Rhaella thought with a hint of disdain.

The roar of the crowd grew deafening as Ser Jason’s opponent entered the lists—Ser Gwayne Hightower. The tension in the air was palpable, with all eyes fixed on the two knights. Aegon squirmed again in her lap.

“Uncle,” Aegon whispered, pointing at Ser Gwayne.

“Yes, it’s your Uncle Gwayne,” Rhaella confirmed, holding the little prince securely.

Aegon wasn’t the only one who found it hard to sit still. Rhaella herself was on edge. It should have been satisfying to watch Ser Gwayne be humbled after his arrogance the previous day, but instead, she found herself anxiously leaning forward.

The two knights took their places at opposite ends of the field, the crowd falling silent in anticipation. Both men had proven their worth to reach the finals. The first pass was fierce—both knights charged at full speed, their lances crashing against shields with a thunderous force. Splinters flew, but both knights remained firmly in their saddles, prompting cheers from the crowd.

The second pass began, and this time, Ser Jason aimed for Gwayne’s helm, while Gwayne targeted Jason’s chest. Ser Jason's strike fell short, failing to hit his mark. Gwayne, however, landed a decisive blow. His lance shattered Ser Jason’s shield and struck the Lannister square in the torso, unhorsing him with a single, powerful hit.

The crowd erupted in cheers for the last knight standing. Gwayne rode his horse around the field, removing his helm and raising his lance in victory. His gaze quickly found Rhaella in the royal box, and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

In line with tradition, the victor of the tourney had to name the Queen of Love and Beauty—a title often bestowed upon the knight’s chosen lady. Gwayne’s eyes remained fixed on Lady Rhaella as he trotted forward, halting in front of the royal box. He bowed low in his saddle, his voice ringing out across the arena. “For Lady Rhaella Targaryen, the Queen of Love and Beauty,” he declared, raising the wreath of flowers on the end of his lance.

The crowd fell into a murmur of curiosity. The weight of their attention on Rhaella was inescapable. She forced a practiced smile, accepting the wreath that the knight offered her. The crowd soon broke into applause at the knight’s choice and the King’s niece’s acceptance of the title.

Queen Alicent’s eyes shifted from Rhaella to her brother. A silent resolve formed within her—she would have to inform their father of what had transpired during Gwayne’s visit to the Red Keep.

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Evening fell, and the feast for the Queen and King’s anniversary was in full swing. Boisterous laughter echoed through the Red Keep’s throne room, where wine flowed freely and music filled the air. The lavish interior welcomed hundreds of nobles who had attended the tourney, along with knights who partook despite their injuries.

Rhaella sat at the royal table, somewhat removed from the lively crowd, trying to enjoy the festivities. Runestone could never host as many guests as the Red Keep, nor did it have a reason to. Eyes followed her, and she could feel the weight of gossip about Gwayne crowning her the Queen of Love and Beauty.

Her father had always reminded her that it didn’t matter what people said about her; she was a Targaryen, and others’ opinions were inconsequential. But were they truly above the laws of men? Daemon Targaryen certainly thought so, and while she admired her father, she knew he bore the title of 'Rogue Prince' for a reason.

Her fingers tapped the table anxiously, waiting for any sign that Ser Gwayne had spilled her secret to the Queen. If the Queen knew, Ser Qarl wouldn’t be standing discreetly in the corner, ready to escort her back to her chambers, nor would the King have remained silent.

What if they were just waiting until the feast ended? To spare me the embarrassment and let me enjoy the evening first?

A wrinkled hand suddenly appeared before her, and she looked up to see an elderly lord, barely able to stand and reeking of wine. A broad smile spread across his lips as he bowed clumsily. “Lady Rhaella! Queen of Love and Beauty...” His words slurred, making it difficult for Rhaella to understand what he wanted. All she could discern was the word ‘dance.’

She stood, ready to politely decline the invitation when another figure intervened. “Forgive me, my Lord, but Lady Rhaella has promised me this dance.” Gwayne Hightower stepped forward, a confident smile on his face as he addressed the older lord before turning to Rhaella.

She raised an eyebrow at Gwayne, who offered his hand with a silent challenge in his eyes. Reluctantly, she accepted. “My apologies, my Lord. I must honor my word to Ser Gwayne.”

The old lord, too inebriated to argue, grumbled and stepped away. It was too late for Rhaella to withdraw, and as the music began, Gwayne led her onto the dance floor, where nobles swayed to the rhythm. He moved with practiced ease, guiding her through the steps. The music swelled around them, a soft melody that set the pace for their movements. Rhaella kept her gaze averted, focusing instead on the intricate patterns of the marble floor beneath her feet.

“Is this how they dance in the Vale?” Gwayne teased, his voice low and playful.

“What do you mean, Ser?” Rhaella replied, her tone guarded as she kept her eyes fixed on the floor.

“Do women in the Vale avoid their partner’s eyes?” Gwayne pressed, his voice a mixture of amusement and curiosity as he observed her.

“No. We do not,” she answered, finally daring to glance up at him, though her gaze quickly darted away.

Gwayne leaned in slightly, his voice a whisper against the noise of the hall. “Then why are you doing it? You do know people are watching, my Lady.”

Rhaella’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she kept her composure. “I don’t want any accidents to happen,” she replied, her voice measured.

Gwayne’s smile was infuriatingly calm, a soft curve of his lips that hinted at hidden thoughts. “You put little faith in me. Do you think I’m a terrible dance partner?” he asked, his eyes locked onto hers, daring her to look away again.

“It’s not you. The fault lies with me,” Rhaella admitted, her voice quieter now. “My mother saw little need for me to learn to dance. She was practical with my education, as was my father.”

Gwayne’s hand on her waist tightened slightly, reassuringly. “Don’t think too much about it,” he said, his tone soothing. “Look at me and let me guide you.”

Rhaella hesitated for a moment before finally meeting his gaze. Their eyes locked, and the world around them seemed to fade into the background. The tension between them eased as they found their rhythm, moving together more fluidly now.

“Thank you, Ser Gwayne,” she said, her voice softer, almost reluctant to admit her gratitude.

“Dancing is one of my many hidden talents,” Gwayne replied with a playful smirk, his hand guiding her effortlessly through the steps.

Rhaella’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “Not just for saving me earlier,” she clarified, her tone more serious. “I still don’t understand why you granted me the title of Queen of Love and Beauty.”

Gwayne’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he led her into a graceful turn. “Do you think you don’t deserve it?” he asked, his voice teasing yet sincere.

Rhaella’s smile faded, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. “Don’t play games with me, Ser,” she warned, her voice tinged with caution. “I know your House bears no love for my father, and I can assure you the feeling is mutual.” She hesitated, a moment of vulnerability flashing in her eyes before she gathered the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at her for days. “Have you told the Queen about what happened on the Roseroad?”

Gwayne’s playful demeanor shifted, his expression growing more serious. “That depends on how you answer my question,” he replied, his voice low, clearly intending to leverage her curiosity for his own inquiry.

Rhaella’s brow furrowed slightly as she met his gaze. “What is it?” she asked, her tone wary.

“Why were you playing the role of a minstrel?” Gwayne’s voice was steady, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity in his eyes.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she said, though her voice wavered just slightly, betraying the vulnerability she tried so hard to conceal.

Gwayne's eyes narrowed, a hint of challenge flickering in his gaze. “Try me,” he urged, his voice quieter now, as if coaxing a confession out of her.

“There’s little freedom for ladies like myself,” she admitted, her eyes still refusing to meet his. “I wanted to experience life outside of castles and the expectations placed upon me, even if only briefly.”

Gwayne fell silent, his expression softening as he processed her words. For a moment, it was as if the enmity between their houses faded, replaced by a fleeting understanding. But the moment was brief, and Rhaella quickly reminded herself of who he was—a Hightower, sworn to a family that despised hers.

“Have you told the Queen?” Rhaella pressed, her voice firmer now, trying to regain control of the situation.

“I have not, nor do I plan to,” Gwayne replied, his tone equally firm, as if laying down a challenge of his own.

Her eyes snapped to his, searching for any sign of deceit, but found none. “I see. So you’ll keep my secret and use it to your advantage?” There was a touch of bitterness in her words, a preemptive strike against the betrayal she feared was inevitable.

Gwayne’s expression darkened, his brows knitting together in a frown. “Is that how little you think of me?” he asked, his voice tinged with offense, but also something else—disappointment, perhaps.

Rhaella faltered, caught off guard by the emotion in his tone. “Our Houses hold no love for each other,” she replied, her voice defensive, as if she were reminding herself as much as him. Her breathing quickened under the intensity of his gaze, and she felt an unfamiliar heat rising in her cheeks.

“I believe we have indulged ourselves enough with this dance,” she said, trying to pull away, but his grip on her hand remained firm.

The closeness was disconcerting, and she could feel the warmth of his body, the faint scent of leather and sandalwood mixing with the heady atmosphere of the hall. It was intoxicating and unsettling all at once. “You’re mistaken,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath ghosting over her ear. “I do not seek to play games. I uphold the oath that I took when I was knighted.”

The words hung between them, a solemn vow that left her momentarily speechless. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them locked in a silent struggle, the air thick with unresolved tension.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the animosity between them seemed to waver, replaced by something far more complicated—an unspoken understanding, perhaps, or the first flickers of a dangerous attraction. The dance continued, but the steps were secondary to the charged interaction between them, as if the entire hall held its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Rhaella’s heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts—anger, fear, and an undeniable pull toward the man who should have been her enemy. Was it possible that she could trust him? So far, he had given her no reason not to, but the risk was too great to ignore.

Their faces were inches apart now, their breath mingling as they moved together. The heat of his gaze, the subtle pressure of his hand at her waist—it all combined to form a heady mix that Rhaella found both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Lady Rhaella?” The King’s voice boomed inside the throne room, breaking the spell between them. They quickly took a step back from each other, the tension snapping like a bowstring released. “Will you please grace our guests with your voice?”

“Ser.” She bowed to Gwayne, her voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions churning within her, before she walked toward the King who had called for her to perform. As she moved away, she felt the lingering sensation of Gwayne’s gaze on her back, a reminder that their dance was far from over.

[cat-downthestreet]

making decisions as an adult has become me, lying in bed on a monday afternoon, trying to figure out if I wanna go for that 100k slow burn or that 25k considerably less slow burn, both about the same gay duo the last fic was about

[rhcpjfmymind]

Extract from the new chapter of my Spideypool fic (enemies to friends to lovers slow burn):

“Wade?!”

Peter hurried to close the distance until he was kneeling by the prone body. His legs were welcomed by cold, coagulated blood.

It was more than three hours since Wade had sent him the first text.

“Wade?” Peter shook his shoulders; Wade’s body moved like a ragdoll. “C’mon man, wake up.”

Wake up? That would happen if he was just unconscious. Peter rolled the Spider-Man mask over his nose so he could breathe, starting to feel dizzy.

“Okay, okay,” he tried to calm himself, hands pulling away from Wade’s unresponsive body. “First aid, I’ve done this a million times.” Then why was he acting like this was his first day in the suit? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that last time, it had been Wade helping Peter with an unconscious person while he’d acted unforgivably careless. Peter took a steadying breath. “Sorry, pal, I’m gonna roll up your mask; I know you don’t like that.”

Taking off his gloves, Peter brushed along Wade’s neck, searching for the edge of the suit; there, he found the mask’s zipper flap. Peter pulled up the zipper and rolled the mask just over Wade’s nose. He pushed Wade’s head back, one hand to his forehead and the other under his chin, his lips parting slightly. He didn’t look closely, trying to respect Wade’s privacy, but he found it hard not to pay attention to what his bare fingers were feeling as he searched for a pulse. Wade’s neck was smooth at the same time as it was bumpy; the skin itself felt smooth to the touch, but it was raised, as if covered in scars. Wade was cool to the touch.

He didn’t feel a pulse.