#far out chapter 1 is ACTUALLY going well though

[ambiguous-avery]

Moon Without Stars, Those 46 Days

Sam Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 3366

Summary: Little snippets of what went on behind the scenes of the mini time-skip set in the Moon Without Stars series. This is not a necessary read to understand what comes next.

Tags/Warnings: Soulmate AU, sad Sam (that’s a warning all of its own), hurt no comfort, idiots fighting fate, strangers to enemies to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, angst, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like men

A/N: This is just pining and stubbornness and kicking Sam while he's down. My apologies in advance. Also, I wanted to try writing a little differently for this because I was aiming for little snapshots rather than full scenes. But I dunno if I actually did it right or not. 🤷‍♀️ also, releasing this a day early because I realized that my tomorrow is very very packed. Might release chapter 4 early too since I realized that Friday is Sammy’s b-day, and I’ve got something lined up for that too! Moon Without Stars Masterlist

Day 1

You stared up at the water-stained ceiling, the hum of the neon motel sign bleeding through the curtains. Your wrist ached. Not from a wound, though. It was the slow, insistent throb of the thing you refused to acknowledge. You sat up sharply, threw the thin blanket off of you, and marched over your bag. The motel carpet scratched your bare feet. You dug through your bag, fishing for your phone. It was in there somewhere. Buried deep. Forgotten on purpose. Your fingers brushed against the plastic wrapper of the protein bar, and you grabbed it despite yourself along with your phone.

Seated on the bed, you tore into the protein bar. Honestly, you weren’t hungry at all, just eating for the sake of having something to do. As though food could quell the more profound hunger that gnawed at you. The phone screen lit up your face in the dark.

No messages.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. You scrolled through your contacts, stopping over HIM in your phone. You couldn’t even put in his name. But you had those ten digits memorized. Forwards. Backwards. Upside down. In three different languages. 

Your thumb hovered over the button to open up a message. What would you even say if you texted him?

Sorry I keep running?

Sorry you make me feel like I’m standing at the edge of something I can’t survive falling into?

Sorry you’re not the problem – I am?

You almost texted him. Almost.

Instead, you shoved the phone onto the nightstand and crawled back into bed, still chewing on your bite of the protein bar. It was dry and stuck to the roof of your mouth. But it was oddly comforting. You wrapped the bar back in its wrapper as best as you could before shoving it and your wrist under the pillow like maybe if you couldn’t see the mark, you could pretend it wasn’t there.

The ache didn’t go away.

Neither did the guilt.

Day 3

The plan was simple until it wasn’t. Sam crouched near the dilapidated barn, waiting for Dean’s signal. He kept his gaze trained on the crumbling door, shotgun steady in his hands. The wind kicked up, sending leaves skittering across the dusty ground. His mark throbbed once, faint and familiar, but he shook it off. It always did that. This wasn’t anything new.

A sharp whistle from Dean. The signal to go.

Sam surged forward – then froze.

A hand. He could feel it, a palm sliding over his arm, light and shy. You. It was so real. So unexpected. He twisted around mid-stride to try and catch sight of you. When did you show up? Why hadn’t you jumped into the case sooner?

No one was there.

The ghoul lunged from the shadows, kicking him off balance. Sam hit the ground hard, shoulder slamming into the packed earth. His shotgun slid out of reach. Dean’s shout rang out before a deafening blast from his own rifle dropped the thing just inches from Sam’s throat. The fight was over in seconds, but the silence that came after stretched on for far too long.

Sam pulled himself upright with a wince, dust clinging to his jacket. Blood welled up at a split on his forehead, and he bit back a hiss of pain as he moved his shoulder in just the right way to send an electric shock down his arm. Dean stalked over, grabbing his other arm and hauling Sam up the rest of the way.

“You good?” he asked, already checking him over for worse injuries.

“Yeah,” Sam grunted, brushing him off. Dean didn’t look convinced. His eyes narrowed.

“You hesitated.”

Sam didn’t answer. Dean turned away, pacing a few steps before rounding back on Sam. His voice cut through the cooling night air. “You hesitated, Sam. You could’ve gotten yourself gutted!”

“I said I’m fine, Dean,” Sam grumbled back, pressing his hand to his head. Unsurprisingly, he was bleeding. Head wounds always bled more. Dean huffed a bitter laugh.

“Are you? ‘Cause you haven’t been since she walked away.” He jabbed a finger towards Sam’s wrist, towards the mark that pulsed beneath Sam’s sleeve. “You’ve been mopey and distracted and acting like a kicked puppy.” Dean frowned. “Maybe she was right to bail. Maybe she knew this whole soulmate crap just screws you up worse than it’s worth.”

The words hit harder than the creature had. Sam just stood there, blood trickling down his temple, jaw locked so tight that it ached. He didn’t argue. Didn’t defend you. Didn’t defend himself. Because some traitorous little part of him wondered if Dean was right.

Day 5

You pulled your jacket tighter to yourself, the wind howling just beyond the windows of your car. You hated surveying. Hated the waiting game. Hated the cold. The apartment building you were watching was leaning sideways, like it might give up and fall apart when the next storm hit.

You jammed your hands into your pockets. Telling yourself you were just cold. Telling yourself that you were just tired. Telling yourself that you didn’t feel it. The ghost of a touch against your wrist. Warm and careful. Like someone’s fingertips were brushing across your skin. You knew better.

You clenched your fists until your nails bit into your palms and refused to look down at your arm. Refused to look at your mark. Because you knew what you would see if you did. You already knew who it was.

Him. It was always him.

You breathed out through your nose, slow and even, like you were lining up a shot that you couldn’t afford to miss. You couldn’t believe it. You wouldn’t believe it. It wasn’t real. It was a trick. It was the universe laughing at you. Again. Except...

For a single, blissful moment, you let your hand drift free of your pocket. Let your thumb brush your wrist the way you imagined he did. Light and tentative. Your mark warmed, chasing away the cold you had felt seconds earlier. For a moment, it felt right. Not cruel. Not some cosmic mistake. Right.

You pulled your hand away abruptly, like your mark had burned you, and curled your arms tighter around your chest, pretending that the shudder that ran through you was from the cold. You couldn’t go down that road. You wouldn’t survive it.

Day 6

Sam sat alone at the long table, a book about cursed objects laying open in front of him. Or was it about counterspells? It was supposed to be something useful. Instead, he kept finding himself flipping back to the pages about soulmates. Tiny black text. Faded diagrams. Words like”destiny” and “fate” and “meant to be.” He rubbed the heel of his hand over his chest absentmindedly. The mark on his wrist itched, the way it did sometimes when he thought about you too hard.

He picked up his phone. Just to check. Just in case. 

No messages.

No missed calls.

He shook his head. He should’ve gotten your number before you left instead of just giving you his and Dean’s. You probably chucked it in the first trash bin you found. Sam leaned back in the chair, tipping his head against the wall behind him. Did you even think of him? He doubted it. He held his arm up and tugged his sleeve back, the mark you left on him clear as day. 

He’d dreamt of this for years. A cosmic match. Two souls destined to be together. While he never had any illusions that it would be easy, – no relationship was – he hadn’t expected his soulmate to be so vehemently against the idea of it. He tried to tell himself that it was the whole soulmate thing you didn’t like. Not him. Regardless, your opinion of him shouldn’t have bothered him. He barely knew you.

So why did it hurt so much?

He glanced at his phone again. Hoping. Wanting. Waiting for a call he knew would never come.

Day 10

You sat in the corner booth of a diner, pushing the cold fries around on the plate in front of you. Across the room, a couple laughed softly, their heads pressed close together. Beneath their intertwined fingers, you could see matching soulmate marks. Unconsciously, you tugged the sleeve of your jacket down over your wrist. The waitress brought you a coffee you didn’t ask for. Smiled at you with a smile that was too kind as she glanced at the spot opposite of you half-expectantly, asking the silent question of whether or not someone was joining you. You smiled back because it was easier than explaining the empty seat.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and your heart leapt. God, you were pathetic.

You pulled it out, inexplicably disappointed to find that it was a text from another hunter getting back to you about a question you had asked the other day. You navigated back to your contacts, highlighting HIM. It was like a dare.

You could call him. You could let yourself believe in fairy tales again. You closed the screen instead and shoved it back into your jacket pocket. You couldn’t believe in soulmates. Not anymore.

You didn’t.

You left a crumpled twenty on the table and walked out into the rain, letting it soak through to your bones like it was all that you deserved in the world.

Day 15

It was another boring little town. Another boring little strip mall.

Dean had dragged him here because someone had mentioned a little bakery in the area that made a hell of an apple pie. And of course, Dean was never one to turn that down. The two of them passed a clothing store, mannequins on display. Sam glanced in without meaning to, his eye catching on one of the jackets hanging on the model.

The exact shade of gray-blue you had been wearing on the hunt in Nebraska.

And suddenly, it wasn’t just fabric. It was you – fierce and stubborn and bleeding – standing between him and the wendigo. His breath caught in his throat.

“Sammy, you coming or what?” Dean grumbled. Sam jolted, tearing his gaze away. He didn’t say anything. Just kept walking. Hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Day 17

The diner’s napkin was already half-shredded under your pen by the time you realized what you were drawing. It wasn’t anything useful. Just a looping, twisting mark you hadn’t seen in years. 

It was dangerous. You dropped the pen, your hand pressing to the crook of your elbow as you stared at the napkin. The waitress came by and refilled your coffee with a sympathetic smile, mistaking your sudden stillness for artist’s block. If only it were that simple.

You crumpled the napkin before you could think better of it and stuffed it deep into your pocket. Like the trash it was. Like it was nothing. It was nothing.

Day 23

Somewhere between exhausted and half-awake, Sam dreamt of you.

Not you how you were now – guarded, prickly, always one step away. But a version of you that smiled when you saw him. A version that didn’t flinch away when he reached for your hand. A version that looked at him like he was someone.

In his dream, you didn’t run. You didn’t leave.

Sam woke with a start, a cold echo of the feeling of being wanted ringing through him. His hand was pressed to his wrist. He reached for his phone, something he had begun doing far more often in the past couple weeks. But he never found anything there. Never expected it. This time would be no dif-

1 New Message

His stomach flipped, all traces of sleep and weariness wiped away from his system. He navigated to it with shaky fingers, breath held. 

You still alive, Winchester?

Received almost two hours ago from a number he didn’t have saved in his phone. But he knew who it was regardless. His breath stuttered as he typed a response. Then deleted it. Then typed another. And deleted that one too. 

Yeah. Still alive. Feeling a little better hearing from you, though.

He hit send before he could rethink the message. The sun started peeking through the window before Sam finally drifted back to sleep. His phone was stubbornly silent.

Day 27

You stared at your phone, the notification on the screen taunting you. You should’ve known that sending that message several nights prior was a mistake. You did know. But in a damn moment of weakness, you had done it anyway. And now he had your number. 

It was just a text. It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t anything significant. 

You doing okay out there?

It was a door you had opened and now you were struggling to find the willpower to close it. You didn’t have to answer it. You had read it, but that didn’t mean you had to respond. Just close the phone. It wasn’t that hard. You did it all the time. So why not this time?

You pressed the reply button before you could stop yourself.

I’m fine.

Day 30

Sam stared at the map in front of him, a pen spinning uselessly between his fingers. Another case pinned down to some godforsaken backroad town in Arkansas. Another hunt that hadn’t brought them any closer to you. He thought for sure that they would’ve run into you by now. Or had that wendigo case actually been a coincidence? At this rate, he couldn’t tell anymore.

He pushed the papers aside with more force than necessary, knocking several of them fluttering to the ground. Dean looked up from cleaning his gun but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Sam could feel his brother’s eyes on him. He could sense Dean’s worry and concern, but Dean seemed to know better than to bring it up. Sam ran a hand over his face, as though the motion could scrub away the tired ache that seemed to settle into his bones.

Thirty days.

It had been thirty days since you had brushed past him with blood on your jacket and stubborness in your spine. Thirty days since he had watched you walk away, the raw heat of his soulmate mark still burning beneath the cuff of his coat. Thirty days since you slipped through his fingers again.

He thought it might get easier. That maybe the shock of finding your soulmate would wear off, and you’d come around to the idea of it. He thought that maybe you had begun considering things when you sent that text a week ago. He thought maybe you would’ve called by now.

You hadn’t.

Instead, the mark thrummed faintly every night. A steady heartbeat that he couldn’t shut off. Sometimes it was stronger. Sometimes it was almost absent. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and staring at his soulmark like he could will it into silence.

“I don’t do soulmates.” Your voice echoed in his head, bitter and rough and wielded like a blade. Sam let out a long breath and squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe he should’ve known better than to believe in fate. Should’ve known better than to believe that the universe had given him something good for once. The pen he was spinning clattered to the ground.  Dean’s chair scraped against the floor.

“You good?” Dean asked, though the tone in his voice suggested he already knew the answer. Sam forced a smile that tasted like rust.

“Yeah. Fine.”

Dean raised an eyebrow but let it drop anyway. Sam knew he would. Dean had given up trying to force him to talk about things years ago. Sam bent down to pick up the pen and got back to pretending he wasn’t waiting for a call that was never going to come.

Day 32

You sat at the edge of the motel bed that smelled like dust and something faintly sour. You had bought an entire box of those damn protein bars Sam had grabbed way back in Nebraska a whole month ago. Eaten one just about everyday. But it wasn't because it reminded you of him... 

Definitely because it reminded you of him. 

Had it really been a month? It felt like more. You were exhausted. The television flickered with static because you couldn’t even muster up the energy to pick a channel to pretend to watch.

Your bag was packed. Your keys were on the table. And you didn’t have a case.

You stared at your phone, staring at HIM in your contact list. You could text him. Could type out something flippant like “Still not dead. You?” and pretend that it meant nothing. But you knew better. You were tired of pretending. You dropped the phone onto the nightstand and crawled under the covers without turning off the light.

The protein bar was dry and crumbly, and you were probably leaving crumbs all over the bed sheets. You didn’t care. You weren’t getting any sleep anyway.

Day 37

Dean tossed a beer to Sam across the library table. He caught it without looking up, still burying himself in the lore books in front of him. Dean watched him for a moment.

“You know,” he began slowly. “It’s okay to admit that you miss her.” Sam froze.

“I don’t–” Sam started, but the lie tasted so wrong that he couldn’t finish the sentence. Dean just shrugged.

“Yeah, and I’ll take a salad over a burger. How many days has it been?”

Sam took a moment, pretending that he had to think about that answer. He didn’t. He was acutely aware of exactly how many days it had been since he last saw you.

“Thirty-seven,” he said before adding, “I think.” Dean made a low noise of acknowledgement before clasping Sam on the shoulder, hard enough to jostle the book that was in his hands.

“Just say the word, and we can go out and find her.”

“I don’t think she wants to be found, Dean.”

If you had wanted to be found, they would’ve crossed paths with you by now. Would’ve heard from you by now. Would’ve made an effort to reach out to him by now. At least... he thought you would. Dean walked off, and Sam spent the next twenty minutes staring at the same page.

Day 40

It was pouring down rain when you finally pulled off the highway. Your fuel light had come on about twenty minutes ago, and you were sure that if you tried to tempt fate any further, she would’ve had you broken down on the side of the road in a heartbeat. And would’ve sent the Winchesters to rescue you just to spite you. The gas station’s lights buzzed overhead, and the pump clicked as you filled up, the numbers ticking upwards too fast.

You glanced at the road. Then did a double take. You swore you saw the Impala. Long, black, unmistakeable. You dropped down behind your car, only daring to peek out after a steadying breath.

It wasn’t them.

It was some beat-up Chrysler. After a second look, you realized that it looked nothing like the Impala. You stalked into the convenience store, shoving down the ache in your chest. You weren’t disappointed. This was what you wanted. The mark on your wrist thrummed like it knew better though as you grabbed a handful of those damn protein bars.

Day 45

Another late night. Another night without a text. Another night without feeling those phantom touches. He hadn’t felt those since the hunt that went sideways over a month ago. Whatever it was, you had stopped doing it. Sam was up far too late, the light from his laptop illuminating his face in the dark motel room. The clock in the corner of the screen read 2:37AM. Outside, the rain tapped against the window like a heartbeat.

He traced his thumb over his wrist, feeling it pulse faintly. Like it was waiting. Waiting for what, though? He was tired of waiting. He might’ve been patient, but even he had his limits. A month and a half was pushing it. He was pretty sure he was on the verge of breaking. So Sam did what he did best when things were getting to be too much. He threw himself into research. Something. Anything to get his mind off of you. 

Dean was snoring already in one of the motel beds. Sam clicked on an article about a series of mysterious deaths in Colorado. Each one of the victims were missing their hearts. The police thought they were ritual killings. Sam knew better. His soulmark flared.

He had found their next case.

---

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Part 3 --- Part 4

[syrupyyyart]

I wish I wasn't such a flip flop!!! AAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

On an unrelated noted, I read back the few chapters of Motley I made initially and liked them more than I remember. Aaaaiarugh.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 1

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: non-sexual nudity, swearing, some sexual-ish thoughts

series masterlist │my masterlist

you had been baking a pie, rolling out the homemade dough for the crust, humming along with the soft music playing through the house, when through the open window you’d seen him. a large man, as naked as the day he was born, running towards your farm. you could only watch in numb shock as he went into your barn, now hidden from view.

what the fuck.

you haven’t been inside that barn in over a year. the farm belonged to your grandparents, and you’d inherited the property after they died. while you love the peace and quiet that came from living in the middle of nowhere, you aren’t a farm girl, so the barn went largely unused.

you think about just leaving the man alone, hoping that he’ll leave eventually.

you keep rolling out the dough, soothing repetitive motions, while you stare at the barn, expecting something else to happen. but nothing does. you almost think you made the man up in a moment of insanity.

it’s this that gets you to finally exit the house, anxiously heading towards the old barn with its creaking wood and chipped paint. you take a deep breath to prepare yourself before stepping inside, every nerve in your body screaming at you that this is a very bad idea. 

you’re both relieved and not when you see the man curled up in a corner. relieved, because you weren’t going insane, and not because, well, now you’re going to have to deal with this strange situation.

you take a step closer when he doesn’t lunge at you to attack, then immediately jump back at the gleaming metal claws that appear from between his knuckles. one second he seems mostly harmless - or at least as harmless as a buff, six foot tall man could be - and the next he’s growling at you, face twisted into a snarl, body tense and ready to pounce at the slightest wrong move.

“hi,” you say, softly, the way you were taught to speak to distressed animals. the man cocks his head to the side but doesn’t lunge at you, which you take as a good sign. “i won’t hurt you, promise. but i am curious to know what led you here.”

by here, you mean both the physical location of your house in the middle of nowhere but also whatever reason he has for running through said middle of nowhere naked. there’s some kind of story there, likely not a good one judging by the way he watches you distrustfully. you have a feeling he hasn’t had a good or easy life.

the man doesn’t answer, not that you really expected him to, but slowly his claws retreat back into his skin. he’s marginally less threatening like this, though you know the smallest thing could bring the sharp blades back out.

despite this, you don’t believe he’s a danger to you. he just seems scared and confused.

“are you hungry?” you ask him. again, he doesn’t answer, and you wonder if he’s able to speak. “okay, how about this, i’ll bring you food and you don’t have to eat it but you can. i’ll be right back.”

you don’t turn your back on the barn, on him, as you jog back into your house. it’s much warmer inside than it is in the barn - you were so distracted that you hadn’t been feeling the full effect of the early winter cold. you think of the man, he must be freezing, but you hadn’t seen any sign of it, no shivering, not even goosebumps raising on his skin.

one thing at a time, you tell yourself.

your half-finished pie is sitting discarded on the kitchen counter and you look at it mournfully. you’ll finish it later, and maybe you’ll actually have someone to enjoy it with you.

(it gets lonely sometimes, so far from any cities or towns. usually, you don’t mind it, but apparently there’s some small part of you that still desperately craves human contact and interaction, since you’re jumping at the chance to take care of a random stranger.)

you have leftovers in the fridge that you suppose will have to do, since making him a fresh, home-cooked meal would take time, and you’d promised to return hastily. you heat it up quickly, the warmth emanating from the food another reminder of the frigid temperature outside as you bring the plate into the barn. 

he looks up when you enter, sniffing the air like a dog. it’s cute, and you smile as you put the plate down, careful not to get too close to him, letting him make the first move.

whether he trusts you or he’s just starving you don’t know, but he rushes to your side and starts eating like he hasn’t had food in a month. with him distracted and closer to you, you can get a better look at him. 

he doesn’t look malnourished. he’s buff, muscular and hairy, and you have to stop your eyes from going lower as you stare at his chest.

you look away despite the man being too distracted to notice your shameless ogling. he might be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life - or you’ve just been away from men for too long and have become pathetic.

he eats quickly, and looks up expectantly at you when he finishes, like a dog at their owner. you giggle at the comparison you’ve made in your head - it’s quite accurate, you find, with the way he immediately seems to trust you now that you’ve fed him.

“do you wanna go inside? it’s pretty cold out here, and inside i have more food.” you say, and when you go to stand up so does he. you explicitly do not look down.

he follows you into your house, and you’re so glad you live alone so there’s no one to question whatever is happening.

it’s easy to find extra clothes in the guest room, less easy to find any that you think will fit him. eventually, you give up, hoping the sweatpants you found will do for now, and grab one of your own shirts, thankful for your habit of buying oversized men’s t-shirts. it goes down to your thighs, surely it’ll fit him.

you turn to head back into the living room where you left him, and your soul nearly leaves your body when you spot him standing at the door. you yelp, your hand flying to your chest and the clothes falling to the ground.

he startles at the noise, tensing and looking around like he expects danger. 

“shit,” you swear, “how are you so quiet?”

he frowns, and you could swear that he seems apologetic, though you aren’t sure how accurate your interpretations of his facial expressions are given that you’ve only known him for about an hour. it makes you feel a little guilty, though really you shouldn’t be since he snuck up on you.

you’re about to offer him the clothes when you pause, gaze locked on his chest. “you should shower.”

he follows you when you lead him to the bathroom, which you take as agreement on his part. he’s dirty, covered everywhere by a thin layer of dirt. a shower will feel good. it would also give you time to process this without him watching you. his eyes are quite intense, and he keeps them directed at you. you need the privacy to freak out.

it’s only after you place the clothes down on the countertop and show him how the knobs in your shower work that you realise he’s not making any moves to enter the shower. you start to leave the bathroom and he takes a step to follow you.

you stop, thinking about how he doesn’t seem to know how to speak, how he looked so scared and confused when you’d found him, and you sigh when you realise it’s likely he doesn’t know how to use a shower either.

what is your story? you think to yourself.

“do you want help?” is what you ask instead.

he nods slowly, which is the closest you’ve gotten to a response from him so far. you look up at the ceiling, inhaling deeply and bracing yourself when you realise this means you’re going to have to touch the hot, naked man.

you turn on the shower, waiting for it to warm up before you motion for the man to get in. you are absolutely not willing to get naked in the shower with a stranger whose name you don’t even know, so you step in fully clothed, already regretting it when you feel the fabric growing wet and sticking to your skin.

it’s as you’re helping rinse the dirt off him that you spot the writing on his dog tags. you’d noticed them previously but hadn’t been able to get a good look. 

you take the metal chain in your hand, turning it to read the name stamped into the metal.

“logan,” you read, and the man in front of you purrs, a low rumble in his throat. you smile. “i’m going to guess that’s your name. logan.”

this seems to relax the last dredges of tension that he holds. he practically melts into you, and the feeling of being trusted so fully by someone who seems so broken warms your heart in a way that you haven’t felt in years.

you finish washing him up in silence, only interrupted by occasional soft purrs and hums from logan. he quite enjoys it when you wash his hair, hands reaching up to scrub shampoo into the strands, nails scratching at his scalp. you switch your earlier comparison from a dog to a cat, the purring reminding you of the kitten you had growing up.

he shakes his head when he gets out of the shower, water flying everywhere, and you laugh as you hand him a towel. you once again have to help him when he just stares at it like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

he gets dressed on his own, thankfully, since you already feel like you might implode from being in such close quarters with an extremely attractive, wet, nude man for so long. 

you leave him for a minute to dry yourself off and change into dry clothes. it’s nice to have a moment of reprieve, where you can simply breathe and process and question what the fuck you just got yourself into. you finally allow yourself to freak out a tiny bit, muttering to yourself in the mirror, tugging at your hair.

you just manage to pull a shirt over your head when you hear quiet whimpering at the door and the sound of loud banging against it.

your heart breaks at the sound, reminded of the wounded animals your grandparents would nurse back to health, and you rush to pull some pants on so you can open the door. logan looks at you with the most devastated eyes and then falls into you, face nudging into your neck, inhaling deeply. you stumble back, thankful for the wall that catches you. he’s heavier than he looks, which is saying something, given his size.

you’re shocked for a moment, frozen, but quickly come back to yourself and place your hands on his firm back.

“i’m sorry,” you say, “i didn’t mean to scare you. i wasn’t going to leave you, i just needed privacy for a moment.”

you don’t know if he understands anything you’re saying but it makes you feel better to explain yourself. you’re shocked that this is the same man who was snarling at you, claws out and ready to rip your throat out not so long ago, shocked at how quickly he’s grown attached to you.

shocked at how quickly you’ve grown attached to him, too. then again, you’ve always been this way. you like to help people, and logan seems like a man who needs a lot of help.

“i was baking a pie, when i saw you,” you tell him, “how about we go finish that? you don’t have to leave my side. you can watch me and i’ll teach you all my secrets.”

and as you expected, he follows you into the kitchen, trailing after you like a lost puppy. normally, you hate having anyone else in the kitchen with you, getting in your way when you’re in the zone, but his presence is nice. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t distract you or get in your way, just stands and watches you intently.

you’re already used to having him here with you, comfortable enough to turn your back to him. it’s crazy, and a (big) part of you knows that this isn’t exactly a smart thing to do, but you’re already planning on letting him stay for as long as he needs, maybe even forever.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams

[carawenfiction]

So...remember how I said in that update post how I might MAYBE do a TSS rewrite and post it for free?

"Maybe" quickly turned into "definitely happening". Instead of making it outside of COG, however, the finished product that's already published will be updated with the rewritten files. This means that if you've already purchased TSS through COG, you'll have the rewritten version available. That's how I originally intended to go about things with the old rewrite and is the better option here to avoid potential complications.

I've been in contact with COG and they've let me know that I'd be able to do what I have in mind even if this results in a different wordcount and very different scenes/plot points and a different kind of main story.

I realize that this announcement is probably pretty jarring since my last post stated that I wasn't sure about doing a rewrite but that I wanted to if I had enough time. After making that post, I started creating an outline for the rewrite mostly for fun...and one thing kind of led to another. I want you all to know that I wouldn't be making this post at all if I wasn't sure about this. It's because I've already begun the process and feel incredibly motivated and inspired that I can do this that I'm making this announcement.

This rewrite is not going to be like my old attempt at a rewrite, though. It's an entirely new one that I feel much more confident about.

So far I've written the outline for the rewrite and started reworking already existing scenes from chapter 1 as well some new ones. I'm happy to say that the difference between how the rewrite process felt years ago compared to now is like light and day. It seems like those years I've taken away from TSS were very healthy and helpful in giving me some distance and letting me figure out what kind of story I really want to tell.

My plan is to rewrite book 1 and then make 1 full continuation after that. Instead of a trilogy, it looks like this version of TSS will be 2 volumes, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it'll be shorter than originally intended. I think it's more doable for me to rewrite the first book (starting from scratch while also using some already written scenes, since I've been assured I'm allowed to do so) and then make 1 complete continuation of it rather than trying to fill stuff out over 3 different entries, and I think it'll serve the plot and story as a whole to do it that way.

That being said, I fully understand that some - or most of you - might have trouble trusting my word after me failing to do the rewrite I wanted to years ago and not delivering a second book. That's completely fair. This time I'm not rushing things and I don't feel any pressure to do this. It's not something I do out of dislike for the original, but rather out of love for what it could be and what I could make it into, if that makes sense. I'm taking as much time as I need to and am not putting any pressure on myself to do this.

My other project takes priority right now so I can't dedicate all of my time to the rewrite, but I'm working on it when I have time over or get stuck. It's actually pretty nice to alternate between two different stories that have different settings and has helped a bit in avoiding writer's block.

Here are some differences between TSS and the TSS rewrite (most of the changes I made to the old rewrite no longer apply):

The rewrite will be told in second-person point of view ("you" instead of "I"). The reason for this is that when I first started TSS I was really unused to the second-person POV, but after having spent years in the IF space it's now the other way around. It'll make writing much easier for for me, and I hope it won't feel too jarring for people who are used to the first person POV.

The Shadowman and Jealene (now "J") will both be genderselectable just like the main cast. The Shadowman will be genderselectable later on, though - it might sound strange but I think it makes sense when you have more context. J plays a bigger role than they did in the original and their personality is a bit different in this version.

Some side characters (such as most of the hideout) will be cut. This is because they felt really underdeveloped to me in the full game and didn't serve much of a purpose. Instead I'm focusing more on the main cast + a few key characters to ensure the story plot stays focused and you get more time to develop bonds of various kinds with the main cast instead.

The relationship system will look a bit different. Instead of bars showing a percentage of approval, I'll write a description of each character and what they think of you. The descriptions will shift when the character starts viewing you differently, whether that's due to rivalry, romance or friendship. My hope is that this will allow for a more nuanced relationship system/descriptions. I'll also adjust the options a bit to try and make choices more nuanced and am thinking of including the option of having ex. a heart next to a romantic choice for those who want to know for sure what they're getting into. The different responses (such as shy, flirty etc.) will stay but some of it will probably be reworked. Essentially what I want to do is allow for a wider range of MCs and how the characters respond to the MC.

The MC is going to have more agency in certain ways. I've included something plot-relevant to the main character that can potentially change the dynamic between them and the group a bit, but it all depends on how you play it.

The tone might be somewhat different. Not entirely, of course, but there are some parts of the old TSS where the characters sound a bit younger than they are supposed to be, where tension and seriousness has been sacrificed in favor of humor and where some of the interactions aren't the way I would prefer for them to be. I've gotten older since writing TSS (gasp) and my tastes have changed, as has my writing to some degree. In order to do a rewrite I'd have to write in a way that's most enjoyable for me and that I feel best fits the story I want to tell. That's not to say that there isn't going to be silliness etc., but I'm adjusting the tone somewhat and putting more time and effort into descriptions and the writing overall.

The narrative will be different, even though the overall story itself will mostly stay the same. I'm keeping a lot of elements and also aim to introduce new ones that I believe will strengthen the story and make it a more enjoyable game overall.

I think those are the main differences I can give away right now without spoiling anything. I'll make sure to post updates when I've got more to share! Once the demo for the rewrite is finished, I'll post it on the forums and link it in an intro post on here.

Thank you all for sticking by me throughout the years. I hope you'll find some comfort in returning to this world, as well as new things to ponder and excite you in this new upcoming version of the story <3

The Azuridia and Quaiel chibis are done by the amazing madebysalfi

[prinzrupprecht]

When someone else gives you gifts

Featuring: Okita, Sasaki, Loki, and Anubis ( part 3 )

I’m doing young Sasaki instead of 60 year old dilf Sasaki. For those that don’t know who Tatsunosuke was. He is an actual character in chapter 5 Chiruran.

Read part 1 and 2 for the other characters

TW: some possessive tendencies, and cute/fluff moments and hurt/comfort

Okita

Everyone from Kondo’s dojo always teased how Souji liked you even though he denied it. A part of you hoped that he does like you more than a friend. Deep down it always hurt hearing how he always said you two were just friends.

You decided to visit Tatsunosuke who was a sick young boy dying from a fatal lung disease. He reminded you of Souji a lot and he was nice to you. He was the son of a high-ranking samurai at the military centre. He was too far gone for any treatment to work. “Here, you shouldn’t move much.” You went to hand him a mug of herbal tea.

“I don’t think I’ll be here much longer,” he was breathing heavily and his condition looked to be worse than the last time you saw him. You didn’t say anything and thought back how he never looked down on you for being a part of another dojo.

He went to grab his wakizashi and looked down at it. The scabbard was red and the guard was silver. “I want you to have it and remember me when I’m no longer here.” He put it in your hands. It was painful but you silently accepted it. This might be the last you see him.

Tatsunosuke was like a younger brother to you but the others from Kondo’s dojo thought you were dating him which was embarrassing sometimes. Souji on the other hand never said anything about your visits with the dying boy. As you forbid your farewell with him and left to return back to the Shieikan dojo. You saw a few of the kids playing outside. “Where have you been?” A voice asked you from behind.

“Hi to you as well?” You saw how he looked irritated while giving you a murderous stare. You avoided the question. Souji knew but wanted you to be honest. Did you like Tatsunosuke? Were you seeing him as if you two were dating? What pissed him off more was the unknown wakizashi you were holding. It looked oddly familiar as if Souji hadn’t studied the boy you liked hanging out with.

“No need to give me that look, Souji-san. You know where I was at. Besides, where are those fan girls that normally come around here?” You weren’t making the situation better.

“They don’t mean anything to me unlike what he means to you,” he muttered while his gaze met with the ground. You wanted to say something else. You always found comfort with Souji more but Tatsunosuke was dying and didn’t have many friends close to him. He tried to move past you to go back inside the dojo and probably avoid you for the rest of the week.

“Souji wait!” you called out to him. He stopped and waited for you to say something without turning his head to look at you.

“He… he doesn’t mean as much to me as you do. He’s dying and doesn’t have much time left to live.” You wanted to grab ahold of his sleeve but the wakizashi gift still irked him. He would have to give you something better for you to protect yourself. Was he acting jealous over this boy? He met him once or twice and beat him without trying in practice training.

Souji unexpectedly turned his head and smiled. “It’s fine, I would get you something better for you to protect yourself. Maybe me perhaps?” Was this his awful way of flirting with you? Huh? Him protect you? That doesn’t sound too bad.

Without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around him accepting that offer. “How about we put a label on us?” It was about time you two would stop denying it around the others and are official and he’d be your only gift.

Sasaki

During the closing years of the Sengoku period, you had met some interesting people and one in particular caught your attention. Sasaki Kojiro. He was a bit skinny but his determination to keep fighting had made you curious about this young man.

You were just some odd woman training in the same dojo as him. It was Toda’s dojo and it was owned by Seigen. You saw him enter the dojo late like usual and took a smacking by the owner’s nephew like usual. “Sasaki-san, you should take this dojo seriously if you want to get stronger,” you light-heartedly sighed.

You and him sparred a bit but he normally gave up and said you were stronger than him. It made you wonder if you were strong or if he was just weak. You saw how he sparred with Kagekatsu numerous of times and forfeits the matches normally. “Sasaki-san, why don’t you actually try and put in your all?” You pouted but he awkwardly laughed and said there was no point because if he were to fight you a hundred times you would still beat him. Huh?!

Sasaki was always one to follow you around like a lost puppy in the dojo which was cute and you admired that side of him. He wanted to get better but his confidence wasn’t there. His training lacked so you were certain he was either going to be kicked from the dojo or he would train elsewhere. You wanted him to stay and not slack off. You would help him if he would take your help but he doesn’t want it. He said it numerous of times.

After a few weeks had gone by of not seeing Sasaki you were growing more and more upset. Did he already quit? Give up with the sword? One of the members of the dojo gave you a kimono robe and said it was a gift for your hard work. The kimono was patterned and made with silk and not cloth. You had no idea whether to accept it but it was better than what you normally wore. Short baggy pants and shirts with no sleeves.

You had left the dojo to see if you could find Sasaki. You were worried someone could’ve killed him with the time he was gone. Yet after some time wandering the woods, you heard ruffling from a few leaves and saw a rabbit. Then what surprised you was Sasaki jumping to catch it from behind. “Wh—what the hell?! What are you doing?” You were furious how he was turning into some animal.

“Haha, what are you doing here? I was training,” he scratched the back of his head. You sighed and sat down on a fallen log.

“Sasaki-san, I was worried you were killed from the missing weeks you stopped coming back.” You mumbled and the truth was you didn’t want him to disappear from your life.

“I would… eventually return when I feel like it. Besides what is this? I have never seen you wear something like this before,” he walked up to you and touched the sleeve of the robe.

“Someone from the dojo gave it to me for my hard work. I don’t feel like I deserve it though, and you look like you need new clothes eventually.” You scolded him for always getting dirty.

“Oh well, I actually wanted to get you something… nicer. I guess someone else beat me to it.” Sasaki was giving up already? Your left eye twitched.

“There’s no limit to who can give me things. How about I take you somewhere to eat properly that isn’t raw bunnies and snakes?” You stood up and grabbed the front of his kimono. Sasaki admired how you were persistent and wanted to check up on him when no one else has.

“I don’t eat them raw… I still cook the meat.” He raised his hands up in defence.

“Agh, never mind. Let’s go somewhere and this time I’ll watch over you.” He didn’t say anything after that but a part of him was happy and he would prove to you one day that he would take care of you better than anyone else.

Loki

You were incredibly close to Loki and had long accepted him for who he was. His tricks never worked on you and you can easily tell if he shape-shifts into someone else. He wasn’t that unpredictable. You could tell he had a troubled past that he wouldn’t tell anyone, not even you.

As the two of you resided in the same Asgard palace, Loki liked to follow you around even if he was disguised as small animals that would not be in your peripheral sight. He couldn’t help but grow irritated by how some of the guards would joke with you and talk so freely around you.

One of the guards gave you a ring and this made Loki snap on the inside. This guard— was he proposing to you?! He didn’t want to out himself that he was spying on you or else this could strain your friendship. He wanted to kill the guard for trying to steal you from him.

He found you alone in the library reading and this was the time to ask you if you feel the same way as he did for you. Love? He couldn’t deny how utterly in love he was with you even if it was obnoxious or just infatuation.

You heard him enter the room and turned your head. “Loki? What are you doing?” Your calm voice eased his anger from what he saw earlier. Confusion was written on his face. You weren’t wearing the ring?

“Ya I— I was bored and wanted to see you!” He tried to give you one of his not-so-innocent smiles. He was hiding something and you knew it.

“What is it?” Your expression grew more serious and Loki grabbed your shoulders.

“It’s just— I want us to be more than what we are now." you couldn’t deny how you had never seen this desperate side of him. Was he playing with you?

“Don’t play with my feelings, Loki. Whatever this trick is—"

“I’m not playing any trick! I swear— I swear I wanted to kill that guard from earlier who tried to propose to you.” What?!

“You admitted to spying on me? And Balder wasn’t proposing to me, you idiot. It was one of those rings that can open portals for fast transportation.” You had no idea why Loki was so upset but he looked a bit more at ease. So he might’ve been telling the truth.

“So— sorry, I assumed too quick…” he was embarrassed but now you know how he feels when he’s around you.

You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. “You shouldn’t have hidden your feelings from me like how you hide yourself in different forms,” you smiled genuinely. Loki was frozen in place but reciprocated your comfort by keeping you in his arms. It was better than feeling as he did before assuming others wanted you just as badly as he did.

“How about I make you mine completely?” he tilted your chin up and gave you a smug look as if he was hinting at something else.

“We can take it slow, no need to rush things." you lifted the palm of your hand to touch his cheek. Even though he frowned at your words, he still had you at the end of the day.

Anubis

You were his, and he made sure everyone knew that. As you resided in the Aaru, the heavenly paradise for the Egyptian pantheon. Some of the other Egyptian gods didn’t like messing with the hyper-energetic god of funerals. He was strong and devoted to being your loyal guardian and companion.

He expresses his feelings a lot and doesn’t hide things from you. Something about him made you more drawn to the god. He saw something in you that even you couldn’t see yourself. Were you as perfect as he always tells you?

You didn’t believe it. As some moments passed, you found Bastet and Hathor whispering to each other in the main hall. They stopped and saw you staring at them. Bastet snickered and called you a pet. “I uhm… was looking for lord Ra—" you were interrupted.

“He’s not looking for you nor cares what you want. Tell me what it is and if it’s important I’ll relay the message to him.” Hathor stared down at you as she had her arms crossed. Bastet smirked and you knew in the back of your head that these two never liked you.

“Sorry.. it’s not important.” You lied as it wasn’t any use to talk to them. You needed to tell Ra that Osiris left the Aaru without permission. You went to leave but Bastet spoke up.

“What does my nephew see in you? Is it your pretty eyes? Face? Hair? Hmm… maybe something else? Are you two fu—"

“No—! It’s none of that. I— I don’t know exactly. We’re good friends! That’s all… I think.” You raised your hands up but Bastet wasn’t done interrogating you. Hathor pulled her back and told her there was no reason to start a fight.

Good friends? Bastet heard Anubis call you his consort on numerous occasions. Even Osiris and Set disapprove of his behaviours and obsession with you. Yet you called him a close friend? Or were you embarrassed?

“Here take this and think of it as a small courtesy thing, and go level your head a bit. Sorry about my sister.” Hathor passed you a bottle of red wine, but the worst thing was, that you had never drank before. Only higher authority gods were allowed to. You were just a simple deity of the pantheon. It was no wonder no one approves of you around here.

You walked back to your corridors with a frown on your face. Were the other gods right? You were unworthy of Anubis’s attention? It brought you discomfort for some reason and the fact he says he loves you a lot without thinking made you believe that he knew what the emotion was. Yet you wondered if you feel the same back? Some of the women and maids would try to get his attention but he acts oblivious to their advances.

You decided you wouldn’t drink since it wasn’t your thing. Anubis was lying on the bed in your room. “Why are you in my room?” You put the bottle on one of the stands in the corner. You didn’t expect him to be waiting for you, well it’s not the first time.

“I really really wanted to wait for you. I couldn’t find you so I decided to wait here instead.” He jumped off the bed like an excited animal. You couldn’t help but blush a bit at his excitement.

“Well, I ran into your aunts in the hall and Hathor gifted me this.” You picked up the bottle to show him and he stuck out his tongue in disgust. He was exaggerating. You quickly chuckled. You can tell he hated the taste of alcohol.

“Yuck yuck yuck! I should tell them to not give you this stuff!” He pouted but you sat on the bed and had already decided that you weren’t going to drink— at least not try it in front of him. Anubis looked unhappy and you had walked over to him and asked him if he was upset that they tried to get you drunk. He looked a bit flustered but he wasn’t entirely stupid. Part of the reason was that he doesn’t like others giving things to you. The wine could’ve had poison in it.

“It’s nothing! It’s nothing, let’s just cuddle!” He pulled you down on the mattress and was suffocating you with his arms squeezing around your body.

He soon forgotten why he was mad since you were with him in his arms. His soon-to-be wife for sure.

Note: this is the end of part 3! I saw a request in my box for Valkyries and it intrigued me that if I do a part 4, I’ll probably do side characters and Valkyries but they’ll probably be shorter than normal.

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 1 (Evan Buckley x Reader) (Eventual Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you're an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them. Originally posted to AO3

Chapter Summary: Your new(ish) co-worker has a special talent: getting on your nerves.

A/N: This is such a niche story and I am desperate for validation, please tell me if you enjoyed reading! Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Swearing (if that even counts).

You’re ending the first half of your 24-hour shift the same way you always do—dinner with the team. Well, at least that’s how you try to end the first half of your shift. Of course, that’s also assuming that both the fire and medical teams are actually at the station and not on a call.

All things considered, this probably only happens once a week, if that.

When it works out, though, it’s a good time. You already spend a lot of time in the rig with Hen and Chim, being an advanced paramedic and all. When it comes to the firefighters, though, you aren’t as well-versed, so it’s nice to have a weekly ‘getting to know you’ session. It seems like these days, it’s a 50/50 shot if they’ll make it to next week's dinner.

The firefighting crew at the 118 is a revolving door of macho men. When you first started, it was Chim, Tommy, and Sal. Chim became a paramedic, so he didn’t exactly ‘leave.’ Sal got relieved of duty, so he didn’t really have a choice. Tommy left, but for something better. Maybe it isn’t so much the job that makes people leave; maybe being a firefighter at the 118 is a stepping stone for bigger and better things.

There is one firefighter that, if he left, you wouldn’t be heartbroken. In fact, it would probably make your shifts a whole lot better.

Evan Buckley, aka ‘Buck.’ God, even thinking his name makes you want to gag a little.

He’s a decent kid, but he’s just that: a kid. He’s a Probie; he’s only been on the job for about 4 months, and no one would assume otherwise. His heart is in the right place, but his brain hasn’t caught up yet. You’re starting to fear it never will.

“I know exactly what that polite, distant smile means: she’s bored,” Chim says as he leans over the counter, pulling you right out of your thoughts and back into reality. “This woman is so far out of my league, but she’s once-in-a-lifetime… I can’t let her go.”

“Lots of fish in the sea,” Bobby, your captain, chimes in. He leans over to pull something out of the oven.

“Not with the bait he’s using,” Hen remarks as she walks by. Her arms are full of dishes to set the table with.

“Amen, sister,” you agree, hot on her heels. She gives you a small smile and hands you the plates, which you accept with a smile of your own.

“Cruel, but true,” Chim sighs. “I met her on this new dating site, just for cops and firefighters, RomancingTheUniform.com. She’s an adrenaline junkie, so foreplay is me telling her stories about running into burning buildings and jumping into icy lakes and…”

“I’m sorry, wait,” Hen interrupts, “remind me: when was the last time you ran into or jumped over anything?”

“...I embellish a little.”

“Oh, noted.”

“So is she a cop or a firefighter?” You ask.

Chim gives you a look. “Why would she be?”

“Well, you said the website is for cops and firefighters,” you repeat. “Doesn’t that make her a cop or a firefighter?”

“Okay, it’s not just cops and firefighters,” Chim cedes, “it’s also for people that want to date cops and firefighters.”

“Ohhh,” you smile, “so cops, firefighters, and badge bunnies. What could possibly go wrong?”

“I’m telling you, the uniform is a major aphrodisiac,” Chim continues as he brings a salad to the table.

“Yeah, hence the term ‘badge bunny,’” you remark.

The conversation is interrupted by one of the engines backing into the station. You probably should have noticed it was gone, but frankly, as long as your rig is in the bay safe and sound, you don’t care what the meatheads are up to.

Speaking of meatheads…

“Oh good, PB is back,” you remark sarcastically.

‘PB’, aka ‘pretty boy,’ aka Buck. You started calling him Pretty Boy his first day, and over the months, you shortened it. He jogs his way up the stairs and dips a finger in the communal spaghetti bowl. You roll your eyes and take a sip of your coffee.

“Wash your hands!” Hen scolds as she pulls the bowl out of his reach.

“What if there’d been a call?” Bobby asks as he brings the last dishes to the table.

“I was in the neighborhood!” Buck defends himself. He takes one of the plates from Bobby’s grasp, but instead of passing it around like a normal person, he starts eating the food off the plate with his dirty hands. Sometimes, you wondered if he was raised by a pack of stray dogs.

Bobby starts lecturing Buck, and you smirk with a little satisfaction. Bobby’s going to write him up, and truthfully? It’s a long time coming.

“First infraction, two more, and you’re out,” Bobby says as he steals back the plate. “Wash your hands.”

“You know, you're not helping him by going easy on him,” Chim says once Buck is out of earshot.

“He just needs a little direction,” Bobby replies.

“I’ll remind you of that when he gets us killed,” you mumble.

The alarm bells start to sound through the station. Everyone groans, including yourself. So much for dinner.

Chim decided to catch a ride with the boys in the truck, so that leaves you and Hen in the rig.

“I’m sorry, dispatch,” you say into the radio, “118 RA responding: did you say the baby is in the wall?”

“10-4, 118,” the dispatcher responds. “Caller reports hearing a baby crying in his walls.”

“Copy that, 118 RA clear,” you say before hanging the radio back up. “Well, this will be fun.”

“You think you can play nice with Buck?” Hen asks, a smirk on her face.

“Hey, I’m always nice,” you reply.

“Not to him!” She laughs. “Don’t think I didn’t see you roll your eyes the second he got back to the station.”

“I can play nice and still think he’s a raging idiot,” you defend. “Besides, since when are you his biggest fan?”

“Trust me, I’m not,” Hen chuckles. “And I love you, but you don’t know how to play nice.”

“Why be the bigger person when you can be the bigger problem?”

That remark gets a full belly laugh out of Hen. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

Hen parks the rig behind the engine in front. The boys come pouring out immediately, grabbing various tools and equipment. You make your way to the back of the ambulance, tossing Hen her med bag before picking up your own.

You follow the rest of the crew upstairs, and before you know it, the five of you are standing in some random guy’s apartment, listening for something that probably isn’t real.

“Look, I'm telling you, I heard a baby crying,” the man says. “Someone flushed a baby down the toilet.”

Hen picks up a bong off the counter and gives the man a look.

“I’m not high.”

You both raise your eyebrows.

“Okay, I’m pretty high, but it’s Sativa,” he says. “It makes you happy. It doesn’t make you hallucinate.”

“It could’ve been a rat,” Chim shrugs. “Sometimes rats get stuck in the walls.”

You frown. At the end of his sentence, you swore you heard a cooing sound.

“Shh,” you say to everyone, walking over to the bathroom. “Did you guys hear that?”

They're hot on your heels, watching as you take your stethoscope from around your neck and put it into your ears. You place the bell on the wall and wait. When you hear nothing, you begin rapping your knuckles on the tile until you do. Once again, it’s a faint cooing sound, not unlike a baby.

You then knock your knuckles on the wall until you hear a hollow sound. You take a marker from your pants pocket and mark an ‘x’ over it, knowing the space behind it is hollow. You take the stethoscope out from your ears.

“We need to open up this wall,” you say, pointing to the ‘x.’

“No, we’re being punked,” Chim disagrees. “It’s a tape recorder or something.”

“Maybe not,” Hen says, stepping forward. “Maybe a mother gives birth on the toilet and flushes it.”

“Okay, first of all, that's awful,” Chim says. “Second, do you know how pipes work?”

“If the baby is premature, its bones can bend and compress like sponges,” Bobby mentions. “We need to get in there.”

“Stand back, I got this!” Buck says, swinging his fire axe over his shoulder.

He runs up towards the wall with full intentions of swinging. Hen and Chim move out of the way and shout while Bobby tries to grab him. Ultimately, you’re the one to stop him, and you do it by placing both hands on the axe.

“Hey! Did you even stop to consider that you might hit a baby?!” You shout, adrenaline pumping through your bloodstream.

Buck just stares at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” you spat, pushing the axe out of the way.

“Buck, go get the saw,” Bobby directs.

“Try to find some common sense while you’re down there,” you call after Buck as he walks out.

“Nice catch,” Bobby says, looking at you.

“How nice of me to save the baby from one of the LAFD’s finest first responders,” you reply bitterly.

You can’t help but look at Hen, who quickly looks away. Her avoidance gives you a small sense of victory because this? This shit right here? This is why you can’t play nice with Buck. His head is screwed on backward, and it can get people killed. Playing nice isn’t going to fix that.

Thankfully, Bobby takes the saw from Buck once he brings it up. He makes a few small cuts in the wall before he and the other boys are pulling at the drywall. They quickly expose a massive pipe running behind the toilet.

“That thing is huge,” you remark to Hen.

“It probably connects a bunch of the toilets in the units above this one,” Hen returned.

“So… even with the water turned off…” you start, a sense of dread filling your stomach.

“If someone above us flushes the toilet, it could drown the baby,” Hen finishes. Almost before she finishes the sentence, she’s running into the hall, yelling for people not to flush their toilets. The boys make a few cuts into the pipe, and in no time, they’re taking it to the floor.

“Guys, I can see the head,” you say, joining them on the floor.

They make a few more cuts until the pipe is one straight segment.

“Get the head out,” Chim instructs.

“Yeah, you gotta push from below,” Buck chimes in.

You try that, but the baby isn’t moving. You look to the corner, then at Buck.

“Bring me the defibrillator,” you instruct clearly.

Buck scrambles over, picking up the case.

“Just the lube, Buck,” you rephrase, but he’s already coming back with the whole thing.

“Take it, take it,” Buck says, passing it off to you.

You let out a frustrated sigh before grabbing the lube out and tossing the rest of it to the side. You pour some lube on the baby’s head, then down by its feet.

“Work that in,” you tell Chim.

You move your index finger around the circumference of the pipe, brushing the baby’s legs with lubricant as you do so. Then, you gently apply pressure to its feet, and slowly, you can feel it move forward.

“This is gonna be a scoop and run,” you mumble.

“Hen, get the ambulance ready,” Bobby tells her. You’re not sure when she got back, but when you look up again, she’s gone again.

Slowly, the baby’s head emerges from the pipe, and the rest of her body follows.

“She’s not breathing,” you quickly note, “starting CPR.”

You place your index and middle finger in the center of the baby’s chest and press down fast and hard. “Looks like her airway’s obstructed.”

“Buck, get the bulb syringe,” Chim demands. A few seconds pass. “Buck, come on!”

“I’m coming!” Buck barks back, clearly in a panic.

“Come on, pretty girl,” you say quietly as you continue compressions. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Buck returns with the bulb syringe and uses it, but it doesn’t help.

“Dammit,” you curse. “You’ll have to try a blind finger sweep.”

Buck looks at you, then Chimney, then the baby, then back at you. “Me?”

“You gotta learn somehow,” you remark. “It’s easy: just turn her head to the side, curl your pinkie, and see if you can scoop anything out.”

Buck is hesitant initially, but he eventually does as you tell him. It takes a few seconds, but he manages to clear the obstruction, and the baby begins crying. Everyone laughs with relief.

“Let’s get her wrapped up,” you say, reaching for a towel.

The four of you rush down the hall, you with the baby in your arms. The pit in your stomach returns.

“No one held the elevator?!” you yell.

“Dammit,” Chim curses.

“Give her to me,” Buck says, nodding to the stairs.

You stare at him.

“Come on, I’m twice as fast,” Buck pleads.

“Screw this up, and I’ll kill you,” you threaten before carefully handing her over.

Buck takes off down the stairs, but you follow after. There’s only so much that can happen in a few flights of stairs, but you aren’t willing to risk it.

“I got you,” Buck says to the baby, “you’ll be okay.”

A faint smile crosses your face. Maybe Buck isn’t so terrible after all.

“Come on, move it!” Buck shouts as you both make it out of the lobby and out to the rig.

You climb into the ambulance with him, but before either of you can even sit down, you hear someone yelling to wait. It’s not just anyone: it’s LAPD Sergeant Grant, or as you’ve heard Hen calls her, Athena.

“Wait, is that the mother?” Buck says, looking at the young woman with blood-stained pants in someone’s arms. “Yo, screw her! Look what she did!”

Never mind. Buck is still terrible.

“Sit down and shut up!” You yell at Buck. “This is not your call! She is a child, and she’s bleeding out!”

“Look what she did!” Buck repeated.

“Come on, let’s get her up here,” you say to Athena and the man carrying the young girl, disregarding Buck’s protests.

Bobby and Chim made it down, so they help haul the young girl up into the rig. Chim stays at the head while Bobby sits next to Buck, the spot you were about to sit in mere moments ago.

“If this baby dies, it’s on you,” Buck says, staring at Athena.

“Stop talking, Evan,” you snap as someone closes the ambulance doors.

Using his actual name seems to shut him up.

“What’s your name, honey?” You ask the baby’s mother as you cut away her shirt to place EKG leads.

“Marika,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know you’re scared, Marika, but you just have to keep breathing for me, okay?” you say. “My friend Howie is going to start an IV so we can give you fluids and medication. You’re bleeding a lot, so I have to do what’s called a fundal exam, okay? I have to press on your stomach to make sure your uterus is contracting back down normally.”

She stares at you, eyes filled with tears, before eventually nodding.

Using one hand to stabilize over the pubis, you begin pressing down the other into Marika’s stomach, a few fingerbreadths below her belly button. She lets out a few whimpers. You don’t feel the fundus, or the top of the uterus, like you should.

“Marika, you’re bleeding a lot because your uterus isn’t contracting. I have to make it contract by doing a fundal massage. It won’t feel that good, but it could save your life.”

Once again, Marika looks at you before nodding. This time, she closes her eyes.

Using firm and consistent pressure, you push one hand down where the fundus should be and make small circles. Marika lets out a few more cries of pain. You notice that, after a few minutes, the bleeding starts to slow, and her uterus firms up beneath your hands.

“Hospital ETA 5 minutes, hang in,” Hen chimes in from the ambulance's cab.

“Something’s wrong,” Buck says, staring at the baby in his arms.

You quickly move over to him. “Put her in your lap so I can see.”

Buck listens, moving away the towel so you can look at the baby. She’s cyanosed around the lips. You flip open a compartment and pull out the neonatal ambu bag. You hand it to Bobby, and you don’t even have to tell him to start bagging.

“I’m so sorry,” Marika says. “Is she gonna be okay?”

Bobby squeezes the bag every other second, delivering a breath to the baby. Her color is starting to look better, but she isn’t very responsive.

“Here, let me try something,” you say.

You gently pick up the baby and set it on Marika’s bare chest. After a few moments, the baby begins to move and cry out.

“Oh my god, why did that work?” Marika asks, wrapping her hands around her baby.

“Skin-to-skin can help babies regulate bodily functions, like temperature and breathing,” you reply as you place a towel over them.

You look over to the men sitting next to you. Bobby gives you a nod, and Buck avoids eye contact, but you can tell that he’s pissed. Fuck him, he doesn’t know his head from his ass anyways.

Once the rig pulls into the ambulance bay, you and Chim help the ER staff get the gurney out of the ambulance. Bobby and Buck follow suit, only Buck tries to follow them into the hospital. Bobby stops him before he does.

Bobby gives Buck some lecture about how we did our jobs, and now it’s their turn; it’s the speech every overly excited first responder gets at least once at the start of their career.

A cop car pulls up, and Athena comes out. She clearly found the person she was looking for, because she starts yelling at Buck.

“You do not get to choose who lives and who dies,” she lectures.

“Really? Because I was under the impression that kind of was my job,” Buck retorts.

You could seriously slap him.

“That mother was no less of a child than her baby,” Athena continues yelling, pointing a finger at the hospital. “You’re gonna get someone killed.”

“Well, maybe, but not today,” Buck says with a cocky head tilt.

You laugh humorlessly. “You know what, Pretty Boy?” you say, turning to Buck.

Fuck it. Bobby won’t put him in his place, and Athena isn’t allowed to, so you take matters into your own hands, literally.

Before you even fully comprehend what you’re doing, you’re wrapping a hand around Buck’s throat and pushing him against the ambulance. You aren’t choking him, but you don’t move your hand because keeping it there is your only leverage.

“I’m getting real tired of this tough guy bullshit,” you growl, your face only an inch from his. He’s quite a bit taller than you, but when you bounced him off the rig, his footing faltered, so he’s crouched at your eye level. “You wanna get real, Evan? You didn’t do a goddamn thing today except get in the way. While we were busy saving lives, you were shitting your pants and dropping the ball, not exactly what a tough guy is supposed to do.”

“Okay, enough,” Bobby says, trying to break it up. You’re far from finished, though.

You move your hand from his neck, but only so you can point it in his face. “You aren’t a god — you don’t decide who lives! You didn’t even save a life today: we did, because you kept fucking up. And if you keep fucking up like you did today, you definitely will kill someone, and your little jokes and midday booty calls and your shitty little grin won’t change that!”

Bobby ends up physically pulling you away while Athena makes some room between the two of you.

“Aren’t you going to arrest her or something?” Buck says, rubbing his neck. “She assaulted me!”

“She didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Athena counters. “I promise you, Buckley, the next time you screw up? It’ll be your last.”

Athena casts Bobby a glance before she walks away.

“You,” Bobby says, looking at Buck, “in the truck. Now.”

You start to walk over to the passenger’s side of the cab when Bobby calls after you.

“I want you in my office the second we get back,” He orders.

You clench your jaw. “Yes Captain.”

Ch 2

[wosospacegirl]

And they were roommates - part 8

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: omg first I love you!!! New characters just dropped.... hi Lotte!! Y/n being away from Kyra for the first time <3

Word count: 6.2k

MASTERLIST

notes: This was my biggest chapter so far <3 yay

You can read part 1 here and part 9 here

..

“Did you pack everything?” Y/n asked for what felt like the millionth time. “Extra socks, extra shirts, extra–”

Kyra silenced her with a kiss. “The only thing missing from my suitcase is you,” she said, stepping back– just far enough to discreetly stuff two more pairs of socks into her bag; because yes, she had forgotten.

Y/n pretended she didn’t see it for the sake of her mental well-being. 

“Relax, it’s not the first time I travel, you know,” Kyra said, closing her suitcase.

“I know! I just don’t want you to forget important stuff!”

“If I forget anything I’ll just take Steph’s,” Kyra shrugged.

I don’t think Steph would like that.”

“I'll gaslight her into thinking everything I take is actually mine,” Kyra said.

“Have you ever played mind games with me?”

“Nope, when it comes to you, I just let myself be manipulated.”

“Me? manipulate you?” Y/n asked. “You’re the one who manipulated me into adopting a cat.”

“Footy,” Kyra said seriously. “Call him by his name, please, it’s the first time he’ll be away from me.” Kyra took Footy, who was sleeping on the bed and kissed him on the head. “He’s gonna need your support, my poor little–”

“Ouch!” Footy scratched Kyra’s face and jumped off her arms, getting out of the room. 

“Little traitor,” Kyra muttered, narrowing her eyes. “I was going to bring him back some American cat food, but now? No chance.”

“American cat food?” Y/n snorted. “What, hamburger-flavored, Coca-cola?”

Kyra shook her head.

“No, it’s, like… tuna-flavored. Very epicure. Gourmet even.”

“Gourmet my ass. That’s just fancy sardines, babe”

“I was gonna bring him back a souvenir, but fine.” Kyra pouted. “Maybe I'll save it for some Australian cat with actual manners.”

“Meow.”

“I won't accept your apologise, Footy, you w–”

“Please, stop talking to the cat and pack your stuff.”

Kyra didn't want to pack, not now, not later.

“You completely ignored how my face is all bruised, though ” Kyra pointed at a very small scratch on her cheek, trying to save some time.

“Oh my god baby! How will you ever survive!” Y/n gasped, mock horror in her voice as she grabbed as she grabbed some wipes from the bathroom. “They’ll have to bench you for sure.”

Kyra rolled her eyes. “You’re so funny.”

Y/n sat on the bed by Kyra’s side, wipes in hand.

“And you are dramatic, very dramatic,” Y/n said, carefully holding Kyra’s jaw as she cleaned the small droplets of blood from her scratch. “There, all done.”

“Kiss it better,” Kyra demanded.

Y/n rolled her eyes but gave in, kissing Kyra’s cheeks.

“My lips hurt too,” Kyra said.

Y/n smiled against Kyra’s face and slowly found her lips, kissing her slowly.

“Do you know what else hurts?” Kyra whispered

“What?” Y/n asked, gently sucking Kyra's lower lips

“Guess,” 

Y/n smiled mischievously at Kyra, their mouths meeting again. Y/n's hands were under Kyra's shirt, touching the soft skin of her stomach.

“Steph and Caitlin won’t be here for, like, five more minutes” Y/n murmured, rolling Kyra’s already-hard nipples between her fingers.

“Then we have plenty of time.” 

Kyra arched her back slightly, giving Y/n even more access to her chest.

Y/n leaned her torso and kissed Kyra's neck. The girl moaned and responded. “More.” 

Y/n obeyed And sucked just under her ear, it was probably going to leave a mark, maybe not a full-on purple hickey, but it would leave the skin slightly reddish.

“People will see it” Kyra whined, eyes closed.

“I want them to see it,” Y/n said, sucking another mark, now on the back of Kyra's neck, more private.

“They’ll tease me,” Kyra whined as Y/n pressed her nipples harder, with more aggression. “Fuck, um, more.”

But then a loud noise filled the room. A honk coming from the Streets.

“Fuck,” Y/n said staying still for A minute before realising that the honk meant Kyra had to get and look decent again.

“Yeah, fuck,” Kyra agreed.

She gently took Y/n's arms in Her hand, making the girl let go of her breasts. “And that's Steph and Caitlin.” 

Kyra sighed, pressing a kiss to Y/n's forehead. “Sorry, they have the worst timing, I swear.”

“It's alright,” Y/n murmured, slightly. “We can finish this when I take the cast off.”

Kyra got up and Y/n watched as Kyra got her suitcase and put on her shoes.

"Did they give you a real date for the cast Removal?” Kyra asked, knowing well that the last time Y/n asked her physiotherapist this question they gave her a very vague response.

“No, same answer,” Y/n said. “Maybe in three weeks, but we aren't sure, Y/n, is up to your bone” Y/n made quotation marks and a very bad imitation of the physiotherapist's voice.

Kyra giggled while putting a cap on the mirror “Don't give the woman a hard time, c’mon.”

“She's the one denying me freedom!”

Kyra opened the wardrobe and picked A hoodie, a yellow one with small flowers on it.

“That's so cute, I'm gonna take it!” Kyra said happily. 

“No, you're not!” Y/n said, furrowing her eyebrows. “That's mine.”

“So?” Kyra asked deadpan. “I need something warm to wear on the flight.”

Y/n pointed at the right side of the wardrobe. Kyra's side. “Pick something of your own.”

“But I don't have anything yellow.” she pouted.

“I'll buy You something yellow when you get back.”

“But I want something yellow to take on the Plane,” Kyra argued back. 

“No, put it back.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like sharing!”

“That's not very nice of you,” Kyra said. “I'm so good to you,  we share each other's clothes, you know, it's cute.”

”it's not fair that you’re already leaving me here for two whole weeks,” Y/n argued. “Now you want to leave me here AND steal my clothes?”

“Any clothes? Baby I want to take one hoodie,”

“Yep but–”

Another honk. Caitlin and Steph were getting impatient. And with a reason.

“Okay whatever,” Y/n said. “Take the hoodie, but don't lose it, ok?”

Kyra smiled and held the hoodie closer. “Thank you!”

Kyra put the hoodie on and Y/n had to say it. It looked way better on Kyra than it did on her, but she wasn’t going to say that. 

Suddenly, it hit Y/n. Kyra was really leaving–14 whole days–to another continent.

“I’ll miss you,” Y/n confessed, watching Kyra. 

She looked extra cute wearing the hoodie, maybe You would put it in her part of the wardrobe when Kyra gets back. A subtle message of, it's yours if you want. 

Damn, she was down bad.

“I’ll miss you too,” Kyra said softly, bending down and kissing Y/n. “A lot.”

It was the first time Kyra was going to leave You alone–full-time. She was trying not to make a fuss about it, to act cool and collected so Y/n wouldn't get upset or angry.

Kyra was well aware that Y/n could take care of herself. She learned to take a bath all by herself during the last few days; Y/n and Kyra meal prepped for the last two weeks so Y/n wouldn't have to cook--they had a whole fight about it, but Kyra won–.

Overall, they had everything organized so that Y/n’s routine wouldn't change a lot for those two weeks. Beth and Lotto, who had small injuries and didn't make it to the squad, were excited when Kyra asked if they could keep an eye on Y/n--of course she didn't tell Y/n that.

Beth even said she could drive Y/n to the physiotherapy. 

Kyra wasn't worried about Y/n. She just…didn't want her to bite more than she could chew. God forbid she tried to take a walk without her crutches or something like that.

Kyra's nervousness was more about herself than Y/n. She didn't want to come back and find out Y/n broke her other leg trying to move furniture around.

“I’ll call every night, alright?” Kyra promised. “We'll figure out the time difference– it’s only five hours, way easier than when I was in Australia.”

“Yep, we can do video calls too,” Y/n nodded. “But I guess Steph won't like trying to go to bed while you talk to me.”

“She won't mind,” Kyra said, “I have to put up with her and her ex-finaceé during the matildas camp, trust me I've been to war.”

“Does Steph even know we're together?” Y/n asked. Kyra and she had been living in their bubble that they forgot not all their teammates knew about it.

“Oh, Beth probably told her already,” Kyra said, bringing her finger to her mouth and biting her nails “But I'll see if Steph mentions anything… It would be okay, right? If she and the others knew.”

“Yeah, baby, of course,” Y/n said, holding Kyra's wrists and taking it off her mouth. “Don't do that, it'll hurt your fingers.”

Kyra always bit her nails when she is anxious. She did it so much that sometimes it would bleed.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Okay, if she doesn't know I'll tell her. I'm sure the news will make it to the Matilda group chat in a minute.”

“I think you need to pray so a picture of us does not end up on the matildas Instagram, baby.” Y/n teased.

“Oh shut up,” Kyra clicked her tongue. “That won't happen…right?”

Y/n just shrugged. “I don't know, you're pretty much everyone's little pest, I'm sure the media team would have a blast.”

“Oh I so much hope Beth didn't tell Steph,” Kyra said.

Another honk filled the room.

Oh yeah. Steph and Caitlin.

“I'm like the worst person to give a ride to,” Kyra mumbled. “Steph will never pick me up again.”

Kyra got her suitcase and helped Y/n downstairs. 

Footy, sensing the urgency around, came running down the stairs.

“Oh, I want you to do proof of life with Footy all the time,” Kyra said, looking at the cat running. “Wanna make sure my son is alive and well.”

“I won’t kill the cat, c’mon,” Y/n said. “I’ll keep it fed, happy and clean for when you get back.

“Oh baby when I get back Footy will be the last thing on my mind,” Kyra said mischievously. “But keep him alive, nonetheless, I like him.”

They reached the front door, Footy watching them from the sofa.

“Guess I’ll go then,” Kyra said, smiling sadly.

“You have a safe trip, ok?” Y/n kissed Kyra. “Tell me when you get to the airport and when you land.”

“Ok, ma’am,” Kyra said. “Bye, see you in two weeks, okay?

“Okay,” Y/n said awkwardly, changing her weight between her feet and watching as Kyra put her hand on the doorknob. 

Was this the time? Y/n wasn't sure if there was a good time to say something like that. She never got to the point. Kyra was leaving, foot already out the door. Maybe she should say it.

Yeah, she would say it.

“Hmm–I love… you?” Y/n blurted out, eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying not to see Kyra’s reaction. Her ears burned. This was it. She was going to die. Death by embarrassment.

Some people died of a broken heart. Y/n died of saying I love you.

Kyra stopped with her hand on the doorknob and slowly turned, a smirk on her face. “What?”

“what what?” Y/n said, did she not understand? Y/n wasn't going to say it again anytime soon, it was too embarrassing… and now she was nervous and sweating, great.

She had never told that–romantically– to anyone. It felt weird, although it was true. She wasn't expecting Kyra to day it back, although she wished she would.

“You love me?” Kyra asked, eyebrows raised. “But it took you five business days just to let me borrow a hoodie?”

Y/n opened her mouth, but no words came out, so she just shyly nodded.

In a swift movement, Kyra was hugging her and kissing her face. 

Y/n looked cute just standing there not knowing what to say. She was clueless when it came to talking about feelings. 

Cute.

“I.” Kiss. 

“Love.” Kiss. 

“You.” Kiss

Kyra kissed Y/n in between every word, a grin on her face. “A lot, yeah?”

“Yeah? Okay. That’s good, um, that we’re both in a… relationship? And– we both like—love each other,” Y/n said, playing with her fingers nervously. “I mean—”

Steph honked again.

Now the honk saved Y/n from further embarrassing herself.

“Okay, now I really need to go or else Steph will leave me,” Kyra said

“Off you go, baby.”

They shared a last kiss before Kyra was out the door.

As Kyra walked to the car, she glanced back one last time, shaking her head with a ridiculous grin.

Y/n rolled her eyes, but the second the door shut behind her, she let herself smile too.

..

The first day alone wasn’t as easy as Y/n thought it would be. She and Kyra had organised everything so Y/n wouldn't struggle with day-to-day activities, but as long as she had the cast on, she still needed  Kyra’s help. 

That became even more obvious when she tried to cook.

They had meal-prepped in advance, and the freezer was full of ready-to-eat lunches and dinners, but Y/n wanted to cook something herself:  cream coconut beef and pumpkin curry.

But in the middle of cooking, she dropped the coconut she was going to use for the cream, and since she couldn't bend down to pick it up, she had to change the recipe: beef and pumpkin curry.

And yeah, she did kick the coconut out of frustration. Which meant Kyra would have to crawl under the counter to retrieve it when she got back.

Then, as she started cooking the curry, she realised she had run out of curry powder. And she couldn't exactly drive to the store.

In the end, her dinner was beef and pumpkin. It was a little plain but still good.

As Y/n sat at the table, her phone buzzed with a message from Kyra, saying they had arrived safely in the U.S. and that she was going straight to bed as soon as they got to the hotel.

It was 8 p.m. in London, which meant it was 3 p.m. for Kyra, Caitlin, and Steph. They were probably jet-lagged, but if you played for the Matildas, dealing with jet lag was practically a requirement.

Still, Y/n hoped Kyra would get a full night’s sleep so she could adjust quickly—otherwise, Steph and Caitlin would have to deal with a very grumpy Kyra.

Later that night, Y/n stretched out on the couch—her new setup, since she couldn’t go upstairs without Kyra’s help. Footy was sprawled on her stomach, purring softly.

She took a picture and sent it to Kyra.

"Proof of life 🙄."

Kyra would probably only reply in the morning.

Y/n flipped through the TV channels, but nothing caught her attention—until a notification popped up on her phone.

Leah: Hi.

Y/n: hi

Leah: How are you?

Y/n: good, you?

Leah: Fine. Just landed in Portugal.

Y/n: cool

Leah: yeah. Facetime me if you want to talk. Bye. Y/n: you too, bye

That was Leah’s way of saying “I love you, I’m here if you need me.” And that was Y/n’s way of saying “Thank you. Hope you have a good camp.”

On the second day without Kyra, Y/n went over to Mrs. Petunia’s house for a tea party in the old lady’s garden. It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and despite her injury, Y/n didn’t struggle as much as she had expected to cross the street. Though, of course, Mrs Petunia did offer to let her use her wheelchair, which Y/n declined with a polite smile.

“Isn’t football too brute of a sport, sweetheart?” Mrs Petunia asked, taking a bite of her cookie. “In my time, we ladies weren’t allowed to do anything too rough. A shame.”

“It’s a bit physical sometimes,” Y/n admitted, sipping her chamomile tea. “I’m a defender, so my position is part of why football can get rough, but it’s not as bad as people think.”

“You say it’s not that bad, yet you broke a whole bone, silly girl.” Mrs. Petunia chuckled.

Y/n paused mid-sip, looking down at her arm. She had completely forgotten about the cast during their conversation. That was the first time that had happened.

“Oh, yeah—this was just bad luck,” Y/n said, tapping her cast. “The other player, Bright, stepped on my leg while trying to win the ball, and I landed awkwardly.”

“Bright as Millie Bright?” Petunias asked. “She plays for England, right? She’s a tigress.”

“Hm—technically a Lioness, yeah. She’s part of England’s main squad. She’s playing for them right now, actually, with some of my friends.”

“Oh, and your friends are…” Mrs. Petunia tapped a finger against her temple as if trying to remember. “Beth, Leah…Alessia, and Kyra, right? They play on your team.”

It was adorable that Mrs. Petunia remembered their previous conversations.

“Almost! Yeah, we all play together—except for Bright. But Beth is injured, so she’s not playing for the Lionesses. She’s coming over later to take me to physio. And Kyra is Australian, so she’s not with the other girls. She’s in the U.S. right now, while Leah and Less are in Portugal.”

Do you miss her? That girl, Kyra?” Petunia asked, taking another cookie.

Y/n hesitated. Of course, she missed Kyra. A lot.

She had thought the time apart would be good for her, and make her feel more independent. But maybe—just maybe—it felt nice to be taken care of. Y/n had never let herself have that before. She had always assumed she didn’t need it, that she could handle everything on her own. And yeah, she could.

But there was something… comforting about being vulnerable with someone she loved.

“Yeah,” Y/n admitted, staring into her teacup. “It’s weird having the house be so quiet. Kyra’s always talking, always playing music. And now it’s just… silent.”

“Oh, I know that feeling,” Mrs. Petunia said, a nostalgic smile on her face. “My house used to be loud too. I had a very dear friend who lived with me—she was a pianist. I’d wake up in the middle of the night to her playing.”

“Oh… I don’t think I ever saw your friend,” Y/n said, frowning as she tried to recall.

“You wouldn’t have, sweetheart.” Petunia’s smile softened. “She passed away ten years ago, my lovely Edith. But it was peaceful. No pain.”

Y/n didn’t know what to say. Mrs. Petunia seemed sad, but also… happy. As if talking about Edith was a warm memory, not just a painful one.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Y/n said softly, placing a hand over Petunia’s. “I wish I had met her.”

“It’s alright. It’s the cycle of life,” Petunia said, squeezing Y/n’s hand. “Just promise me you’ll hold your girl extra tight when she gets back.”

Y/n smiled. “I will. I sure will.”

“Now, let me tell you about Edith,” Petunia said, eyes twinkling. “We met at a concert, and…”

 ..

Beth came to pick her up and take her to physio a few hours later.

Y/n was already waiting by the door when Beth parked the car. To her surprise, there was someone in the passenger seat.

“Lotte!” Y/n cheered, putting her crutches to the side and buckling up. “How are you, babe? Are you feeling better?”

She had been texting Lotte over the past few days, checking in on her injury.

Both Lotte and Beth were out of the Lionesses squad for this call-up due to injuries. Beth’s was minor, and she would be back as soon as the international break was over.

Lotte, on the other hand, was a different story.

“They still aren’t sure about the diagnosis,” Lotte said. “But I’m sure they’ll figure it out soon. In the meantime, at least we get to do physio together.”

“You’re gonna be better soon. We all will,” Beth said as she started the car, a random song playing on the radio.

Lotte had a smile on her face—she always did. She was the kind of person people wished they could be friends with, or even have as a sibling. She was positive, even when things weren’t looking great.

Y/n had handled her injury in a much worse way than Lotte, and she didn’t even have a diagnosis yet. The physiotherapists and orthopedists still couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her knee.

“Yeah, I’m sure everything will work out just fine,” Y/n said, rubbing Lotte’s arm supportively.

Physio with Lotte was way better than doing it alone. Beth sat in one of the chairs talking endlessly as Lotte and Y/n just laughed at one of her stories. It was good to be surrounded by friends, especially ones who were in the same position as Y/n.

Of course, she didn’t wish any injury on any of the girls, and she wasn't happy that they had gotten hurt, but she did feel less lonely this time around.

Kyra, Leah and Less were great, supporting her in their own, unique way, but it still didn’t have the same weight as talking with someone who was struggling with the same problems as you.

“I get scared sometimes,” Lotte confessed out of the blue.

The three girls were sitting on one of the benches by the pitch of the Arsenal training grounds after their therapy sessions. 

The air was cold and the Center was empty, but the smell of grass was comforting, the coffee they held in their hand was the only source of warmth.

“Oh what, Lotte?” Beth asked, wrapping an arm around Lotte’s shoulder.

“That I’ll heal and then get injured again.”

Y/n nodded empathetically. She felt the same.

Her mind was a constant storm. At the same time, she wanted to take the cast off quickly and move on with her life, she also wanted to keep it longer–scared that her bone wouldn't have healed properly. Scared that her bone would never heal.

Scared that the doctor would take it off only to find the bones in the same position as they were months ago when Millie had stepped on it. The truth was, no one could tell how good she was healing if she still had the cast on, sometimes she wished she didn’t have to take it off because…what if it wasn’t healed? Then what?

It wasn’t a very rational feeling of course. Y/n couldn't think of any case of it happening in football–but she could always be the first.

“I’m scared that I’m too old for football,” Beth sighed. “And that’ll come back from this injury just to be benched till my contract is over.”

Lotte and Beth looked at Y/n with expectation on their faces.

“What?” she said, taking a sip of her coffee, and burning her tongue.

“It’s your time,” Beth said, rolling her eyes and waving her hands dismissively. “Go on, share sometimes you’re scared.”

“I don’t wanna share anything.” Y/n leaned further from them. “This is no–hm– an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.”

“No, this is an injuries-athlete-who-are-out-of-their-squad meeting,” Beth clicked her tongue. “Spill it.”

“Fine,” Y/n groaned. “I’m scared that I won’t ever get back to the pitch and that I didn’t get to enjoy my last time on it.”

Lotte made a sad, empathetic face to Y/n, placing a hand on her tight. “Oh sweet–” 

Y/n shook her head and put Lotte’s hand away from her  “No comforting, no pity, we just shared, we don’t talk about it.”

Lotte and Beth stared at her, then stared at each other before shrugging.

“You really are emotionally unavailable, huh?” Lotte said, smiling teasingly. “I never noticed it before, but Beth was right about it.”

“She’s only available to Kyra,” Beth grinned, nudging Y/n. “How’s it going being away from her? I’ve been dying without Viv.”

“Uhm–it’s been ok-ish,” Y/n said, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“Okay-ish?” Beth repeated, eyebrows rising. “Don’t you miss her?”

“Of course I miss her!” Y/n said defensively. “I just don’t like talking about it–It makes me feel, ugh,” she fumbled over her words, a mix of emotions on her chest. “I just feel…”

“Sad?” Lotted suggested, giving her a wide smile.

Y/n looked at her and nodded.

“Yeah, she–Kyra puts socks on my feet when I get cold, she reminds me to take my meds,” Y/n said. “She paints my nails when I get too frustrated because I want to do it without making a mess, she’s very good to me.”

“I just feel—ugh." Y/n trailed off, staring at the ground.

Beth raised an eyebrow. "You feel what?"

"I feel…this is stupid." Y/n sighed, staring down at her coffee, and swirling the liquid inside. "Fine. I miss her, okay? I miss Ky."

Y/n felt proud, and a little bit embarrassed.

She was able to tell somebody else how much Kyra meant to her and she did it well. She used words and everything…Leah would never.

Y/n was pulled from her thoughts when Beth nudged her with her elbow.

“You made Lotte cry,” Beth said as she consoled Lotte. “I bet it was the first time you made someone cry out of something other than sadness, huh?”

“Hm…What? Lotte, what happened?” Y/n asked, completely ignoring Beth’s accusation of her being an insensitive monster to other people.

“You guys are just so cute,” Lotte cried. “I just love love.”

“Oh,” Y/n said, not sure of what to say. “Hm–well, thank you and I’m—sorry?” 

“You can leave the comforting to me, kiddo,” Beth said. "You just sit there and keep pretending you're not soft."

Y/n mouthed a thank you to Beth and continued to drink her coffee awkwardly as Beth let Lotte cry on her shoulder.

..

“You did what!?” Y/n asked, mouth agape as she stared at the screen on her phone.

“It wasn’t a fire, it was just the fire alarm,” Kyra said, her face filling the whole screen with how close she was. “I don’t even understand why–”

“Yes, you do!” Y/n heard a voice say, seconds later all she could see was Steph’s face. “They explained to us exactly what happened!”

“Hi! So Kyra here,” Steph turned the phone to Kyra, who was sitting on a very messy bed, she had a pout on her face, arms crossed. “Took a very hot shower, it was so hot inside the bathroom that I activated the fire alarm.”

“They aren’t a hundred per cent sure about it, Steph! It could have come from any other room.’ Kyra whined and stretched her hand. “Now give me the phone, let me talk to her.”

“No,” Steph said. “So, Y/n how have you been? Oh and I just want to let you know I’m so happy you and Kyra are dating, I was so shocked when she told me I absolutely did not know–”

“Beth told you, right?” Y/n asked deadpan.

“Yes.”

“Don’t mess with Kya too much,” Y/n asked. “You can tease me all you want when you get back, but let her live.”

Y/n knew how much the matildas could be annoying and extremely teasing with each other, especially to Kyra, maybe it was an Australian thing?

“Aww look at you trying to protect her from us,” Steph said smiling. “So cute, you two!”

Suddenly the scream moved and Y/n was face to face, or better, face to screen, with Caitlin.

“Girl! Hi,” She said, waving. “Steph didn't want to pass me the phone so I had to take it from her,” Caitlin explained as it wasn’t a big deal. “But it’s whatever, tell me how have you been?”

“I’m alright, really,” Y/n said, fixing the earbud on her ear. “Beth picks Lotte and me up for physio every day, and we get coffee and something sweet after. It’s nice.”

“Oh you guys should totally go to that one café near Arsenal,” Caitlin said. “The one with the–”

“Give. Me. The. Phone.”

Y/n thought it was Kyra who said that, but the audio was very unclear.

“Learn how to share!” 

Caitlin had probably put the phone down, because Y/n was staring at, what she thought to be the ceiling.

“You did that last time I talked to Katie! I’m just doing the same to you.”

Y/n was confused, the sound was bad, she couldn’t see anything, and the voices in the background were getting mixed. Was that Caitlin? Or Steph? Well, Y/n thought she heard the name ‘Katie’ so it was probably…

“So? Aren't you too old to wish revenge over a young couple?”

“Hmm, hi?” Y/n said, as the screen was white, she couldn't understand anything now.

No one answered her

“Don’t call Cait old, you pest, we are the same age! Think of another insult.” 

They continued with their bickering. 

When Y/n thought of hanging up she saw a pillow flying through the screen and then…a foot? The screen was shaking, very abruptly now as if someone had grabbed ahold of the phone and started to shake it violently.

Y/n was dizzy.

She was never Facetime Kyra ever again. 

Maybe she could send letters like they were a hundred years old. She could ask Mrs Petunia for some stamps…

“Hi, sorry about that,” Kyra’s face appeared on the screen again, a sweet smile on her face. 

Y/n heard a sound that looked like a door being locked.

“Have you locked yourself in the bathroom? Y/n asked.

“It was the only choice I had,” Kyra said.

“Fair enough,” Y/n nodded. “So what news do you have for me?”

“Caitlin said she was going to hack my phone and find a picture of us and sell it to the admin of Matilda's Instagram,” Kyra said. “She’s just a joy to be around.”

“Don't worry, don’t you remember what we know about her, Katie and the changing room?” Y/n said, wiggling her eyebrows. “That’s more shocking than a picture of us, if she tried anything, we are ready.”

Y/n felt like she and Kyra were partners in crime.

“Oh god, I forgot that!” Kyra laughed. “I'm so going to tease her tomorrow at breakfast”

“Tomorrow? Why not now?” Y/na asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I want the whole team to be present.” Kyra grinned, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“You’re evil,” Y/n teased

“You like it,” Kyra shot back.

“Yes, I do.

“How 's my son?” Kyra asked, changing the subjects with a sudden shift in tone.

Y/n rolled her eyes, changing the camera to focus on Footy, who was playing with his toy rat on the living room rug. The cat would take the toy in his mouth just to drop it mid-air and pick it up again.

“Look at him!” Kyra said, putting her face even closer to the screen as if she could get closer to the cat that way. “Evolving his hunting abilities!”

“This is his second rat of the day. The first one got stuck under the TV stand,” Y/n explained. “Neither of us could get it out, so that’s officially your job when you get back. Oh, and—also—you might need to grab a coconut from under the kitchen cabinet too.”

“A coconut?” Kyra’s mouth dropped open. “What the hell are you doing in my absence?”

“I was… experimenting.” Y/n tried to sound convincing.

“Experimenting? With a coconut?”

“It was for a recipe, don’t make it weird!” Y/n defended herself. “I was trying to cook and–”

“Trying to cook?” Kyra whined and out of hand dramatically on her face. “Come on, I didn't spend two whole days stuck in a kitchen meal prepping for you to go and try to cook alone.”

Y/n winced. She shouldn't have mentioned the coconut or the cooking. Was this the part where she said sike and moved on without receiving an earful?

“Ky, it was just that one time! I wanted to eat something different,” Y/n defended herself. “Lotte gave me one of the yummiest recipes on the planet, and I had to try it—or else I would die.”

“And you have the guts to say I’m the dramatic one, huh?” Kyra said, her voice deadpan. 

“Do you promise it was only one time? Kyra continued, worry on her face.”You know you can get easily hurt in the kitchen, it’s too much time standing on just your crutches.”

“Yes, it was only this one, darling.” Y/n lied, trying to ‘darling’ to soften Kyra up a bit. 

It didn’t work.

“You swear over Footyt?” Kyra asked, lifting one eyebrow. “Over our own child?”

Y/n opened her mouth to answer, but then Footy stopped playing with his mouse and just stared at her with his big, green eyes.

“I–hm,” Y/n mumbled. Come on this was ridiculous. He was just a cat and–

“Do you swear or not?”

Oh, fuck it.

“I’m sorry, okay,” Y/n finally admitted. “I did like, twice or…three times, but it was fine, I didn’t get hurt or anything.”

“But you could’ve!”

“Kyra, come on, we’ve barely talked all day. Don’t turn this into a lecture, please,” Y/n pleaded, even pulling out a pout.

Yeah, a pout. She wasn’t a pouty person, this was Kyra, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Kyra was silent for a moment, her face slightly softening.

“Ugh, fine,” Kyra said, not sounding fine at all. “Just take care, okay? I don’t want to come back to you on another cast.”

“Yep, you don’t have to worry about it,” Y/n said. “I’m doing good by myself. Plus, If I need anything Beth, Lotto and Mrs Petunia are here for me.

“But tell me about your day,” Y/n asked, her enthusiasm returning. She was desperate to change the subject, but also wanted to hear about Kyra’s day; they hadn’t had a proper conversation since she left. “How’s Houston?”

Kyra propped the phone up against the sink so she didn’t have to hold it anymore, and now her whole torso was visible on the screen. She was wearing Y/n’s hoodie, the one she had ‘borrowed’. It looks pretty on her, maybe Y/n should let her wear her clothes more often.

“It’s very hot– but not as hot as Australia,” Kyra said, her voice muffled slightly but the toothbrush she just put on her mouth. “But it's pretty, we should make a trip here sometime, without football and all that.”

Kyra casually dropping a trip to another country made her feel all warm inside. They were really in a relationship. They lived together, had a cat, and were making plans that involved each other.

It was great, really great.

“We should definitely do that next time we have a break,” Y/n agreed. “We could go to Australia too, and–you could go to… hmm, my country, if you want to, of course.”

“I would love to go to your home country,” Kyra smiled at her, mouth filled with toothpaste. 

“Good, that's great!” Y/n blushed. “You’ll love the…culture and food, and–maybe my parents, if you want to meet them but you absolutely don’t have to! I totally understand and–”

“You’re cute when you are nervous,” Kyra teased, noticing how flustered Y/n was, and just as she said it, a click came through the screen.

“You better not have screenshotted me,” Y/n warmed, her voice suddenly serious. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Sorry!” Kyra said with an innocent smile. “But don’t worry, I won’t let Caitlin see it. Your vulnerable moments are safe with me,” she teased.

“Actually, I’m uninviting you to meet my parents,” Y/n said

“Oh come on,” Kyra whined. “But I’m dying to meet the woman who raised you like…that.” She placed her hands over her chest. “I need to know what made you the way you are.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, her curiosity piqued. “Raised me like what?”

“In such a…peculiar way! I mean, look at you, all cute and grumpy and antisocial. Kyra leaned in closer to the screen, looking more dramatic “There must be some secret family recipe or ancient tradition behind that. I want to know your roots, Y/n!” 

“Alright, enough, I’m done,” Y/n said with a smirk, clearly done with the conversation. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Don’t hang up, come on!”

“Bye! Love you.” Y/n clicked the red button before Kyra could reply, but she was sure Kyra heard the last sentence because Y/n saw the goofy grin on her face.

Idiots in love. That’s what they were.

..

|PART 9 HERE|

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Notes//2: Sorry, this chapter was more like a filler!! I have so much fun with this universe that I just want to write very domestic scenes without a lot of drama in it etc but I hope you guys like it!!

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

[northern-passage]

what have i been up to?

i decided to do a little check-in type post just to let you all know what i've been working on. i know things have been quiet here, mainly because i'm just not as active on social media as i used to be (but especially here)

i have been working on tnp, though. i've been rewriting chapter 2 (what was previously chapter 1) and i know a lot of people complain about rewrites but the fact was simply that i had written myself into a corner; when it comes to IF, when you have a lot of stats and branching and variations to track, you get to a point where it simply does not make sense to try and force it, and i really needed to go back and fix my coding and cut a lot of variables. which is what i've been doing, and many of you have seen how that's changed the game so far with the rewritten prologue (now chapter 1).

with that in mind, i've also done a lot of worldbuilding. again, you've seen some of this if you saw the pantheon post i made a while ago (though some of that has changed already, too, along with more edits to chapter 1 😅) and i've put a lot more thought into the setting, how the world "works" and the different relationships between countries and cultures, etc.

i will be yapping about all of that under the cut if you're interested, but if not, just know i am still working on the game. i do not have an estimated timeline for an update, but i am trying very hard to get chapter 2 out this year.

anyways, my rambling:

one of the main changes will be how Gael and Adrania function. Gael and Adrania remain similar in essence but the relationship has changed, as has the source of their hostilities. i've also put a lot more thought into the way gender roles would work in this world, something that i've previously been a bit wishy-washy on. reading more fantasy and studying lectures on the craft and understanding the way oppression works in the real world has allowed me to brainstorm a better, more realized world with tnp.

that being said, i still stand by my original goal with this project, which is that i'm not really interested in writing violent/graphic misogyny, transphobia, or homophobia. but i am interested in exploring the way empires hold power, and for tnp, that has always been through money and trade. even in the very first iterations, the major cities like blackwater and king's harbor are designed with very clear and purposeful class divides, i've just put a lot more thought into how this would actually work.

and there is also the influence of the gods; when your major religious figurehead is revered as a "mother," as well as the enforcer of justice, what does that mean for the world and the women in it? when you have gods that are genderless or genderfluid, how does that change societies perception of trans people, and gender as a whole?

i struggled when i started tnp about how to depict gender in this world, and originally i simply chose not to give it much thought, and i used a lot of anachronisms rather than actually trying to explore what transness and gender within the context of tnp would look like (i think this was my biggest mistake with Lea at the start. if you remember that you're a real one lol). and i think that's a cop out and simply not how any society would work. Adrania is an empire; people will be forced to comply to various roles and expectations in order for this empire to retain control.

so this led me to 1. reimplement the tolls, something that was present in my very first draft but got scrapped before publishing for the first time. it's easy to control people when you have papers and tolls to track them (or restrict their movements if they don't have the "correct" papers). 2. expand on the relationship between Gael and Adrania. where did these two countries come from? when did they split? how has Adrania managed to grow in power while Gael has not? and how has the plague exacerbated the hostilities? etc. we'll see a lot of this explained in the next chapter (as well as some edits made to chapter 1 again), with Adrania's trade agreements and how they exclude Gael specifically.

and finally, what gender roles are people expected to play within society? if Adrania's main god is a woman (okay, a wolf, but you get it) and a mother and also known to be a ruthless dispenser of justice, what does this mean for Adranian men and women? if their god of death is genderless and also commonly represented as a god of dreams and transitions (from life to death and wakefulness to dreams and from one gender to another or beyond) how does this impact the trans people in this world? if the god of war and harvest is sometimes a woman and sometimes a man, who benefits from elevating one depiction over the other?

lots of fun questions! which i think has led to some interesting changes in the game which makes the world feel more real. it also gives me a reason (not that i "needed" one but, ya know *gestures vaguely*) for all of the women i have in combat leadership roles: Keres, Hadrien, and Merry, just to name a few, and why someone like Redwine would be disliked and challenged as a political, landowning leader instead (and ultimately replaced by a man). while all the warrior gods are women (Wolfmother, the Moon, Stormbringer), Adrania emphasizes the male depiction of the Sun, which leads to this divide of men seeking landownership and more administrative political roles, versus women who, outside of motherhood, make careers as generals and captains and knights.

with trans people, there are similar expectations, of course, but they are also pushed towards more spiritual roles due to their perceived kinship with the death god as well as the Sun (and this also means that while motherhood is revered in this world, there is a looser definition here than in our world, due to transness being acknowledged, accepted, and an integral part of society. what "motherhood" is and what it means to people will be explored heavily in game, you just have to trust me on this one!) obviously there is a real history of trans people being seen this way, and it's something i've turned over in my head for a while. beyond the spiritual, though, trans people are seen in every other role as well, and we'll see some trans people who have little to no relationship with religion or the death god (like Merry, Lea, Clementine, Rodrick, and Rafe) and others that have an actively hostile relationship with it (Noel. lol) and including the potentially trans mc, we see a diverse depiction of trans people, as hunters and watchers and captains and healers and bards, etc. i'm hoping this still gives a well-rounded, multi-faceted look at how trans people live in this world without pigeonholing them solely as "divine oracles," or othering them from their cis counterparts.

overall, i feel that i've matured as a writer since i started tnp and i want that to reflect in the world as well. rereading the original demo made me cringe and a lot of it just felt very childish and flat, and i feel like i really didn't have a strong enough grasp on the fantasy genre, nor the skills and knowledge required to do proper, intensive worldbuilding at the time. now i think the story and setting and characters have grown a lot and i'm more capable and confident to do the things that past me couldn't. anyways thanks for reading all this, this post was just an excuse for me to talk about everything because i'm dying keeping it all to myself LOL. i look forward to catching back up to chapter 3 and finally sharing it all with you eventually!

[luxdove]

Remember Me! Part 2

(Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader)

Thank you all for the support in the first part! It makes me happy that y’all actually enjoy the writing even though it really feels like I got no idea what I’m doing 😭

I’m very sorry that part 2 took so long I just couldn’t think of a way on how to end this part so it took literal WEEKS to get this out

Anyways if you haven’t seen part one here it is -> Part 1

As stated from the previous part, characters might be OOC but anyways enjoy the chapter!

CW: obsession(?)

You walked along the garden of the Spire of Knowledge, you went here to visit your dear friend Blueberry Milk Cookie- after all it’s been a while since you last seen him, always overworking himself to gain more new found knowledge for cookies to gain and learn

Perhaps you were too lost in your thoughts to realize a certain cookie creeped behind you, and you nearly jumped out of your dough when two hands were placed upon your eyes- not letting you see anything but darkness.

“Hmmm can you guess who I am?” A curious voice laced with teasing was heard behind you

“Hmm indeed I wonder who these unique hands were put upon my face belongs to” you said with a grin “Blueberry Milk Cookie perhaps? Or shall it be some mysterious other cookie with blue dough?”

“Why- I am offended!” Blueberry Milk Cookie said with a dramatic tone followed by some laughter “dear friend, why have you visited me? Did you miss me that much hm?” He asked with a smile full of grace

“Can I not visit an old friend?” You smiled back “my adventures have left me urging for more, but I shall not keep going without at least visiting my friends once more”

“Ah it’s those books that those cookies made” Blueberry Milk Cookie said, you have spoken to him that cookies from other kingdoms have been making books and out of curiosity you decided to read them thus inspiring you to adventure off and explore the new, that was your dream- to adventure the world and explore the new. “I can tell by your form of language dear friend, it’s been…modified in unique ways”

“Forsooth Blueberry Milk Cookie” you nodded with stars shined within your eyes. Blueberry Milk Cookie Smiled, that’s what always been unique about you, how your eyes would shine with stars in them whenever you were excited and how you would always be devoted to do things that would help cookies in need.

“Well it seems times do fly past by” Blueberry Milk Cookie said, it suddenly became night time; you guessed you were enjoying your talk a little too much to realized the time. “Perhaps I can offer you a room so you can rest here for the night?”

“Or we could talk more over some tea and then rest?” You smiled, after all you guys are Beast Cookies; you guys never require much sleep like regular cookies do

“Hmm, alright just try to find the dining room and I’ll be there shortly” Blueberry Milk Cookie said, after all the Spire of Knowledge is a pretty lonely place so he wasn’t even sure if he has a room ready, cleaned, or organized enough for you to be sleeping in.

You and Shadow Milk Cookie were walking in the gardens of the Spire of Deceit. You guys just came back from a trip because Shadow Milk Cookie wanted to pull a little….prank to a few cookie bystanders while you watched from a far. Anyways… this garden seems like nostalgia, but you can’t really put your crumb into why it is. You have told your old friend your adventures of Crispia so far, while Shadow Milk Cookie hums in acknowledgment, though at some parts he seemed to be concerned at what you went through since you fought some enemies like a regular cookie and not with your powers but since you’re still here in one piece he suppose he can glance over the issue.

However he also didn’t like the parts where you were spending time and bonding with his…false copy. Shadow Milk Cookie would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of such thing, but it’s alright now! He’s here! The star of the show! And you’re here along with him! The sidekick of the protagonist! So he will gladly take the chances to bond with you more whilst he has the chance.

He won’t let some weak measly cookies to mess up his script that he has for him and you. He didn’t noticed until now how his grip on his scepter hardened, he glanced at you since you’ve been quiet for some time. His face softens once more, your eyes shined with stars ;all though it’s a bit dimmer, (perhaps it’s because his hypnosis on you is still there? After all there is still blue swirls in your eyes) in them again as you looked around the garden, perhaps it was the nostalgia of how you and him used to walk in this very garden before he became corrupted and how you were gone on your adventures seeking more thrill than ruling a kingdom like how most of the others did.

Shadow Milk Cookie watched you as you seemed to get lost in the gardens wandering off too far like how a sheep would get lost in a forest, he chuckles as he guides you to where the door of the spire is. Even though it would have been a bit of fun entertainment watching you getting lost to the very same garden you used to walk daily, he would rather not let you get stuck and lost in the middle of nowhere.

You couldn’t help that you feel like all eyes have been laid upon you ever since you entered inside of the spire once more. The place has changed a lot since you were last here but then again the owner of the spire was gone for quite a long time neglecting its conditions. Only coming back sort of recently and the interior as well exterior of the place has significantly changed.

“Come on silly willy! I know you’re faster than that! Or has it been too long that you don’t remember your way around?” Shadow Milk Cookie smiled at you from the end of the hall, you were a couple feet behind him since you wanted to look at the changes.

“My apologies oh such knowledgeable sage” you said in a sarcastic tone as you rolled your eyes playfully “perhaps I should glue a map inside my mind so I know exactly where I’m going”

“Oh come on silly goose that’s not what I mean!” Shadow Milk Cookie exclaimed

“Master! Who is this…special individual of a cookie that is here?” Black Sapphire Cookie asked as he rushed towards Shadow Milk Cookie noticing an unfamiliar presence inside of the spire.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Shadow Milk Cookie said as he wags his finger to Black Sapphire Cookie. “This cookie here! Is a special guest of mine! So you must treat them with the upmost respect!”

You stared at Black Sapphire Cookie awkwardly while he smiles at you back as he bows to you in a greeting gesture.

“I see…well my lord, Candy Apple Cookie is preparing for the next act,” Black Sapphire Cookie informed while Shadow Milk Cookie hums.

“How enlightening…yes yes it’s all following the script perfectly!” Shadow Milk Cookie smiled uncannily. “Well go on now! We don’t want our special actors left with nothing to do!” Black Sapphire Cookie nodded as he walks away seemingly fading away from the distance.

“Well now that is covered!” Shadow Milk Cookie said as he snaps his neck towards you “I assume you have some questions yes?”

“Indeed” you said vaguely, after all you weren’t really used to his corrupted form at all, but Shadow Milk Cookie is fine with that! He is really! It would just take time and patience for you to come back to his side where you belong! And he’s alright to spend his time with you even if you are confuse with everything, who knows maybe he should spill in a few more false memories into your dreams since you seem to be regaining them again.

He will use his advantage now that you’re in his spire; after all, he can control everything that is inside! What makes you think he can’t control your dreams? The longer you stay here the more disoriented your memories will be, and he will gladly take that chance to make the memories favorable to his side and not his fraud of a cookie (Pure Vanilla Cookie). All he needs is you to stay in this spire. Although…he does feel bad for doing this but he has too! He didn’t want to lose the very friend that has guided him and actually had a bond with oh so long ago.

You and Shadow Blueberry Milk Cookie…huh that’s odd you swore he had a jester outfit on not his pre corrupted sage uniform. Anyways you and Blueberry Milk Cookie walked inside of the Spire of Deceit Knowledge. Your eyes shined once more like how they used to as you happily asked your questions and continue to tell more stories of your adventures. Blueberry Milk Cookie hums while he smiles at you, he loves stories especially if it’s coming from you. You seemed to fall into the deception oh so easily…but that’s what he likes, since it makes things easier for him.

You failed to acknowledge that a few shadowy hands slowly started creeping over you as they quickly grabbed your limbs and dragged you into a pit of shadows. You screamed as saw how Blueberry Milk Cookie looked at you solemnly before your vision went black. This is for the best! He swears on it! You just need to drown into deceit like he has and everything will become perfect!

It was inevitable, after all it wasn’t like anyone would have known this would happen. You came rushing back once you heard the news of a huge war breaking out. A war against the Virtues.

You didn’t know how this happened, you believed your friends were all in good shape mentally and physically, so how did this corruption began? You did not know. One moment you were enjoying yourself when you visited them as often as you could, the next you see…all of this happening.

You finally made your way to the area and oh my witches was it terrible. It’s safe to say that jam of cookies littered all over the place, broken pieces of them too; all the while the Virtues were up in the skies entertained for what chaos they have started.

“My my if it isn’t Y/N Cookie that I see! Come, come! Join us darling!” Eternal Sugar Cookie said with joys as she smiled from her cloud

“Y/N Cookie…come join us…for resisting the fate in the end…will all be futile…for you shall see the harsh reality and accept such fate” Mystic Flour Cookie offered as her closed eyes gave out a small solemn smile

“It’s so much fun seeing them all crumble like little bugs! Join us Y/N Cookie! Together we will crumble anyone who passed by!” Burning Spice Cookie roared

“…” Silent Salt Cookie stared but you knew the meaning behind the silence, the silent message that spoke “yes…join us Y/N cookie, for we shall rule over the world and destroy the impurity that has corrupted the land”

“Come on silly Willy! Don’t you want some fun? This is an adventure you don’t wanna miss! Enjoy yourself! Let the corruption consume you!” Shadow Milk Cookie exclaimed as he enjoys himself from the destruction they all caused.

You stared at all of them, you truly don’t know what to say for yourself. You shall not allow yourself to fall into corruption like your dear friends so you raised up your lance towards them. All of them shocked of such actions, indeed they thought just a few words of them would have at least convinced you to join them but it seems like they would have to put a little more work into it.

“Now now Y/N Cookie why don’t we put the lance down? You wouldn’t want to fight us would you?” Eternal Sugar Cookie asked as her half lidded eyes fluttered.

Your eyes focused on all five of them, truly you didn’t want to fight against them but it really seems like your only option. Although your eyes were focused and you were in battle ready stance, it was arguably noticeable that you were scared, fearing for your life, and being a coward of such. You failed to noticed your soul jam slowly changing

“Come on you silly goose! Surely you don’t want to fight all five of us? Whats the fun in that? Just put the weapon down and join us! We’ll have a huge celebration and I! Will show you a story of an adventure that is most ingenious to tell!” Shadow Milk Cookie tried to convince you, after all he was your closest dear friend! Surely he can get it through your head that you should just relax and join them! It really wasn’t that hard…really!

“No!” You exclaimed “I shall not be corrupted by such greed! If it’s a fight I must take then it’s a fight I shall have!” You exclaimed as you raised your lance “I Y/N Cookie declare upon my honor! That I will stop this blinded greed of all of you!” Your Soul jam, the virtue of ⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ shined bright as you started heading towards them with your lance.

“Ya know, you could have gotten the easy way out…” Burning Spice Cookie grumbled. “But it’s alright, I’LL CRUMBLE YOU A BIT IF IT MEANS FOR YOU TO SET YOUR MIND STRAIGHT!” He laughed as he starts charging towards you along with Silent Salt Cookie who said no words but his actions showed what he wants to say.

“Hmph all actions are all futile…when will you learn to accept the truth Y/N Cookie?” Mystic Flour Cookie said as she also joins in the fight as well as Eternal Sugar Cookie, obviously hurt by your actions but they were all going to fight you if it means the possibility for you to join them.

But Shadow Milk Cookie stood there in the skies still, he didn’t have it in his heart to be one of the reasons why you would crumble right here and right now; it would break him even further. So all he did was watched as you tried your best to stand your ground as you fought the other Virtues.

Truly it was a miracle that you even survived this long in a fight with 4 other cookies that held the same power level as you. It had been days and nights and you all were still fighting. Grunting and panting as the exhaustion slowly creeped in for both sides, but it was evident that none would voluntarily falter.

It definitely took a very long time before your wounds started to take effect on you as you rested on one knee, one eye closed due to a head injury on that side of the head, wounds piled up one after another, jam slowly creeped out. You slowly tried standing back up with the help of your lance.

“I….” You panted as you slowly raised your lance towards them, they looked somewhat perfectly fine compared to you; The other cookies indeed have a lot of wounds on them but nothing as bad as your current condition. “shall not falter…” you whispered but they all heard it, but your legs trembled as you went back on one knee, head lowered as your hand glued your lance still.

“When will you get it through your head darling?” Eternal Sugar Cookie yawned as she glanced at you, surely you’re not dead yet right?

“Hm…why don’t you accept reality Y/N Cookie? After all it’ll all be futile no matter what you do…” Mystic Flour Cookie said ashamed that you still haven’t joined them

“Y/N Cookie” Shadow Milk Cookie finally said sternly, as you tried to raise your head to look but you really couldn’t; Shadow Milk Cookie sighed as he floats towards you, putting his hand under your chin so you can look at him. Dear witches were you in critical condition, he started doubting that you would even survive after this- you were spilling a lot of jam but nothing too concerning. “It really isn’t that hard to fall…won’t you join us for the adventure dear?” He said with a sly grin, but you barked in empty laughter.

“I may have falter now…but I’m willing to risk my condition to have you all fall!” You said with a solemn smile as you stabbed your lance on the ground. Suddenly forks began falling upon the other Virtues, all chained together as a seed of a silver tree began growing to fully seal them inside of an everlasting prison.

Days, weeks, months have passed by. You have visited your once old friends that you betrayed them by helping the witches to seal them inside of a tree that will always be guarded. In mind, you knew this is what was best, that they were too far down and corrupted to see the faults in their decision.

Yet in your heart, it was filled with heavy guilt. You spent your passing days in an endless cycle of the guilt following behind you like a parasite. You decided that perhaps you should do something about it.

You begged the witches to remove your memories of your friends, and erase your mind of such guilt of the past. Let your mind be filled with dreams full of joyous adventures; ones that were piled with laughter and chivalry to keep. And that you shall be sealed inside of a tower in case you somehow become corrupted just like your friends have.

Thus the witches out of sympathy, granted your wish. Informing the faerie cookies to seal you inside of a tower that was full of books up to your liking, so when you wake up knowing nothing; your mind have been filled with adventures of rich stories and the blissful ignorance of the truth.

Of course your voluntary imprisonment inside of a lonely tower was interrupted one day by a group of adventurers breaking down the poor door…

“You…COOKIES have ruined my script once again!” Shadow Milk Cookie said in pure angered as the cookies have found a way to bring you back in their side.

To say the least it wasn’t an easy process considering you were spoon fed with lies upon lies by Shadow Milk Cookie. Drowned in too much deceit to the point you couldn’t tell what was the truth or not. But worry not! Pure Vanilla Cookie had a plan, of course he felt bad that he had to trick you, a fellow friend of his, but it was for a good cause- and rightfully so, because he was able to show you the real truth and get you to come back.

“Shadow Milk Cookie Esquire…” you started, the language of the old rolls off of your tongue just perfectly as the day before you lost your pure innocence of your past truth. “Thy must pondered such a question once more” Shadow Milk Cookie looking confuse as you continued. “Although…I lost such memories and received them once more I shan’t off the feeling of continuing such adventures-“ you couldn’t even finished your sentence before Shadow Milk Cookie flew at the speed of light and started gripping your shoulders firmly as if he didn’t want you to leave.

“No…NO!” Shadow Milk Cookie yelled in your face, it was from pure anger yes but you can hear the slight worry. “You…and your dreams of adventures! Look where it landed you Y/N Cookie don’t you see it?!” Shadow Milk Cookie yelled louder trying to make a point clear as sugar glass. “The dream is dead- it was- it was just mere pure delusions! there is no point of continuing further! Why on earthbread would you want to adventure more! Have you not seen the damage it has caused?”

“Tis was a dream we all cherished hast it not?” You asked with a smile, indeed- although the dream wasn’t an adventure, the dream was to have the reality where all cookies were equal and lived with harmony. All Virtues agreed to such a sweet innocent dream- yet unfortunately all have fallen to corruption except one, you. Shadow Milk Cookie couldn’t believe such words, it was a foolish dream to wish upon anyways…yet a small part of him does wish that dream to become possible. For he too, had a dream- all the virtues had their own separate dream. While yours was to seek and embark an adventure to live to tell the tales no cookie would ever venture off to. Shadow Milk Cookie’s dream was to have a friend…a friend who would understand him and cherish him for being himself- not as a person who knows all knowledge and was faced with the harsh reality constantly…just a simple friend who would understand him as himself…and that person was you. Oh how his heart would shatter if perhaps one day he sees you again but in extremely poor and vulnerable conditions or well dead perhaps…that one day you couldn’t do anything- he just wanted to save you and not go through the sufferings and consequences of having a dream. For he knows such small dreams can’t come true, for they were all foolish to think and believe it would.

“Let thy continue forth, the adventure of achieving the dream…the dream that twinkles oh so far, far away- where stars align and where it’s believed to be impossible to reach,” you spoke in a soft voice. “While the end is…inevitable…and thy might be a fool and it could all end to be hopeless…shan’t it be foolish of me to not try and believe to continue down the righteous path of the journey?”

“Hah…” Shadow Milk Cookie started chuckling. “AHAHAAHAHAA” he placed his hand over his eyes as he hunched over and laughed. “Well if you say so…I won’t stop you Y/N Cookie,” he smiled but then looked at you sternly “why don’t we duel to prove your strength in that dream then shall we? Just like old times hm?” He smiled uncanny as the other cookies started to get ready but you held out your hand to signal them to pause.

“No my friends…” you started “this is a duel I must fight by I alone,” you readied up with your lance.

“My name is Y/N Cookie! And I, Y/N Cookie, declare upon my honor: this lance shall end that hopeless, forgotten dream!!” You raised your lance, your soul jam shining once more,and started running towards Shadow Milk cookie as he readies his staff and starts attacking you.

(Bear with me I can’t do fighting scenes 😭) the fight continued days and nights on end, never ending it seems, each beam targeted to you was deflected; yet every stab of your lance was dodged easily. Exhaustion slowly started hitting yet your thirst of the dream was your motivation, the hope that made your heart beat and it was your strength to keep pushing forward. Shadow Milk Cookie slowly showed clear signs of that exhaustion.

“Hah…hah…” Shadow Milk Cookie panted, it was clear from the appearance he was tired yet you stood there sternly, prepared for any incoming attacks. Shadow Milk Cookie looked…conflicted to say the least, he wants you to come back to his side but he’s not that powerful as of right now. After all he went through all this trouble and he finally met you again! He didn’t want to lose that chance again, he would be oh so lonely…and you were the only cookie that truly understood him more than anyone! So what’s the other better option?

“Y/N Cookie…I WILL come back…this won’t be the last time we meet and next time I’ll make sure…nothing would trick you into coming back to their side…” Shadow Milk Cookie said tiredly as a portal opened behind him as he and his followers left. The group cheered in celebration, yet you stood there and slowly turned towards them so you can face them.

“I shall introduce to thee once again…my name is Y/N Cookie! And I, Y/N Cookie shall embark the journey and dream to become the best knight of all of earthbread!” You smiled as your eyes shined along with the stars once more with your hand gripped your lance as firm as possible.

Fin

I would be lying if I said I finished a good majority of this like weeks ago but I couldn’t figure out how to type out the last section so I apologize 😭 I must admit this isn’t really…the best

Epilogue -> here

Tag list: @donnie-is-da-best @floweriya @haveneulalie @isak-sillydemon @f4nd0msl0v3r @sillysprinkel @kur1kur1chan

[yuurivoice]

Got some interesting questions about Boo's agency and doing things vs witnessing.

It's funny because some folks find Boo to be a very active participant, others have complaints.

I think they, by and large, have been incredibly impactful and active, but perhaps not in the ways some listeners expect or are used to...or want.

Let's recap.

- Boo is inquisitive, and actively digs to discover Alphonse's past but respects his boundaries when they have their walk and talk. You can infer that Boo clocks that something is on Alphonse's mind when he snaps out of his anxiety daydream.

- They observe Seth's behavior as well. His pettiness, his intimidation attempts, but when he reveals that he loves Alphonse, dots start connecting as the history between them is revealed.

- At no point would Boo interjecting during Alphonse and Seth's initial arguments and interactions ever reflect the maturity and wisdom we are trying to establish. However...

- They are an active listener, being able to prompt the right responses and make both Alphonse and Seth feel that they can share their stories with them is...in fact...an action. I think making them act out, get messy, etc. sucks a bag of dicks and plays into every played out listener trope where sure...they "do stuff" or rather, things happen to them.

- The choice to accept Alphonse's request for space and then pursue Seth instead of going home is taking initiative and action. Bringing Seth to breakfast is an even riskier action that even has negative reactions and consequences before being resolved! They get the boys to cut their shit out by putting their foot down.

That's all BSDC chapter 1 though. Let's talk about the old stuff.

Throughout all of BitterSweet, we are actively establishing that Boo's baking has potential to become a business. All of the boys' drama aside...that's actually what is going on with them at the time. Alphonse is in the midst of supporting that endeavor as we enter chapter 2, and for keen listeners, you'll find that Faust mentions a café in the city has been buying batches of chocolate croissants from an out of town baker. Seth literally gets introduced to this and begins helping Boo in Chapter 2 as well as Boo prepared to bake goods for the Winter Festival.

Now the big one, Chapter 3, the one where the boys face Boo getting involved in the past they desperately wanted to keep them from. Almost like keeping them out of the action was a critical plot point to set up the moment where they take an incredible risk in the climax.

A recurring theme in a lot of different narratives but certainly in BitterSweet has been free will and scenarios where decisions get made for people and circumstances take them in directions against their will or without their consideration. Even Finneas' meddling plays into this...and Alphonse follows up with Boo giving the impression that even if things played out differently, if Boo was making moves based out faith in themself and the boys...he'd rock with it.

I think there are people who don't love extended periods of non listener characters interacting with each other, and that's fine, but frankly so much of Alphonse and Seth's resolution needed to be between THEM. The starry night episode needed to be a private moment. Their reminiscing over burgers before leaving needed to be them trying to leave the city on a positive note, with some taste (ha) of things being normal.

Boo's influence is all over this story. They are the glue, the nurturer, the healer, the hope. If your takeaway from the series thus far is that they don't do much, I think we have some fundamental disagreements and misunderstandings about what constitutes action and impact by a character in a story.

I think the vast majority of folks get that, but I wanted to dive into it and make it clear how I feel. 💖

[aceecee]

Insatiable - Chapter Four

TW for this chapter: mentions of insomnia, non-consensual watching through cameras, themes of obsession and possessiveness, mentions of experiments being done on kids, reader having a breakdown, reader seeing herself as a sacrificial lamb, just traumatised reader

AN: Enjoy the surprise chapter!! I didn't have much time to write it so that's why its a little short. Also please comment, whether it's to praise me (hehe) or simply ask question, I adore them all!

WC: 2.9K

Masterlist

Half of his soul isn’t even his so then why do both yearn for this woman.

You’ve settled into a sort of routine this last year.

Following the people you now work for, you’re awake at night and asleep in the morning. Well…you try to sleep but it no longer comes as easily as it had your first night here.

With all you’ve been through, a routine would seem like the last thing you need. It’s all you had when you were captive but it’s actually been helpful. It’s normal (as normal can be when working for a huge criminal organisation) and normal is what you desperately seek.

Your current routine goes as follows:

1. Waking up

Does it count if you never really go to sleep? It's all too common for you to just lay in bed with sleep ghosting you. You’re completely aware of the camera hidden in the top of the bed, if it wasn’t for your excellent hearing then you would have never found it. You wonder if he watches you.

There’s another one hidden as a button on the fireplace, aimed right at you if you sit by it. One in the lights and another hidden into the wood of the desk. Thankfully the bathroom and closet have none. Maybe you should complain about them but perhaps it's better that you don’t look a gifted horse in the mouth.

2. Getting up 

Leaving your soft bed isn’t as easy as one might think even if insomnia has spent the morning all bundled up next to you.

It’s become common to find the twins in your room when they can’t sleep either. They’ll annoy you into keeping them company and you always give in. The three of you spend the time playing games (you all get really worked up, Sylus once put you on a month ban) or even going out for a drive. Sometimes they’ll make you accompany them on a mission, you’ll watch from a rooftop far away or anywhere with an advantage and give them instructions. It’s actually pretty fun. On rare occasions, the man himself will join you.

3. Washing up/Getting ready 

You had tried to make Sylus regret giving you his card by going on a massive shopping trip but to your shock (and also desire) he was the one disappointed in the “small” amount you ended up spending. 

It’s comforting to be able to look good again. The bathroom is now stocked with high-end products, all suitable for your needs. Your closet is filled to the brim with clothes, shoes, accessories and your personal favourite, your designer bags. You’ve even started your collection of perfumes again.

You forced the twins to go with you on all your shopping trips. It’s amusing seeing them struggle to carry all your things. It’s another part to help you become desensitised to going outside and being around people. You became accustomed to the people in this house since you’re all alike in having a horrible life but it’s not easy to be out and about with the public. None of them are trustworthy. 

It took time but you can now handle it. It had been Sylus’s idea in the first place. He’s preparing you for something. For what? You have no idea. All you know is that you have no choice in his plan.

But touch is something you still can’t handle. Just the thought of anyone’s hands on you fills you with disgust. 

4. Making breakfast (or dinner…?)

Never for just one though, your cooking quickly became a favourite among the people residing in the mansion and it was now expected of you. You don’t mind it, the domestic vibe of it all is welcomed. 

You still have the tablet Sylus gave you a year ago and all you have on it are recipes. You scour the internet for them and have proudly built a collection.

Six months into your recovery had left you with too much energy so you picked up another old habit.

Baking.

To think it had been your dream at one point when you foolishly thought life could be good.

There’s nothing you don’t end up baking. Cakes that are as tall as you, intricate pastries or just experimenting with what you know. The more complex the dessert, the better.

There’s no complaints made by your roommates. 

5. Going to work

The transport switches day by day, sometimes you’ll carpool with the twins or even Sylus himself. But that was before you got your own. 

The red-eyed man had gifted you a motorcycle. He never said a word to you, just handed you the keys over breakfast one day. 

No one taught you how to ride it but you were always a quick learner. The man won’t admit it but he noticed that the lack of space in cars made you a little uncomfortable. You were like a bird in that way, never happy being in anything with four walls. 

You don’t realise that your wings have been clipped by him anyways and he’d like it to stay that way. 

6. Going back home and repeating it all over again.

Which leads you to your current day.

The building is hidden away, the main base of operations for Onychinus. Your office is nice and spacious but it’s bare of any decorations. You don’t really see the point of it.

There are other workers milling about, you don’t know anything about them. Not their name or age. Any communication from you comes in the form of texts or emails. 

Luckily being the accountant means that most of your communication is to your Boss anyways. 

The elevator you’re in dings, informing you that you’ve reached your destination. You step out and immediately feel the eyes on you. It’s the rest of the workers, you’ve become a mystery of sorts. The extra attention is annoying but nothing that can’t be handled.

You know you look weird, your white blouse had colourful marker stains on it and your black dress pants are ruffled. Your hair is a little disheveled thanks to the brats.

A few months ago, you had come across an orphanage while exploring the N109 zone. The building was in disarray and the tenants were no better off. The handlers in charge tried their best to care for the kids with what little funds they had but it wasn’t enough. It made sense, everyone here was only looking out for themselves, who has time to care for kids that no one will miss?

You do.

Time seems to be all you have.

That and money. Your new job pays well. Half of your paycheck goes to them and maybe Sylus found out because your salary did increase out of nowhere. 

You sat down with the handler, a gentle older woman by the name of Mary. The wrinkles and smile lines on her face tell that she has lived a bountiful life. What a beautiful sight it was to see.

An agreement was drafted up and you would remain an invisible benefactor. Until the kids got curious and Mary ended up begging you to meet them. You wanted to say no but kids had always been your weak point.

It had certainly been an experience, all of them crowding around you, each one demanding your sole attention. You waited for the overstimulation at their grabby hands and demands of hugs but it never came.

Children are innocent. Their actions are genuine and their affection never has dangerous intent behind it. Then they grew up into distrustful and jealous adults, following the example set for them. But for now, you enjoy the touch of other human beings without dread settling into your gut.

The orphanage is currently undergoing serious renovation - thanks to your patronage - so the kids now have to sleep in one room together. Today you went over there on your lunch break and made the situation a little better for them by using your evol. The usual disgust you feel did not come when you made all kinds of plants grow everywhere. You even created life sized cut-outs of their favourite cartoon characters. They were a hit. 

There’s another reason for your sudden interest in the orphanage and its occupants. The kids are the perfect test subject. As you said before, who would miss them? 

Sure there is Mary but what could a frail old woman do against an entire organisation for whom you still know nothing about. You can’t save everyone. You couldn’t even save your family, you’re sure Caleb is dead by now but you can try to save the kids. Just like you’ll try to rescue the ones already taken. 

You enter your office, not bothering with anyone else. Sitting down at the desk, you take time to turn on the computer. The to do list stares at you. You ignore it.

Instead you look at yourself in the mirror. You look like a fool. A smirk emerges on your face. A cute fool.

You try to tame your hair but your clothing can not be saved. A peck at the window distracts you from your action.

A familiar very adorable, red-eyes mechanical crow caws at you, flapping his wings. You get up to open the window. He enters and makes himself all too at home on your shoulder. His beak rubs against your cheek and you raise your hand to pet his head. You nudge him with your finger. What is it?

He opens his beak and your boss's voice comes through. “Come to my office when you have the time.”

The order is a reprieve you think as you glance at your computer screen. Chasing after the little runts had tired you out physically and mentally. 

You make your way to his office and knock. 

“Enter.”

Meph flies off your shoulder and goes to his dedicated corner in Sylus’s office. The sight of him puffed up as he rests never fails to amuse you.

[You wanted to see me, Boss?] you sign.

“Yes. I have a task for you,” always straight to the point. In his hand is a brown case file, your eyebrow perks up. If something in this business is only on paper it means off the books. You step forward to receive the file and skim through it.

Sex: Male

Age: 22

“His medical bills have to be paid, find a way to budget it.”

Name: Eiden -

You freeze.

The file is snapped shut a second later, the noise startles the crow in the room. When your head moves up from the file, you find him already staring at you. Eerily calm.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” he whispers. Then he says your actual name, mockery clear in his tone. “It's a bit insulting that you thought I brought your lie. But no matter, I won’t hold it against you.”

You don’t have time to dissect his words.

You thought he was dead.

You remember him clearly, the stab wounds. The blood. Oh god. The amount of blood leaking out of him, mixing with your parents…

Your parent’s eyes stare in horror as you’re dragged down the stairs. Their screams are muffled-

You fucking liar.

All this time you thought he was dead but he wasn’t. He was alive, fighting to live while you had given up and accepted your fate. He was hurting and in pain and you weren’t by his side. 

What a pathetic fucking failure you are.

You don’t deserve to live.

You don’t even deserve to breathe in the air around you.

You- 

A hand encases yours, uncurling its powerful grip around the folder. Its hold on you remains. A thumb softly rubbing circles around the back of your palm. Another hand gently cradles the side of your face, rubbing away the tears you hadn’t realised were falling free during your breakdown.

“You didn’t know,” his voice is too soft as he comes to his own conclusion. It doesn’t help. His kindness isn’t meant for you. All it does is make you feel like the imposter you are. 

His body is pressed against yours. His warmth all over you. You can smell his cologne from how close he is.

Perfect. 

You try to think of what the scent is, desperate to calm down. He’s not the type to wear those “manly” scents, sandalwood or smoky. No, there's a hint of spice to it, maybe some cinnamon. Your sense of smell isn’t the greatest but you can tell it’s an odd blend. One that suits him.

The change of thought works as intended and you find yourself calming down.

Sylus doesn’t feel guilt but as he consoles the crying woman in his arms, he can’t help but think that he’s taken it too far. He had expected her to get angry, think that he was threatening her but his heart lurched when she instead stood there frozen. He hadn’t even realised that he was making his way towards her when the first tear escaped. His body is on autopilot. Consoling her was like second nature.

Neither of you realise this is your first time with skin-to-skin contact with the other.

Imagine his shock when he had been continuing his usual surveillance of the one who owned his soul through Mephisto. At first he had thought she was entering the hospital for her own appointment but confusion arose when he realised she didn’t have one set. Then bitter jealousy that she must be visiting that doctor of hers. Only for her to go into a patient room, with a man. A man that looked just like the woman he’s currently holding. 

It was all too easy after that to find out everything about you. The death of your parents and the hospitalisation of your brother. The details of your kidnapping that you still couldn’t bring yourself to talk about. He devoured any information on you.

Something sour settled into his gut at her infatuation with you. It wasn’t clear to him before but he notices the pattern in all the people she brings him. All of them resemble you in some way. It’s your name she moans in the cover of the night. Jealousy fills him. But even he has no idea who it is he’s jealous of. 

He had been so caught up in exacting some small revenge that the idea of you not knowing your own brother was still alive didn’t even cross his mind. Why was it you keeping your name hidden, keeping a part of you locked away from him, making him so angry? Why did he feel the need to punish you for it? 

Why did he enjoy watching you through those cameras?

Why were you on his mind?

Why did he make sure your office was the closest to his? The bedroom too.

Why did he despise the fact that you were already so close to the twins and Mephisto while so intent on keeping him at a distance? 

His hand is on her lower back as he guides her to the armchair adjacent to his. But instead of sitting on it, he takes the seat right next to hers. 

She’s just staring at the folder in her lap.

“Open it.” 

She follows his command.

Patient rushed to hospital with multiple stab wounds.

There’s more medical jargon that you currently can’t understand. But one sentence is clear.

Patient in need of heart transplant.

Sylus is watching you when once again you snap your head to him. You point at the line.

“Why do you think I’m paying for his bills? With my influence we can make it happen.” He leans back in the chair, legs and arms crossed. He tilts his head in that insufferable way of his with his signature smirk painted across his face. But right now, you want nothing but to kiss him. 

It’s all true, he thinks. She should feel special that he can’t help putting a reward in her punishment.

[Can a heart be donated?] You’re not too aware of the medical laws inside this game. 

His eyes narrow at you, you swear the rubies that are his iris shine. 

“Why?” he draws out. “Are you thinking of giving yours up?”

You bite your lip and it’s all the answer he needs. If you could, you would gasp at the sudden movement from him, his arms clenching on the back of the armchair you’re on. His face is level with yours and his mystical eyes bore right into yours.

“Never going to happen, little bird.” His hand reaches out and taps the area where your current organ is beating so fast. His breath is on your lips, he’s so close. If you were to tilt your head up then…

“Your heart belongs to me now, along with your everything. And I decide what you do with it. Is that clear?”

All you can do is nod.

“Good,” he sits back down but neither of you break your shared gaze. “We’ll come up with something. Something that won’t end up with your chest open,” he sends you a pointed stare.

You give a small smile in return.

“I’ll also find out more about him. I’m sure you’re curious about what he’s done these past few years.” 

You don’t even have time to brighten up and tell him yes before he opens his mouth and finishes his thought. 

“But there’s something you’ll have to do for me in return.”

Tag list: @serenity-loves-red @crimsonmarabou @reni502

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All in | Chapter 1

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

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“Jungwon, stop,” you cry out. This wasn’t the first time that things had gotten rough with your boyfriend, especially as of late, but something about his gaze this time in particular, eyes narrowed and looking at you with intensity causes a pit to form in the bottom of your stomach. 

His silence is eerie. Your boyfriend, when you had started dating him, was an exemplary gentleman. He was warm, charming, and polite, and you could go on for hours listing all of the traits that attracted you to him. He seemed like the picture-perfect boyfriend–he was chivalrous, he bought you flowers, and he seemed strong-willed and determined. He was also the leader of a powerful mafia clan. 

Of course, you didn’t know this when you had started dating him. When he first told you, you were incredibly surprised, as well as a little bit scared. He assured you that you had nothing to be afraid of, that nothing would change, and that you would be incredibly safe with him. He had such a way with words that immediately persuaded you he was telling you the truth. This was your boyfriend, after all. Yang Jungwon, that you have come to know and love. 

Should you have run that very first opportunity he had given you? You think back to the night he sat you down at his desk. For a second, you remember giggling and telling him that you felt more like you were at a doctor’s appointment than in your boyfriend’s office, and he had just given you a sweet smile before he proceeded. “Have you ever heard of ENHA?” he had asked you. Of course you had. At that point, everybody in the city had known about ENHA and SKZ, the two notorious and rival mafia groups that had control over the city. Though you didn’t know much about them, you had certainly heard of them. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but I’m the leader of ENHA. I want to lay all my cards out on the table for you, here and now. This is your chance–your out. If you want to leave, you can walk out that door right now and I will never contact you again.”

Two months. That’s how much time you had dedicated to your relationship with Jungwon before you found out the truth about him. You know your sister would have laughed in your face. She had told you from the very beginning that it wasn’t meant to be, that you were making a mistake with this one, but you had brushed her off. She had never liked your romantic pursuits, so what made this one any different? You didn’t listen to her. You didn’t walk out the door, and you made the decision to stay in your relationship with Jungwon. You wish you had; all of those traits that you had once admired in Jungwon had since become the downfall of your relationship. His overprotectiveness and desire for you to rely on him had caused you to become overdependent on him–and out of a job that you were actually incredibly passionate about. By the time you noticed that he was becoming more abusive, you relied on him for housing and income, and you had no way of contacting your sister even if you had wanted to. He had forced you to cut ties. 

That’s how you got here, really. You were too far in. While once you imagined spending your entire life with him, now you dreamed of a life free of him. Your boyfriend, Yang Jungwon, was a walking contradiction. He had a warm exterior to most, a bright smile that charmed his way through any conversation; on the inside, he’s an indifferent, cold and murderous machine. 

This is especially apparent to you now. His stoic expression contrasts scarily with the harsh words he spews at you. The intent in his eyes that bore into your skull tell you all you need to know. You’re on his shit list. 

“Stop,” you repeat again, louder and with more force behind your words. You’re slotted right between his legs, no method of escape, pushed up against the brick wall outside of one of the many clubs owned by ENHA. Though the wall is scraping against your skin, it’s also bitter cold, a welcome contrast from the heat escaping your body. 

You look rough. You know that you do without having to look in a mirror. Somewhere in the whole ordeal you had lost your shoes, and your mascara is currently running down your face in long wet clumps. Your hair is matted from where he had grabbed it, dragging you out of the club and caring less about your appearance. Your dress has more than one rip in it from when you had fallen onto the concrete, and your fingernails are steeped in blood from when you had tried to claw away. Thankfully, the ringing in your ears provides enough adrenaline to dull some of the pain you’re experiencing. They don’t ring enough to block out his words, though. 

“You’re going to come into my club and act like some whore who doesn’t know who she belongs to? What the fuck were you thinking, getting into a bar fight at my club? People are going to think I don’t know how to control what belongs to me. Fuck, you’re unbelievable, Y/N. You make me sick to my stomach, I can’t even stand to look at you,” he says as he pushes you harder into the wall. Your skin scratches harder against the brick, leaving red bloody marks behind from the contact. Your breath hitches–Jungwon has never been this violent or demeaning to you before. His expression is blank, as if he has no remorse for what he’s doing, and that scares you even more. This wasn’t like anything you had seen in your boyfriend–this is a snap. Like a shelf that holds much more than it can carry, piling more and more on it until it starts to concave and the wood splinters in the middle, Jungwon has decided that he is not going to carry your burden anymore. 

The first time he hit you, he had pushed you and shoved you around like a cold and calculating machine, no thought or purpose behind his actions. Minutes later, it was as if life had come back into his eyes. He got onto his knees and sobbed, repented for his actions and begged for your forgiveness. He reminded you of the fact that you were the only one who could ever love someone like him; nobody would be kind enough to let a mafia boss into their hearts and love them with all they had like you did. You’re all he has, he would remind you, you have to forgive him. He would get you the best medical treatment available, you would forgive him and it would be like it never happened. Until the next time, and the next. 

Now, given the circumstances, you’re not sure you can defend him. Not with the way he’s speaking to you like you’re less than scum, worthless and indecent to be around. You feel belittled and small. To be the direct target of his rage, though there’s a reason for it this time, makes bile rise up in your throat, threatening to spill out. You’re beginning to see why your boyfriend isn’t to be messed with and why he’s considered one of the most dangerous men in the country. To add to it, he had been drinking and the stress of the other mafia group closing in on them was adding unwanted pressure. You were also a little bit intoxicated, which is probably what gave you the bravery to do what you had. 

You were intentionally trying to rile him up. It was an innocent mistake, but you had the goal of making him a little bit jealous tonight. You were hoping things would take a different turn, after all. Your friend had told you about the time she flirted with another man in front of her boyfriend to get a rise out of him and it had worked, and he had taken her to the car and fucked the life out of her on the spot. She insisted it was the best sex she ever had. 

You really should have known better; your relationship isn’t normal and you will never experience things the same way your friends do. But, you had tried it out. You started flirting with a stranger at the bar, just some light conversation and casual touches to the shoulder. At one point you had caught Jungwon’s eyes and mistook his dark gaze for jealousy, not rage, which fueled your desire to continue. 

You had dragged the stranger out to the dance floor, and he was more than eager to go with you. He was much too touchy, sliding his hands up and down your hips and grinding his body into yours. That’s when his girlfriend was added to the mix–absolutely trashed, angry, and ready to start a fight she wasn’t going to win. You caused a scene, shouting expletives right back at her. You won, easily. But not before a hand was embedded in your hair and you were face to face with your very angry boyfriend. It seems like all it took was for one incident to completely change everything. 

You’re scared. Empty words rise from your throat to defend yourself, to plead with him and try to change his mind, but a hand snakes around and cuts you off. 

“Don’t bother coming back, bitch,” he spits. “You’re lucky if I keep you alive.” His hand tightens around your neck, leaving your vision to darken. Your hands come up around his, trying to yank his hand away to relieve some of the pressure to no avail. Your legs start to flail and kick in a last ditch effort of disparity. 

“Please, Wonnie,” you choke out. He repeats your words back to you, mocking. Your hands are hitting at his and you’re gasping for breath, hot tears streaming down your face. 

“Don’t call me that,” he seethes. “You should’ve fucking known better! You brought unwanted attention to yourself. You deserve to be taught a lesson for acting like such a fucking slut in my club. I bet you would’ve let him fuck you too, right?” You try to shake your head, wanting to deny and explain yourself when he suddenly lets go of you. You fall to the ground, your bodyweight now completely unsupported by him. 

You look up at him for a second, large doe eyes blinking away tears. He stares right back at you. One second passes by before you plant your feet into the ground, breaking into a rub. Your bare feet scrape against the concrete and you turn the corner, ready to shout but no sound comes out of your throat. Just as you make it two long strides, his lightning fast reflexes have already caught up to you. Jungwon grabs your wrist and squeezes it tight, and you feel a sharp pain along with the popping sound it creates. 

With the momentum he has, he slings you to the ground. Your face meets concrete and you feel warm, wet liquid on your skin. You blink and blink to realize that your vision has gone completely dark. You’re hit, again and again, but at some point you don’t hear his words anymore. You feel like you could throw up. You wonder if you do when you feel your stomach contract around nothing. Hit after hit and wound after wound, eventually you stop registering it. 

Deep down, you try to comfort yourself. He doesn’t mean it. He’ll take you back, and once he sobers up he will realize that he fucked up majorly. He’ll cry and grovel and really apologize, promising to change his ways. Sunoo will patch you up and stitch over the wounds that need it the most, just as he has before. You’ll laugh about the situation in retrospect, cry about it some, but ultimately end up in Jungwon’s bed. Where else would you even go? You have no money, no job, no way of contacting anybody, so surely, surely, he’ll accept you back. You crack a smile at the thought and wonder if you’ll have to beg him to take you back or if he’ll take you into his arms himself. 

You’re not sure how long you’re on the concrete for. When you lift your head you hear a loud, pulsing sound, accompanied by a sharp pain that encourages you to put your head back down. You do, comforted knowing that Jungwon will come back, he will come back, he will come back. 

Two sets of footsteps find your way to your field of view. They’re blurry, and for a second you think, those don’t look like Jungwon’s shoes, and you begin to hear muffled voices. The ringing in your ears is so loud, but their voices are louder too. Why are they speaking so loud? Are they really yelling or is it just this splitting headache? God, you don’t know, but as you open your mouth to speak and the voices get louder, it stops. Everything stops. 

You have finally lost consciousness. 

You recognize the sensation of being in a car, and you even smell cologne. It’s unfamiliar. You don’t fight to keep your eyes open, instead succumbing to the murmur of voices and warmth of the car that contrasts from the shockingly cold concrete, and let yourself drift off into sleep.

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When you wake up, you’re propped haphazardly against a wall. Your eyes crack open, and notice a well-furnished office, complete with leather chairs and a desk that was probably hand-crafted and expensive. You’re alone in the room, and your eyes flicker to the windows, the door, and then to your beaten and bruised frame. If you looked rough before, you certainly look awful now, and you feel even worse than you look. You are definitely sobered-up now, though, enough to realize that you are not at home, and definitely not at the ENHA base. 

Three figures enter the room, and you wonder if you should react or if you’re even in any imminent danger. You close your eyes again, wondering if you can get away with pretending to be asleep so you can feel out the situation. 

“Hyunjin, check her pulse,” you hear. Warm breath is on yours in an instance, and you fight your heart to stop beating as fast as it is. Two fingertips press against your neck, cold yet firm. 

“Good morning,” the voice whispers against your frame, loud enough for only you to hear. You don’t react outwardly, but your heart beats just a little bit faster. Is this man going to tell him that you’re awake?

“She’s fine,” the man says. “Her pulse is stronger than before. She’s lost a lot of blood but she’ll be okay.” The man’s presence leaves yours, and you rely on just your hearing to tell that he is back on the other side of the room quicker than your heartbeat. “So, what’s your angle here? I know you’re not keen on helping beaten and bloody women in alleyways too often, so I’m sure there’s some sort of play here.” 

“Yang Jungwon’s girlfriend. Or, I suppose you can say ex-girlfriend, if she’s smart” a man says.. 

“Are you insane? You’re just trying to get on his nerves!” says the man that checked your pulse, Hyunjin.

“I suppose you could say that. Binnie and I found her about a mile from the ENHA base, beaten practically within an inch of her life. If we’re smart, I think we use her as leverage against him. We keep her, use her to piss him off. If we had the upper hand before, we definitely have it now,” he explains. 

You try not to furrow your eyebrows in confusion. 

“You should have called me, for fucks sake! This was a major decision for you to make on our behalf and not consult me on. It’s my job.” Hyunjin is furious, evident from his rapid speech and loud tone, but he sounds professional nonetheless. “You don’t even know if he wants her back. She could be worth less than trash in his eyes, and that’s the best case scenario. He did beat her, after all. Worst case scenario? She could be bugged, or a spy! Did you think about that? Chan, this is unbelievable.” Your eyes shoot open instinctively, and you lurch forward, holding onto your stomach and fight yourself from hurling on the spot.

“Chan…” you rasp out. Your throat burns… You wonder if it was from Jungwon’s tight grasp or if you had been screaming without realizing it. Now you’ve realized the exact scenario that you’ve ended up in. Bang Christopher Chan is the leader of SKZ… the rival mafia gang. You had only heard rumors about the man since being involved with Jungwon, but they’re enough that you’re shaking involuntarily. You know he’s dangerous, and you find yourself wishing you paid more attention to mafia politics to really get a sense of what you’re getting yourself into. Chan is the one that brought you here, and now you’re defenseless, vulnerable, and in his territory. 

“Easy there,” a voice calls. A stranger approaches you and puts a hefty hand on your shoulder; when you meet his gaze, you immediately flinch. The man is very well-built with broad shoulders and large biceps that counteract his shorter frame. A black compression shirt hugs his skin, showing off his muscles. You don’t know anything about the man but everything about him screams bodyguard. 

Your eyes meet the man sitting in the leather chair at the desk, Bang Chan. You can tell just by the way he carries himself that he is an important man and he knows it. His gaze is intense but he smirks at you as if he’s amused. He is also fairly muscular, wearing all black but dressed nicer than the stocky bodyguard. His hair is dark brown and falls neatly around his face, parted down the middle with strands falling loosely around his ears. He is attractive like a magnet, you realize, when you know you should be experiencing repulsion. 

You realize everybody is watching your every move, and you feel pressured to say something, to perform, even. 

“Hey,” you say, and it comes out weaker and raspier than you would have hoped. Chan’s mouth lifts into a smile. “Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure.” 

You rack your mind for the right words to say. “Are you… going to kill me?” 

He lets out a hefty laugh, one that makes you feel stupid. You feel like it was a valid question, but let out a nervous chuckle at his response. 

“If you give me a reason to. But we don’t want that, right sweetheart?” You nod in agreement, face turning red at the demeaning lilt to his words. The man finally rises from his chair and is in front of you in just two long steps. He crouches down but still towers above you, leaving you feeling even more defenseless and intimidated. His hand reaches to stroke a strand of hair behind your ear, and his thumb reaches to lift up your chin and meet his gaze. You want to look anywhere but, but you’re even more scared of the consequences. Your eyes meet, and his gaze is so intense that it makes your skin crawl. His expression is now devoid of any emotion, and he is dead serious. 

“You almost died,” he says. He tells you this as casually as one would talk about the weather. “Jungwon almost killed you. You would have died on that sidewalk if we didn’t find you and administer emergency medicinal treatment.” His fingers tighten around your jaw, keeping your gaze locked onto his, as if to say, ‘I am the most important person and you will listen to me when I am talking to you.’ 

“He wouldn’t… It was an accident. He was really drunk, and I–” You’re cut off when his fingers trail lower, reaching your throat. Your breath hitches, unsure of what he’s going to do and you feel terror overwhelm you from what you know the man has the capacity to do to you. Two fingers prod at your throat, poking at what is most definitely a very nasty bruise. You cry out, hands reaching to soothe the spot that he had just touched. 

“You don’t really believe that, do you? If so, you’re more stupid than I thought.” He stands, leaving your mouth agape. “You should look at yourself. You’re in really bad shape. We were able to stop some of your bleeding from that nasty head injury you got yourself, but damn. Do you even know how long you were out for? It’s been at least half a day.”

Half a day? You gawk at the man and say nothing. The other two men have decided to stay silent for the conversation, doing not much more than observing your sorry state. You decide you don’t want to speak much more on the subject, and change the topic instead. “What do you want with me?” you swallow. 

“You’re going to stay here, at the SKZ base while you recover. I’m sure you heard, but you’re going to help us get the ENHA situation under control. You’re leverage.”

“You’re keeping me? So I can’t leave? Please,” you start to plead. “You’re not serious.” 

“Dead serious,” Chan replies. “It’s not like you really want to go back, right? If you get beaten like this again, there’s probably not going to be anybody to save you. You might die,” he blinks. 

“It’s not going to happen again,” you all but spit out. You decide it’s time to test your body and stand up, and though your bones and muscles ache, you manage to get onto your two feet. “It was one time, a mistake. I’m sorry, but you’re out of line, and I would really like to get back home.” 

“Out of line?” Chan challenges.

“I’m sorry to say this, Y/N, but I don’t think Chan is out of line,” Hyunjin speaks. You finally get a chance to look at the man. His dark hair frames his face, resting just past his chin. At first glance he appears more delicate than the other two men, but his muscles are apparent the longer you stare at the fitted t-shirt he sports. He’s very pretty, a statement usually not used to describe someone in his profession. He has very full lips and a perfectly chiseled and angular jawline, sharp nose and long, feminine eyelashes. As he steps forward, he continues on his tangent. “Not only that, but this isn’t the first time Jungwon has hurt you, is it?” 

Your breath hitches as you find the words to defend yourself. You’re cut off by the man who is very adamant about what he is about to say.

“Your record shows that you have been in the hospital two times in the last year. Are you trying to tell us that a concussion and broken wrist are just coincidences?” You stay silent as the man’s eyes scan up and down your frame. You wonder how he knows so much, as someone that was arguing minutes ago about how your presence was a mistake. He’s done his research on you for sure, and you realize it’s probably his job to know everything about everyone. That’s probably why he was arguing with Chan about not consulting him. You try not to think about what else he knows.

“If you stay here, we can guarantee your safety. We don’t even know if Jungwon has plans to try to take you back, but if he does, we are sure that this will be the safest place for you. We know you don’t have a job or a place to stay out there, but here you’ll have a room and necessities. And you will be benefiting us as we get the chance to get a rise out of their group, and the opportunity to use this advantage to put them in their place.” Chan seems sure in his decision, and you find something reassuring about the firmness in his tone and his ability to make quick decisions, knowing that his leadership abilities are one of the reasons why SKZ is the top mafia group in the country, ENHA’s rival. You step forward and wobble, and strong arms steady your frame. 

“Okay,” you whisper. The decision feels wrong, like a betrayal, but you still feel dizzy and unsure, so you decide to put your safety first. 

“You still need some rest. We can escort you to your new room and give you some time to patch yourself up, shower, and get a change of clothes. We definitely suggest tending to your wounds,” Chan says.

“My room? Are you sure this is okay?” The bodyguard wraps an arm around your shoulder, allowing you to lean on his dependable and sturdy build, and you let yourself do so. 

“More than sure. Make yourself at home. You’ll be here a while.” Chan says. He finally returns to his desk and sits in his chair, hands intertwining with one another as if he’s deep in thought. “Changbin will show you the way. Don’t do anything stupid, and you and I will have a talk later tonight. Look forward to it, sweetheart. Hyunjin, call the others for a meeting. You’re dismissed.” 

And with that, you and Changbin, the aforementioned bodyguard, are left to find the way to your room. You stumble but he is strong, and with his arms around you the walk to your room is not a struggle. He does stay eerily silent, which you welcome so that you can think. You arrive at your room and thank him, stepping into the space and shutting the door behind you. 

The room is not huge but it’s comfortable. It’s definitely larger than any room you’ve ever lived in before, and it’s nice to finally have your own space seeing as you previously shared a room with Jungwon. The room is obviously set up to be a guest bedroom, with cream colored walls and a large bed in its center adorned with a white quilt and decorative pillows. It’s simple but you’ll certainly make-do. You look around and notice a large rattan wardrobe stocked with a variety of clothes in different styles and sizes. Some of the fabric looks like it’s large enough to swallow you while others would just barely fit. You hum, content, and pick out a clean outfit that suits your comfort levels, even if it's not the prettiest. On your way to the bathroom you're surprised to notice a small vanity, stocked with makeup. You realize this guest room is probably for guests of SKZ, maybe their family members if any of them had any that would come to visit, hence the women’s clothing. Either way, the makeup will come in handy later to cover your bruises when you need to. 

And on that note, you finally allow yourself to look in the mirror, and you gasp. 

You have never seen your hair so matted and disheveled, and your head is stained in your blood. A bandage covers the top left of your head, and you uncover it to observe a nasty scar that had been treated with some kind of ointment. In addition, your bottom lip is busted, and you are adorned with all sorts of scrapes and scars and bruises all over your body. Your throat is covered in nasty dark hues of purple and blue that are sure to only get worse. Your wrist had received the same treatment, sporting some nasty bruises, and you recall when it had made a noise that resembled a pop yesterday. You roll the joint, testing the waters, and groan out in pain. At best, it’s sprained. You try not to think about it, and finally get into the shower, noting the first aid kit on the counter. 

The water feels nice on your skin, though it stings most of your scrapes and wounds. You welcome it nonetheless. You allow yourself a moment to cry, letting your tears mix in with the shower stream, wondering if this is the only chance you’ll be able to show how vulnerable you are. You don’t know much about SKZ and their men, and you’re sure you should tidy yourself up and do your best to pretend you’re strong, showing no weakness. When you comb through your hair you decide that’s just what you’ll do. You already look more presentable than before when you step out of the shower, as you have rid yourself of the blood, sweat, dirt and grime that littered your skin. And as you step into the new clothes you had found for yourself, you really do feel much better. You take the time to sanitize some of your worse wounds, paying special attention to your head that met the concrete last night. You cover yourself with bandages and decide to spend some of your time putting on makeup. It’s the only way to cover the bruises, you decide, and you won’t let any new members that haven’t seen your sorry-state know that you’re here because you were beaten and weak. If any one of them notices your vulnerability, there’s no telling that they won’t prey on it. So after about an hour, your skin looks close to its normal self again thanks to your expertise in color correction under your layers of foundation and concealer. You smile at your handiwork – if you weren’t looking for the bruises and scrapes, you certainly wouldn’t be able to find it. Even your makeup-covered throat and wrist, which had gotten the worst of it all, really look fine. 

You leave your room at last, and it has been some hours since your previous meeting with Bang Chan and the others. You roll your shoulders back and make your way around the house. The intention here isn’t snooping, you tell yourself, but you desperately need to find food. You don’t have to look too hard, as you stumble into the kitchen. 

You make direct eye contact with two men that you haven’t seen before. Their eyes flicker to you and their conversation stills, and you know you’ve interrupted them. 

You’re going to be here a while, right? You suppose it’s time to introduce yourself. 

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a/n: it's hereee (for real this time)! so excited to share this with you and what is to come! (if you saw me post this the other day by accident no you didn't) <3

taglist: @shuporanporang @purp13st4r @eurydiceofterabithia @heartsbyandra @thicccurls @rylea08 @the-sweetest-rose @oddracha @kapelover @goldenmellow

[gayestsimp]

Decaying life: Chapter 2

words used 3.2k

Tag list: @randomlyappearingartist @ryuushou @rowannin @s0ggyrats @maybeethan69 @0-candlecove-0

I’ve made #Decaying life so if you wish to find post only related to Decaying life, you will!

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

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(Name) was seventeen. It had been a few days after he first met Damian. His half “brother” and so far- the one out of the few that were mostly in the mansion that interacted with him. A few small scars and bruises present over his face and body from some of these interactions, but most didn’t end in violence but instead many aggressive words being yelled at him, like being called a ‘half breed’ or a ‘bastard son’ and a ‘whore’s son’ that last one being the most painful… the brat daring to comment on (Name)’s mother this way? That was what angered the boy the most- but thankfully, he had plans, when Jason arrives in two days, he’s going to ask his older brother if he can move in with him for a while.

It brought (Name) some joy to know he could be somewhere more… freeing- and actually hangout with his most beloved brother. Right now though, all he had to do was wait and go through life like normal, like school. (Name) could get a ride to get to Gotham Academy from Alfred, god knows the butler has insisted that the boy should due to how long the walk was and getting a bus as well wouldn’t be needed than- but to also interact with his other two brothers, Tim and Damian more. However (Name) didn’t want that, so he always refused and turn down the offer, and anyways, the walk to the bus stop was nice, with fresh air- well fresh as Gotham could get and a brief talk to the elderly women and men waiting for their rides, they were decent to talk to and some even had interesting life stories. But either way, (Name) would take his usual route and path to the school, enjoying his ride… well not enjoy but liking it a lot more than having to be in a car next to those two.

Regardless, (Name) would arrive at the bus stop and continue to walk towards Gotham Academy, arriving a little earlier than his supposed brothers, his own journey taking longer than the car ride, so an earlier bus had to be taken to fully avoid the boys, but still arrive on time, causing some bags under his eyes, having to get up more early to get prepared for the day. The academy life that (Name) experienced wasn’t the worse or best- he wasn’t easily noticed by most, his own surname being kept the same as it was before he ever moved in with the Wayne family- that being (Last Name). Not using the Wayne name or being widely known like his supposed brothers did help- most people that wanted and are his friends were legitimate with their interest being in (Name), maybe one or two interest in just using him for small schemes, but most were decent people… well as decent as some Gothamites can be, but regardless- (Name)’s academy life was rather nice, better than most as he preferred it over his own…

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After each second that ticked away on the clock, the seconds into minutes and those minutes into hours. A partially gloved hand holding a pencil and tapping it against a desk- just waiting for the final hour of the day to pass. (Name) was waiting to finally get out of building and go to his job. In order to get some real experience as soon as he leaves and not act like a burden for Jason- if his older brother would be willing to let the younger stay with him, which does seem likely to be fair on his end, he could make some extra money to take care of himself- he also just couldn’t become a vigilante, as the matter of fact, nobody in the family knows that he’s aware of their secret double lives, even Jason, but also the fact that he can destroy anything with the touch of one hand. He also just wanted to live a normal life, to go with his own dreams and ambitions like his Momma would have wanted him to do so… the mere thought of her would bring some tears to (Name)’s eyes, it’s been so long since he’s seen her face, so much of it was a blur to him now, the only thing he can remember clearly was her hands- how soft and warm they were, how they wiped away his tears and covered him with love.

Soon enough, the clock would tick by until it reached the ending hour, and with one last bell, everyone could stand up and start walking away- with (Name) quickly making his way through to avoid both Damian and Tim, with him hastily making way through the hall and out at the front, before Alfred could arrive and insist that (Name) enters the car- he was already out and turning to his place of work- it was a small business in a rather decent place of town, his boss was just a nice man, up their in his age, but a welcoming and inviting person- often helping those of a lower class or needing the support, he was Mr. Evan’s, a man that has been running this business for about twenty years- and a strong pillar for the community. The man sold all sorts of things, from food and drinks to toys and books. And the people that visited the place were just as pleasant to be around, even sometimes- after a good days work, (Name) could take back a book or two for free, often reading them with Jason in his room.

(Name) would quickly get inside the building, seeing the elderly man in front of him, waving towards Mr. Evans, quickly making his way behind the counter. “Hey, Mr. Evans- how are you doing today?” He asked, holding a bright smile for the man that gave him a job.

“I’m doing fine (Name), think you can close up for me today? I have to go see my daughter in the hospital, she’s close to giving birth now.” The old man spoke, having picked up his coat and a hat, putting them on while handing the key over to the younger male, with his partially gloved hand taking it and nodding back at the elder.

“Sure, have fun seeing Lauren, have fun being a proper old man now!” He spoke in slight teasing tone to Mr. Evans, allowing the older man chuckle at (Name)’s words before leaving the building, allowing the seventeen year old take over for the rest of the day. Customers going in and out regularly, with some familiar face popping in to buy something and holding small conversations with (Name), before buying what they wanted and bidding the boy a farewell.

Soon enough, (Name)’s shift would come to an end, the closing time for the store popping up and leaving the boy to close it up, ensuring to lock the door once he left after turning off everything inside. All that was left was for (Name) to check for a bus- pulling out his phone and looking for the next available bus at his regular stop would reveal that… they were all cancelled- this wasn’t the first time this happened, it happened a few weeks before for a couple of days, leading the boy to call Jason up for a ride- he would have gone with Alfred… but the butler having to leave the house for a while might pick up some unwanted attention. So (Name) changes to his contacts, preparing to call Jason, his thumb hovering just over the name… but he couldn’t bring himself to call his older brother right now… what if he’s seeming just like a leach? What if Jason starts to find him annoying as well?- not interact with him any more afterwards… no- he shouldn’t think like that… but that feeling is always there… what if he could just get another bus instead?- not bothering his older brother would be good… so with shaking hands and slightly heavy heart would instead check for buses once more- and thankfully, there was one he could catch, though there was only one issue- it was in the east end… further than Mr. Evan’s business is in- should he really go through this- surely Jason wouldn’t mind one call again… No, he shouldn’t bother the only family member that doesn’t seem annoyed or ignores him- he can make it on his own to get back to Wayne manor- maybe Jason would be able to see that (Name) can actually look after himself, especially if the boy does live with him in the end- and Jason wouldn’t have to worry for (Name) being alone at nights.

So, (Name) decided to start taking off, tomorrow was a Saturday- so he could return early and help Mr. Evans with running the place and hand the keys back to the elder, quickly trying to get to the bus stop as he got further and further into the East End- ears picking up on all the crime, some screams, at least a violent voice ordering a person to give them money, and two gunshots in the further distance- even some glass breaking. Though not all of it was bad. (Name) saw some children playing games together, having fun, another group of older boys also talking about ‘How cool Red Hood is’ which only brought a smile to the boy’s face- his big brother- his only brother- was admired by so many here… Jason deserves it, he’s kind to (Name) and has been more effective at stopping crime than the rest- but also inspiring to the younger boys and even girls around the East End, letting them breathe life into once completely crime filled streets.

(Name) was now half way to the bus stop, he hadn’t realised how far along he has come- sorting out his uniform as his heart rate slowly rose up, he was… unsure if he should even be down here… there’s too many chance he could be jumped, robbed or worse even killed for no reason… but than… he could feel a sensation down his back, something making him shiver, as though eyes lingered onto his body, turning his head back slightly, he could notice a man behind him, not that close, but somewhat near… ‘Maybe we’re just going in the same direction?’ Is what (Name) questioned in his head, wanting to just… make sure- (Name) made a small turn around a corner, planning to just walk down the sidewalk until he can cross the road, wanting to keep an eye out for the man behind him.

So (Name) took the turn, and walking down for a little while, he saw the man do the same- but with a more clear look at him, (Name) could notice he hand one hand in his pant’s pocket. In Gotham, that could usually mean he has a… gun. But than again, many people have guns- even Alfred, the old man teaching the boy about them slightly on one of (Name)’s birthdays, but after crossing the road- the boy could notice a slight jolt in his actions before the man did the same- and once more, walking straight to (Name). That meant this man likely had some… intentions with the boy- what are they?- well (Name) isn’t sticking around to find out, going further down the path, keeping his eyes out behind him, picking up his pace slowly, not wanting this stranger to catch on and either pull out his weapon or run after him. Gloved hand clutching at straps on the schoolbag on his back, his grip like iron, blood pumping around his body faster and faster- trying to get away from the man. And ahead would be another corner he could turn and hopefully run away- well that is what (Name) originally planned, only to suddenly see another man there- that could be his salvation! But, the feeling in his gut? It said otherwise, unable to trust that either have pleasant intentions for him, it resulted in (Name) making the quickest exit he could, with a quick look around- it was an alleyway right next to him- so as fast as (Name)’s legs could carry him, he had bolted down the alleyway. The boy could hear the sounds of two more pairs of feet picking up in pace, causing his heart to beat faster than it ever has. “Fuck- fuck!- w-who the hell a-are they- shit!-“ He yelled, tripping and twisting his ankle, letting out a small yelp, and a hiss afterwards- falling to the ground and landing on his right thigh, the pant pocket pushing against the ground and a small crack being heard. “Fuck! M-my phone, s-should’ve used it earlier-“ he spoke while trying to get his phone out of his pocket, attempting to stand up, only to hiss out in pain as stepped on his right foot, a shooting pain going up his body and leaning against the wall, but his body forced him to push past the pain and continue running forward while opening his cracked phone with one hand, his other one scratching away at his neck. His phone new exterior causing small cuts on his finger as it also struggled to open an app or respond to his finger, taking it longer to do anything. “C’mon, c-c’mon!- work you stupid piece of-“ and before (Name) knew it, his face planted against a wall- looking up from his phone- he’d realise that he it a dead end, no more turns or hope in running, only now in his slow responding phone, with his fingers desperately trying to call ‘911’ or even ‘Only Brother’ but he couldn’t… he could hear the two pairs of footsteps approaching him, getting closer and closer to him, leading to the boy to shiver, what could he do?- how could he defends himself- his hands…

(Name) stared down at them, they were still gloved… but they had dirt on them from his trip and falling, and one finger had blood from the broken glass he tried to use. He didn’t want to use them… not again, every time he’s accidentally used his power… he couldn’t help but think of… her… his Momma, and what he had done to her- but it a possible matter between life and death- a-and he could just use them to destroy their weapons and make them run off… yes!- or destroy the wall! But he could barely run anymore- the pain of his foot making itself clear now, he had to stand his ground. So with panted breaths, (Name) would start to remove his gloves, letting his hands free. “S-shit… p-please let this work…” he softly spoke to himself as he saw the men approaching, the one with a hand in his pocket slowly taking. Out his gun- oh, it was a knife… perhaps they wanted to be more silent about it. Regardless, the one with the weapon spoke. “Hey, what’s a GA brat like you doing out here? Don’t you have a butler to carry you around, or does Daddy not give a shit?” He asked, as they both got closer- the other man speaking instead now. “Hey… wait a minute- I recognise this brat- he’s one of Bruce Wayne’s children… they don’t appear much in public, but I remember that face.” He explained to the other criminal- causing (Name) to take some deeper breaths, not only did they now just know he was a Goth Academy student, but they knew he was related to Bruce… but being called that man’s child?- it only boiled (Name)’s blood, mixing both his fear and anger into one, still scratching at his neck slightly. “Really? Oh we’re definitely gonna make a fortune out of this brat- one ransom and we’ll be loving like kings!” He yelled, approaching the frightened boy. “Now kid, come along with me, and I won’t be forced to cut that ugly face of yours.” The wanna be kidnapper spoke, approaching the boy with the knife. (Name) couldn’t help himself with how much fear he felt, seeing something sharp that threatened to stab or cut him wasn’t new- but these strangers- they could do anything, at least Damian has some form of restraint with murder now, mostly because of Jason and Alfred… but these men, they could do anything- especially if Bruce doesn’t pay them, he probably doesn’t even remember that he has five sons.

So (Name) would lunge forward, startling the man with a knife as the boy’s hand went for his face, laughing softly, about to speak about who knows what- only to to break apart into pieces, the light in his eyes flickering like a failing bulb, the other unarmed man was left shock- confused and not sure on what to do, his legs locking in place, as (Name) pushed himself forward on his good foot in the heat of the moment, hand grabbing the older man’s throat, destroying it first, as skin and muscle broke- causing him to struggle to breath at first, than choke on his own blood, before the rest of his body also broke down. Leaving just a panting (Name) with a bloodied hand and panting heavily. “I just… k-killed them… o-oh… I’m-“ before (Name) can properly process this situation and what he had done, he could feel himself nearly throwing up, though he was able to hold it down, nearly gagging a few time, but still could keep his vomit down. Leaving him alone to pant and process everything again. Sitting in silence. His own hands furiously attacking his own neck, small amount of tears leaving the boy’s eyes.

He just bawled his eyes out and sat there for a few minutes, before slowly rising up and reaching back for his phone, not even realising he had dropped it. Putting it inside his pocket for a moment as he went to grab his fallen glove, putting it back on carefully to not destroy it. Than (Name) would shakily pull his phone out, slowly making his way out of the alleyway and back onto the sidewalk as he used his phone, swiping the screen to where his contacts were again, opening the app, and than finally calling Jason. It rings for only four seconds before his older brother picked up the phone. “Hey little wing, you alright? Need me to pick you- I’m guessing the buses got cancelled.” Jason spoke, sounding gentle and relaxed, allowing for (Name) to destress a little, his shoulders sinking slightly while still taking in heavy breaths. “Y-yeah… I… J- I n-need you to… to pick me up.” Though he still softly sobbed in between his words, struggled to properly speak, leading to Jason’s growing concerns. “Hey, little wing, you doing fine? What’s got you sobbing? Did the Demon spawn do something?” He asked, now annoyed and angry that Damian could have hurt you again. “N-no… no, I… I, I was about to…. Ki-kidnapped by two men… th-than I k…killed them… p-please c-come h-here Jason…” Jason remained silent for a moment, not entirely sure on what to say, it was hard to tell what he was thinking at the moment, but than he spoke in a much softer tone, one he’d used to comfort some of the crying children of the east end. “Alright, just tell me where you are, and I’ll pick you up, alright?” And just like that, (Name) told his brother why was around him, the older male staying on the phone with the boy until he got on his motorbike, leaving (Name) alone for a moment- just himself and his memories of the passing moment, sotting on the sidewalk in the cold… wishing for her warm hands again, but also for Jason…

———————————————————————

[mommyslittlebird]

A Room of Your Own

Married!WandaNat x Reader

Summary: After getting kicked out of your college dorm, you find yourself living with two older strangers. It was never meant to be anything more than a temporary arrangement born out of necessity, but as the semester continues, something new starts to grow.

CW: Homophobia, Getting Kicked Out, Slow Burn (No sex or romance in this chapter), Age Gap

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I’m back from the dead, though probably not in the way you wanted or expected. I had to take a (not so) little break from one-shots and smut for the time being for some personal reasons. But I’m still finding ways to write and enjoy myself. Some of you probably have already seen this. It’s been up on AO3 for a while now. But I figured I’d post it here too.

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing any sort of slow burn, so we'll see if I can resist having them all fall into bed together in the first few chapters. I also don't know how to write an introductory chapter without making it boring as shit, so I at least made it short to spare you all. I promise it gets better.

Chapter 1 of A Room of Your Own

You sat, knees curled to your chest, on the curb in front of what used to be your dorm. It was late, a little after midnight, and absolutely pouring rain.

Three days. You had been in the dorms for three days and you had already been kicked out. You’d expect some pushback, going to a religious college and being queer, but nothing like this. Nothing like getting kicked out of your dorm in the middle of the night because you were making your roommates uncomfortable. You’d tried so hard to get them to like you. They seemed sweet. Not your type of people, sure, but you thought the three of you could get along just fine.

As it turns out, they were actually so repulsed by your presence they couldn’t even wait until classes started to kick you to the curb. Literally.

“Hey!” Somebody shouted from the doorway, holding a large umbrella. You turned to see her approaching and shrunk back in on yourself. You didn’t think you could handle anymore ridicule that evening.

When you didn’t respond or turn to face her, she sat down next to you, sure to cover you with the umbrella as well. She spoke softer now. “Hey. I’m sorry for what happened back there.”

You still didn’t speak, but you looked at her now, partially soaked from where she was sitting next to you on the wet concrete. “I’m Yelena.” She reached her hand out for you to shake.

You shook her hand. “Y/N. Nice to meet you.” You recognized her from your dorm floor, though you’d only ever seen her in passing.

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” she smiled softly. “I wish it were under different circumstances.”

You nodded, turning your gaze back to the raining night.

“Do you have anywhere to go? For tonight I mean. I would offer you to stay in my room, but…” she turned back to the door of the building. You both knew you couldn’t go back in there.

You shook your head. You hadn’t even thought where you would stay tonight. You could always stay in your car. It wouldn’t be the first night you’ve slept in the backseat. Still, the sopping wet clothes would surely make for a morning full of rashes and blistered skin.

Yelena sighed, looking at the ground. She was silent for a moment before she came up with an idea. “Let me call my sister. She and her wife have a massive place not so far from here. They’ll have a bedroom or two to spare.”

Before you could form a rebuttal of any sort, Yelena pushed the umbrella into your hands and dashed back inside. You tucked the umbrella between your leg and the crook of your arm, resting your head on your knees.

It wasn’t very long before Yelena was by your side again. “Okay she’s on her way. She’ll be here in about 10 minutes.”

You didn’t look at her, facing intentionally in the other direction. You felt so horrible. You just wanted to curl up and disappear. And now you were going to be picked and taken to the home of some random classmate’s sister? You try to formulate a response, a reason that you will be fine on your own, but there was nothing. It was either this or the back seat of your 1993 Toyota Corolla. Somehow, you bet Yelena wasn’t going to take that as a reasonable explanation as to why she should call off her sister.

“Are you coming with me?” You asked weakly.

She sighed and put her hand on your back. “I wasn’t planning on it, but I will if you really want me to.”

You finally turned to face her. She didn’t look thrilled at the prospect of leaving. She was probably a freshman. It was her first couple days in the dorm too and everything was so new and exciting. The last thing she wanted to do was go back home with her sister.

“No it’s okay,” you responded. The last thing you wanted was to inconvenience someone else tonight, and it’s not like a freshman you hardly knew was going to bring you much solace anyway.

She patted your back. “They’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

Before too much longer, Yelena stood up at the sight of headlights. She waved her arms in an “over here” motion. The car approached Yelena, stopping hard in front of the curb you were sitting on. The tires splashed you in rainwater and mud. Yelena winched, walking back towards you to usher you into the car.

She led you to the passenger door, popping it open and peeking her head in. “This is your girl,” she said, pointing back towards your soaked, mud covered figure. She motioned for you to sit.

You hesitated. The car looked nicer than any you’d ever been in before. The idea of ruining the nice leather seats made you want to shrink further into your ball of shame.

The woman in the driver's seat noticed your hesitation, but didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned with her seat. “Come on in,” she ushered. “Get out of that rain.”

You handed the umbrella back to Yelena, reluctantly taking a seat in the car. Yelena peaked her head back in to say “take care of her,” before closing the door and scurrying back into the dorms.

The woman looked at you, reaching up to pop on the overhead light. The sight of her in the light nearly took your breath away. She looked oddly familiar. Maybe you’d seen her around town. You sharply inhaled as the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen leaned over the console towards you. She frowned. “Oh you poor thing!” She reached out to wipe off your face. You cringed when you saw the mud smear across the sleeve of her jacket. “Let’s go home and get you cleaned up.”

You nodded and she turned the light off before pulling out of the parking lot. You fought the urge to curl up in her passenger seat, fearing further ruining her seats with the dirty bottoms of your shoes. When you didn’t speak, she offered up an introduction of her own. “My name is Natasha. I don’t know what Yelena’s told you, but I’m her sister. My wife and I have a place not so far from here.”

“I’m Y/N” you managed.

“A friend of Yelena’s?” She asked.

You chuckled a little. “I suppose you could say that. We met about 20 minutes ago.”

Natasha chuckled. “Of course. Leave it to Yelena to seek you out after such an injustice.”

You bit the inside of your lip. You wished you had heard the phone conversation so you could gauge just how much she knew.

It was as if Natasha could read your mind when she started next with the details of the phone call. “Yelena told me you got kicked out of the dorm by the other girls. They were uncomfortable because you were gay? I never expected to hear anything like that happening in 2024, but I guess I stand corrected.”

Well, that was one way of telling the story. At least Yelena had left out the peeping Tom allegations that got you chased off the floor by everyone who had to share a bathroom with you. They weren’t true, of course, but the fact that you’d made people so uncomfortable they were willing to name you a pervert without second thought made your skin crawl.

After a short, largely silent car ride, Natasha pulled the car into a garage. You hadn’t gotten a good look at the house, both because of the dark and getting lost in your own thoughts, but even by the state of the garage you could tell it was nice.

Natasha got out of the car, unlocking the door and leading you into the kitchen. You took your shoes off by the door, then decided to take your socks off too to avoid tracking muddy water through the house. The woman took your hand and guided you to the stairwell, then to a bathroom. She turned on the lights and opened up a cabinet, pulling out fresh towels and washcloths.

“I’ll get you some fresh clothes and sheets. The bedroom is through here.” She opened a door that revealed a sizable bedroom connected to the bathroom. You could hardly believe this wasn’t the master suite she’d led you too.

She turned to face you, exhaling as she once again took in your disheveled state. She picked some errant pebbles from your tangled hair and wiped it out of your face. “Now,” she started, “do you need anything else before I let you get cleaned up and off to bed?”

You shook your head. “No. You’ve done enough already. Thank you, Miss Natasha, for letting me stay here. It means a lot. Truly.”

“Of course.” She smiled. You didn’t notice the blush that crept onto her face at the formality. She swiped away the hair that had fallen in front of your eyes again. “We wouldn’t want a sweet girl like you sleeping out in the rain.” She booped the tip of your nose. “Now promise you’ll wake me or Wanda up if you need anything at all. We’re just in the room across the hall. Can’t miss it, it’s the only door on that side.”

You nodded slowly. There was no way in hell you were going to wake her or Wanda, who you assumed was her wife, for any reason. But you nodded anyway.

She smiled and rubbed your chin. “Good girl. Now go get cleaned up and try to get some rest.”

As she set off to her room, you hoped the mud had covered how pink your cheeks had gotten. You headed to the shower, sliding open the glass door and turning on the water. You decided to hop in with your clothes at first, hoping to get enough of the mud off that you could wear them again tomorrow. Then you wrang the clothes out and threw them over the door to dry. You took your time in the shower, letting the hot water warm you up from the cold rain. By the time you were finally clean, you grabbed the fresh towel Natasha had left for you.

Your clothes were, obviously, still soaked save for your underwear. You were thankful for the little time it had taken the thin silky material to dry. You put them back on and wrapped yourself in a towel before entering into the bedroom.

There was a maroon hoodie at the end of the bed. It had been there since Natasha first showed you the room, so it clearly wasn’t laid out for you. However, in lieu of other clothes, you decided the owner probably wouldn’t mind if you borrowed it for the night. You slipped the soft fabric over your head. It was much too big for you, going down to almost your mid thighs while the sleeves dangled over your hands. But it was, quite possibly, the softest material that you’d ever felt. It felt simultaneously brand new and freshly washed.

You crawled up into the queen sized bed, slipping under the covers. You held the fabric of the hoodie close to your face. It smelled nothing like the musky bergamot of Natasha, which had been equally as entrancing in its own way. This was distinctly different. It smelled soft and comforting like lying in a meadow on a spring day. The comforting smell and warmth, along with your own exhaustion, quickly had you asleep.

[graciescott27]

Non-Disclosure Agreement! — M. Kaiser

Michael Kaiser slept with you once and now won’t leave you alone?!

Last Chapter! — Next Chapter!

CHAPTER TWO - NOT ALLOWED!

cw: very clearly toxic, private relationship, friends with benefits but not really friends, Kaiser, suggestive in a few places, language, talks about drinking, Sae Itoshi

Michael Kaiser x reader!

mdni!

word count: 1.6k

You had never found football any less interesting than you did in that moment. Michael Kaiser had gotten you a seat in the stupid fucking VIP box for a reason that only God knew. He was deranged, you were convinced of it. There was no explanation for anything the man did. You still had no idea why he said or did the things he did. You still had no idea why he had those stupid tattoos. You couldn’t even figure out why out of all of his hookups, you were the one he called back. Maybe it was because of your idiotic mistake of giving him your number. No, that couldn’t have been it. His fans were even crazier than he was, surely they had done way more than you had to get his attention.

The game was 1-2. Germany was winning. It was about twenty minutes into the second half and so far the most interesting thing that had happened so far was learning that the “one Japanese one” was actually Sae Itoshi. You had heard of him frequently over the past few years. You had even seen a few of his matches. He was a good player. He definitely seemed just like Kaiser: good on the field, terrible to deal with in person. He was probably calmer than Kaiser, at least. That was probably why Kaiser didn’t seem to like him all that much.

Why did Kaiser think you would like him? Did he even know enough about you to make that call?

Michael Kaiser kept looking up into the stands like a total idiot. He was just as collected as normal. He was playing just as well as normal. Any time you were around, though, Kaiser acted just a bit different than usual. It was difficult to place how. He probably didn’t even know the answer himself. There was always just a small shift in his demeanor when he knew you were watching. You were probably the only person who had noticed.

As the game finished and Germany finally won, you couldn’t help but scold yourself for agreeing to this. You had classes the next day. You had a paper to write. Your casual hookup was not more important than your degree. Maybe you were even dumber sober.

Just when you were standing up to leave, you got a text from ”Satan’s Favorite Child” telling you to meet him outside of the locker room. Normally you wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near the core of the stadium, but he had gotten you “special permission”, whatever the hell that meant. After much wandering and many wrong turns, you somehow managed to make it to the locker rooms. You refused to step foot inside, not willing to risk getting flashed by any more footballers. Kaiser stepped out after just a few moments, still wearing his kit, still sweaty, and still smelling disgusting.

“I’m a bit surprised that you came, Liebling,” he smirked down at you, his brow cocked in amusement.

You scoffed. “Yeah, it’s really rare for me to come, isn’t it?”

He quirked his brow even further at that. “Any opening you see, huh?”

“If you give me a chance, I’m gonna make a sex joke. I’m only human,” you shrugged casually.

The locker room door opened again and Alexis Ness stepped through it. His eyes met Kaiser’s first, then darted over to you. He blinked, trying to register your presence, and then smiled. “Ah, you’re here! Kaiser was really worried that you wouldn’t come.”

Kaiser froze and turned to scowl at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Jesus Christ, you two have a really weird relationship…” you muttered, wincing. “Um… hello to you to, Alexis. You’re a lot less unnerving when I’m sober.”

His mouth turned into an “O” shape and he nodded enthusiastically with raised brows.

“Ness, go shower,” Kaiser commanded, not even looking at Ness as he spoke.

“Right, of course. I’ll leave you two alone,” Ness gave you a small wave and stepped back into the locker room.

Kaiser’s eyes never once left you throughout the entire interaction. You couldn’t tell if he was zoned out thinking or if he was trying to analyze you somehow. He finally spoke again when Ness closed the door and was officially gone from sight. “You saw Sae, right?”

“Yeah?” you raised a brow questioningly. Was he stupid or something? If you were watching the game, obviously you were going to see all of the players.

“I’m better than him, right?”

Oh. So that was what it was. You weren’t there because he finally started to care, or because he felt bad for treating you like you weren’t a person. You were there because he needed an opinion. Like any other woman trying to not to punch a man, you responded with pure sarcasm. “Aww, you’re such a pretty princess.”

“Mhm, thanks,” he scoffed.

“No problem, princess.”

“You should go talk to him,” he nodded all of a sudden. Noticing the confusion on your face, he clarified, “Sae.”

Oh dear God. You were not in the mood for this today. “Why?”

“Because you’d get along with him.”

“You gonna get jealous if I do?”

“Of course not,” he scoffed crossing his arms. He still didn’t look away from you once.

“I don’t believe you.” If you had learned anything about Michael Kaiser over the past few months, it was that you should never believe a word he said. Everything that left his mouth was just a narcissistic coverup for how sad his life truly was.

He huffed out a laugh. “You should. I’m fairly trustworthy, I think.”

“You thought wrong, then.”

“You wound me,” he feigned offense, unable to keep up the act for very long before the corner of his lips quirked up into a smirk.

“I’m sure I do,” you mirrored his expression, only causing his smirk to grow.

His demeanor relaxed just a bit. That was how you knew you were reaching the part of the conversation where he attempted to seem interested in your life. “Are your classes going well?”

You nodded. “Yes, actually. I’m about fourteen pages behind on a paper now because you dragged me to this game.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Yeah, I have a lot I need to catch up on.” You were praying that he would take that as a sign to let you leave, but like usual, Kaiser didn’t understand social cues.

“I’m sure.”

You groaned, finally turning around and beginning to step away. “Okay, I’m leaving.”

He laughed, grabbing your arm and pulling you back towards him. “Um, no, you’re not.”

“Oh my God,” you whined, pouting up at him dramatically. “What more do you want from me?”

“Bar and then my house possibly?”

Yeah, you should have never shown up there. All of your decisions were stupid, it was official. You did not have enough self-control to talk to him. Any time he mentioned taking you to his house, you wanted to scream. He wouldn’t be half as attractive as he was if he didn’t have that voice. But of course, devils are the most blessed out of everyone, and you have to suffer the consequences. Maybe later you could yell at your uterus to shut up for five seconds.

“Are you offering to get me drunk because you know that’s the only time I can stand to see your face?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he nodded, grinning.

“Ugh, fine. Sure,” you conceded. One of the worst of your bad decisions, admittedly. “Let me piss really quick and then you can drag me out of here by my hair.”

“Very unnecessary details, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You stumbled around the facilities, trying to find any kind of escape route that you could. If you found a way out without any help, then you could run from your poor critical thinking skills. You don’t manage to, of course. You end up down some long hallway instead, and find the locker rooms for the visiting team. Groaning at your failure to flee a crime scene, you turned around to figure out a way back to Kaiser. You weren’t looking as you turned, and ended up running straight into a very muscular chest.

Sae Itoshi.

Was your life turning into an 80’s sitcom? Was God laughing at you? Are devils entertainment to angels?

Sae gave you a nod of acknowledgment, then immediately turned to walk away. What the fuck? Maybe he was actually worse than Kaiser and that was why he apparently hated him so much. Nah. No one could be worse than that son of a bitch.

“Oh, hey, you’re Sae Itoshi, right?” you said in an attempt to make conversation. Maybe if you wasted enough time, Kaiser would get bored and walk away.

“Yeah?”

Oh, God, he was already boring you to death.

“That’s… cool. Michael Kaiser’s mentioned you a few times,” you nodded, giving a small, incredibly uncomfortable smile.

He responded with the same deadpan

expression. “You know Kaiser?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m… friends with him.” It was definitely a lie, sure, but it was a lot more comfortable to say than admit to a stranger that you occasionally fucked him.

“You don’t work here?”

“No…?”

By then, your brain was screaming at you to leave. This was a bad idea. You should just go get blackout drunk with Kaiser and submit an essay late in the morning.

“How did you get in, then?”

Very good question. You weren’t sure yourself. “Kaiser got access for me so we could talk after the game.”

“Interesting friendship,” he quirked a brow slightly. “How did you meet?”

That was an even better question.

@graciescott27

[jzprncess]

the neighbor effect

pairing : oscar piastri x reader

oneshot

word count : 9,449

summary : Y/N moves to Monaco for a fresh start, thinking it’s just gonna be her, baking, and figuring things out. Then there’s her neighbor, Oscar—super chill, always around, but completely mysterious. They bond over cookies and muffins, and Y/N has no idea that he’s actually a Formula 1 driver. But when the Monaco Grand Prix weekend rolls around, everything goes haywire when Y/N realizes she’s been living next to someone way more famous than she ever imagined. Between all the confusion, a surprise kiss, and the chaos that follows, Y/N’s not sure if she’s in over her head—or if she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.

note : i had to rewrite parts of this over and over again. this is my longest fic so far, lets clap it up. i actually cooked with this one, please like it.

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Moving to Monaco in the middle of December sounded a lot more glamorous in theory. In reality, I spent my first night huddled under three mismatched blankets, seriously debating whether the heating in my shiny new apartment was broken or if this was just what Mediterranean winter felt like.

I’d moved here for a fresh start, something about leaving old baggage behind and stepping into the next chapter of my life. Except no one tells you that starting over often means spending a lot of time alone, wondering if you made the right decision.

That’s how I found myself in the hallway on my second day, struggling to carry a too-large box labeled Kitchen Stuff & Regret. I hadn’t realized how much I’d overpacked until I was halfway to my door, my arms trembling under the weight.

“Need a hand?”

The voice startled me, and I nearly dropped the box. I turned to see a guy standing a few feet away, wearing a black hoodie, gray joggers, and a curious expression.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” I lied, immediately regretting it as the box tilted precariously.

“Right,” he said, clearly unconvinced. Without waiting for permission, he stepped forward and took the box from me like it weighed nothing.

“Show-off,” I muttered, but I couldn’t help but smile.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Just being neighborly.”

“Thanks,” I said as he followed me to my door. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Oscar,” he replied, setting the box down inside my apartment.

Up close, I could see he was probably around my age—early twenties—with sharp features and an easy confidence about him. He glanced around my half-unpacked living room, taking in the mess of boxes and furniture.

“Just moved in?” he asked.

“Yeah. Trying to figure out where I want everything before I give up and let chaos take over.”

He smiled, nodding toward the box. “Well, good luck with that. I’m right across the hall if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” I said, leaning against the doorframe as he stepped back into the hallway.

“See you around,” he said with a nod before disappearing into his apartment.

And just like that, I had my first real interaction with the mysterious neighbor across the hall.

After he left, I stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at the closed door across from mine like it might open again. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. With a shrug, I kicked the box into the living room, officially declaring it a problem for Future Me.

The next few days were a blur of unpacking, assembling furniture, and discovering that Monaco in December was a lot colder than I’d prepared for. Gone were my delusions of sipping coffee on the balcony in the morning sun. Instead, I huddled inside, bundled in my coziest hoodie, and watched the world outside through the frost-slicked windows.

Oscar, true to his enigmatic vibe, was nowhere to be seen. A part of me wondered if he was some kind of ghost who only materialized to save clumsy new neighbors and then vanished into the ether. But his sporadic comings and goings proved otherwise—sometimes I’d hear the ding of the elevator late at night or the faint shuffle of footsteps in the hallway. I never caught him, though.

Until one particularly cold Saturday morning.

I was juggling a steaming mug of coffee, my phone, and a box of garbage bags as I headed for the trash chute at the end of the hall. The scene was already precarious, but things got worse when my phone buzzed with a notification. I glanced down instinctively, and that was my fatal error.

One wrong step, and my foot caught on absolutely nothing because I’m just that talented. I stumbled forward, my coffee cup slipping from my grasp in a glorious slow-motion arc.

“Oh, sh—”

A hand shot out, catching the cup mid-air.

“Impressive,” came the familiar voice.

I turned, my face hot with embarrassment, to see Oscar standing there, coffee cup in one hand and an amused smirk on his face. He was in the same casual uniform as before—hoodie, joggers, and sneakers—but this time with a beanie pulled low over his head.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I said, trying to play it cool despite the very uncool way I’d almost face planted.

“You’re welcome,” he said, handing me the cup.

“How do you keep showing up exactly when I’m about to embarrass myself?”

“Great timing, I guess,” he replied, leaning against the wall.

I could tell he was holding back a laugh, which only made me more flustered. “Do you just hang out in the hallway waiting for me to trip over thin air, or…?”

“Caught me,” he said, deadpan. “It’s my new hobby.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Well, thanks for the save… again.”

“No problem.” He glanced down at the garbage bags I’d dropped in the chaos. “You planning to carry all that to the chute by yourself, or should I brace for round two of Disaster Neighbor?”

“Ha, ha,” I said, handing him a bag. “Since you’re offering, you might as well help.”

third pov

By the time they made it to the trash chute, Y/N had successfully recovered from her near wipeout—mostly. Oscar, on the other hand, seemed far too amused by the whole thing.

“So,” she said, trying to fill the silence as they walked back to their apartments. “Do you just live in the gym, or are you naturally good at catching falling objects and lifting heavy things?”

He shrugged. “Bit of both.”

“Not much of a talker, huh?”

He glanced at her, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I talk when there’s something to say.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Mysterious and vague. Classic.”

They stopped outside her door, and for a moment, there was an awkward silence. She fiddled with the sleeve of her hoodie, suddenly hyper-aware of how close they were standing.

“Well, thanks for the help. Again.”

“Anytime,” he said, his tone casual but warm.

She opened her door, stepping inside. As she turned to close it, she caught him glancing down the hallway, like he was debating something.

“See you around?” she offered.

“Yeah,” he said, meeting her gaze. “See you around.”

The door clicked shut, and Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She leaned against the door for a moment, her mind replaying the interaction like a movie montage.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

And for now, that was enough.

y/n’s pov

It all started with a craving and a little too much confidence.

Baking had always been my go-to for stress relief, but I tended to overestimate how much one person could realistically eat before things got weird. Case in point: the mountain of oatmeal walnut cookies currently cooling on every flat surface of my kitchen.

“Great job, Y/N,” I muttered, surveying the sugary battlefield. “Really nailed the whole moderation thing.”

The smell of warm cinnamon and toasted walnuts was amazing, but even I had limits. Unless I planned on eating cookies for every meal for the next week—which, tempting as it sounded, probably wasn’t the move—I needed a plan.

That’s when my eyes flicked toward the door across the hall.

My neighbor hadn’t been home much, but when he was, he seemed nice enough. And if anyone looked like they could put away an entire batch of cookies without breaking a sweat, it was the guy who casually caught flying coffee cups and lifted trash bags like they were empty.

Grabbing a plate, I stacked a neat pile of cookies on it, covering them with foil. I debated for a second, wondering if this was too random, but then I thought, What’s the worst that could happen? Worst case: no one’s home, and I keep the cookies. Best case: I earn brownie points—or, well, cookie points—with the mysterious dude across the hall.

Balancing the plate in one hand, I opened my door and stepped into the hallway.

third pov

Y/N hesitated in front of Oscar’s door, suddenly hyper-aware of how quiet the hallway was. For all she knew, he could’ve been halfway across the world. But before she could talk herself out of it, she raised her free hand and knocked lightly.

There was a pause, long enough for her to start retreating, but then she heard the lock turn.

The door opened to reveal Oscar, looking a little rumpled but still effortlessly put-together in a hoodie and sweats. His hair stuck up slightly, like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Uh, hey,” Y/N started, holding up the plate like an offering. “I, um, baked too many cookies and thought… maybe you’d want some?”

For a second, Oscar just blinked at her. Then a small smile tugged at his lips, softening his usual stoic expression. “Cookies?”

“Oatmeal walnut,” she said, suddenly feeling a little ridiculous. “Unless you’re allergic to walnuts. In which case, I’m so sorry, and I’ll just—”

“I’m not allergic,” he cut in, stepping aside. “Come in.”

y/n’s pov

I followed him into his apartment, still holding onto the slightly awkward feeling of standing at someone’s door with a plate of cookies. His space was immaculate—like a showroom. Sleek black counters, stainless steel appliances, and not a single thing out of place. My own apartment, with its half-unpacked boxes and cluttered surfaces, suddenly felt like a war zone by comparison.

“Wow,” I said, glancing around. “Your place is… ridiculously clean. Do you live here or just visit?”

He smirked as he placed the plate of cookies on the counter. “I’m not here much. It’s easier to keep clean when you’re gone half the time.”

“Fair,” I said, leaning against the counter as he peeled the foil off the plate. “Meanwhile, my place looks like I’m hoarding cardboard boxes and random piles of clothes. Maybe I’ll just hire you to organize for me.”

He glanced up, an amused glint in his eye. “I’ll pass. But thanks for the offer.”

I laughed. “That was fast. I didn’t even get to bribe you with more cookies.”

“Speaking of,” he said, picking one up and turning it over in his hand like he was inspecting it for quality control, “what made you bake… this many?”

“Stress,” I admitted, crossing my arms. “Unpacking is the worst. Plus, I’m a chronic over-baker. I think I made about sixty.”

He raised an eyebrow, taking a bite. “Sixty?”

“Give or take.”

“You know there’s only one of you, right?”

“That’s why I’m here,” I said with a grin. “I figured I’d share the wealth.”

He nodded, chewing thoughtfully. After a moment, he swallowed and said, “These are good.”

“You’re not just saying that, are you? Be honest.”

“I’m serious,” he said, reaching for another. “If I didn’t like them, you’d know.”

“Good to know you don’t sugarcoat things,” I said. “No pun intended.”

“Sure it wasn’t,” he said with a small smirk.

I rolled my eyes but smiled. “You’re lucky I like honesty. Anyway, I hope you’re hungry because I’ve got a whole army’s worth of these across the hall.”

“I can tell,” he said, grabbing a second cookie. “You ever thought about selling these?”

“Selling cookies? No, not really,” I said, a little flustered by the compliment. “I mean, it’s just a hobby.”

He leaned against the counter, taking another bite. “Could be a profitable hobby.”

“Oh yeah? Think I could make it big with oatmeal walnut cookies? Maybe I’ll start a cookie empire.”

“Could be worth a shot,” he said, his tone completely serious, though I could see the hint of humor in his expression.

“Alright, well, if I go global, I’ll make sure to mention you in my TED Talk about chasing my dreams,” I said with a laugh.

“Appreciate it,” he said, deadpan.

I shook my head, still smiling. “Alright, I should get going. Don’t want to interrupt your… whatever you were doing before I showed up.”

He glanced toward his living room, where a laptop sat open on the coffee table. “Wasn’t doing much. Just catching up on some things.”

“Well, now you’ve got cookies to keep you company,” I said, pushing off the counter.

“Thanks for these,” he said, walking with me toward the door. “They’re seriously good.”

“Anytime,” I replied. “And if you ever need more… or, you know, want to start organizing my apartment, just let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, opening the door for me.

I stepped into the hallway and turned back to face him. “Enjoy the cookies, Oscar.”

“Thanks, Y/N. See you around.”

As the door clicked shut behind me, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. It was such a simple interaction, but it left me feeling lighter somehow—like I was finally settling into this new life, one cookie and awkward conversation at a time.

third pov

The morning light streaming through the kitchen window felt different today, like a fresh start. Y/N stood at the counter, stirring a bowl of banana bread batter with a slight smile on her face. She had a steady rhythm, something she had found comfort in since moving to Monaco. Today, however, was different. She wasn't just baking for herself or because she had nothing else to do.

After dropping off the cookies to Oscar yesterday, she’d felt an odd rush of excitement. Oscar hadn’t said much—just thanked her and ate them right there—but there was something in the way he seemed genuinely happy that had sparked an idea in her head.

Maybe I should actually consider this...

She’d been thinking about it all night, the thought gnawing at her in the quiet moments before sleep. A job. Something more than just living off her savings while she figured out what to do with herself. The idea of working in a bakery, helping people start their day with something sweet, didn’t sound half bad. Maybe she’d make some friends along the way, too.

She paused mid-stir to glance around her kitchen. It was quiet—too quiet. Her move to Monaco had been a whirlwind, and while the city was beautiful, the loneliness had crept in unexpectedly. She had only met Oscar three times, and those encounters hadn't been enough to spark a friendship, though he had been kind enough to compliment the cookies she’d given him. But she still didn't have his number. She had no way of reaching out to him for anything beyond another casual greeting if their paths crossed again.

With a sigh, she refocused on her muffin batter. The oven was preheated and ready for the batch of banana muffins she had planned. She didn’t even need the muffins for herself—she simply needed something to do.

She scrolled through a few ads on her phone for bakeries and cafes around Monaco, her fingers flying across the screen as she filled out application after application. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the start of something new.

The smell of ripe bananas filled the room, and Y/N smiled. There was something simple and grounding about baking. She didn’t need anyone else to validate her, but a small part of her wished she had someone to share the muffins with. Maybe she would take a batch to one of the cafes she’d applied to, just to show that she could bake more than just cookies.

The timer went off, signaling that the muffins were done. She pulled them from the oven, their golden tops warm and inviting. As she arranged them on a cooling rack, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a step in the right direction.

Oscar’s casual suggestion about working at a bakery had lingered with her since yesterday. She hadn’t really considered it before, but now, with a fresh batch of muffins in hand, it felt like the right time to take action. She’d send some applications today, maybe stop by a few places, and see where it led.

Even if it was just a way to get out of the apartment, maybe it would help her feel a little less alone.

After a few hours of cleaning up and putting away the last batch of muffins, Y/N sat on her couch, scrolling through her phone. She had sent a few applications and gotten a couple of quick responses asking her to come in for interviews. The thought made her feel lighter, like she was moving in the right direction. But, as she scrolled through her messages, she found herself wondering about the cookies she'd given Oscar yesterday.

What if he didn’t even like them? she thought for a second, gnawing at her lower lip. She had never done something like that for a neighbor before. It was a little… weird. But then again, they had barely talked, and she'd barely known anyone here. He probably just thought it was some random act of kindness, nothing more.

Still, she couldn't help the little spark of excitement that lingered in her chest.

With the muffins cooling on the kitchen counter, Y/N decided to go for a walk to clear her head. She tossed on her coat, scarf, and gloves—layers that were necessary with the December chill in the air—and left her apartment. The streets of Monaco were quieter now, the city settled into the crisp stillness of a cold winter evening.

As she made her way down the narrow streets, her breath puffed out in little clouds in front of her. The air was freezing, her fingers cold against her gloves, but the walk felt necessary. It was good to get out, especially with how cooped up she had been lately. The familiar feeling of solitude wrapped around her as she passed by boutique storefronts with their windows adorned for the holidays, the twinkling lights reflecting off the damp cobblestones.

She stopped at one of the cafes, the warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries pulling her inside. The door closed behind her with a satisfying jingle, and the warmth hit her face immediately. She smiled, relieved to be out of the cold.

“Coffee?” the barista asked as she walked up to the counter.

Y/N nodded, pulling off her scarf. "Please. A hot cappuccino, if you’ve got it."

The barista gave her a warm smile as she prepared the drink, and soon enough, Y/N had a steaming cup in her hands. She found a small corner table by the window and sank into the chair, basking in the warmth of the café. It was a cozy little spot, the kind where time seemed to slow down.

She stared out the window as the temperature outside dropped even further, the last few people hurrying by in layers of coats and scarves. The city felt almost otherworldly, peaceful and cold, a strange mix of quiet stillness. Y/N took a sip of her cappuccino and leaned back, letting the warmth seep into her bones.

It was then that she heard the door open again, a jingle sounding through the cafe. She glanced up, her eyes scanning the new arrivals. Her gaze landed on the familiar figure—Oscar, her neighbor, walking in with his coat zipped up tight against the cold.

He spotted her right away and waved with a grin. "Hey, Y/N!" he greeted her.

Y/N smiled back, a little surprised to see him here but pleased. “Hey, Oscar. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, I just needed a quick coffee break,” he said, walking up to the counter. He ordered something quickly, then turned back toward her. “How’s your day been?”

She shrugged, feeling a little shy now that they were actually talking. “Good. Just baking and applying for some jobs,” she said, gesturing to her cup. “Needed to get out for a bit. It's freezing out there.”

Oscar nodded, his expression sympathetic. “I know what you mean. It’s cold enough to freeze your breath. I was just out getting some stuff for my place.”

The small talk felt comfortable, and Y/N found herself a little more relaxed with him standing there. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy—just a neighbor.

“Well, it’s nice to see a friendly face,” she said, smiling. “Monaco's a little lonely for me right now, to be honest.”

Oscar smiled back. “I get that. I moved here for work, and it's not always easy to adjust. You’re not alone, though. Everyone here’s pretty friendly.”

Y/N appreciated the sentiment and nodded, taking another sip of her drink. “Thanks, Oscar. It’s good to know.”

As he grabbed his coffee, Oscar gave her a wave before heading to a table by the window. Y/N returned to her thoughts, a warm feeling lingering in her chest. They hadn’t exchanged more than pleasantries, but something about the simple, easy conversation made her feel a little less isolated.

Y/N took another sip of her cappuccino, her eyes still lingering on Oscar as he settled at a table by the window. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a weirdly comfortable interaction, like one of those moments where you just feel like you clicked with someone—even if it was just casual banter about the cold.

And then, as she sat there thinking about how chill the whole thing had been, something inside her clicked.

A rush of confidence hit her like a wave. She wasn’t gonna sit here thinking about it for another second. She stood up, grabbed her cup, and made her way over to Oscar’s table like she owned the place. No hesitation. She slid into the seat in front of him without asking, crossing her arms with a mischievous grin.

“Well, well, you’re sitting so far from me. I was just telling you how lonely I was, and here you are, acting like you’re too cool to sit with me,” she said, eyebrow raised, voice teasing.

Oscar blinked in surprise for a second, clearly not expecting her to come over. But then he chuckled, clearly amused. “Wasn’t trying to be rude. Just thought I’d give you some space.”

“Oh, no space needed,” Y/N shot back, pretending to think for a second. “But if you want, I did make some banana muffins. 25 of them, actually. So, uh, you can have some later, I guess… if you’re lucky.” She leaned back, her tone playful.

Oscar’s grin spread wider, and Y/N could swear she saw his eyes light up a little at the mention of food. “Banana muffins, huh?” he said, leaning forward in his seat, the playful energy between them clear. “You’re really trying to tempt me, huh?”

Y/N smirked. “Maybe. Maybe not. I guess you’ll have to find out later.” She took another sip of her cappuccino, looking around the cozy café for a moment before her eyes landed back on him. “So, what’s your story, anyway? Besides buying coffee and sitting by windows, I mean.”

Oscar leaned back in his chair, clearly comfortable now. “Not much to tell,” he said casually. “Just trying to survive this cold. What about you, Y/N? What’s your deal?”

Y/N just shrugged, feeling more at ease with each passing second. “Oh, you know, baking muffins, trying to find a job, avoiding getting too lost in the city…” She shot him a quick look. “Honestly, though, Monaco’s a little weird, but I’m getting used to it. It’s quiet, but not the fun kind of quiet.”

Oscar nodded, his smile softening. “I get that. I felt the same when I first moved here.”

They both sat there for a few seconds, enjoying the unexpected company in a way that felt surprisingly easy for a random Tuesday afternoon.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, letting the conversation with Oscar flow naturally as they both sipped their drinks. The winter air outside had only gotten colder, but the warmth from the café made it all feel like the perfect backdrop for the two of them to talk.

“So,” Y/N began, her eyes catching his, a sudden boldness hitting her again. “Since you’re clearly not going to accept my muffin offer until later, how about we do something else next time? You know, before I leave Monaco to escape all the cold?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Escape the cold, huh? Where would you even go?”

Y/N shrugged, tapping her cup with a playful grin. “Maybe I’ll find a place that has better heating. Monaco’s nice and all, but a little more sunshine wouldn’t hurt.”

“Fair point,” Oscar chuckled. He paused for a moment, then looked at her with that signature, easygoing smile. “I could show you around sometime, if you wanted. Monaco’s got some hidden gems.”

Her heart gave a little skip at his suggestion, but she played it cool. “I’d like that. But I’m not one for getting lost in tourist traps, so it better be good.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not taking you to the usual spots,” he said, leaning back slightly, amused. “I promise. You’ll actually see some of the cool stuff here.”

She smiled, feeling the conversation shifting toward something a little more personal. And then, almost as if it was the next step, Y/N caught herself hesitating, but quickly brushed it off. “Well, if we’re going to plan that, we should probably exchange numbers. You know, in case I want to text you to stop you from taking me to any tourist traps.”

Oscar reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He handed it to her without a second thought.

“Good call,” he said with a teasing grin. “Here you go.”

Y/N took the phone and entered her number, her fingers flying across the screen. She handed it back to him with a smirk. “There. Now you can’t ghost me when I ask for your ‘hidden gem’ suggestions.”

Oscar laughed, saving her number with a nod. “Not planning on ghosting. I’ll make sure you get to see all the cool spots in Monaco.”

Y/N took a sip of her drink, the buzz of the conversation still lingering between them. It felt weirdly easy, and she liked that. “Alright then. It’s a date,” she said with a wink.

“Not sure if it’s a date,” he teased, “but I’ll take it.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, the connection between them feeling a little more real. “Fine, not a date,” she replied, “but when it happens, I’ll hold you to that promise.”

few months timeskip

Over the next few months, Y/N and Oscar settled into an unspoken rhythm. They didn’t see each other often, but when they did, it felt easy. Whether it was quick coffee breaks at the café or a casual text exchange about the best banana bread recipe, they managed to keep in touch.

Oscar, as expected, was always on the move. Y/N had asked him once what he did for work that kept him jet-setting around the world, but his response had been vague. Something about traveling for events and having a packed schedule. She didn’t push for more details, assuming it was some high-level corporate gig or freelance work that required constant relocation. Either way, she didn’t mind. They had their moments, and that was enough for now.

As for Y/N, she had settled into Monaco in a way that felt almost surreal. After a few weeks of relentless job hunting, she’d landed a position at one of the coziest bakeries in the city. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was exactly what she needed—a place to bake, to create, and to lose herself in the comforting scent of fresh bread and pastries.

Her days were now filled with kneading dough, piping frosting, and experimenting with new recipes. The bakery had its quirks, from the slightly eccentric owner who insisted on playing 80s pop music all day to her coworkers who ranged from quiet and reserved to downright chaotic. Somehow, it all worked. Y/N found herself laughing more, learning more, and slowly but surely, calling Monaco home.

Outside of work, Y/N was finally starting to build a life for herself. Some of her coworkers had become fast friends, dragging her out of the kitchen and into the buzzing nightlife Monaco had to offer. From late-night drinks at chic rooftop bars to dancing under neon lights at clubs tucked away in narrow streets, Y/N found herself embracing a side of life she hadn’t tapped into before.

It was one of those rare free days where Y/N could relax and enjoy the slowly warming Monaco weather. The gentle breeze carried in through the slightly cracked window, and the temperature hovered at a perfect 65 degrees—just cool enough to make the indoors cozy but warm enough to remind her that summer was around the corner.

Her kitchen counter was a controlled chaos of melted chocolate, parchment paper, and a vibrant pile of freshly washed strawberries. She’d decided on a whim to make chocolate-covered strawberries—a light, summery treat that felt perfect for the day. At first, it had been fun, methodically dipping each strawberry into the glossy chocolate and adding a drizzle of white chocolate for flair. But somewhere along the way, she’d gotten carried away.

When she stepped back and looked at her work, she let out a soft laugh. “This is... way too many strawberries,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. She grabbed one and took a bite, the sweetness of the strawberry perfectly balancing the richness of the chocolate.

As she finished the last one, her gaze fell on a smaller bowl she’d unconsciously filled. Without thinking, she began packing it up to bring to Oscar. It had become second nature by now—whenever she baked, she always set some aside for him. But as she made her way to the door, bowl in hand, she paused.

Her mind caught up to her actions, and she froze, staring at the door. “Wait... he’s not even home,” she muttered, groaning softly. Of course, she knew Oscar was traveling. He always was. So why had she automatically prepared something for him like he’d just be next door?

She stared at the bowl, her cheeks burning as the realization hit her. “Oh my god, I miss him,” she whispered to herself, the words making her cringe as they left her lips. She set the bowl down on the counter and groaned louder, pressing her hands against her flushed cheeks.

The thought swirled in her head, undeniable now that it had surfaced. She liked him—more than as just her friendly, quiet neighbor. She liked him in a way that made her heart race and her brain short-circuit.

She groaned again and began pacing the room. “No, no, nope. I am not catching feelings for a guy I barely know,” she muttered. But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. They’d been building something—small moments of connection over the past few months that had left her looking forward to every knock on the door or text message.

With a huff, she grabbed her phone and typed out a quick text:

y/n : when are you coming home??

She hit send before she could overthink it, tossing the phone onto her couch and flopping down beside it. The May breeze drifted in, carrying the scent of spring flowers, but Y/N couldn’t shake the storm of emotions swirling inside her. “This is going to be... complicated,” she muttered to herself, covering her face with her hands.

Y/N’s phone dinged, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. She sat up quickly, snatching the device from where it had landed on the couch. Her heart did a little flip as she saw Oscar’s name pop up on the screen. She unlocked it to read his response:

oscar : I’ll be back in like 2 weeks but only for a bit—what’s up? 👀

She stared at the message, a small smile tugging at her lips. Of course, he’d throw in the eyeball emoji—it was such an Oscar thing to do, always mixing casual with a bit of humor.

For a moment, she debated how to respond. She couldn’t just say, Oh, nothing, I just made too many chocolate-covered strawberries and realized I might like you—that would be mortifying. Instead, she opted for something neutral, a safe middle ground:

y/n : Oh, no reason. Just wondering! Hope it’s not too hectic for you.

As soon as she hit send, she groaned softly, leaning back against the couch. That was a lie, but what else could she say? She put her phone down and rubbed her temples, trying to ignore the sudden burst of warmth in her chest. Two weeks wasn’t that long, right?

Still, the thought lingered in her mind: she’d never been this excited for someone to come home before.

two week timeskip

Two weeks had passed in a blur, the days slipping by faster than Y/N anticipated. The Italian Grand Prix had wrapped up over the weekend, and Monaco was buzzing with excitement for the upcoming race. The city had been transforming in preparation—barricades going up, streets morphing into a circuit, and the harbor becoming a sea of luxury yachts.

Y/N hadn’t seen or heard much from Oscar since his text, but she’d been counting down the days. He’d said he’d be home this week, and while she wasn’t exactly waiting by her door, she had taken it upon herself to have some baked goodies ready. Just in case.

A tray of brownies sat cooling on her counter alongside a tin of lemon cookies, and she was busy wiping down her kitchen counters when a knock echoed through her apartment.

Her first instinct was casual curiosity—probably her neighbor asking to borrow something or the package delivery guy. Without overthinking, she grabbed a towel to dry her hands and headed to the door, opening it mid-yawn.

And there he was.

Oscar stood on the other side, casual as ever in a hoodie and jeans, his hair slightly messy, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His expression was warm, a soft smile playing on his lips as he raised a hand in greeting.

“Hey,” he said, his voice calm, like it hadn’t been two weeks since they last spoke.

Y/N blinked, gripping the door frame for a second. She’d spent days prepping treats for his arrival, imagining this exact moment, and now her brain decided to freeze. “You’re here?” she blurted, as though he wasn’t standing directly in front of her.

His smile widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “Yeah, I figured I’d drop in unannounced. Hope that’s cool.”

She shook off her surprise, stepping aside to let him in. “Uh, yeah, obviously. Come in!”

Oscar stepped inside, glancing around her apartment like he always did, his eyes eventually landing on the counter full of baked goods. He raised an eyebrow and gestured toward it. “You bake for me, or is this just, like, an everyday thing?”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up as she quickly shut the door. “I mean... maybe a little of both?” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “I wasn’t sure when you’d show up, so I figured better safe than sorry.”

He laughed, dropping his bag by the couch. “You’re unbelievable. You know that, right?”

“Is that a thank-you?” she teased, crossing her arms with a smirk.

Oscar plucked a cookie off the tray, taking a bite and humming dramatically. “That’s me saying you’re way too nice to me. This is amazing, by the way.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips anyway. Seeing him standing there, relaxed and happy, filled her with a warmth she didn’t quite know what to do with.

Oscar finished the cookie and grabbed another without asking, leaning casually against her counter like he belonged there. “So, what’ve you been up to? Still baking up a storm every day?”

Y/N smirked, grabbing the tray of brownies and cutting them into perfect squares. “Pretty much. Got to keep the bakery stocked and the bills paid somehow. Plus, it’s Monaco—people are weirdly obsessed with pastries here. Speaking of, how was Italy? Or wherever you were this time?”

Oscar hesitated, his chewing slowing down. “Uh, yeah. Italy was... busy. Lots of... work.”

She raised an eyebrow, catching the slight awkwardness in his tone. “Work? You’re always traveling for this mystery job of yours. You must be a spy or something.”

His laugh came a little too quickly, and he avoided her gaze by grabbing a brownie. “Yeah, something like that. I’d tell you, but then I’d have to... you know.” He made a mock gun gesture with his fingers, winking playfully.

Y/N snorted. “Very convincing. Totally not suspicious at all.”

Changing the subject, Oscar gestured toward the goodies she’d prepared. “You’re going to spoil me, you know that? Showing up with treats, stocking your place with more of them... You’re setting a dangerous precedent.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Y/N teased, nudging him gently as she carried the brownies to a tin for storage. “I only bake extra when I’m bored.”

“Or when you miss me,” he added, grinning mischievously.

Her hands froze for a split second, her cheeks heating up as she quickly turned back to the brownies. “In your dreams,” she muttered, but the way her voice wavered slightly made him chuckle.

Oscar didn’t press further, instead grabbing a glass of water and perching on the armrest of her couch. “So, the monaco grand prix coming up,” he said casually.

“Yeah, the whole city’s already turning into one big construction zone,” Y/N replied, plopping down onto the couch next to him. “Feels like everyone’s losing their minds over it. What’s the big deal? Is it, like, a festival or something?”

Oscar blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise before quickly recovering. “Uh, yeah, kind of. It’s... a big event. Happens every year.”

She nodded, leaning back into the cushions. “Well, hopefully, it’s not too crazy. Are you staying for it?”

“Yeah, I’ll be around,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “At least for a bit. But it gets hectic, so I might disappear again.”

“Classic Oscar,” Y/N said with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Hey, I’m here now, aren’t I?” he countered, nudging her with his elbow.

“You are,” she admitted, glancing over at him. Their eyes met briefly, and for a second, the air between them felt heavier, like something unspoken lingered just beneath the surface.

Before she could dwell on it, she cleared her throat and stood up. “Anyway, brownies are cooling, cookies are packed, and now you have snacks for however long you’re staying.”

Oscar smirked, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head. “And here I thought you just liked having me around.”

Y/N grabbed a pillow from the couch and lightly tossed it at him. “Don’t push your luck.”

He caught the pillow effortlessly, laughing. “Fine, fine. But seriously, thanks. It’s nice being back. Even if it’s just for a bit.”

Her smile softened, and she nodded. “Yeah. yeah.”

The evening carried on in easy conversation, the kind of flow Y/N had come to enjoy when Oscar was around. He had a way of making the hours slip by without her even realizing it.

At some point, she found herself sitting cross-legged on the floor while Oscar took up most of the couch, recounting a chaotic story about a “work trip” that involved a delayed flight, a misplaced bag, and someone accidentally ordering 40 sandwiches. He was animated as he spoke, using hand gestures and exaggerated expressions to emphasize every twist and turn.

“So, there I was,” Oscar said, his voice growing serious, “stuck with 40 ham and cheese sandwiches at 3 a.m., wondering if this was some kind of cosmic punishment.”

Y/N burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as tears formed in her eyes. “You’re kidding. Please tell me you ate at least one.”

“Of course, I did,” he replied, grinning. “I ate five. And then I passed out on a bench because there was nowhere else to sit. Absolute rock bottom.”

Y/N shook her head, still laughing. “You live such a weird life. Sandwich catastrophes at 3 a.m. while traveling the world for your super-secret job? Must be exhausting.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s a lot sometimes. But I guess I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

There was something in his tone, a fleeting moment of vulnerability that made her pause. She wanted to ask more, to dig deeper, but she hesitated. She didn’t want to ruin the lighthearted mood.

Instead, she grinned and teased, “Well, if you ever need someone to help you through another sandwich crisis, you know where to find me.”

Oscar laughed, tossing a couch cushion at her. “Noted. You’re officially on my emergency sandwich team.”

The sound of their laughter filled the room, and for a while, everything felt easy and uncomplicated.

A little later, after the plates were cleared and the leftovers tucked away, Oscar stood by the door, his duffel bag back in hand.

“Thanks for letting me crash your evening,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Crash? Please, I basically invited you the second I opened the door,” Y/N replied, smirking.

He smiled, lingering for a moment. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, leaning against the doorframe opposite him. “Don’t forget to grab some of the cookies on your way out. And the brownies.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to fatten me up or something?”

“Maybe,” she teased. “It’s part of my evil plan.”

He chuckled, reaching out to ruffle her hair before stepping into the hallway. “See you soon, Y/N.”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N stood there for a moment, her heart fluttering in a way she wasn’t quite ready to admit.

The week passed quickly, the anticipation of the Monaco Grand Prix hanging in the air. The city was buzzing with energy, but Y/N kept herself busy at work, focusing on perfecting her recipes and keeping her mind off the person who had quickly become a constant presence in her thoughts.

But no matter how busy she kept, she couldn’t help but wonder when she’d see him again—and if things between them would ever shift into something more.

As the Monaco Grand Prix loomed closer, Y/N found herself noticing the increased buzz around the city. Banners and posters for the event were plastered on every available surface, and crowds started trickling in. Y/N had no idea what all the fuss was about, aside from the fact that everyone seemed excited.

Oscar had been texting her throughout the week, and she’d been looking forward to catching up with him again. She was in the middle of prepping a new batch of pastries when she heard a familiar knock on her door.

“Hey,” she greeted, opening the door to find Oscar standing there, looking casual in a tee and shorts, clearly just back from a training session.

“Hey yourself,” he replied, stepping inside. “How’s it going?”

“Busy as always,” Y/N said, wiping her hands on a towel. “But I’m managing. The bakery’s been crazy with all the tourists. You’d think I was selling gold instead of cookies.”

Oscar chuckled. “Yeah, Monaco gets a little nuts this time of year.” He glanced around, then looked back at her with a grin. “You know, with the Grand Prix coming up, I was thinking—you should totally come with me this weekend. I’ll be around, and I could use some company. I’m pretty sure you’ve never seen anything like it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued but not sure what he meant. “The Grand Prix? What is that, like, a huge concert or something?”

Oscar blinked, surprised by her response but quickly recovering. “Uh, no, not really. It’s... um, a big race.”

“A race?” Y/N echoed. “Like cars?”

“Yeah, like super-fast cars,” Oscar explained, trying not to laugh. “Formula 1 cars. It’s kind of a big deal around here.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait, so this race is happening in the city?”

“Yep,” he said, nodding. “And it’s one of the biggest races of the season. You should come check it out. It’s a whole experience.”

She hesitated for a moment, trying to process the idea. “I mean, sure, why not? I could use a little break from the bakery chaos. But I’m warning you, I’ll probably get lost in the crowd or something.”

Oscar grinned, clearly pleased. “I’ve got you covered. You won’t get lost, I promise. Plus, I’ll introduce you to a few people, show you the ropes. It’ll be fun.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a little bit nervous but mostly excited. “Okay, okay. I’m in. This better be worth it though. I still don’t quite get why people are so obsessed with fast cars but... I’m trusting you on this one.”

Oscar laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it once you see it. It’s kind of... a big deal.”

Y/N chuckled along with him. “Alright, Mr. Big Deal. I’ll be there. Just try not to get too race car driver on me while I’m there, okay?”

Oscar flashed her a teasing grin. “No promises.”

grand prix weekend

As Y/N walked toward the spot where she and Oscar had agreed to meet, her eyes wandered over the bustling atmosphere of the Monaco Grand Prix. The crowds, the cameras, the fancy cars, and the buzz of excitement around every corner... it was a lot to take in. But then her gaze landed on something that made her stop in her tracks.

A massive banner stretched across the track, featuring none other than Oscar Piastri. His face was larger than life, his cool expression and trademark cap making him look effortlessly slick.

Y/N blinked twice, then rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. But there it was, Oscar in full glory, with the words "Oscar Piastri: Formula 1 Driver" plastered across the banner in bold letters. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt her stomach drop.

She stared at it, mouth slightly open, her brain short-circuiting as the pieces finally clicked together. “Wait… Oscar? Formula 1? That Oscar?” She repeated the words in her head like a mantra, trying to wrap her brain around it.

Her eyes darted from the banner to the people around her, and suddenly everything clicked in a dizzying rush:

Oscar Piastri... was a famous Formula 1 driver.

That meant—wait, no—that meant she had been casually baking cookies, banana muffins, and chocolate-covered strawberries for someone who was literally famous?! She had been living next door to a real-life celebrity and hadn’t even known it?? And… she was actually crushing on him?

Her mind was doing a full-on loop-de-loop. How had she missed this? How did she not realize that this guy who always wore cool clothes, who was constantly traveling, who had fans… was the same person she’d been baking for like it was no big deal? Was this… was this a dream?

She started internally panicking. What do I do now? She had been baking for a guy who was in the public eye—what did that even mean for them? Did she just like someone who everyone else liked too? Is that even a thing? Was she seriously living next door to someone who raced for real in Formula 1?! She was losing it.

At that moment, she felt like she might spontaneously combust from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Her stomach flipped, and she had to press a hand to her forehead, trying to keep it together. “Oh my god, Y/N. Get it together,” she whispered under her breath.

Just as she was trying to regain her composure, she spotted Oscar coming into view, looking effortlessly cool as usual, his sunglasses perched atop his head as he walked toward her. His face broke into a grin when he saw her.

“Hey, you okay?” Oscar asked, noticing the slightly shell-shocked look on her face. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Y/N blinked a few times, forcing herself to smile, but her mind was still reeling. She barely managed to get out a normal response. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, her voice a little too high-pitched for her own liking. “Just… uh, just saw something… interesting.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, looking at her with mild curiosity. “Interesting? What did you see?”

Y/N panicked for a second. She couldn’t tell him she just discovered he was basically famous and was now spiraling over it, right? She gave herself a quick mental shake. “Uh, yeah, just, uh, a banner,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward the giant image of him from earlier. “And, um… I just realized that… I, uh, live next to someone famous. Which is, like… wild.”

Oscar blinked, clearly not expecting that response. “Ohhh, yeah, that’s a thing. I mean, you’ve been living next to a race car driver. That’s gotta be weird, huh?”

Weird didn’t even begin to cover it, but Y/N just laughed, even though it sounded a little forced. “I guess? It’s just... a lot to process. You really are famous, huh?”

Oscar chuckled at her expression, clearly amused. “You could’ve asked, you know. But yeah, I guess I am,” he said casually, as if being on giant banners was just part of his daily routine.

Y/N groaned, feeling a rush of heat on her cheeks. “I feel like such an idiot,” she muttered, half to herself.

Oscar laughed, clearly oblivious to the full extent of her internal freakout. “Nah, you’re good. I’m just glad you’re here. Let’s enjoy this whole thing together.”

But Y/N could barely focus on anything except the fact that she had been baking for someone famous. This was too much.

As they continued toward the track, Y/N’s thoughts swirled in a thousand directions. She liked him, but now she had to figure out how to deal with the fact that she liked someone who was literally in the spotlight. Was it even okay to have a crush on someone who had so many eyes on him? She didn’t even know what to do with that knowledge yet.

And as they entered the paddock, Y/N had a feeling this weekend was going to be a lot more intense than she ever expected.

Y/N had barely been able to wrap her head around the fact that she was actually sitting in the heart of the action—inside Oscar’s team’s box in the garage, watching the practice and qualifying sessions unfold in front of her eyes.

Oscar had been in and out, prepping for his runs, chatting with the team, and making sure everything was in top condition. He had that natural, focused energy about him, and it was hard to look at him without being amazed by how effortlessly cool he was under pressure.

Y/N, on the other hand, was absolutely blown away by everything. The speed of the cars, the noise, the sheer intensity of it all—it was like nothing she had ever experienced. The walls of the garage were lined with equipment, the hum of activity filled the air, and people were buzzing about with headsets and clipboards, all focused on their roles. But even with all the chaos, Y/N's attention kept drifting back to Oscar.

“Don’t worry, I won’t crash,” he joked, noticing the look on her face as he grabbed his helmet and prepared to head out.

Y/N managed a nervous laugh, trying to calm the fluttering feeling in her chest. “You better not,” she teased, though she was pretty sure it was more for her own peace of mind than anything else.

Oscar shot her a grin before heading out to the car, and Y/N couldn’t help but watch with wide eyes as he slipped into the cockpit. The cars revved to life, the unmistakable sound of the engines vibrating through the garage. Oscar’s car was a blur as he took off down the track for his first practice lap.

She couldn’t help but feel a weird mix of awe and pride. That’s Oscar, she thought, barely able to keep her jaw from dropping. He was out there on the track, racing like it was second nature. The guy who had been chilling in her kitchen, eating cookies, was now doing something so epic, it didn’t even seem real.

As Oscar tore through the circuit, Y/N’s eyes stayed glued to the monitors in the box. His lap times popped up in front of her, and she felt a nervous, excited energy pulse through her. She didn’t know much about Formula 1, but she could feel the intensity of it all.

“Look at him go,” she muttered to herself, completely captivated by the raw speed and precision. It was like watching someone glide on air—only way faster, and way more intense.

The minutes flew by, and soon enough, Oscar’s car zipped back into the pits, and he jumped out, helmet off, a grin on his face. Y/N couldn’t help but smile back, her heart racing in sync with the adrenaline of the day.

“You’re amazing,” she said as he walked over, still catching his breath from the run.

Oscar gave a modest shrug, though the grin never left his face. “It’s all in the details,” he said with a wink. “But, yeah, it feels pretty good.”

Y/N shook her head, still processing how cool the whole thing was. “You’re insane,” she laughed, feeling a mix of admiration and a bit of disbelief at the whole experience.

Oscar leaned against the garage wall, looking at her. “You’ve got the best seat in the house, you know?”

She smiled, feeling her chest tighten at the compliment. “Yeah, I can’t believe I’m actually here. It’s… it’s all a bit much, honestly.”

Oscar chuckled. “Well, get used to it. You’ll be seeing a lot more of this.”

Y/N just nodded, still wide-eyed. There was so much she was still processing—how she’d gone from living next to a normal guy to sitting in a garage at the Monaco Grand Prix watching him race. It was wild. And somehow, incredibly thrilling.

Then, without any warning, Oscar took a small step closer to her. The next thing Y/N knew, his hand was on her cheek, pulling her into a kiss that was both unexpected and electric.

She froze for a split second, her eyes wide in shock. Her heart pounded in her ears. It was quick, but it was enough to send a wave of dizziness through her. The kiss was soft, lingering just a moment longer than she could’ve imagined, before Oscar pulled back with a mischievous smile.

Y/N stood there, stunned. Her heart was racing, and her mind was reeling. The cameras around the garage had caught the whole thing, and within seconds, a replay flashed across the monitors, broadcasting the moment live for all to see.

Oscar’s grin widened, clearly aware of the reaction. “Guess I’m full of surprises,” he teased, his voice low, his eyes never leaving hers.

Y/N blinked, still processing what just happened. Her cheeks were burning. “What the—”

But before Y/N could say anything else, Oscar's grin grew wider as he looked up at the screen. "Well, that's gonna be on TV now, huh?"

Y/N's eyes snapped to the monitors, and her stomach dropped. The kiss, clear as day, was playing across the screens for everyone to see. Her face turned beet red.

"Seriously?" Y/N muttered, still trying to process it. "That just... happened. On TV. Wow."

Oscar chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Well, that’s out there now. You good with that?”

Before Y/N could answer, she leaned in, surprising him with a kiss. It was quick but full of impulse, a way to make things feel less chaotic and more... real. When she pulled away, she didn’t flinch or apologize—she just gave him a small grin.

Oscar blinked in surprise for a moment, his lips curling into a grin. “Guess you weren’t planning on waiting, huh?”

Y/N shrugged casually, unfazed. “Guess not.”

Oscar let out a low laugh, his eyes never leaving hers. “No going back now.”

Y/N shook her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Guess not."

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