#i might read through the last 9 chapters. see it from the start for a better view of how these fit together

[wortsandall]

my rage from yesterday is over...maybe ill get some writing done today. no more distractions

[matchagator]

Clash | jjk (mature) Ch. 1

I've had a really fun time working on this story so far! Let me know what you think and if you're interested in reading more parts. I have SO many more ideas in store for these two, including some smut. 😈

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

{Main Pairings:} Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader

{Rating:} 18+

{Genre:} Slice of Life | Neighbors

{Summary:} You're a new resident in your very first apartment excited to enjoy the simple life of adulthood. Unfortunately for you, you continue to run into unruly neighbors no matter how much you try to keep to yourself.

{Warnings:} Mature Language, Enemies to Lovers, Hostility, Mild Angst, Sexual Tension (This list will be updated as each part gets released)

After successfully surviving your first week in your new apartment, you decide to celebrate by popping open a bottle of Stella Rosa to commemorate the start of your mid-twenties. You pour yourself a glass before cozying up to your favorite blanket, sparing no expense as you carry over a couple of slices of pizza that you just had delivered. You become eager to scroll through Netflix to find something new and entertaining to watch for the evening, finally enjoying a break from your tedious work schedule as you relish some time to yourself. 

It isn’t long until you find something that catches your interest, opting for a romantic comedy to kick off your weekend as your favorite candle burns on your coffee table ahead. Finally, you didn’t have to answer to your family or share the apartment with roommates. This place was one hundred percent yours to enjoy and do as you wish.

The movie keeps you occupied for the majority of your meal, leaving you invested in the outcome of the plot. While romantic comedies were notorious for being overly predictable, you still enjoy them. 

The gentle hum of your phone buzzing against the coffee table has you leaning forward to retrieve the device, gently tapping your fingers across the LED display to see a text message from your boss. Your eyes scan over the words that come up on your screen, pulling a long drawn-out groan from your lips as the message sinks in. Your boss wants you to come in early tomorrow to help catch up on overdue reports, causing tension to reappear in your posture as you toss your phone to the side. 

You turn your attention back onto the screen, quickly thinking over whether or not you want to take on that responsibility since your weekend off was just commencing. Ultimately, you end up sighing and caving in, sending a compliant response given that your job was the only reason you could afford your new apartment in the first place. You might as well take the opportunity to stack up some overtime. 

After checking the time on your phone, you glance back at your television screen, eager to at least finish your movie before calling it a night. You gently bring your wine glass up to your lips as you indulge in a couple more sips, finishing off the crusts of your pizza as you lay back to sink into the comfort of your couch cushions. 

Your eyes study the characters on the television screen, enjoying the banter between the two main characters as you watch their relationship blossom. You can’t help but dwell on your last relationship, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth at the thought of your breakup. 

You chug back the rest of your wine before a slow melodic thumping begins reverberating from the opposite side of your apartment wall. You glare at the material as if your stare could seep through the wall. You instantly shift your gaze onto the drywall, groaning at the thought of your neighbor insistently playing their music loudly at all different hours of the day since you’ve moved in. One morning, you woke up to Charlie Puth resonating through the thin barrier between your apartments while tonight they were enjoying a much more energetic melody of song selections. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You groan, as you lean forward to grab your remote, raising the volume to try and drown out the insufferable noise. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to camouflage the intrusive thumping, causing you to abandon any hope of enjoying the rest of your film. You can’t help but let a sigh escape your lips as you dramatically stand from the couch, collecting your trash and dishes before retreating into the kitchen. 

Part of you wishes to go next door and give them a piece of your mind, however, you withhold since you have yet to meet them. What a chaotic introduction that would be. Despite your irritation with their lack of respect for your tranquility, you don’t necessarily want to start this milestone in your life with a feud next door. 

Once you finish cleaning up, you retreat to your bedroom, eager to shower and get into bed for the night. As you move through your apartment, the noise from next door seemingly intensifies as you enter your bedroom. You pause at the door, groaning deeply at the realization that your neighbor’s room must be directly beside yours. “Seriously?” 

You bite back your festering anger as you retreat to the shower, wasting no time hopping into the tub and turning on the faucet. Thankfully, the loud stream of water seems to muffle out the noise as your body relaxes beneath the warmth, letting the tension melt from your muscles as you finally unwind from the stress of your day. 

While you usually take average-length showers, tonight your stay is a little longer than usual to keep yourself distracted from the ruckus in the apartment beside you. Eventually, the music would have to stop. It was the middle of the week, whatever their job was, it couldn’t possibly allow them to stay up past midnight on a Wednesday. 

Once you successfully wash away your day, you slip out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel to dry your skin of the excess moisture. The moment the faucet shuts off, you’re met with the persistent sound of music pounding through the walls. You catch a glimpse of your features hardening through the mirror as you pull on your bathrobe, tying it off before drying your hair with the towel. 

You shake your head as the next song arrives with more bass, causing you to make the split decision to dry your hair. Surely the blow dryer would cancel out the noise. To your surprise, the hum of the styling tool keeps you focused on your nightly routine, finishing up in the bathroom as you pass more time in hopes that when you get to bed, the music would be over. 

Your feet end up dragging across your carpet as you toss yourself into bed, the comfort of your sheets swallowing you as the music calms with the introduction of a few melancholy tunes. You figure this is your best opportunity to fall asleep, wasting no time to set your alarm on your phone as you set it up to charge on your bedside table, before crawling into the sheets. You let yourself sink into the mattress and you turn on your side, hoping your mind will let you fall asleep quickly. 

Luckily, the music remains smooth as your bed slowly lulls you into a peaceful sleep. Just as your mind begins to drift off, the thumping returns, another bass-heavy song blaring from next door causing a slight tremor to radiate across the wall. You tug your pillow over your head, pulling it down over your ears as you kick your legs in frustration, pouting into the pillow as you desperately try to ignore the unforgiving noise. 

-----

Thanks to your stubbornness, you find yourself standing outside your jeep with your arms full of reusable grocery bags, completely crippling yourself from reaching back towards the keys that you tucked into your purse. You refuse to take another trip down to retrieve the rest of the totes, so you simply continue sliding them down the length of your arm, fully knowing it was going to be a heavy trip up to the seventh floor. 

You contort your body uncomfortably as you utilize your elbow to push the button to latch the trunk close, watching the mechanisms of your vehicle automatically operate the door. You grin happily at your success, knowing that with everything stuffed into your arms, you wouldn’t need to take the extra trip down for a second load. 

Thankfully as you walk away from the car, the sensor automatically locks your doors once your keys are at a farther distance. You quickly begin walking towards the door leading from the parking garage to the main lobby of your apartment complex, hoping someone else would come along to help open the door for you. 

It’s as if your prayers are answered when a man appears from the opposite side of the garage, typing away on his cell phone as he makes his way toward the secured door. You quickly realize the distance you have compared to him and begin hustling toward the entrance. 

“Hold the door!” You holler out, juggling your variety of different tote bags as you rush toward him. You hope that his chivalry will prevent you from needing to find your key fob from underneath the stacks of groceries cutting the circulation from your wrists. 

You watch helplessly as a man with a grown-out mullet of curly hair taps his fob, a small tone indicating his granted access as he enters the building. You are desperately sprinting toward the door at this point, trying to sneak in behind him to make your life easier. Unfortunately, you’re stuck watching it close shut behind him, before you can even manage to catch up to him. You huff in annoyance as the man ahead of you completely ignores you,  keeping his attention on his cell phone and disregarding the fact that you’re struggling to carry in the large load just a few feet behind him. 

“Seriously?” You tut, completely unamused, that now you need to slide the handles of your bags down the length of your arms, just to reach back into your purse to pluck your keys from the front pocket. “Asshole! Can’t even hold a fucking door.” You mumble under your breath, performing a perfect balancing act as you lean over to press the fob against the sensor, lifting your leg to help pull open the front door of the main lobby. 

You sigh once you finally make it inside, thrilled that you managed on your own as you begin the walk to the mailroom towards the back of the first floor. You figure since you’re already down here, why would you waste a trip up to your apartment just to venture back down to get the mail? 

Maneuvering your way through the long corridor, you find the relatively large mailroom nestled in the back corner as you walk in, instantly seeking out the counter lining the wall by the door. You sigh in relief as the pressure is relieved from your limbs, placing your grocery bags up on the counter as you turn to face the various rows of mailboxes lining the far wall. 

You fiddle with your keys before realizing that you aren’t alone, spotting the same mess of grungy hair poking through a mailbox as he collects the contents inside. You blink in surprise, your face unable to hide your annoyance with the stunt he just pulled back at the entrance. You chew on the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from retaliating and giving him a piece of your mind, figuring it was most likely better to just be on your way without any confrontation. 

You adjust your posture, causing yourself to stand straight as you seek out your specific box, quickly inserting your key and tugging the compartment open to retrieve whatever lies within. Thankfully there was only a coupon booklet and a ‘Welcome to the Neighborhood’ flier stuffed within the small space, allowing you a simple addition to your already ambitious load upstairs.  

Peering down at the flier, you start to study all of the local joints attempting to solicit your business as you feel a sudden nudge cause your balance to shift. You catch your footing as you peer up, coming face to face with the culprit from outside who refused to hold a simple door for you. First, he ignores you and now he runs into you as if he isn’t even paying attention. 

Your irritation bubbles over as you grasp the paper tighter in your hand. “Watch where you’re going.” You hiss as you take a step back to properly face your assailant, a not-so-friendly expression plastering itself onto your features. You watch him pluck a headphone out of his ear, revealing the truth that he wasn’t blatantly ignoring you, he just couldn’t hear you. Your eyes flicker down to an envelope in his hand as you skim the print to find the name Jeon Jungkook labeled on the postage. Jungkook’s features tighten at the unforgiving tone in your voice, your eyes watching his jaw flex as he glances over the sight of you.  

There’s something about the way Jungkook’s large expressive eyes bear into your soul that causes you to feel guilty for judging him too quickly. If his headphones were preventing him from hearing you outside, he must not have heard you come into the mailroom behind him. You shrink under his handsome stare, noticing every feature on his face as you stand close to him  after accidentally colliding with you. Why did he have to be so handsome? Couldn’t you have snapped at anyone else? 

“My apologies, princess.” Jungkook’s condescending tone instantly washes over any remorse you felt toward him, your irritation revving back as you pop out your hip, crossing your arms in front of your chest.  “I didn’t hear you come in.” He was apologetic for colliding with you however, was annoyed by your short-tempered attitude. 

“Well, maybe you should try only wearing one earpiece.” You suggest defensively, knowing that while he may not have heard you, it was his fault for compromising his senses in the first place. 

You watch as Jungkook’s tongue presses against his cheek, his head tilting to the side as he chuckles in amusement. You can’t help but let your eyes wander to the pout on his lips, admiring the small freckle tucked beneath his bottom lip as he narrows his stare in your direction. You notice his pupils flick toward your groceries, a mischievous smirk tugging at his mouth. 

“Maybe you should try being less lazy and taking multiple trips.” His words cause your jaw to hang open in disbelief. A stranger did not just call you lazy without even knowing anything about you. Who does he think he is? 

“Excuse you.” You huff, completely perplexed by his crude disregard for a stranger. 

Jungkook seems content in your reaction as he pushes past you unapologetically, allowing his steps to drip with swagger as he seeks the exit of the mailroom. You want to retaliate but find yourself temporarily speechless as your mind tries to wrap around the interaction you just shared with the attractive, yet infuriating man. “Someone’s in a shitty mood today.” You mumble under your breath as he walks away, assuming his headphone was back in his ear. 

Unfortunately for you, Jungkook stops at the doorway, glancing back to get in one final word. “Yeah...” He grins before placing his headphone in his ear. “Seems like you’re in one.” With that, Jungkook waves you off by shaking the small pile of mail nestled in his hand through the air as he turns to walk back into the hallway. 

You feel your body tense as you stare down the space that was once occupied by Jungkook, still baffled that you were so enraged by this random man. The smug look on his face still haunts you as you scoff, rolling your eyes as you move to retrieve your tote bags, grunting at the thought of making it upstairs. You tuck your mail into the side of one of the bags, sliding each bag on your arms as the weight strains against your muscles. 

You take a deep breath before lifting the heavy load, quickly escaping from the mailroom to seek out the nearest elevator. You desperately want to make it to your apartment to neatly organize your groceries into their designated spot, eager to be rid of this tedious task.  

-----

The next day, the gentle hum of your jeep’s engine causes your eyes to weigh heavy as you drive back home from a long day at work. You fight off the sting in your eyes from the numerous hours spent in front of a computer screen, thankful for a break as you make your way back to your slice of independence. Your radio is off as you drive past each intersection, your mind and body exhausted from yet another night of terrible sleep. If only your mysterious neighbor would take a night off from blasting music or movies to prevent you from falling asleep. 

You groan as you rub a hand across your face, deciding the silence of the vehicle wasn’t helping you keep your focus on the road. You lean forward once you stop at a red light,  switching on the stereo as your car instantly connects to the Bluetooth on your cell phone. You utilize the break from driving to select your favorite playlist from Spotify, picking your favorite road trip jams to help keep your mind engaged for the remainder of your ride home. 

Thankfully the traffic is on your side as you approach the parking garage of your apartment building, the automatic door allowing you access once reading the signal of the fob tucked within the sun visor. You smile at the thought of soon being bundled in your bed, ready for a midday nap to help fight off the insufferable noise your neighbor insists on putting you through, day in and day out. 

 Usually, there aren't any spots available on the first floor once rush hour hits, however, once you turn the corner, you notice a vacant spot close to the main lobby entrance. A relieved smile pulls at the corners of your lips, knowing you aren’t in the mood to carry your laptop bag down two floors of the parking garage just to get inside. 

You quickly accelerate in an attempt to claim the space, suddenly noticing a BMW whipping through the parking garage from the opposite direction, barreling towards the vacant parking spot. Given the distance between you both, it’s clear that the BMW would reach the space first if you didn’t act quickly. Your exhaustion leaves you to act rashly, rapidly pulling into the spot and cutting off the man cruising through the space. You suddenly feel guilty, however, your tired limbs overrule the emotion since you no longer have such a long way to trek to get upstairs. 

You nervously chew on your bottom lip, peering up in your rearview mirror to vaguely see the man inside the vehicle waving his hand in disbelief, followed by a swift raise of his middle finger. You don’t dare retaliate, fully knowing you were in the wrong in that situation. 

You grip your steering wheel with both hands, sinking in your seat as you raise a hand to wave back, mumbling to yourself since he can’t hear you from inside your car. “Sorry!” The roar of the BMW ignites behind you as the BMW spots a car pulling out not too far from your current parking space. You wait till he disappears, quickly grabbing your bag and purse, and turning off the ignition of your jeep to park. You open the door, quickly slipping out as you grip your keys tightly between your fingertips, desperate to get inside and avoid an awkward conversation. 

You stumble around your jeep, moving toward the entrance door with your fob in hand, quickly tapping the sensor as you walk hastily to get inside. You feel the tension in your body simmer as you walk toward the elevators, leaving the previous events behind you. You maneuver your way through the elegantly decorated corridors, the fresh scent of your apartment building wafting around you as you drape your laptop bag over your shoulder.

You reach an inlet nestled between the various corridors that lead to the amenities offered by the complex, quickly pressing the call button as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You notice that the elevator is currently on the tenth floor, groaning at your luck. Of course, it would be on the tallest floor of the building, leaving you waiting like a sitting duck. You grip the strap of your bag, tapping your foot impatiently before hearing a deep voice echo from behind you. 

“Well, if it isn’t princess.” You blink before rotating your body, allowing your gaze to follow as you land on the image of the same man you encountered yesterday in the mailroom. The messy overgrown mullet is a dead giveaway that you’re talking to Jungkook, your eyes drop to find his keys with a BMW fob nestled in his hand. Your gaze follows up on his tattooed arm that was deliciously exposed beneath his oversized black t-shirt. 

You quickly turn back away, closing your eyes at the audacity of the situation. Of all the residents you could’ve cut off, of course, it just had to be Jungkook. “Shit.” You whisper under your breath, adjusting your posture to stand taller as he moves to stand beside you. 

“You almost hit me, you know.” His tone was serious, clearly agitated with you as his stare bores through the side of your skull. Jungkook notices your hesitance in offering him the courtesy of talking with him, shaking his head as he recalled your interaction from yesterday. “I didn’t realize calling you lazy would have you out for me.” 

 “Believe it or not, I had no idea that was you.” You don’t want him to think that you purposefully had it out for him, refusing to paint yourself as someone so petty. 

Jungkook grins in amusement, passing his tongue over the shiny metal piercing latched on his bottom lip. “Oh, so you just cut everyone off?” He chuckles darkly as he offers you a mischievous glare. “I didn’t realize you were such a bitch.” 

Your jaw drops once again, flabbergasted by his brazen remark. “I’m not a bitch.” You retaliate, inwardly recognizing that you weren’t exactly the most neighborly by cutting him off. You figure the least you could do was offer up an apology for acting so rashly. “I’m sorry, I just had a long day.” 

Jungkook’s wide eyes evaluate your sincerity, noticing the exhaustion behind your pupils as you offer him a genuine apology. He turns his attention back to the closed elevator doors, tucking his lip piercing between his teeth. “Hey, I get it.” He wasn’t a stranger to long days or long nights at work and understood the feeling of exhaustion. Your features soften at his understanding, taking the opportunity to observe his appearance completely. When you aren't arguing, you were able to notice how undeniably handsome he is, his tattoos and piercing adding to his edgy persona despite the large soft eyes that were peering back at you. 

Jungkook equally takes the opportunity to glance you over. His eyes traveling up and down your figure as he admires the way your dress hangs just above your lower thigh. You chew the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling nervous. 

“I’m Y/n.” You offer, keeping your hands clung to the straps of your bags as you offer him a smile in hopes of getting a truce. 

Jungkook hesitates for a moment before adjusting his grip on the backpack around his arm. “Jungkook.” He answers softly. “Most people just call me JK.” 

You nod before turning back to face the elevator, hating the awkwardness that was radiating between you both.  He hums softly as silence falls upon the pair of you, the void is suddenly filled by the chime of the elevator. You watch as Jungkook gestures for you to go first, suddenly becoming a gentleman despite the past two interactions you shared. 

You move swiftly into the elevator, watching as Jungkook follows, seeking out the operation panel as he glances back in your direction. “What floor?” He peers at you as he hovers his finger over the panel, waiting for you to answer. 

“Um, seven.” You speak, suddenly feeling overwhelmed at the thought of the elevator door closing you into a tight space with Jungkook, a man who was equally as gorgeous as he was frustrating. Jungkook quickly presses the number seven before offering you a mischievous grin, sliding his finger down the length of the buttons as each one illuminates. 

Your eyes become wide in horror, realizing that the elevator would now make a stop at every single floor on its way up to your apartment. “What are you doing?!” Your voice has a little more snap to it than you anticipate, your irritation bubbling over as a chuckle reverberates from his chest. 

“Next time, don’t cut me off.” He offers you a devilish smile before pressing the button to have the elevator doors reopen just before they can fully shut. 

You narrow your eyes, any hope of patching things up with him dissipating as you cross your arms in front of your chest. “What are you, four?” You mock, scolding him as if he was a young child playing with the elevator panel. 

He shrugs his shoulders as he steps out of the elevator, glancing back at you as his hair hangs just above those bright brown eyes that seem to captivate you so effortlessly. He looks so handsome even though he was doing you dirty, allowing you to let your guard down around him. You could kick yourself. “Nah, I’m just bored.” He offers plainly, turning to seek out the door that leads to the stairs. “Enjoy your ride, princess.” He offers as he gives you a backhanded wave with his free hand, before using it to press open the door leading to the stairwell. 

You watch him disappear as the doors slide shut in front of you, leaving you alone to process the childish interaction. “Fucking asshole.” You groan, feeling the frustration bubble over you as the elevator begins ascending to the next floor. You sigh as you feel the jolt of the elevator coming to a stop, the door opening to reveal a barren second floor. You move to the control panel, repeatedly pressing the close-door button, angry that your body is too exhausted to trek up seven flights of stairs. You are going to have to endure the endless opening and closing of the elevator doors, pressing your back into the wall as you let a frustrated growl escape your diaphragm. 

-----

After a week of hiding out in your apartment and avoiding any more unfortunate interactions with the residents of your apartment complex, you decide it’s time for a much-needed day of relaxation. You tug on your favorite beach coverup, the kimono style article hanging off your curves while it conceals your favorite swimsuit. You shift around your apartment, walking toward the kitchen to retrieve something refreshing to consume in the summer heat sweltering outside. 

Your eyes scan over the selection, landing on a glass bottle of calypso lemonade as your mouth seemingly salivates at the thought of drinking it. You happily pluck it from its place on the shelf, tossing it into your tote bag before turning to grab your keys from the counter. Thankfully for a weekend, your next-door neighbor seems to have given their obnoxious music a break, leaving a pleasant silence in the span of your apartment. 

You hum contently as you make your way out into the hallway, turning to lock your door swiftly after stepping on your decorative mat. A dark object pulls your attention as you peer toward your noisy neighbor's apartment door, noticing a black gym bag tossed carelessly into the corner of the hallway. Apparently, your neighbor believes that since they hold the corner lot, they think they can utilize that corner space for storage. You roll your eyes before turning to make your way toward the elevator, eager to seek the comfort of a day at the pool.

Most of the trip down is spent browsing through your social media catching up on the latest celebrity news and the endlessly exciting lives of your friends and coworkers. You notice yet another engagement and pregnancy announcement while you’re mindlessly enjoying the single life. You roll your eyes as the elevator tone indicates your arrival at the main lobby, placing the device into your tote bag to avoid any more mental comparisons about your life and your friends. 

You end up strolling past most of the recreational amenities, utilizing the time to thoroughly observe each one as you walk down the length of the corridor. You pass by a lounge with a pool table and coffee machine, quickly glancing at a sign that reads ‘Free Coffee and Cookies 24/7 for Residents’. Your eyes widen at the sight, knowing that would surely be a perk you’d take advantage of. You continue down the hallway, passing an Internet cafe and a fully equipped gym. You smile brightly, knowing that you’ll utilize the gym instead of always going out on a run. 

The thought of the gym instantly reminds you of the bag outside your neighbor’s door, your curiosity peaking as you peer through the glass windows in an attempt to see if anyone is inside. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be anyone there, leaving you clueless once more about your mysterious neighbor. 

With a shrug of your shoulders, you continue down the corridor to a door that leads outside into a courtyard that was completely surrounded by the towering buildings of your complex. It created a perfect rectangle in the center of the lot, left open to the sunshine as you glance around the beautifully tiled lanai. 

There’s a small stone fire pit in the far left corner of the space, lounge chairs and hammocks spread about for the enjoyment of the residents. There’s even a small bar and kitchen area available for rent in case anyone ever wants to host close to home. It was in moments like these that you felt accomplished, thrilled to know that your efforts to advance in your career allowed you to settle into a place like this. If only the crazy neighbors weren’t included. 

You strut happily through the courtyard, noticing a few residents moving about as you keep your eyes focused on a special lounge chair perfectly placed beneath the shade of an umbrella. What you didn’t notice was that in the pool were Jungkook and his coworker, Taehyung, casually tossing about a volleyball for their enjoyment. 

It didn’t take long for Jungkook and Taehyung’s gaze to find the sight of a young woman making her way towards the pool, your outfit drawing their attention. “Damn, JK. You got that walking around yet you're still single?” Taehyung teases, watching you set your bag back and settle into the lounge chair as he tosses the volleyball back toward Jungkook. 

Jungkook simply shrugs his shoulders as he effortlessly catches the ball, peering back at you only to catch a glimpse of your backside. It isn’t until you take a seat in the lounge that he catches a glimpse of your features, recognizing you from your last two encounters. 

“Yeah, trust me. I don’t need that one.” Jungkook scoffs as he tosses the ball into the air, spiking it down toward Taehyung. Taehyung narrows his eyes in Jungkook’s direction, retrieving the ball before twisting it within the confinement of his hands. 

Taehyung glances between you and Jungkook, noticing the tension exuding from his friend and coworker. “What’s that about? Bad hookup or something?” 

Jungkook laughs sarcastically as he motions with his hand for Taehyung to spike it back, shifting his feet beneath the water as he prepares to block the incoming object. “She wishes.” 

He grins mischievously at the thought of putting you in your place while he fucks the living daylights out of you, lucid images of getting you to shut your mouth in sexually creative ways plaguing his mind. He shakes off his imagination as he retrieves the volleyball that comes flying towards his body, gripping it tightly between his large hands. 

Meanwhile, you find yourself comfortably lounged about in your chair with your towel draped beneath you, allowing your skin to soak up the rays of the sun. Your tranquility falters slightly each time you hear the spiking of the volleyball against the water, however, you muffle out the sound by playing your music softly from your phone to not disturb anyone around you. 

The heat of the afternoon kisses your skin as you lean down to retrieve the bottle of lemonade from your tote bag, eager for a refreshing treat to quench your building thirst. You grip the neck of the bottle as you twist open the cap, a satisfying pop allowing you to tug off the metal piece as you bring the bottle to your lips to down a sizable gulp of the sweet yet sour liquid. 

You smack your lips happily, leaning your head back to enjoy the peace and quiet as your back presses into the half-raised lounge chair. The umbrella provides you with just the right amount of shade as you begin sunbathing, completely oblivious to the company just a few feet away from you. 

A good while passes, your phone scrolling through your summer playlist as Jungkook and Taehyung continue chatting and enjoying a few more tosses of their volleyball. “Wanna grab hibachi after this?” Taehyung offers as the ball travels back towards Jungkook, flying clear over his head as he dives in to swim after it. His toned limbs row effortlessly through the water, his tattooed arm distinguishing him from his friend as he snags the floating ball before it drifts farther away. 

“Yeah, sounds good.” Jungkook’s eyes swell against his cheeks at the thought of delicious food before he walks through the resistance of the water to get closer to Taehyung. He holds out the ball, preparing his opposite hand to punt it back in his direction before his eyes catch a glimpse of you sitting up. He studies your movements, watching as you bring your bottle back to your lips for another sip. 

His lips tug into a mischievous smirk, aiming his hand past Taehyung toward your unsuspecting self, swiftly sending his hand forward to send the ball in your direction. You’re too preoccupied to notice the incoming object until it’s too late, a small screech escaping your lips as the ball smacks into the arm that's holding your drink. 

The impact causes you to lose your grip on the glass, watching it drop into your lap as the sting of the ball radiates against your forearm. Your eyes widen as you notice the volleyball, glancing up to see two men staring in your direction from the pool. 

A stupid grin stretches across Jungkook’s lips as he waves over to you. “My bad.” He offers half-assed, before watching the ball roll back toward the pool. He lunges forward, swimming quickly to reach the opposite end of the pool that is only a few feet away from you as you suddenly notice exactly who is swimming towards you. 

“Seriously?” You groan, lifting your sunglasses to send your glare blaring at him. He simply grins as you observe the way his muscle top hangs loosely on his frame from the weight of the water. 

You watch his large eyes sparkle with pride as he retrieves the ball, a laugh erupting from his diaphragm as he notices the sticky blue liquid dripping from your lap. “Happy accident.” He assures you, challenging your glare despite the amusement dancing behind his pupils. 

You roll your eyes at the bullshit he’s trying to pull on you, lifting the now-empty bottle as you set it down beneath your chair. “Yeah, accident my ass.” You grumble under your breath as you lean sideways to grab the extra towel you packed in your bag in case you want to go for a swim. You move to wipe up your lap, only to realize the liquid completely seeped through your coverup. 

Jungkook turns to make his way to Taehyung who is desperately biting back his laughter as Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. You give up on salvaging the piece of clothing, standing up from your seat before crossing your arms to peel off the cover-up.

Jungkook turns around just at the right moment, catching you mid-action as you tug the clothing over your head, revealing the delicious sight of your body in your sexiest black two-piece. Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sight, his mind plummeting into his sexual fantasies as your swimsuit leaves little to his imagination. “Fuck.” He huffs under his breath, turning around to avoid any other intrusive thoughts about you. It was bad enough that he had to put up with you, let only be physically attracted to you. 

Jungkook shifts his attention to their towels and belongings, moving to pull himself out of the water to put away the culprit of your unfortunate spill. You toss your soiled coverup to the side, utilizing your towel to clean up as you watch Jungkook grab a blue towel, using it to wipe off his face and hair as he places the volleyball down beside their things. 

You smack your lips as you narrow your eyes in his direction, your irritation doing little to prevent your mind from ogling over the sight of his now see through muscle top, exposing his perfectly sculpted abdomen through the sheer veil. A shiver courses through your body from the anger and the arousal, feeling yourself become irrationally petty about the man you can’t seem to escape. 

Jungkook quickly runs to jump back into the pool once the volleyball is tucked away, leaving you with the perfect opportunity to be spiteful. You glance down at your body, feeling the sticky residue of the lemonade as you decide to head to the bathrooms to clean up. You grab your cell phone before sliding on your sandals, moving with purposeful steps toward Jungkook’s belongings. 

Taehyung currently has Jungkook in a playful chokehold as the pair begin roughhousing, distracting them from the sight of you stomping toward Jungkook’s towel, instantly grabbing the fabric before tossing into the pool. 

The men pause their actions as Jungkook glares in your direction, his long hair hanging in his eyes before he slicks his hair back to get a better view. “What the hell?” He growls, pushing Taehyung off of him as he moves to grab his towel that is slowly soaking up water and sinking beneath the surface. 

“Man, the breeze is just so strong today.” You tut in satisfaction, giggling from the frustration invading his features. “Maybe you should weigh it down next time.” You add before turning on your heel to seek out the restroom. You hear the sudden sound of water dripping against the tile of the lanai, only assuming that Jungkook was ringing out his towel. You grin to yourself as you disappear inside, refusing to give him the satisfaction of glancing back toward him. 

You disappear inside the lobby as you dash toward the women’s room, eager to cleanse your body from the residue causing your thighs to stick together. You move straight to the sink, twisting on the tap as you reach for the soap, eager to lather up the suds to rub against your abdomen and thighs, sighing as you glance in the mirror to spot your disheveled appearance. 

This was all thanks to Jungkook. Why did he insist on being such a brat every single time you saw him? Your thoughts cause you t0 halt as you find your eyes in the mirror, realizing that you’ve equally been a brat around him. You were just as guilty as causing this feud in the first place. You sigh, knowing that this would only continue getting worse until one of you apologizes. Unfortunately for Jungkook, you had no intention of being the first to do such a thing.

You grab a handful of paper towels, rubbing the material over your skin to remove any excess soap before tossing the remnants into the trash, bringing your hands up to smooth out the flyaways from the top of your head, taking in your figure before turning to head outside. 

You open the door to the corridor, rolling back your shoulders to create a false appearance of confidence, refusing to step outside with any sign of defeat exposing itself on your body. You turn the corner to reach for the door that leads outside until you feel your leg slide out from beneath you, causing you to fall. 

Your breath gets knocked out of you as your back collides with the tile flooring, leaving an ache against your backside. You pause for a moment, feeling a tight tension in your neck as you strain to keep your head from slamming back. “Fuck…that hurt…” You whimper as you gently let your head rest against the tile, watching your chest concave with each breath to compensate for the sudden impact. 

You bring your hands up to your face, running your palms up to push back your hair as you take a moment to collect yourself. You suddenly hear the echo of footsteps, letting your head roll to the side as you notice a pair of toned legs approaching you. Your eyes scan up the figure to spot a thin waist decorated in the same wet muscle shirt that Jungkook was wearing. You blink as your eyes keep traveling up to find his arm of tattoos. 

Jungkook has a cookie hanging from between his teeth as his hands balance two coffees. His brow raises as he observes the sight of you splattered against the ground. He moves one of his occupied hands to his mouth, retrieving the cookie between two fingers as he chews the bite. “What happened to you?” 

You move to push yourself up, your hands sliding against the tile as you realize that there are droplets of water decorating the floor. You glance back toward Jungkook, realizing that his body is still dripping wet from the pool as if he put zero effort into drying himself off before going inside. 

“I slipped on your fucking puddles.” You snap, realizing that once again, Jungkook was the culprit of your misery. “Didn’t you dry off?” 

Jungkook’s triumphant grin causes your cheeks to flush red as he casually shrugs his shoulders. “I would’ve, but someone threw my towel in the pool.” He speaks nonchalantly as he moves forward, raising his leg to step over you. You instinctually duck down as he mindlessly walks over you, moving to push open the door with his back given his hands were still occupied.

You stare at him in utter shock, stunned that he would leave you on the ground without at least offering you a hand. Before you can get another word out, he moves his hand up to his lips, eager to take another bite of his cookie. “Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it, princess?” He chuckles youthfully as he escapes back out to the lanai, leaving you on the ground feeling infuriated and defeated once again. 

Once you’re alone, you grunt as you bring your hands down to your sides, slamming your palms against the tile in frustration. You gently pick yourself up, knowing you will need to walk back out to face the scrutinizing stare of both Jungkook and his handsome friend. You take a moment to collect yourself, pausing as you reach the door leading outside to take a deep breath, reluctantly facing your inevitable doom.

-----

The slow-building ache in your stomach causes you to groan in discomfort as you lean your body weight into the shopping cart in front of you, slowly stepping through the aisles of your local pharmacy. You peer down each row as you search for feminine hygiene products, utilizing your cart as a crutch while you familiarize yourself with your new neighborhood pharmacy. 

Thankfully like many others, the layout was quite simple, leaving you a clear path to wrap around the store towards the back area. You catch a glimpse of brightly colored bags lining one of the aisles, instantly halting your steps as your mouth begins to salivate at the sight of an unlimited choice of candy and chocolates. 

You fight off the building temptation to venture down to browse their selection of sweets, determining it was probably better to simply b-line for the back and avoid the intake of additional calories. You take a few steps before your stomach begins to rumble in protest, the hunger outweighing your resolve to follow your healthy eating habits as you pivot back around. 

A smile stretches across your face as you gently drag your tongue against your bottom lip, your irises instantly latching onto the sight of the large selection of chocolate bars. You shamelessly debate your options before reaching for your all-time favorite, grabbing a couple of bars to toss into your basket. 

You feel the discomfort of your cramps intensify as you resume your quest towards the back of the store, knowing the longer you spent roaming around, the more your cart would fill with things you most definitely didn’t need to purchase. 

To keep your mind occupied, you start humming along to the music being projected overhead, matching each of your steps to the beat of the music as you sway your hips from side to side. You spot the next aisle marker, noticing the sign hanging above the shelving as you stumble across the section of the store you actually came for. 

Just as you start turning the corner, you pause as your eyes settle upon a familiar sleeve of tattoos, specific designs standing out to you as you trace the pattern of a snake near the man’s wrist. You trail your eyes up to spot the blue words that read “bulletproof” just below his elbow, instantly taking a few steps back to retreat into the aisle to hide from Jungkook. 

What the hell was he doing here? It was at least a couple of days since your last interaction at the pool. Why did he have to be at this very pharmacy on this specific day? You peer your head around the corner, watching as he glances over a selection of hand-support braces often used by athletes. You raise a brow, suddenly curious to find out why he would need such a thing. 

You find yourself waiting impatiently for him to disappear off into a different section of the store, so you can quickly move to retrieve a box of your usual tampons. The last thing you want from this evening is to cross paths with Jungkook while you’re out making such a personal purchase. 

You decide to hug the sides of the store, walking past the refrigerated section to seek out the cashiers in the front. Your eyes look for a distraction as you peer over the selection of ice creams and frozen pizzas, suddenly craving both to indulge in as your dinner. You nibble gently on your bottom lip, debating the purchase in your mind as you recall everything remaining in your fridge that you could possibly cook. The mere thought of cooking causes you to groan, wishing you could simply crawl into bed with a heating pad and a delicious pizza to enjoy a simple night in. 

The fall in your resolve comes when you notice your favorite flavor of ice cream, licking your lips as you pull the case open to retrieve a small pint alongside your favorite type of pizza. You hum happily, deciding that you’ve worked out enough this week to splurge on something quick and easy for dinner. 

As you place the items in your cart, you glance up to find the sight of Jungkook making his way into the refrigerated section, leaving you scrambling to turn around and head in the opposite direction. You feel ridiculous for being so paranoid about crossing paths with him, yet feel immensely relieved when he stops in front of one of the cases to look over a few drink selections. 

You take that as your cue to dash down the snack aisle, ready to check out and head back home. Unfortunately for you, you aren’t paying attention when you arrive at the front of the store, colliding with another shopper’s cart. You are too busy glancing back to make sure that Jungkook is not following you, that you didn’t notice the incoming patron, cringing internally at the loud bang your cart caused against theirs. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You quickly tug your cart back, feeling your cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson as the older woman glares at you with an unmatched irritation. The sudden desire to crawl beneath a rock comes from the disapproving glare the middle-aged woman flashes in your direction as you watch her smack her lips before turning down the refrigerated aisle. 

You bring a hand up to your face, dragging your palm down the length of your face as you internally cringe. The embarrassment leaves you swirling in your anxieties as a low chuckle reverberates from behind you. 

“Nice one, Klutz.” Jungkook is suddenly standing beside you, amused to find that you are the reason behind the sudden commotion in the pharmacy. The wide goofy grin on his features leaves you irritated beyond belief, groaning that you now pulled attention to yourself when all you wanted was to disappear. 

“Fuck you.” You instinctually reply, knowing your reaction is wildly over dramatic. You chew on the inside of your cheek, quickly trying to think of anything you can throw back in his face. Your eyes settle on the small case of yellow boxes nestled against his side, your eyes widening at the sight of banana milk. “Aw cute, did you drive all the way here for your little juice boxes?” You retaliate, utilizing your best infant vocal inflections to tease the gorgeous man staring you down. 

Jungkook’s jaw visibly tightens at your mocking tone, tonguing the inside of his cheek as his large bug eyes drop to the contents of your shopping cart. Two could play that game. He wasted no time observing the ice cream, candy bars, and pizza scattered about the basket, his eyes stopping upon the box of tampons. “Chocolate and tampons…is that why you’re acting like a raging bitch?” 

You feel your jaw drop open, something that Jungkook constantly seems to cause as you blink off your surprise. “Excuse me?” 

Jungkook simply grins at your flustered reaction, adjusting his grip on the case of banana milk as he continues toward the register, obnoxiously content with himself. “You’re excused.” He hums happily, bumping into your shoulder as he passes by. “Make sure not to run anyone else over, alright princess?” 

You scoff at his words, turning around to face him as you notice him waving a hand back at you as he focuses on greeting the cashier. “Fucking asshole.” You mumble under your breath, feeling angry about his smug attitude and the building pain from your cramping uterus. You sigh, admitting your momentary defeat as you join the opposite queue for a different cashier. 

Keeping your eyes down, you focus on the items in your cart, fighting the urge to peek up at Jungkook to see if he cared to spare a look in your direction. The man irritates you beyond belief, so why are you secretly hoping that he’s watching you? You bite your bottom lip nervously, caving into your temptation to glance back in his direction. To your surprise, you meet his eyes, instantly feeling the heat rush back to your cheeks. Is it because you’re blushing or that the gorgeous man infuriates you? 

Jungkook pins you with his dark pupils as you suffocate beneath his stare, sharing an odd mixture of electricity and rage as you peel your eyes away to meet the cashier. He does the same, both of you focusing on your transactions as your items get bagged up while you pluck your credit card out from your wallet to pay. 

You tap the small piece of plastic onto the payment terminal, hearing the soft tone that causes you to pull it back, watching the screen process your card. As you wait, you hear Jungkook thank the cashier before grabbing his items and making his way out of the store. Just as he goes to step out of the automatic doors, he flashes you another daring glare, raising his eyebrows mischievously before disappearing outside. 

With a click of your tongue, you push your wallet back into your bag, glancing at the cashier who is holding out your receipt with a friendly smile. “Have a wonderful day.” You hear them say as you mindlessly collect your bags, still hyper-focusing on the front door, watching Jungkook walk off toward the array of parked cars. 

“Thanks, you too.” You speak your words without offering them eye contact, quickly following after Jungkook as if you are paranoid that he will mess with your car or try something to get you back for all of your recent encounters. 

Thankfully, you spot his messy overgrown mullet climbing into his BMW, the tension in your muscles relaxing as you walk off toward your jeep. You curl an arm to retrieve your keys from the side pocket of your bag, hearing the slight jingle as you pull them from their confinement. Your fingers press the top button of the fob, hearing your engine ignite before another button has your trunk door opening automatically. You quickly swing into the trunk, pressing the side button as it begins closing itself. 

Just as you turn to approach the driver’s side door, Jungkook’s black BMW speeds by, blaring his car horn  which causes you to jump in fear. You clutch a hand to your chest, feeling the rapid thumping of your heart within your ribcage as you glare back toward Jungkook’s car that was exiting onto the main road. You growl beneath your breath, only imagining Jungkook’s wide bunny smile as he drives away in gratification. 

You climb into your SUV, simply wanting to be home so you can sink away into the comforts of your sheets. You move the gear shift back as you pull out from the parking spot, flipping on your radio as your phone automatically connects to the dashboard. You let another drawn-out sigh escape your lips as you pull out of the parking lot, turning to stop at the streetlight leading back out to the main road. 

Luckily your apartment complex is only a few blocks away, allowing you little time to dwell on your stomach pains before arriving at the intersection leading to the parking garage. You suddenly snap out of your thoughts, noticing the car in front of you was the familiar black BMW from earlier, rolling your eyes as your peer through the tinted window to spot the outline of Jungkook’s body. “Great.” You mumble under your breath, pulling in behind him as you click the fob on your sun visor to keep the garage door open behind him. 

You notice a spot by the entrance to the lobby, watching as Jungkook smoothly backs into the space to claim it as his own. You avoid eye contact with him as you drive farther down, grabbing a spot not too far beyond the entrance as your own. You take a moment to yourself before turning off the ignition, getting out of the car to collect your purchases from the back, and watching as Jungkook disappears within the building. 

Locking up your car, you keep your keys in your hand as you walk towards the main entrance, tapping over the sensor as you enter the familiar lobby. You only hope that once you get upstairs that your next-door neighbor is gone, allowing you a moment of peace without their need to be so noisy all hours of the day. 

Your shoes tap against the tile as you turn towards the elevators, pausing in your steps as you notice Jungkook is still waiting for the next available cart. You figure he would have already caught the next elevator by now, but of course, as your luck would have it, you are stuck enduring him for a little longer. You awkwardly walk up behind him, making sure to keep your distance as you lean against the wall, refusing to make eye contact with him. 

It’s suddenly uncomfortable in the lobby, both you and Jungkook clearly attempting to refrain from making any more jabs at each other. Despite the awkwardness in the air, you can’t help but flicker your gaze in his direction. He’s dressed in simple oversized clothes, concealing the delicious figure you witnessed the other day at the pool. His hair is tossed about as he keeps his gaze on the closed elevator doors, his tongue fiddling with the metal hoop piercing along his bottom lip. 

For a moment, you look him over, wondering what your interactions would have been like if you didn’t get off on the wrong foot. Would you have simply said hello and moved on? Would you have possibly become friends? Despite the variety of scenarios in your head, you settle on the fact that despite his obnoxious personality, he is in fact a very handsome individual. His features seem soft as you continue to observe him from afar, noticing the glimmer in his large eyes as the elevator tone indicates its arrival. 

You watch him walk into the space, hesitating before following after him, your eyes meet as you join him. The eye contact instantly reminds you why you didn’t like each other, his judgmental glare matching yours as you scoff at his presence. You watch him press the number seven, the tension only growing between the pair of you as the doors threaten to close. “Seven, right?” 

“Yeah.” You’re surprised that he remembers, your throat suddenly feels immensely dry as your voice cracks, wishing you could face-palm yourself as embarrassment attacks you once more. The corner of Jungkook’s mouth pulls into a smirk as he peers back at you. You feel your breathing pick up as you get lost in his surprisingly soft stare. You catch yourself staring at each other,  Jungkook equally surprised by the way you both seem to be hypnotized by each other. 

The elevator tone pulls Jungkook back from his thoughts as he clears his throat. His fingers hover over the call panel, your curiosity peaking as you watch to see which floor he will press for himself. “On second thought, I’ll take the stairs.” His voice pulls your attention as he awkwardly slips out of the elevator, recalling that not twenty minutes ago you were bantering with each other at the pharmacy. He wasn’t ready to handle an awkward elevator ride up with you confined in a small space. 

“What?” You blink off your surprise as Jungkook glances back at you, grinning coyly as he moves towards the stairs. 

“You already attacked one innocent person today. I don’t want to take my chances.” He teases, leaving you smacking your lips in disbelief.

“Seriously?” He would rather walk up the stairs instead of trusting that you can behave yourself in a short elevator ride. You pop out your hip and place your hand against your waist, shaking your head as a bright airy chuckle escapes his lips. 

He pushes open the door, getting one last word in before disappearing inside the stairwell. “Never trust a bitch on her period.” 

With that, the elevator door closes leaving you alone to ponder what just transpired. He did not just seriously ditch you for the stairs, and call you a bitch again? You stomp your foot in frustration just as a child would, letting your annoyance manifest as you feel the elevator start to move. You try to calm yourself down with a few soothing breaths, knowing your hormones are all out of whack and it was best to ignore Jungkook while focusing on getting home. 

-----

The soft vibrations of your next-door neighbor's music pulse through the connecting wall of your bedroom as you mindlessly scroll through the various platforms of social media on your phone. Your bedroom television is playing through episodes of your favorite sitcom to try and drown out the noise from next door, testing your patience as you indulge in bites of the candy bar you purchased earlier. Your eyes flicker up at the clock on your phone, groaning once realizing that it was already nine o’clock and your neighbor seems nowhere near calling it a night.

You kick your legs in front of you out of frustration, tossing your phone to the side before slamming your hands down on the plush duvet as you let a drawn-out groan escape your lips. You feel your muscles become increasingly tense as the slow thumping morphs into a strong pattern of electronic beats. You roll your eyes, bringing your candy back to your lips as you sink your teeth down into the sweet fix, the taste soothing you as you teeter on the edge of your sanity. 

Your eyes shift toward the television screen, hoping that by focusing on the sitcom, your mind might grow used to the background noise and drown out the insufferable sounds. You let the chocolate delight melt against your tongue as you savor your indulgent snack, tuning out your neighbor's music as much as possible, knowing you will need to try to sleep soon after your exhaustion from the day. 

A comforting warmth radiates against your stomach as you adjust the heating pad that is nestled against your lap, thankful that the pain relievers are beginning to kick in. You hear a soft hum from beside you, hearing your cell phone vibrate against your comforter as you slowly lift the device to your face. Your eyes instantly settle on the name of your best friend, your lips gently pulling into a smile as you tap your screen to accept her call. 

“Hey, Roxanne.” You mumble into the phone, feeling exhaustion weighing on your limbs as you sit back against your pillows. 

“Y/n? What are you doing?” You hear your best friend's energetic voice over the phone as she questions the slow melodic thumping unfortunately being heard through the phone. 

You let out a sarcastic laugh before reaching for another bite of your chocolate bar. “I’m at home, why?” 

“Girl, it’s a Friday night. You should be out partying with us.” Roxanne has a judgmental tone to her voice as you roll your eyes, knowing the last thing you want to do is to be out at clubs in a mini dress while your stomach is cramping uncontrollably. 

“I’m perfectly happy sitting my ass in bed for tonight.” You tease, attempting to give Roxanne a bit of sass to lighten your mood. 

You hear a lighthearted chuckle on the opposite end of the telephone, causing the tension in your body to relax as you melt back into your mattress. “So how’s the new apartment?” She hums through the phone as you shift your position in bed. 

,“It’s great.” You bite your lip as you process your words wondering if they are your reality or a lie that you’ve been trying to tell yourself. You glance around your room, settling in the fact that you do love your apartment. It’s modern and new with an amazing view of the courtyard from your balcony. The complex itself has amenities you could only wish to afford on your own and the lifestyle you’ve created for yourself is exactly what you hoped for. So why were you questioning the authenticity of your answer?

The reverberations through your wall reminds you of not only your next door neighbor, but Jungkook, who seems to lurk about the complex and run into you whenever it is most inconvenient for you. The thought of him causes you to grumble, taking your noisy neighbor over his smug ass comments any day. 

“That’s good. So when are you inviting me over?” Roxanne teases, causing you to roll your eyes playfully. 

“Want to come over tomorrow?” You quickly add, knowing any company would be the exact distraction you need. 

You grin at her confirmation, suddenly feeling excited for tomorrow as her voice echoes over the telephone. “Let’s invite Lisa as well. We can make it a girls night!” You ponder the thought for a moment, imagining all three of you drinking wine and watching movies together as you gossip about the latest drama in your lives. 

“Sounds perfect.” You beam, feeling eager to fall asleep so that the evening could arrive sooner. 

Just as you’re finishing your conversation, you hear a series of low groans echoing through your bedroom walls. You pause in your conversation, listening in carefully as the deep sound only becomes louder and seemingly more strained. Your cheeks instantly flush crimson at the realization of the noise, hearing the breathy moans coming from your next-door neighbor. 

At least now you know that your neighbor is a male, or at least that’s what you’re assuming. Heck, for all you know, maybe your neighbor has a guy over and they are banging it out on the opposite side of your bedroom wall. You can only imagine how loud they actually are being since your walls aren’t that thin.

“What the hell are you listening to?” You hear Roxanne comment before bringing your attention back to your phone. “Y/n? Are you with someone right now?” 

Her serious tone instantly causes you to become flustered, embarrassment taking over your limbs as you swallow back the growing knot in your throat. “Oh my God, no!” You quickly defend, sending your fist slamming into your bedroom wall in hopes the sudden jolt would cause your neighbor to stop whatever unholy actions from occurring in their bedroom. “It’s coming from my neighbors, I swear.” You add in a panicked state. “I swear they are loud as fuck.” 

Roxanne only laughs at your discomfort, her usual brazen demeanor living for the drama. “Oh…kinky.” You practically face palm at her comment as the grunts continue, causing your embarrassment to morph into annoyance. 

You suddenly hear the music increase in volume which only sends you into a rage. Of course no other neighbor would complain about them given they had a corner lot. The only person stuck listening to their insufferable nonsense was you, and you were about done. “Listen, I’ll text you. I gotta take care of something.” 

Before Roxanne can respond, your finger taps the end call button, tossing your phone to the side as you peel your covers from over your limbs to crawl out of bed. You are in a loose band t-shirt and a pair of comfy leggings, however, you don’t seem to think twice about your appearance as you storm out of your bedroom towards your front door. You’ve about had it with the insistent music and you were ready to speak your mind. All you want is one night of peace and quiet, something your neighbor seems to not understand. 

Once you reach the door leading out into the hallway, you yank it open, steam practically seeping from your nostrils as your fist meets the door of your neighbor’s lot. You bang you fist loudly a few times, knowing the only way your neighbor would hear it is if you were obnoxious about it. You pause for a moment, hearing the music get turned down a bit as you send another series of knocks against the material of the door. 

“Hello?!” You question sarcastically, fully knowing someone was home. You don’t care if you ruined their evening of sex or whatever they were up too. You were fed up with the noise and you fully plan on giving them a piece of your mind. “Hello?!” You speak again, your voice becoming increasingly louder. 

You hear the lock mechanism engage as your eyes study the seam of the door frame. You’re eager to discover the face behind all of the commotion, ready to give whomever your neighbor is an earful after so many disturbances. 

As the door squeaks open, you feel your jaw drop open at the sight that greets you on the opposite side. Your eyes instantly devour the image of a wonderful toned abdomen with a chiseled waist, completely bare of clothing as sweat glistens off the tanned skin. You feel your throat tighten at the arousing sight, a pair of basketball shorts hanging loosely off his hips with a pair of Calvin Klein boxers peeking from the waistband. 

Your pupils rake up the man’s body until you come across the familiar glimmer of the hoop gently hanging on his bottom lip, the usual fluffy mess of hair pulled back in a man bun as you pause upon Jungkook’s large doe eyes. “Fuck.” You can’t hold back the reaction, watching as it helplessly jumps from your lips before gently tucking your bottom lip within your teeth.

 You notice the irritation on his face as he leans his tattooed arm against the top of the doorframe, leaning forward to hover his face closer to yours. “I didn’t have you pinned for a stalker. How the hell did you find my apartment?” He groans, eyeing you up and down as you instinctually cross your arms over your chest to close yourself off from him. 

Your mind whirls from the discovery, internally screaming at the fact that of all the people in this apartment complex, Jungkook was your neighbor. You smile sarcastically as you release one of your arms from around your chest, waving your hand in a dramatic gesture as you pop out your hip. “I’m your neighbor…” You admit, watching his facial features morph from amusement to dread. 

Jungkook lets his hand drop from the top of the doorframe, stepping back to process your words as he groans in frustration. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

[insert-random-account-name]

Crappy Character Analysis, part 6

I've been putting off this one, simply because I love Contrarian, everyone loves Contrarian, and I was worried I wouldn't do him justice. BTW, if you haven't read any others, I'd recommend at least reading Cold and Stubborn before this one.

part 1 (Broken) part 2 (Skeptic) part 3 (Cold)

part 4 (Paranoid) part 5 (Stubborn) part 6 (You are here)

part 7 (Smitten) part 8 (Opportunist) part 9 (Cheated)

part 10 (Hunted) part 11 (Hero)

VOICE OF THE CONTRARIAN

Contrarian is my favorite voice, so let’s just get that out of the way. I’m doing my best to give him a fair analysis, but if there are any flaws, that’s probably why. I’d say a good 40% of Contrarian content was added after the Pristine Cut, probably because the fandom loved him so much. He basically lives up to his name. Any time someone says something, he immediately tries to counter it. Slay the Princess? No thanks. The world beyond yours is beautiful? Eh, it ain’t all that. Take the knife? Only to throw it out the window! In fact, throwing the knife out the window is his MO, seeing as he does it in three separate chapters (Stranger, Razor (No Way Out), and Fury (through Adversary)) and the only reason he doesn’t do it in the other two chapters he shows up in is because there are no windows for the blade to go out of. He also dabbles in bending reality, working together with Stubborn to keep you moving without your muscles. He is also, objectively, kind of a jerk. He calls Hero a baby for being upset at whatever abomination you see in the Stranger, refuses to give the Narrator vital information, antagonizes Stubborn by calling him weak, and then proceeds to manipulate him into throwing away your weapon, and then delivers the line that goes to the affect of “Oh, are we lying? I’m happy to be here, and I like all of you.” Of course, he does turn a new leaf at the end of the Stranger, and if you get the Stranger’s cabin at the end, he seems to have matured since the last time you’ve seen him.Contrarian exists to amuse himself. You get him by not taking the consequences of your actions seriously (not going to the cabin, fighting the Adversary unarmed, not taking the blade/stabbing yourself in the Razor, cutting your throat in the Tower). This attitude makes him careless. He wants to sow chaos, start conflicts, and just have fun. His commitment to the bit helps you survive and fight in the Apotheosis and the Fury. Who cares if you die? You were going to anyway. Contrarian doesn’t fully realize the effects his recklessness has on others until it is far too late. In the Razor, if he throws the knife out the window, he thinks of it as a funny bit. But after he realizes that there will be no getting it back, he admits he might have acted too hastily. Something similar happens in the Stranger. There may be a more deep-seated root to his nature, as well. One that most people miss. Contrarian is a contrarian out of frustration. You tried running away from the problem, and now it got worse. Now you have to face it, and he isn’t happy. If he has to confront his own mistakes, well, he isn’t going to make it easy. If he has to be miserable, so does everyone else. He reminds me of Cold, in a way. One turns to indifference, while the other turns to indignation. This point is accentuated by a line in the Stranger ending, where he confesses that he thinks of himself as the worst part of you. In the Stranger, it takes the entire world collapsing in on itself for Contrarian to fully realize the harm he’s caused. Once he sees the bigger picture, he shows remorse, and suggests that you try and help the Princess. In the Stranger ending, when you return to her cabin, he’s had more time to cool down and reflect, and he shows a surprising maturity, holding back on yeeting the blade. This may be the only voice who got significantly more content in the Pristine Cut, yet whose depth lies in pre-Pristine Cut content.

[donteattheappleshook]

Not Broken at All Chapter 18/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated E

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Oh hey! What's up everyone?

I know it's been a while (shocking) but it's Solstice today and the muse decided something needed to be posted for this fic in honour of the fairy orgies XD

This was written super fast and not really re-read because it's already 10pm so I'll probably edit it later but I'm giving it to you all now.

Happy Solstice and I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

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Part 18

“Doesn’t look so bad,” Will shrugs when they stand outside the mouth of the cave the next morning. Emma and Wendy roll their eyes at the same time. It does look that bad. For a place called Echo Cave she’d had expected something bigger, something louder. But all she can see as they approach is a narrow tunnel in the rockface, no sound escaping from within. So she jumps when Tiger Lily’s voice suddenly comes from within. 

“You’re late.”

“Apologies,” Killian nods. “The forest has changed a fair bit since I last made the journey - it took us longer than anticipated to find the path.” 

“You have a habit of doing that,” Tiger Lily scoffs. “Misinterpreting time.” 

The reply is so quick, and Killian’s sigh so exhausted, that Emma has to hold back a snort of laughter.

“We came as fast as we could.”

“Come then, let’s not delay any further. The others have gathered.” 

“Who are the others?” Emma asks Hook quietly as they follow.

“The eldest of those who were here before Pan. They were barely more than children when it happened, but They have some memory of how things were.” 

“I thought you said they’d forgotten all their magic.” 

“We did not forget,” Tiger Lily snaps from the entrance. Emma watches as the faint, gold dusting of magic that covers their skin, the only light in the otherwise pitch black cave shimmers and slides over their arm, cascading like water down through their fingers  that they trail along the  rocky wall, leaving flecks of sparking, gold dust in their wake.  “It was taken from us. Through slaughter and cruelty. When the children who were left behind grew enough to become a threat to Pan, we were forced to lock away what little we remembered or meet the same fate.” 

Every time she thinks it can’t get worse, it does. The massacre of Tiger Lily’s people and the destruction of their history, the torture and killing of the Lorelei, the horror of the murder of those boys on the beach. There’s no end it seems to Pan’s cruelty, to his thirst for blood. 

Emma reaches for the shimmering of light that remains along the wall, glittering and moving with the flow of the rough surface. It glows brighter beneath her touch and something swells from deep within her, rushing to meet it, warm and electrifying, before she yanks her hand back and stumbles the rest of the way though. 

The walk is long, this cave buried deep in darkness and stardust. She’s not sure she even hears it at first, a small whisper of a voice from far away, the words too quiet to make out, but repeating. As they continue along and a dim light starts to appear in the distance, they grow louder. It’s a child’s voice, rolling against the walls of the cave - wish I’d never come here… just want to go home. Just want to go home. Just want to go home….

She feels Killian’s hand on the small of her back and realizes she’s stopped walking. “It’s alright, love. It’s just an echo. The last secret that was shared here.” She still hesitates, not wanting to get any closer to the haunting voice. “Whoever they were, they’re not here anymore.”

“His name was Ruffio,” Will says, nearly as quiet as the first echo. “He’s been gone a long time.” He only meets her eye for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing as though he hadn’t said anything. She can’t blame him. She knows by now that nobody in Neverland ever goes home. “Come on - we’ve got secrets to spill.” 

The light ahead grows until finally they emerge into a massive cavern. The stone that surrounds them black onyx - gleaming faintly against the dust that covers the ceiling like a galaxy above them. The space feels boundless, endless like the darkness could go on forever and she’s reminded of their flight here, of the endless sea of stars they’d sailed in on. 

There are four people standing in the center of the chamber on a platform of the same black onyx, all of them with the same sharp, androgynous features as Tiger Lily, all with the same loose-fitting clothes and cropped hair, and all with that same shimmer of living magic glowing faintly in the dark. Tink stands with them, waiting. None of them are any older in appearance than herself, but she knows better by now than to judge age or power by appearance on this island. 

The Constant. 

They follow the rest of the way to the narrow, stone bridge that connects the ledge to the platform on which the others stand. When Emma takes a step to follow Tiger Lily onto the bridge, Killian puts an arm out, halting her in her tracks. Emma watches, heart in her throat as the bridge crumbles after Tiger Lily, stone falling away behind every step until they reach the end and there’s no bridge at all. 

“The Constant keep no secrets,” Killian explains. “The cave can’t compel anything from them. We, on the other hand…” 

“Of course they don’t.” No wonder they wanted to use this place. Easy to make others share their deepest darkest secrets when you’ve got none of your own to divulge and nothing to risk. “What about Tink?” she asks, nodding at the fifth person standing with the Constant.

“The fey have wings.” 

Right. “So how does this work?” 

“From what I remember, you step out onto the edge and call out your secret. If it’s truly your darkest, the cave will echo it back to you.”

“And then we get across?” 

“Aye, easy as that,” Killian attempts a smile, but it comes out as a wince. “I’ll go,” he offers though he looks like he’s dreading this as much as she is. She’s just thankful she doesn’t have to start.  He lets out another sigh, bracing himself and then, “I kissed Emma.” 

Fuck. Her heart drops into her stomach. He’s been a pirate for two hundred years - How the hell can his darkest secret have anything to do with her?

Will smirks. “Kissed? Is that what they’re calling it these days? And I think you’re forgetting that we were all there when she jumped you at Solstice.” His smirk deepens. “And when Emma came back all wet.” If Emma could reach him she’d smack him. 

“I literally walked in on you,” Wendy deadpans.

“I’m not talking about Solstice,” he sighs, not rising to the bait. “It was…” She knows when it was. We’ll keep each other safe, they’d promised. She doesn’t need everyone else to know though. Not when she’s not even sure what any of it meant or what it means now. “It doesn’t matter,” Killian shakes his head. “It was what the kiss - what all of it - exposed.” Fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. “My secret is… I never believed that I’d be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah.” He breathes her name like a prayer and a wound. “To believe that I could find someone else.” His eyes lift to hers and it’s only by sheer force of will that she’s able to stop herself from taking a step back, from running away from the way he’s looking at her. Because she needs to hear this. They all do. If she wants to get across this fucking bridge, if she wants to talk to the fucking Constant, if she wants to get her son back - she needs to hear this secret as much as he needs to tell it. “That is, until I met you.”

She doesn’t know what to say or if she’s supposed to say something, can’t bring herself to look at Wendy or Will or look away from his eyes still burning into hers. And then before she even can do anything, Killian’s voice echoes through the cave, ‘until I met you’ called back to them like a ghost. A rumble follows as a section of the fallen bridge rises back from the depths below them, rock by rock, rebuilding itself. 

Killian lets out a humourless laugh. “So, who’d like to go next?” 

“I will.” Wendy stands with her shoulders straight, like she’s ready for a fight rather than a confession. Emma gets a sinking feeling in her stomach from the way she’s making herself look at Killian, with shame and guilt. He doesn’t look surprised - he looks like he expected this to hurt. “Sometimes… Sometimes I wish you’d never found me. Sometimes I wish you had just kept on walking that day when Pan left me to die.” She winces. “I’ll always be grateful to you for saving my life, for taking me in but…” 

Killian nods when she hesitates, her eyes damp with unshed tears. “Go on, it’s alright.”  

“You trapped me here, Hook. You’re the reason I have to live in this neverending nightmare. Forever. You knew what that water would do to me and I know you couldn’t ask but… you didn’t give me a choice. And I think that if I had one now - if I could have had a say in the next hundred years of my life… I’d rather you’d just let me die because this -” she gestures at herself, at everything around them.  “It’s worse than death. And because of you I’ll never leave.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “I can’t even die if I want to. Not unless Pan decides that’s what he wants. You forced this life on me, Killian, you cursed me to live because it made you feel better and I don’t… I’ll never forgive you for that.” 

Tears stain her cheeks now, jaw tight as she refuses to let any more follow and Emma can see the heartbreak on Killian’s face. “Wendy…” but she shakes her head and he stops the step he’d taken towards her. 

“I’m sorry,” she chokes and he shakes his head this time. Her secret echoes around them like a taunt this time - ‘never forgive you for that’ - and another piece of the bridge rebuilds itself. The silence hangs between them, louder than any echo, until Will steps up. 

“I suppose I should go next - while we’re on the topic of never being forgiven.” He takes his own steadying breath. “I’m dying.” 

Wendy’s face falls. “... what?” It comes out cracked and small and frightened. “What do you mean you’re dying?”

The look Will gives her - there’s so much guilt there, so much pain and self-loathing and love. Emma may not know much about it but she can recognize it now in his eyes, in the way he looks at Wendy. “I lied when I told you I didn’t know what Pan did to my heart. I’ve seen him do it before.”

“One hundred years…”

Will nods, a self-deprecating smile falling flat. “I really hoped that I could keep it from you for a little longer. Neverland will slow it down but… he squeezed a hundred years from my heart. I’ll start aging faster - a lot faster - and pretty soon…”

“How long?” He hesitates a beat longer than Emma can handle - and Wendy… gods, she can’t imagine. “How long?”

“I’ll be dead in a few months - three, maybe four depending on how long I would have lived if I’d aged like a normal person but - I’m so sorry, Wen. I didn’t want to tell you, I -”

Whatever he was going to say and whatever she might have answered  is stolen by the cave calling back to them in Will’s voice, ‘dead in a few months’. Nobody looks as the bridge puts itself back together, all of them too focused on the cruel revelation. He did it for her, Emma realises, for all of them but… he’s dying because of her. Wendy’s losing him because of her. Even Killian looks solemn at the news. 

“Your turn, Emma,” Will chokes out with the palest attempt at levity she’s seen him manage since she met him. “Wouldn’t want to be left out of all the fun, would you?”

She looks out towards the chasm between them and the Constant. She doesn’t even know what she expected to confess, or what she’d hear confessed by those with her, and now, with the truth of Will’s fate hanging in the air, nothing feels like it matters in the grand scheme of things. 

What even is her deepest secret? That she gave up Henry? That she had her heart broken by a selfish man who used her and then left her? That she spent a year of her life in jail? That she’s spent her whole life searching for the parents who left her behind? That between Neal and her parents she doesn’t think she could ever trust someone again - could ever let herself love someone again, or let them love her… That she might be anyway? None of it feels like enough; none of it even feels like a secret anymore, not since Henry found her and brought her to Storybrooke. 

And then, like bile and sick, she feels something being forced up from her throat, words clawing their way to the surface and past her lips of their own volition. She can’t stop them. She doesn’t even know what she’s going to say until they come spilling out. 

“I wish Henry had never come to find me. I wish he’d never brought me to Storybrooke.” The confession leaves her gasping, tears in her eyes as though she had been sick. She wants to be, hearing such a horrible truth being spoken out loud. Killian looks at her with sympathy, but she turns away from it. And once it’s started, she can’t stop it. “I never wanted to be a mother. I gave him away because I knew he’d be better off without me - but also because I knew I’d be better off without him. He’s a beautiful, amazing kid and I love him more than anything… but I never asked for this. Every day since he showed up at my door I’ve been terrified - every minute of every day. Those few minutes in the Fae forest when I couldn’t remember him were the most peaceful I’ve felt in months and when it all came flooding back it just reminded me of how much simpler my life was before I had to be anything to anyone. I don’t want to lose him. But I never wanted to find him either.” 

The bridge rebuilds itself, completing the path across as the worst thing she’s ever said, ‘never wanted to find him’,  is echoed back to her cruelly. She feels drained, numb, and she wonders if the others are feeling this horrible emptiness too. She looks out at where the Constant wait. If this is their idea of having them prove their allegiance, they better be ready to give theirs in return.

“Come on, Swan,” Killian tells her, leading her across the bridge. None of them say a word, Will and Killian both casting glances at Wendy who won’t look up from her feet, and the silence follows them the whole way across. 

“That sounded rough,” Tink comments when they reach the platform, the five Constant talking in harsh whispers in a language she doesn’t recognize. 

“How lucky of you to have missed it then,” Will snips. He must be feeling worse than Emma realized.

There’s an argument starting, still in that foreign language, but she can tell just the same. Every few words there’s a glimpse of something that feels familiar, a syllable from another language she’s heard, a word that could be French or Spanish, a glimpse of English, not one language but many - like every language spoken at once.

“This meeting has been a topic of some controversy,” Killian whispers. “But I think Tiger Lily might be on our side.” 

“You can understand them?” 

He shrugs. “One picks up a few things after two centuries.”

There’s a small scoff from Tink. “Yeah, all that pillow talk was really educational.”

Killian ignores the quip. “They’re the keepers of the last of the forgotten history of the old Neverland.” He nods at each as he names them. “That’s Philodendron, Halcyon, Alder, Jacaranda, and you know Tiger Lily.

“Tiger Lily is one of them?” 

“Tiger Lily was the oldest Constant to survive the massacre. They were just shy of a century when Pan took over.”

“A century?”

“The Constant are eternal, love. A century is nothing.” 

The Constant have gone silent, a tense, begrudging conclusion to their argument that Emma can feel even if she doesn’t know the words. 

Finally, Tiger Lily speaks. “Tinkerbell tells us you wish to unearth the secrets of the island - secrets that were buried to keep us safe.”

“Secrets that could return the island to the way it once was if you ally with us against Pan,” Killian counters. 

“If our knowledge could have defeated the boy,” Alder interjects, “we would have done so a millenia ago when he first laid waste to this island.” 

“Maybe your knowledge alone couldn’t defeat him, but we have the Lorelei on our side, and the fae,” Wendy adds, gesturing at Tink. 

Alder scoffs. “You have one fairy. One who’s been without magic for almost five hundred years, who’s magic was corrupted by the very demon you seek to destroy. Our magic was born from the innocence and dreams of children, the purest light magic there is, and even it was snuffed out by Pan’s darkness. What chance have you with a weakened fairy and the duplicitous sirens?” 

“We have more than that,” Tink interjects, bitterness and insult obvious in the bite of her words. “We have her.” It takes Emma a moment to realize that she’s the one being gestured at and now every set of eyes is on her. 

“Me?” 

“Her?” Wendy frowns. 

“You can’t honestly tell me you haven’t noticed. She practically reeks of magic. It’s spilling out of every pore. I clocked it as soon as she got here.” 

“I don’t have magic.” The Constant continue to stare, questioning, doubting. “I don’t. Don’t you think if I did I’d have used it by now to get Henry back?” 

“Not if you weren’t aware of it, love,” Killian offers gently.

“Okay but I’m not some fairytale character; I’m from Boston - the land without magic. I don’t have any power.” 

“Oh for…” Tink swears under her breath, crossing the room and grabbing Emma’s wrist. Faster than she can stop her, the fairy pulls a small blade from the complicated twist of pins and leather that keeps her mass of blonde hair piled on top of her head, ivory handle embellished with gold runes, and slashes it across Emma’s palm. 

“Ow! What the hell!” Emma shouts, yanking her hand away. That fucking hurt. Tinkerbelle doesn’t resist, the rest of their small crew moving to intervene, but all at once, they freeze. Emma follows their gazes to her hand, clutched tightly in a fist to her chest and her breath catches. There’s light seeping through the cracks in her fingers, golden and swirling like smoke, shimmering like the magic that flows over the Constant’s skin. 

Jacaranda reaches a hand out to her, palm upturned in a request and Emma looks to the others before carefully placing her hand in theirs. Carefully, the Constant unfurls her fingers, examining the light that shines from her wound with a careful touch. Their eyes go wide. “This is our magic,” they say, voice soft and tinged with awe. “Ours and… something else.” 

“May I?” Philodendron asks, extending their own hand. Emma nods, even as the urge to refuse shouts at her. You don’t have magic. You’re not magic. You’re a goddamn bail bonds person from Boston, not a fairytale character. Philodendron looks at her after taking a moment to examine the wound themselves. “This is light magic,” they confirm. “It’s raw and untapped but powerful, more powerful than anything I’ve seen since before Pan’s time.” They twist her hand a bit, trying to look closer, to read something in whatever they see that Emma can’t. “But this isn’t born of belief and dreams as ours is, it's the product of something else… of -”

“True love,” Emma breathes out, so low she doesn’t mean for anyone to hear it. Henry had said that hadn’t he? That she was supposed to be the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, that she was supposed to be the Saviour. 

“Yes, that’s it,” Philodendron nods slowly. “You were right, Tinkerbelle. This is more powerful magic than we anticipated.” 

“Can you use it?” Emma asks, still not believing it really, but if it means they’ll help her get her kid back, she doesn’t care what she has to do. 

“That depends,” Halcyon takes a step forward. “Can you wield it?” 

“No, I…” she doesn’t even know how this is possible. 

“I can.” They all turn to Tink, Emma cradling her hand to her chest once more. “If you tell me what we need to do, I can guide her. But you’ll have to let me.” The last bit is directed at her and she hesitates… Tink hasn’t exactly made a secret of the fact that she’s not a fan of hers, and she just slashed her damn hand open… Trust already isn’t her strong suit to begin with. “I’m not going to steal it,” Tink snaps and looks genuinely offended and Emma remembers that she knows what it is to have her power taken from her. 

“I know you won’t. I just… what if it doesn’t work?” How powerful could this magic be? She’s not anything special, she never has been. Why would this be any different? 

“Then I guess you don’t get your kid back.” 

“Tink,” Killian warns but Emma can’t help but appreciate the fairy’s bluntness. 

“What do we need to do?” 

“This cavern, ” TigerLily starts, taking a knee and placing a hand reverently on the stone, “used to be a sacred place. It held all of the secrets of Neverland, and the dreams of children who visited - the purest and most honest of truths of all - fueled the island as it did our magic. This was its source - the source of everything. 

“But then Pan tainted this cave with his twisted version of secrets as power, as something to be wielded, and forced us to sacrifice the last of the light magic that still breathed life into Neverland, the cavern shielded itself from his darkness. Now it echoes truths rather than accept ones taken maliciously. This place… has seen nothing but darkness for centuries. It has not been sleeping, but fighting, the last of the resistance against Pan right under his nose, keeping the darkness at bay and it has hardened. We need to remind it what the light looks like.” 

“It can have mine. Whatever this is. If it can help and if this place can defeat Pan it can have all of it.” 

Tiger Lily smiles kindly. “Not all of it. It would never snuff out your light. But even the slightest kindling can spark an inferno and with it you can breathe magic back into the island.” 

“How?” 

They nod to Tink who retrieves her knife again, slashing her own palm this time, the light that glows from her wound a shimmering green, and holds her hand out to Emma. Heat burns across her skin when she takes Tink’s offered hand, the light between them growing, shining and mixing. Tink places her other hand on Tiger Lily’s shoulder and the Constant flattens both their palms against the stone beneath them. After a moment, they look to Emma and she knows she’s doing it wrong. She’s not doing anything but she’s doing it wrong. 

“I’m sorry.”

Tiger Lily shakes their head, their smile not malicious, but understanding. 

“I have met so many lost boys and girls on this island. So many broken, hardened children lead here by fear and hurt and neglect, so afraid to trust, to love, to admit or even accept what they want, what they desire more than anything - what has been robbed of them. This place is born of dreams and truths and you, dear Swan, strong Swan, brave Swan… frightened Swan, have locked yourself away from both.” 

“But I already told this place my darkest secret.” But she doesn’t need Tiger Lily to tell her - this place echoes darkness, resists darkness. That secret was Pan’s magic - not Neverland’s. 

“What do you dream of, Emma? What truths do you keep from yourself?” Emma opens her mouth to speak but Tiger Lily holds up a hand. “Do not tell them to me. Tell them to the lost girl. Unburden her.” 

What does she dream of? Things she can’t have, things she’s never had, things that were taken away. She wants to find her parents, that’s no secret though, she’s always known that. She wants them to have never given her up in the first place. She wanted a family, the one she could have had with Henry and Neal if he hadn’t turned out to be the vile person he was, the life that she’d had just a glimpse of after one missed period, before everything went to shit. She doesn’t want that anymore. She hasn’t let herself want any of it since then, not love, not family, not hope… 

Her skin begins to warm, something flaring beneath the surface. Liar. She doesn’t know if it’s the cave or herself or her magic but it echoes through her like her secret against the walls. Tiger Lily accused her of locking herself away from her dreams, from her truths, but can they even still be truths if they’ve been silenced and stomped down for decades? 

She thinks of the lost girl she was, abandoned, a runaway on the street, burning the last of her childhood, of stupid fairytales and stories to keep warm in a world that was only ever cold. What had that girl wanted? Powerless, lost, alone. That girl who felt like nothing, who meant nothing to anyone, who had never mattered and never would, who had only herself to take care of her. She wanted to matter - to someone, to herself, she wanted people to matter to her, to be able to let them. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. Even as she pushed away every foster parent, every friend, every lover as she grew older, she didn’t want - she doesn’t want - to have to do it alone. 

That’s what she dreams of, what she refuses to admit that she dreams of. That for all of her rightly earned distrust of everyone, for all of her caution and her fear of abandonment, of love and hope, she wants to be able to let them in, let them matter. She wants to believe that she could have that happily ever after that she’s scorned all her life. 

Images flash in her mind as the heat builds, her body tingling, a faint glimmer of light shining against her shut eyelids. Henry smiling in her doorway in Boston, Mary Margaret offering her a home, Killian bringing her to Neverland, Wendy helping her hide from Pan, Will sacrificing himself for her, Killian nearly sacrificing Milah’s name - sacrificing his memories, all of them banding together to help her save her kid, even Tink now, helping her to wield magic she doesn’t understand. 

She’s not alone. She’s not in this alone. For the first time in her life she has people she can count on. People she can trust. She thinks of the smile Henry gave her when she let him know she wasn’t going to leave Storybrooke even though she could, of Mary Margaret’s pep talks, of shared hot chocolate and drinks and advice in their apartment, of Killian in that dank brig after one of the worst hours of her life - perhaps I would - of his words whispered in the quiet darkness of his cabin - I’m here. You don’t have to ask - of his confession echoing around them - until I met you. She does matter to people. She’s not nothing. She was never nothing. She matters and she has people who matter to her. 

Her whole body alights, the blood in her veins not blood anymore but something else, something powerful and she can feel it surging beneath her skin, pulled by a force as it rushes through her and towards that opening in her palm. The white of her light overtakes the green and Tink’s body jerks like the surge of magic is as jarring to her as it is for Emma. Tiger Lily gasps, the ground beneath them starting to glow, tendrils of golden light snaking towards them across the stone like rivulets. Their body starts to shimmer, the dusting of gold shining brighter until their skin is swallowed by it completely. 

Emma can feel sweat beading on her skin, the salt mixing with the tears she hadn’t realized she’d been crying. She doesn’t know how much longer she can keep this up, the power coursing through her overwhelming. Tink’s hand is shaking in hers, both their palms damp and slippery and white knuckled and she can’t imagine how much more effort the fairy is putting in as the one actually channeling all of this. 

“There’s so much,” Tiger Lily says in awe. “We’ve forgotten so much.” Their eyes are glowing with the same gold that covers their skin, their mouth pulling into a smile even as tears roll down their cheeks. 

“I can’t -” Tink starts, but doesn’t let Emma release her hand when she tries to stop.

There’s another moment, the light engulfing the Constant almost completely, so bright Emma has to look away, before finally, suddenly, it stops. The three of them slump against the ground with a gasp of exhaustion. Emma doesn’t even turn when she feels hands on her shoulders, helping her to sit up, she knows it’s him. Wendy is at Tink’s side helping to support her as well as the Constant circle around Tiger Lily, all of them holding one another in a moment that feels beautiful and private as joy and heartbreak play over their faces. 

“Can you. Stop him?” Tink pants out. 

“I… I think so. There’s just - there’s so much. I need time to sort through it all.” 

“We don’t. Have. Time.”

“All of the secrets of Neverland, millennia’s worth, have just been poured into my mind. It will take me more than a few minutes to understand it all and find what will help us.” 

“How much time?” Emma asks. Henry’s already been here too long - too long without knowing that she’s here, that she’s coming for him. 

“I don’t… give me a few nights at least. Come back in three days. That should give me time to make sense of what is needed at least.” Their eyes are far away, like they’re not seeing the cavern around them but something far bigger and far more extraordinary.  

Emma nods. “Three days?” 

“Three days. And then we’ll rid this island of its false king forever.”

***********

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[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 6.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

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

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 3,7K

tag: #what was that

summary: Renly has more than one breakthrough, or a couple of them actually, as some things are getting addressed. And Viktor is a cat, all the way through :')

author’s note: Beta reader: @rennethen + I might or might not have written Chappell Roan into this chapter lol. Reading it back after some time, I think this is still my favourite fic I've written.

Cross-posted on AO3

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Later that week, Viktor found himself in the lab, working intently on a schematic when he overheard a familiar rustling from the couch. He glanced over, catching Renly with her nose buried in the same romance novel she’d been reading the day he found her napping. The image of her in that peaceful moment—the softness of her expression as she drifted into sleep—came back to him, reminding him how much has shifted between them.

He remembered the weight of their last fight—how it had left a rawness he couldn’t shake, a vulnerability he wasn’t accustomed to. Yet somehow, here in this shared quiet, the distance between them felt smaller, as though the edges of that wound had begun to blur. It seemed like the argument had faded into something distant, something they hadn’t properly addressed but no longer weighed as heavily.

Viktor pushed that thought aside as he caught sight of Renly, her lips quirking up slightly in amusement as she glanced up from her book.

"Still on that, I see," Viktor remarked, his voice laced with a teasing tone as he slid his glasses back up his nose. “I would have thought you’d be working on something more... productive.”

Renly looked up at him, an eyebrow arched. “You know, I was starting to think I was the only one who actually read,” she quipped before returning to her book. Her lips twitched again in amusement. “But I suppose when one is as brilliant as you, there’s no time for... distractions.”

“Distractions?” Viktor smirked, pushing himself away from the workbench and moving toward her. “Is that what you’re calling it? I always thought a good book was meant to enlighten one’s mind, not indulge in... fluff.”

Renly’s eyes sparkled as she closed the book, folding her hands over it. “Well, you might be right, but if all that’s in the air around here is Hextech and mechanical precision, I think I’m allowed to indulge once in a while,” she said with a playful glint in her eye. “Besides,” she added, with a sigh, “this is really the only place I get romance these days. No matter how hard I try to make sense of it elsewhere, it’s just—not happening.”

Viktor paused, her words catching him off guard. His gaze shifted briefly to the book, then back to her. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice a little more measured. He’d expected a joke or a defensive retort, but her quiet sincerity unsettled him.

It had been easy, until now, to bury his lingering discomfort about the fight and the... brace incident. Easy to ignore how it had made him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. But Renly’s tone broke through the tension lingering between them, reminding him how unresolved that moment still was. He tried not to think too hard about it.

"And what exactly do you find in these pages that’s missing from your... other pursuits?"

Renly’s eyes softened for a moment as she met his gaze, her tone suddenly less teasing. “I think... sometimes we need reminders that affection isn’t just calculated strategy or cold theory,” she said, her voice quiet. "That there’s still room for things that don’t need to be rationalized."

Viktor blinked, the unexpected weight of her words sinking in. For a moment, he was left speechless, a warmth creeping up his neck as he processed what she was implying. She was talking about him—about them, wasn’t she? The thought unsettled him, but it also felt oddly comforting. It reminded him that, despite their unspoken tensions, something continued to bind them together.

He cleared his throat, recovering quickly. “I see. So the book serves as your... emotional outlet, I take it?”

“Something like that,” Renly responded with a shrug, her lips curving into a half-smile. “It’s not like I have time for anything else, you know? Sometimes a girl just needs a little fantasy.”

Viktor’s mind wandered, the quiet flicker of doubt giving way to something far less manageable. Did she see me as part of that fantasy? The question hung in the air, and his gaze lingered on Renly as she looked away, unaware of the way his thoughts had begun to shift. He couldn’t deny that his mind had a tendency to wander into unwanted territories, especially when it came to her.

There were moments when his thoughts would spiral out of his control, moments when her presence, her proximity, became an undeniable temptation.

The seemingly innocuous moment when she adjusted his brace had short-circuited his usual calm. The sensation of her touch lingered with him long after the incident, invading his thoughts when he was alone in the lab, when the hum of machinery filled the silence. It wasn’t the first time someone had touched him, but it was the first time it had felt... different. More real. Her warmth, her softness, had shaken him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

Then, there was the tattoo.

Viktor had never been one to delve too deeply into the pasts of others—he had enough of his own darkness to contend with—but that tattoo had piqued his curiosity, even as it stirred something in him that he couldn’t place. He had been so focused on her words during their conversations that he hadn’t noticed the tattoo until it was too late. A swirling design on her side, delicate but bold, a hint of rebellion in the ink that caught the light just right. It wasn’t just the design, though—it was the way her skin had felt beneath his gaze, the way the tattoo seemed to carry its own weight of meaning. His thoughts had lingered there, imagining the path of the ink as it spiralled across her skin, wondering what it would be like to trace those lines with his fingers. It felt intrusive, like something that wasn’t his to touch, but still, the thought had crept in uninvited.

And then, there were moments like this—when her laugh, her teasing remarks, the way she carried herself with such effortless grace, would cause his mind to wander yet again. His fantasies weren’t those of romantic idealism—no, they were something far more raw. Fantasies of touch and connection, fleeting moments where he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to not just be around her, but to be with her, in a way that went beyond the intellectual. Fantasies that he hated having, fantasies that he pushed away every time they surfaced, but that kept coming back. Her touch. Her laughter. Her presence.

He quickly shook his head, as if trying to physically dislodge the thoughts, but they lingered, unbidden. The warmth in her smile, the way she tilted her head when she spoke to him, as if she saw him, truly saw him, and for once, didn’t look away. It haunted him in a way he couldn’t shake. And no matter how hard he tried to focus, no matter how many times he pushed those thoughts back into the recesses of his mind, they always seemed to resurface, much like the quiet ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

“Well,” he said finally, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I suppose we all need our... distractions.”

But even as the words left his mouth, a flicker of doubt gnawed at him. What exactly had she meant by that? Was she... hinting at something? The thought stayed with him as he watched her, uncertain but curious—wondering if, just maybe, there was more to these moments between them than he had allowed himself to believe.

Renly leaned back on the couch, book still resting idly on her lap, though her focus had shifted entirely. Her eyes wandered to Viktor, who had returned to his workbench. The teasing exchange they'd just had lingered in her mind, replaying in fragments. She tried to analyse it—to find the line where their banter ended, and something deeper began. Did he mean it when he said he’d thought about her emotional outlets? Or was it just another layer of the dry humour he wielded so expertly?

She frowned slightly. Viktor wasn’t someone who flirted lightly. Every word he spoke was intentional, precise—like the movements of his hands now, deftly sketching something onto the schematic in front of him. His posture was hunched but relaxed, one leg tucked under the stool while his cane leaned haphazardly against the table. She was struck, not for the first time, by how at ease he seemed in his element, surrounded by the hum of machinery and the glow of the Hextech crystals.

Her train of thought began to shift, drifting away from the conversation and into something... else. Her gaze lingered on him, not out of curiosity this time but with something more intense. There was a sharpness to Viktor, a deliberate precision to the way he moved, but beneath it, she noticed the softness he tried to hide. His hands, long and deft, moved with practiced confidence, whether gripping a tool or brushing his hair back from his face. She’d seen those hands up close when he’d adjusted a piece of equipment for her last week, and now, she kept thinking about them in a different context—how they might feel against her skin.

Her lips parted slightly at the thought, a warmth creeping into her cheeks, and she shifted on the couch, trying to redirect her focus. But her gaze kept returning to him, drawn to the way the light hit his face, the sharp lines of his jaw, and the determined set of his mouth.

When did I start noticing these things? she thought to herself, suddenly unnerved by how natural it felt to watch him like this. She hadn’t paid much attention before—at least, not consciously. Viktor was Viktor, the brilliant, razor-sharp mind who seemed untouchable in his focus. And yet, now, all she could see was the stray lock of hair falling across his forehead, the faint flush along his neck when the heat in the lab got to him. The way his eyes narrowed in concentration, glinting gold in the artificial light.

He was... dreamy. Why of course, she had that thought before. A thought she had quickly chased away, back when the distance between them felt like it could wrap around the earth twice over. The realization hit her like a jolt—not in a conventional way, perhaps. There was nothing polished or overly refined about him. But there was something striking, something magnetic, in the way he carried himself, the way his intellect poured into every motion, every decision he made. His presence filled the space effortlessly, as though the room itself bent to accommodate him.

Her gaze trailed lower, taking in the lean lines of his frame. He wasn’t built like someone who spent their days in a lab; there was a wiry strength to him, a quiet power that belied his otherwise bookish demeanour. She recalled the moments when they’d stood closer than they probably should have—how his voice seemed to drop an octave in those moments, how his presence seemed to expand, leaving her breathless.

She quickly tore her gaze away, a flicker of embarrassment rising in her chest. What am I doing? This wasn’t like her, to get so caught up in her thoughts about someone—especially someone like Viktor, who seemed so far removed from such frivolous things. And yet, the heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her.

Was he flirting with me earlier? The question looped in her mind. Viktor wasn’t the type to flirt—not overtly, at least—but there had been something in his tone, the way his eyes lingered on her just a second too long. Was it all in her head? Or was there something unspoken lingering between them?

“Do I have ink on me, or something?” Viktor’s voice violently ripped her out of her thoughts. He wasn’t even looking in her direction.

“What? No, I—” She blinked, the realization of her own words being used against her washing over her. “Oh, that’s very nice. Is this your way of saying I’ll die by my own sword one day?”

“Well, not necessarily,” Viktor replied, a playful glint in his eye. “I am merely protecting myself from your stare burning a hole in the back of my head. Is there something you want to talk about?” The joke lingered under his smile.

“Actually, Viktor, about earlier—” She paused, trying to measure if her attempt was worth it. Things had been better between them lately, but she didn’t like leaving misunderstandings to fester. She could just apologize for being so harsh with him about Singed.

“Any particular ‘earlier’? Or are we addressing everything that ever happened prior to this stimulating conversation?” Viktor turned on his chair to face her, a knowing smirk on his lips.

Oh, screw you, were the first words that tried to push themselves out of her mouth, but she decided to act like an adult. “I’m sorry about what I said, about Singed. I was quick to judge—I shouldn’t have been. I also have done things that, if I’d had a choice, I would have done differently.”

Viktor steadied himself, resting his hands, fingers entwined, on his knees. “It is fine. I am sorry about my reaction as well. It wasn’t about you; my past is something I revisit with reserve. I appreciate your apology and accept it.” His words came out more formal than he’d intended.

“Alright. I’d better get to doing something productive,” she said with a smile, pushing herself up from the couch.

***

Renly adjusted the focus on the microscope, her movements careful, almost reverent. Beneath the lens, the sample swirled with a faint, eerie shimmer, as if the cure itself carried some cruel sense of beauty. She leaned closer, her breath catching as she watched the tiny particles disintegrate. First, the infected cells broke apart, their jagged edges dissolving into nothingness. But then, the healthy cells followed—a slow, agonizing evaporation that made her stomach twist.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it happen. Every trial ended the same way: destruction indiscriminately sweeping through, leaving behind nothing but an empty slide and a hollow ache in her chest. But today, it felt different. More personal. She couldn’t shake the thought of Viktor—his cells, his essence—being obliterated under her gaze.

Her hand hovered over the microscope, hesitating to adjust the focus again. The magnified particles seemed so small, so insignificant, and yet they carried the weight of everything she’d been working toward. How many of these trials would she need to run? How many times would she have to watch Viktor evaporate, piece by microscopic piece, before she found something that worked?

A part of her wanted to pull away, to stop looking altogether. But another part of her—the stubborn, determined part—kept her rooted in place. She wouldn’t give up. She couldn’t. Not when he had already placed so much faith in her. Not when the stakes were so high.

The silence was interrupted by the sharp, rattling sound of Viktor’s cough echoing from the adjoining room. Renly froze mid-note, her pen hovering above the page, before she bolted to her feet. Her heart pounded as she rushed to the doorway, finding Viktor leaning heavily on his cane, one hand braced on the edge of his desk, the other clutching his chest.

“Viktor!” she called, her voice tight with urgency. She was at his side in an instant. “What do you need? Water? Medicine?”

He shook his head, struggling to catch his breath. “No… it—” Another violent cough cut him off, and she saw faint specks of blood on his palm when he lowered his hand.

Her jaw tightened, a flicker of anger bubbling beneath the surface—not at him, but at herself. She should’ve been further along by now. This shouldn’t still be happening. “You’re coughing up blood,” she said, her voice quieter but taut with frustration.

He managed a weak smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, well… this is not new. Though I believe…” He paused to draw a shuddering breath. “This may be your… opportunity for that sample you mentioned.”

Renly winced at his attempt to make light of the situation but quickly shook off her hesitation. “Forget the sample for now. You need to sit down.”

She guided him to a chair, her hands firm but careful. Once he was seated, she massaged his chest and back with her fists, wiping the drop of blood from his lip with her thumb. She crouched in front of him, gripping the armrests of the chair as though steadying herself. Viktor leaned back, his face pale and drawn, but the intensity in his golden eyes hadn’t dimmed.

Without thinking, she reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing against the sharp line of his cheekbone. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and his breath hitched slightly at the contact.

“Viktor…” she murmured, her voice thick with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. Her thumb traced the curve of his jaw, her touch tentative yet unhurried, as though committing his features to memory. “You know, it’s terribly unfair for you to look this good when you’re giving me so much grief.”

Her words slipped out unfiltered, her focus entirely on him, and they startled a quiet laugh from him—a breathless, disbelieving sound that softened the tension.

“Is that your way of complimenting me?” he asked, his voice low but tinged with dry amusement.

Renly blinked, realizing what she’d said, and a faint blush crept up her neck. Still, she smiled, refusing to pull away. “I’m just stating facts. Sharp cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass… It’s distracting, really. Hard to stay mad at someone who looks like they stepped out of a portrait.” She tried to deflect how much this scared her, keeping her tone light.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, though a flicker of vulnerability crossed his gaze. “And here I thought you were angry with me.”

“I am,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “But not for the reasons you think—not with you. I’m angry because I haven’t solved this yet. Because you’re still suffering, and I—” She stopped herself, her grip on his face tightening for a brief moment before she let her hand fall away. “I hate that this is happening to you.”

He hesitated, his own hand rising as if to catch hers, but it stopped just short. “Renly,” he said quietly, “this is not your fault. You are doing everything you can.”

Her chest tightened at his words, and before she could second-guess herself, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. The movement startled him, and he froze for a moment before his arms came up tentatively to return the embrace.

The hug deepened, his grip tightening as though afraid to let go. She pressed her face against his shoulder, breathing him in. It wasn’t like her to express herself so openly, and she could feel her pulse racing, but she didn’t care. For once, she let herself feel everything.

For Viktor, the closeness was both grounding and terrifying. He rarely allowed himself such vulnerability, and yet, holding her like this felt like an anchor in the storm of his failing body.

When they finally pulled apart, she caught his gaze and placed her hand on his cheek again, her thumb brushing lightly over his temple. “You’re not weak, Viktor,” she said softly, her voice firm and resolute. “Not in the ways that matter.”

He looked at her, something raw flickering in his eyes, and shook his head faintly. “You are… persistent,” he murmured, his tone laced with reluctant affection.

“And you’re infuriating,” she shot back, her voice breaking into a small laugh.

They lingered like that for a moment, tension between them laced with something unspoken before Viktor cleared his throat and gestured to the bloodied handkerchief. “Shall we get this over with?”

Renly nodded, her resolve hardening once more as she retrieved a sample vial. She worked carefully, silently, though her touch lingered on his hand just a moment too long before she took the sample.

When she was done, she met his gaze again, her voice quiet but steady. “I won’t stop. I’ll figure this out.”

He studied her for a long moment before nodding, his expression unreadable but softened by the faintest hint of a smile. “I have no doubt of that.”

***

After some tea and a bit of rest, they both returned to their abandoned work. Renly moved to her workstation in the main lab, choosing a spot where she could keep an eye on Viktor. She kept glancing over, watching for any signs of discomfort. Unfortunately, her frequent attention seemed to make him uncomfortable.

“Anyone alive in this tomb?” Jayce’s voice echoed through the silence, cutting through the stillness. “Why are you guys so quiet?”

“Why, hello, Mr. Tallis! And where, pray tell, have you been while we, your humble lab partners, slaved away relentlessly?” Renly responded without missing a beat, her tone teasing. She had already decided not to mention Viktor’s coughing fit; Viktor wouldn’t appreciate the concern being shared.

“Yes, I’m starting to think your contribution to the project will soon be reduced to just a name on the title page, Mr. Medarda,” Viktor quipped, his smirk drawing a hearty laugh from Jayce.

“Alright, alright, I surrender! But for your information, I haven’t been with Mel,” Jayce declared, grinning broadly as if anticipating their scepticism. “I’ve actually secured us some time at the fundraising gala. Got to keep this venture afloat, right?”

Renly let out an impressed whistle, while Viktor responded with a low grunt.

“You okay there?” Jayce asked, his expression softening as he placed a hand on Viktor’s back in a gesture of quiet concern.

“Yes, just a minor… inconvenience. I’ll be fine,” Viktor replied, his voice quieter now. “I’m wrapping up and heading home soon.”

The three of them eventually settled into their own corners of the lab, the scratch of pens filling the silence. Renly, as was her habit when lost in thought, began humming softly under her breath. The melody was lilting, meandering through the air like a breeze stirring dust motes.

Jayce perked up at the sound, his ears catching the tune. “Is that… The Ballad of Barrows Bay?” he asked, glancing up from his notes.

Renly shrugged; her eyes still fixed on her work. “Could be. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Well, now I am!” Jayce declared with exaggerated enthusiasm. He leaned back in his chair, tapped a beat on the table, and joined in with gusto, his voice deep and theatrical.

Renly’s lips quirked into a grin, and she matched his energy, the two of them harmonizing in the most haphazard way possible. Jayce’s booming voice drowned out Renly’s lighter tones at points, but their laughter wove through the song like a second melody.

At first, Viktor simply sighed, attempting to ignore the impromptu performance. He adjusted a component on his desk and turned his focus back to the schematics, but Renly’s infectious laughter tugged at the corners of his concentration. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the growing irritation gnawing at him.

It wasn’t just the noise. It was the day. The heaviness of it, the vulnerability he’d let slip twice today—more than twice if he counted the look in her eyes when she had brushed his cheek. It all churned inside him, rising with every mismatched note.

Finally, Viktor’s patience snapped.

“I believe this lab was designed for innovation,” he said sharply, his voice cutting through their chorus. “Not… whatever this is.”

Jayce’s hands froze mid-air, and Renly stopped mid-laugh, their gazes swinging to him.

“Alright, grumpy,” Jayce said with a chuckle, raising his hands in surrender. “We’ll keep it down.”

But Viktor was already standing, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. “I am done for today,” he announced curtly, his cane striking the ground with more force than usual as he moved toward the door.

“Viktor, wait!” she called out, her voice sharp with surprise and a tinge of frustration. She caught up to him in the hallway, blocking his path.

He stopped, looking at her with a sharp, unreadable expression. “What is it, Renly?” His tone was colder now, clipped, and she could hear the annoyance bubbling beneath it.

Renly crossed her arms over her chest, her lips curling into a frown. “What was that back there?” she asked, her voice tinged with confusion. “It was just a silly song, Viktor. Why did you get so—”

“I don’t like distractions,” he snapped, cutting her off, his words sharp. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. “You’re distracting, Renly. That’s all.”

She froze, her brow furrowing as his words hit her harder than she expected. Distracting? She opened her mouth, but for a moment, she couldn’t find the right words. She’d never expected Viktor to be so blunt.

Viktor hesitated, gripping the frame of the door as if to steady himself. His voice softened, but only slightly. “This day has been…” He trailed off, shaking his head before finishing simply, “Too much.”

There was a brief, tense silence, and Renly felt her chest tighten. His words stung a little, she didn’t know why.

“Look, I just—” she started, but Viktor’s gaze hardened, and for a moment, Renly thought he might say something else to push her away.

Instead, his voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “I don’t like it when you… make it hard to concentrate.” His eyes were cast down now, his face still tight with frustration. “I don’t like how you make me feel when you’re close.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he realized what he’d said. Renly stood frozen; her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t what he meant to say, and yet, he couldn’t take it back now. His chest tightened, and he looked up at her, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

“You are—” he began, but he didn’t finish.

Renly swallowed, her thoughts a jumble as she processed what he’d just confessed. He’d never spoken to her like that before. It wasn’t just about the song; it wasn’t just about her distracting him from work or how difficult this day had been. It was something more.

Her tension melted away, replaced by a deep, almost confused longing. “Viktor,” she said softly, the anger from earlier slipping from her voice. “I didn’t mean to... but I didn’t know I made you feel like that.”

For a long moment, Viktor didn’t speak. The space between them was thick with tension. He took a deep breath, turning away to avoid looking her in the eye.

“Maybe you should go back to work,” he muttered, his voice rough with the emotion he hadn’t meant to show.

Renly froze, her heart sinking at the weariness in his voice.

He left before she could find the words to respond, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Renly stood there for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line, before turning back to the lab. Jayce gave her a questioning look, but she waved him off and returned to her station, though her focus was clearly elsewhere.

***

Back at his apartment, Viktor let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his chair. The quiet of his space felt like a balm after the chaos of the day, but his mind refused to quiet. His gaze flickered over the desk in front of him, and his brow furrowed.

His notes.

He’d left them at the lab.

Viktor groaned softly, running a hand over his face before forcing himself to his feet. He couldn’t leave it there overnight; he meant to transcribe the remaining text today. Pulling on his coat, he stepped back into the cold night, the streets empty save for the faint echo of his cane against the cobblestones.

When he returned to the lab, he found Jayce’s coat already gone from its usual spot. Viktor sighed, relieved that Jayce had called it a night. As for Renly, he presumed she had left as well.

Yet as he stepped farther into the room, the faint sound of a melody reached him.

At first, he thought it was his imagination—just an echo of the earlier chaos lingering in his mind. But then he caught it again, softer, drifting through the still air like a whispered confession.

And then he heard her voice.

Renly sat by the microscope, the dim light casting her in shadow. Her elbows rested on the desk; her posture relaxed as if lost in her own little world. Her voice, quiet but hauntingly steady, carried through the room, wrapping around him like a thread pulling him closer.

"Do you picture me like I picture you? Am I in the frame from your point of view?"

She was completely unaware, her attention lost in the song, her eyes closed as if the weight of the words themselves carried her somewhere else.

"Do you feel the same? I'm too scared to say half of the things I do when I picture you.”

Viktor couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The way she sang—so unapologetically open, yet effortlessly composed—felt like a wound he hadn’t known existed, one he didn’t know how to protect himself from.

"Draw the blinds, light every candle. Slip off my pretty dress down my chest when I think of you."

He swallowed hard, his heart beating a little too loudly in his chest. He’d heard her hum, heard her laugh, even sing out of jest. But this? This was a side of her he hadn't seen before.

"Every night, both lips on the mirror. It's ritualistic, counting lipstick stains where you should be.”

Her voice dipped, just slightly, on the words where you should be, and it struck him like a misplaced gear grinding in an otherwise perfect mechanism. There was nothing deliberate in the way she sang—no effort to perform or impress. It was raw. Effortless.

Viktor’s grip tightened on the doorframe as he watched her, as if anchoring himself there might help him weather whatever storm was unravelling inside him.

The song lingered in the air long after the last note faded, and Viktor, still rooted to the spot, finally took a breath.

Renly shifted, oblivious to his presence, and for a long, unbearable second, he stayed frozen in the doorway. He had seen many sides of her—strong, witty, sharp—but this... this side of Renly was a quiet storm. One he wasn’t sure he knew how to weather.

When the silence stretched too long, he turned on his heel, moving quietly toward the door, his heartbeat rushing in his ears. He hadn’t meant to overhear, hadn’t planned on intruding on something so... intimate. But now, there was no ignoring it. He had to leave, to breathe again.

Just as he reached the door, Renly's voice floated out behind him, a soft whisper of confusion.

“Viktor?”

He paused for a split second, his back still turned to her, his hand gripping the doorframe.

Her voice came again, hesitant but searching. “Why are you here?”

For a moment, Viktor considered walking away without answering, leaving her to piece together the moment on her own. But something in her tone—the same unguarded sincerity she’d let loose in her song—held him there.

“I... nothing,” he said, his voice carefully controlled. “Carry on.”

He left, shutting the door behind him with a soft click, but the song still lingered in his mind, winding its way through his thoughts long after he’d left the lab.

And though he never turned back, the weight of her voice—the way she sang those words—stayed with him. Something tender, something fragile, had slipped into the cracks of his armour, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the sound of it.

The distraction kept Renly from immediately seeing what was in front of her. She stepped away from the microscope and lingered in the corridor for a little while longer after Viktor left. This man is impossible.

She returned to her station, adjusted the focus of the lens, and hesitated. Wait... what? She spoke aloud about her issue with the cure. Jayce, ever the brainstormer, gave her an idea using metaphors.

“What do you do during a war? You don’t just drop a bomb and step in, do you? You target.”

“Hmm… how do I make it target one thing and not the other, though?” Renly thought aloud as Jayce packed up to leave.

“Look for patterns. And then differences. I can help you tomorrow, would you like that?” Jayce offered lightly.

“Definitely,” she responded, her mind already elsewhere. “I’ll sit with it a little longer, you go ahead,” she finally told him, answering the silent question of whether he should wait for her to pack up as well.

“As you wish! But don’t stay too long,” Jayce shot her another beaming smile. “Oh, and Viktor… don’t dwell on it too much. He’ll come around.”

Holy shit. It worked. It actually worked. Jayce was indeed smarter than her. Well, now she couldn’t go anywhere.

Renly stood still for a moment, staring at the cure under the microscope, her thoughts drifting in several directions at once. Viktor's presence, his absence, his words—they all swirled inside her, mixing with the persistent problem at hand. She couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them today. Something... real. And it unnerved her.

And then there was Jayce, unexpectedly offering the perfect metaphor to crack the problem open, his words like a key to a door she hadn’t known was locked. She felt a small spark of hope as she revisited the idea he’d suggested, trying to see it through a new lens. The cure wasn't finished, but for the first time in days, she felt like she might actually have a breakthrough.

But that didn’t mean she was okay. She hadn’t been okay since she heard Viktor’s voice crack in their damned lab, and she certainly wasn’t okay now.

Her hand hovered over the sample vial, but her gaze lingered on the door, her thoughts circling back to Viktor. She wanted to fix this—him, the cure, everything. She wasn’t sure where her focus should lie: on her work, or on him. Maybe that was the problem. She couldn’t keep putting herself in a position where she was always one step away from making things worse.

The sound of her own heartbeat filled the silence of the lab, and for a moment, she just let herself sit with it, the quiet after Viktor’s departure stretching long.

As she sat down again, pulling the papers closer, a sudden thought hit her. Maybe there wasn’t always a right answer. Maybe she couldn’t save Viktor from himself. But she could keep trying. She would keep trying.

Her hand steadied, the pen in her grip as determined as ever.

The lab felt colder now, even with the warm light overhead. But she didn’t let it bother her. She would stay until she figured this out. After all, she had never been one to back down from a challenge.

She looked at the clock. It was late, and she knew she needed rest, but there was no room for that. Not tonight. Not when Viktor’s words still clung to her thoughts. Not when she could almost hear the weight of his silence at the door. She pushed it aside and leaned into her work.

[sbdskate]

Laws Of Attraction (Part 9) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings : fluff and cheese, language, slight angst, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3,866

A/N: One day I may be one of those writers who is well organized and has a preplanned schedule for posting, but unfortunately (and as my first fic), today is not that day. Thank you for your patience during this writing drought. Another chapter will be on the way after this, hopefully in a couple of weeks after another round of edits. Shout out to @cutelittlefakejourneys for your help. As always, thank you for reading and don't be a ghost reader!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

Daniel Ricciardo had been in your room last night. After a long race day filled with anxiety, media, McLaren, and subsequently relief and pride, he had stolen a bottle of champagne from McLaren’s afterparty, and your heart. He had hesitantly conditioned the gift on being consumed after the signing and delicately suggested you share the bottle, evidently afraid he would tear the fragile string that connected the two of you since the beginning. But you didn’t want to wait, so you had invited him in.

“So that’s how you open a bottle without spilling half of it?”

“What can I say, I’m a woman of many talents. Would you feel more comfortable if I gave you one of my heels to drink out of?” He laughed.

“Nah, not dirty or sweaty enough.”

He looked around to see what you had made of your private space. In contrast to the crisp outward appearance you presented as you strutted through the paddock in your tailored suits, your hotel room was a mess. Laptop open, papers spread out over every surface. Your petite figure was dwarfed by the oversized, plush hotel robe. Behind closed doors he realized you were quite ordinary. Not that you were unremarkable, but in the sense that you were perfectly imperfect.  

“What are we toasting to?”

“To finish lines.”

You started out at least trying to be prim and proper, using the hotel’s water glasses as vessels. But at a certain point decorum went out the window and you simply passed the bottle between you sitting cross legged on the floor. Even though it was late, the hours passed like sand through an hourglass.  

“Biggest celebrity crush growing up?”

“Leonardo DiCaprio. Easy. Man has been attractive literally at all stages of my life, from the time I was six watching ‘Growing Pains’ to now. Dude aged like fine wine. Unfortunately though I’ve aged out of his dating pool.”

He observed your lips wrap around the mouth of the bottle, how small your hand looked holding it, and his imagination ventured to unclean places.

“You?”

“Josh Allen,” he said without skipping a beat.

“You were five when Josh Allen was born. I know he’s your boyfriend but that doesn’t count.”

“Fine, fine, fine. I might have had a poster of Kylie Minogue in my bedroom when I was like, twelve.”

The two of you sat side by side at the foot of the bed, your hands inched closer towards one another as the night dwelled on.

“If you could do anything in the world, if money didn’t matter, what would you do?”

“Eh. I think I’d still be a lawyer.” He snorted.

“That’s the biggest fucking lie I’ve ever heard.”

“What? Someone’s gotta do it.”

“Come on. Do you actually love this? You’ve been away from your life in the States for months. And for what?”

“Well, I got to travel the world, meet cool celebrities… I got to know you. That must count for something, right?”

You tried to deliver the earnest statement as casually as possible, hoping he wouldn’t read too much into it. But the heft of your words hung in the air and blended with the little popped champagne bubbles that had evaporated. After months of Daniel tormenting you with flirty comments, it was his turn to try to ignore your flattery.

“Really. Money’s no object. Any job in the world. Go.”

“Ok ok fine. I suppose - Oh I don’t know… Maybe I’d be a food critic. I love to eat, I like to complain, and I like writing, so I feel like that’s the perfect marriage of all those things. Or… maybe I’d just drop off the grid completely. I’ve always dreamed about running off to the rolling hills of Italy and living off the land, maybe I’d open a flower shop or something. Really just live out my Under the Tuscan Sun fantasy. But it’s silly. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am, I could never imagine throwing it all away.”

“It’s not silly.”

Your sideways glance met his deep pools of dark ember, filled with sincerity. You took a swig of champagne and passed the bottle back to him, wishing to wash away the palpable chemistry that swirled around you.

“What about you?”

“I guess I’d still be doing this.” You frowned, sensing his timidness.

“That’s not fair, you made me pick something.”

“Come on, it’s not like I have any transferable skills. I don’t know what else I could do.”

“You literally have two side hustles already. Wine maker and fashion mogul don’t do it for you?”

You thought you could crack a smile out of him, but instead the corners of his mouth downturned slightly.

“It’s not the same. We already decided the second time we met I could never have a desk job. I’m an adrenaline junkie, I’ve always needed to be in a car. Plus my parents worked hard to get me here, to get those opportunities for me, and seeing them happy makes me happy. I don’t know what else there is.”

“Your mother has a small heart attack every time you race.” You tried to placate his uncertainty, but the light conversation had turned heavy and there was no undoing it.

“Oh, that’s neither here nor there,” he brushed off.

“What about all the cameras constantly in your face? Don’t you miss being anonymous?”

This seemed to make him pause.

“I do… but at the same time, part of the fun was getting to make a name for myself. I’m not sure I fully knew what I was getting myself into, but I knew that fame came with the territory if I was actually good at what I was doing. Do I miss being able to walk down the street or go to a restaurant without being bombarded? Yeah for sure. But even when I had that, I don’t think I enjoyed it because I was always trying to get to the next step.” He paused, the furrow in his brow coming undone. “Do I love it right now in this very moment? No. I need a fucking break. I think you corporate people call it ‘burnout’ or whatever. But I’ve loved it up until now, and I know I’ll love it again eventually. I really can’t imagine doing anything else.”

The space between your fingers had vanished. As though your extremities had a mind of their own, you both looked down to study how they folded over one another. There was no recoiling. Your hand, that apparently had its own free will, sent signals to you to look up again. It was ironic that you had partially declined his invitation to the McLaren afterparty because you were afraid of winding up in a situation that vaguely resembled something exactly like this. Tomorrow was so close yet so far, and your wherewithal to resist the magnetic pull between the two of you was at an all time low. Over the last week leading up to the final race, flashbacks of the kiss in Brazil replayed on a loop in your mind. If you blinked you would’ve missed it when it had happened in real time. But the memory teased you and champagne was buzzing through your veins, clouding your judgment. You wanted to explore. Like a moth to a flame, you began leaning in, your eyes fluttering as his lips went in and out of focus.

Instead of being met with Daniel’s embrace, you toppled over as he got to his feet.

“Champagne’s gone, guess that’s my cue for bed.”

You propped yourself on your elbow as you looked up at him incredulously. How much champagne had you had, that you had so badly misread the situation? You averted your gaze in embarrassment.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

His extended hand came into view. You slowly looked up again, his warm and inviting eyes conveying more than words ever could. You cautiously accepted his help as he got you to your feet, his strong hold steadying you.

“Do you need any help in the morning?” Yeah, just avoid Daniel until it’s over so you don’t lose your job. That would probably be a good start.

“No, I’m good, thanks though. Do you need any help?”He laughed, mostly out of astonishment that you could possibly ask such a question when you had already done so, so much.

“Yeah, if you could just sign for me too that would be great.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his arm. “Get some rest, yeah?”

And then he was gone. But how could you possibly just get some rest? You tossed and turned, never quite falling into a deep slumber. The scene of two friends on the floor sharing champagne and secrets played over and over. Friends? Colleagues? Business partners? Something else?

It festered as you got ready, before even the sun was up. The tried and true pink suit felt like it might burst at the seams, unable to contain the palpitations in your chest - a concoction of anticipation, nerves, anxiety, and excitement.

-

It was strange, having such a momentous deal take place outside the confines of a grandiose conference room with a dramatic, long, mahogany table overlooking some city skyline and perhaps a beautiful, shiny body of water. It was a status symbol of Big Law, the firm’s ability to peacock to clients how successful they were. The bigger the room and better the view, the more deserving they were of that outrageously high retainer fee they charged.

Instead, you walked into what was left of Red Bull hospitality after the big, final race weekend. Of course it was sleek and modern in its own right, but it gave an air of approachability that was lacking at the firm’s office. Nonetheless, you tried to import formality back into the space. You had printed and made matching binders of copies of the agreement for everyone present, appropriately tabbed and color coordinated. You brought blue, black, and red pens, highlighters, sharpened No. 2 pencils, and legal pads with the firm’s name emboldened at the top. You had gotten to Red Bull early to set up the space yourself, so that all materials were spaced out accordingly for each chair at the table. You took a step back to admire your handy work. Yes, this would do just fine.

Your phone went off.

DR: Where are you? We’re going to be late.

Y/N: I’m already here.

DR: 🙁

DR: You didn’t wait for me?

DR: It’s going to be weird walking there without you.

Y/N: I figured you wouldn’t want to be over an hour early and you could use the extra sleep. I’m sure you’ll manage.  

-

It was weird for Daniel walking to the paddock without you. The whole morning had been weird. It had been too quiet. There was no offkey musical number through his bathroom wall. He missed the sprightly knock at his door that came about ten minutes too early. He missed guessing which of your faces he’d get when you realized he wasn’t ready. He was amazed at how quickly he had gotten used to you. Had they really only been at this hotel for four days? Five?

His memory taunted him as he walked to Red Bull. He recalled himself holding his breath in anticipation as you closed in on him last night. He felt his heartbeat all the way up to his throat, his pulse points throbbed. It was an out of body experience, watching in slow motion as he pulled himself away from you. He finally learned it was for the best, even though the dejected look on your face pained him.

When he got there, he was disappointed to discover he was the last to arrive, wishing he had more moments alone with you. Christian, Joe, and in-house Red Bull lawyer bros sat around you, centering you as a vibrant glow in a sea of dull blues and grays. He was relieved to discover that you had reserved the seat next to you. He felt his face involuntarily break into grin as he noticed you notice him come into frame.

Christian, who was sitting across from you with his back to the door, saw the slightest twitch of your facial muscles. He whipped around, before a smile was fully formed, knowing exactly what it meant.

“The man of the hour! So nice of you to finally join us.” Everyone stood up for another round of hand shakes and self-congratulatory pats on the back. He could hardly maintain eye contact, his gaze constantly darting back to you. You rose to your feet, but remained in place, patiently waiting your turn for him.

He finally stood in front of his reserved chair, directly facing you. He wasn’t sure what to do – he knew you so well, a handshake hardly seemed appropriate. But you were in front of professionals so a hug wouldn’t do. He knew what he wanted to do, and that certainly wasn’t an option. Fortunately you made the decision for him, instinctively sticking your hand out. He would’ve been a little sad about it, but for the knowing twinkle in your eye. Your palms firmly met, and he appreciated how soft and delicate yours were. It was like you were holding hands.

“Eh-hem.”

You cleared your throat, eyes suddenly piercing. It wasn’t until he felt you try to pry your hand away that he realized he had been shaking it about six seconds too long. He finally relinquished his grip and you both sat down.

“Sorry, I spaced out,” he whispered to you. You only gave him a twitch of a smile and a curt nod in return before swiveling your chair to face the other side of the table.

“Now then. Let’s get started, shall we?”

-

Daniel almost felt silly for pushing this whole ordeal back an extra day. Almost. He could imagine you marching out of there muttering this could have been an email under your breath. The contract was, for all intents and purposes, finished and truly just needed to be signed. It only took twenty minutes to do a walk through of the terms, which of course no one objected to after the countless back-and-forth’s of redlines, late night phone calls, and negotiations.  And then, with a swift flick of his wrist, it was set in stone.

He stared at the wet blue ink on the page. He didn’t realize he was smiling until his cheeks started to hurt.

“I guess we’re engaged now. This feels familiar.” When he finally looked up Christian was beaming back at him like a proud dad.

“Welcome back, Daniel. Welcome home.”

-

“You do realize that could’ve been an email?” He laughed as he waited behind for you to pack up your stuff. Joe in typical fashion had exchanged quick pleasantries after the signing and was gone in a flash, off to the next client. The other Red Bull representatives followed suit not long after.

“It could’ve, but where’s the fun in that?” He watched as you stuffed the last binder into your bag, fighting with the zipper. When you finished you looked up to find him staring intently at you, causing you to nearly drop your bag.

“Can I help you?”

He leaned against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. You stared at his tan forearms, noticing his veins bulge.

“That depends… do you like surprises?” You did your best to hide a gulp, your throat suddenly dry. He couldn’t possibly be insinuating what you thought…

But if he was, two could play at that game.

“Depends on the surprise,” you purred, leaning forward ever so slightly to show off the v of your necklace that led a trail to your hidden cleavage.  

He leaned forward to meet you part way, not breaking eye contact.

“I think you’ll like this one,” he whispered. You felt goosebumps raise on your skin, giddy in suspense. Your heart was about to burst through your chest. Was he really about to take you right here in this office?

Without warning he pushed himself from the table and walked quickly towards the door, leaving you bewildered in the middle of the room. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at you innocently.

“What are you waiting for? Follow me!”

He proceeded to skip down the hallway, forcing you to jog to try to keep up with him.

“Daniel! Wait up! What the hell?”    

He led you to the exit of Red Bull hospitality before he finally stopped.

“I may or may not have called in a favor.”

“Daniel, this isn’t funny. What –“

You stopped in your tracks as the doors opened. With your jaw on the floor, you let out a silent scream as Geraldine Estelle Halliwell Horner, aka Geri, aka Ginger Spice, aka one-fifth of the iconic girl group The Spice Girls, stood in front of you in the flesh. As a child of the 90’s, this moment felt biblical.

Apparently Christian was also there. “Oh Darling, I have someone I want to introduce you to.”

You were already barely functioning when she turned away from her husband and made direct eye contact with you. Then, as though it were a conversation about the weather, she very casually said “Oh hello. You must be y/n, I’ve heard so much about you. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Your hand gripped over your chest. Eyes wide, you looked to Daniel to confirm she was not a hologram, but he only gave you a wide grin, then back to Geri who was waiting patiently for you to act like a human which was unfortunately too big of an ask.

“I-you’re-ohmygodIcan’tbelievethisishappening-I-hi-I mean…. You know my name.” You dissolved into fits of nervous giggles. Daniel stood there very pleased with himself. He was a little insulted you weren’t this starstruck when you met him, but it was overshadowed by the immense satisfaction he felt that he initiated something that made you so happy.

Geri gave a sympathetic smile. Clearly this was not the first time a fan lost their shit at her mere presence. “I do. I hear you’ve been very busy the last few weeks.”

“What? Oh, right. Yeah I’ve spent a lot of time with Daniel and your husband.” you blabbed, quickly changing the topic. “Do you and the girls still hang out regularly? Spice World was my favorite movie growing up, and-and-and I memorized all of the choreography to Stop and Spice Up Your Life.” You continued talking a million miles a minute.

“Well that’s good to know in case we ever need a fill-in,” she joked trying to put you at ease. Your demeanor quickly sobered and you put a hand over your heart.

“Oh, Miss Halliwell. I could never replace Victoria on your next reunion tour, but if you absolutely insist I would be honored to step in to ensure the show goes on,” you swore in earnest. Geri slowly nodded, locking eyes with Daniel behind you doing her best to telecommunicate with him. What the fuck. He only shrugged as he continued beaming.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said slowly and politely. Daniel finally interjected.

“Y/n, you have to pack and I’m sure Geri and Christian have their own flights to catch…”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time,” you said, Daniel’s voice beginning to bring you back down to earth. You rummaged through your bag, before proudly presenting your hand to her. “Here’s my card in case you or any of the girls need any type of legal assistance, happy to go over any contracts for you or whatever else you may need.” Geri’s forced smile relaxed, appreciating your hustle and intellect.

“This is great, thank you. Girl power, right?” And just like that you were back on Saturn. You proudly held up a peace sign as though you were giving an oath.

“Girl Power. Forever,” you swore. Daniel gently put his hand on your lower back to try and herd you along, but you turned to look back as you walked. “And now that you have my number, let me know if you ever want to get your nails done together or get coffee or even a yoga class!” you called after her. Geri chuckled and waved.

“It was nice meeting you too,” she shouted back.

“Good seeing you too y/n – what am I, chopped liver?” You kept walking and waved him off.

“Oh right, sorry. Yeah yeah, nice seeing you too Christian. Pleasure doing business.”

You proceeded to gush about the encounter the entire way back to the hotel. Your hands flailed in the air as you excitedly repeated every little detail, even though Daniel had also been there to witness the whole thing. Your eyes were bright and wide, still processing the adrenaline.

“So did I do alright then?” he asked cheekily as you approached your rooms.

“Did you do alright?! That was one of the best moments of my life, I could kiss you!” 

The words slipped out before you had a chance to think, stopping both of you in your tracks. They hung heavy in the air, waiting for an answer. But for the tension that had dragged on, and built, and compounded on itself for months, the statement would never be interpreted as anything other than an innocent, facetious comment for dramatic effect. But Daniel looked at you intently hoping you meant it. He turned his body to align with yours as you remained frozen, and cautiously stepped forward to remove the space between you. Your mouth parted slightly, trying to find words to explain yourself but drew a blank. He leaned in ever so slightly, his hot breath beating on the side of your face and tickling your ear.

“So do it,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear him. You dared to lock eyes with him, searching for an answer. His hand finally did what it had wished to do for so long, gently pushing hair out of your face and finding a home at the nape of your neck. He left it there, but he didn’t have to use any force to bring you together as your heads naturally tilted and pulled inwards like magnets. It was dizzying having his face so close to yours, feeling his breath tickle your nose and your cheeks, stoking the flush that had your face burning.

It was only when your lips were so close that you inhaled each other’s oxygen that you suddenly remembered you were in a very public hallway. You were still in your suit, that felt like it was about suffocate you. To his disappointment, and yours, you fell into old patterns. You pried yourself out of his orbit, stumbling backwards.

“Would you look at the time? I, um, need to go pack. Long flight tomorrow,” you stammered, as you continued backwards towards your room. 

“y/n…”

“Congratulations again, I’m super happy for you.”

“Can we at least talk about this?” You fumbled with your keys pretending not to hear him, your focus on the floor.

“It was great working with you. You have a bright future back at Red Bull, I’m sure everything will work out. Have a safe trip back to Perth.”

And with that final, clinical, arms-length message, you left him in the hallway. 

[tainbocuailnge]

thinking about the terrible victoria arc and how it could be less terrible. taking chapter 14 as premise & reverse engineering how to better get to that emotional payoff (namely the babel squad finally getting closure for theresa's death and babel's downfall & the fate of the sarkaz being severed) without throwing the base concepts of the other chapters out completely i think for starters the entirety of chapter 9 should just be an event instead. so much of the dublinn plotline was in an event already (what the firelight casts) and ever since ch9 most of "the dublinn plotline" has just been eblana ominously hovering in the distance, its just bloating things with no meaningful contributions. that does mean taking horn and bagpipe out too, much as I like them, but I think they can shine better when they're not competing with so many other white women for empty screentime anyway.

then you want the victoria arc proper to have you meet the self salvation corps asap after sneaking into the city and the core tension is going to be between siege and her gang as face of the nobility even if they individually might not agree with that label, the self salvation corps as representative of the common people of londinium who may hate the nobles but still have their own unsustainable british nationalism to work through, and rhodes island as altruistic outsiders whose reasons for getting involved don't actually have to do with victoria itself. clovisia was obviously supposed to be an amiya expy before she got forgotten almost immediately after her debut, but keeping the focus on these three groups would ideally also get some use out of that.

I said in a post i made after i read ch11 that it really isn't hard to see what siege's gang and the steam knight are supposed to represent, the symbol of victoria's honor and glory was betrayed by the greed of its nobles and its rightful heir is running a street gang, if you want to save victoria you have to decide what kind of "victoria" is worth saving to you. so in the victoria arc that doesn't suck these three parties are gonna have to actually talk about and contend with their inevitably clashing images and visions of victoria, and steam knight is gonna have to be a mandatory boss.

I also feel like manfred was fought too early for how much backstory weight he has to the babel gang and how long he sticks around after that. as if in ch10 they straight up didn't know yet that victoria arc was gonna end in being about babel, which might genuinely have been the case. so in the better victoria arc im making up in my head his bossfight is gonna get pushed back a few chapters.

like i'm thinking first victoria chapter you fight steam knight, it starts with meeting the self salvation corps and has you quickly throw everything on that gamble of getting siege the sword because both the glasgow gang and the corps buy enough into the idea of a past glorious victoria that can be brought back to try that only to have to face the decrepit husk of that glorious past in order to get it. siege can be passive in this one still, because her doing basically nothing is going to last only one chapter here instead of two and a half and it's going to serve a point.

so now you have the sword but both the gang and the corps are quite shaken about how they obtained it, and in the second chapter tensions between the three factions begin to rise when the obvious ideological disagreements about where to go next become impossible to postpone. you fight damazti here because the cluster is gonna be an awesome plot device for pushing mutual distrust and paranoia. honestly I don't even remember what the deal with damazti cluster was or what it was supposed to contribute so in the better victoria arc they do something about that too probably. and siege is forced to form actual opinions and say them out loud, and they're going to differ from what the rest of the glasgow gang is saying.

then by the third chapter you're able to sort out that internal conflict enough to finally muster the forces to fight manfred, this is probably where you get siege actually forming the exemplars and stuff, showing leadership and ideals and all that. i think allerdale can eat shit and so can the npc members of siege's gang so I'm cutting them out, we're putting all the focus on forcing these royal fake street punks from siege's posse and plain londinium factory workers from the self salvation corps to find common ideological ground. i like delphine though delphine can stay. there was a scene in one of these chapters with siege and amiya talking about their responsibility as figureheads that i liked (because it almost did something with siege) that i think would fit here, and it's an obvious chance to do something with clovisia too. like this is a good point to talk about more abstract ideas of leadership and turning people into figureheads and the way people will turn to a single person to save them, to start making it a bit more about theresa too. so here you get rhodes trying not to drag their feet because it's the part where it starts actually getting personal for them, materially because several members have a history with manfred but conceptually because there's an incoming shift of focus

defeating manfred marks rhodes island having to admit that they're very much in it for theresa and the sarkaz and their own personal history rather than just altruism towards "victoria", vague as that concept has become these past few chapters, so you get a somewhat more natural shift into the sanguinarch and the feranmut skeleton and finally theresa because we can sensibly compare the ideal and reality of the glorious war-torn homeland between victoria and kazdel, and the more abstract throughline of where the border between honoring the past and being dragged down by it lies. logistically the manfred fight would probably be in order to get out of the city and investigate the vampire shit so he'd serve as a kind of border between this being about victoria/londinium and this being about something beyond that in that way too.

and ch13 and 14 is when things finally started picking up so I don't think they actually need all that much tweaking beyond making it consistent with the things changed in the stuff before it. and probably cutting out some more characters. because the worst part really is that the focus was just all over the fucking place so just keeping the cast more manageable would do a lot. i think that teacher woman was interesting enough to be allowed to stay and that guy who killed himself in front of the sanguinarch was fun he can stay too. but i feel like the nightingale plotline might have to go.

[dawnoftime22]

"...and it just did."

| W.M ( -> N.R)

Undeserving of a Love Like Yours, Chapter 5

Chapter Warnings: A very emotionally packed chapter, relationship problems, cheating, arguing, anxiety, overthinking, andd...just be prepared.

Summary: The truth unfolds itself easily on a special day.

Series Summary: When you're stuck in a complete hole of confusion and hurt with the one you thought you loved most, a certain redhead finds her way into your life.

Word Count: 8.7k (...oops)

Category: Angst.

A/N: this chapter has been eeeeverywhere with me. I wrote it in the car, at work, in my bedroom, and even at a hotel room. but, I hope you all enjoy<3 it's a whole lot, so it was quite difficult to finish, but february's over and I have more free time again!

also theres a playlist for this series out now :] in case you need something to listen to while reading. be careful while scrolling the songs to avoid just bits of teensy spoilers<3

Series Playlist

| Started on 10/01/2024, 12:16 PM |

| Finished on 05/03/2024, 3:45 PM |

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

<- Chapter 4 Chapter 6 ->

"What is there to say?"

|——————————— ᗢ ———————————|

You drag your feet across the wooden floorboards, making your way towards the kitchen. Here it is again, the same routine. But yet this time, you see a sticky note left on the marble counter, illuminated by a dim overhead lighting.

You furrow your eyebrows, but go over to read it anyway, the bright color a big difference to the white counter. 'might not be home until tomorrow,' was written on the piece of paper. Your heart didn't drop as much anymore. Your shoulders only droop a little, as if just a teensy bit more weight had been added.

A quiet breath leaves your mouth. Your hand picks up the sticky note and scraps it up within your palms, throwing it off to a nearby trashcan in the kitchen. Who else needed to read it anyway? It was only for you. Only for you.

You shook your head of the remaining thoughts you had of her, but she couldn't quite leave your mind at least once. Always there. Always lingering. As if you had been cursed. But in honest truth, the only curse you had upon you was the spell of love.

Today was a special day. Key word on the was. Some type of hope swirling in your heart maybe had you looking forward to this day, but all of it had just gone down along with the piece of paper in the trash. Your eyes also flicker to it once more, seeing the many other colored paper sitting scrunched up with the one from just now. At least she had the decency to still leave notes.

But, today was, of course...your birthday. And out of all the people, your favorite person was certainly not present. Maybe she had forgotten, you thought. Maybe she just didn't care enough this year...no, how could she?

You snap yourself out, having stared off at the sunlight shining in through the windows. You go to the fridge to see what was still in there. A bitten sandwich from last night, and some leftover chickens, but your lip forms a line and you close it, your hand dropping off to your pocket to retrieve your phone.

It was currently 9:45 AM, the digits frozen still on the same numbers until the full sixty seconds passes by. Your mind was in a haze, but your stomach was empty and it urged you to find some food. Were you just going to go out by yourself? Your body seemed to stop you from even going to the living room. Take-out was an option, but instead you simply laid your phone down on the counter, it making a small noise, the textures clashing.

You put your head in your hands, covering up your face and sliding your fingers across your skin, your palm cupping your own cheeks as a way to get a grip of yourself.

Your phone came up with a notification of your calendar, getting out with a reminder of your birthday. What great timing. You clear it off your screen and unlock your phone, roaming the apps.

Just as you were about to push yourself off the counter and grab the last of the food in the fridge, your screen changes without you touching anything. The contact name came up with...Carol?

Your face relaxes a bit and your thumb hesitantly goes to pick it up rather than tap on the red button, the ringing going away. The phone goes along with your hand when you put it against your ear.

"Hey Carol." You say casually, trying your best not to sound too questionable, as it wasn't usual that she'd call you. You hear some distinct voices whispering in the background of her side, one sounding like a young kid.

"Hey, just wanted to call and um...check in on you?" Her voice ended up sounding questionable instead, and your face goes into a confused reaction, although a smile growing on your lips. You let out a small chuckle, your eyes roaming the space of the room as you thought of your words.

"'Check in on me?' Come on, you rarely do that." Your hand goes to grab a nearby notebook that's been left on the counter, saved for recipes. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to say happy birthday to you. Maria reminded me and she and Monica got me to...call you." You assume she had a small pause in her sentence because she was looking over at the other two people in the room with her, which was who you had heard earlier.

"That's nice of her. And thank you." The pages of the book was soft against your hands, your fingers tracing and fiddling with some as you smiled softly at the thought of Maria scolding Carol for having forgotten.

"Well that, or, I would probably not have any pancakes for myself right about now." She says, her mouth nearly sounding like it was full. You'd guessed it was.

"Even though you were threatened to wish me, thank you." You add on, laughing gently as you did. There was a page you landed on in the notebook with a cookie recipe. One, specifically where you and Wanda had made together, having shared a wonderful memory that day.

You could feel your heart beat within your chest, the pace going quicker as your eyes looked over the words written on the paper that was accompanied with smiley faces and hearts here and there.

The smile on your face had definitely faltered. You take in a deep breath, letting it out once you let yourself close the book. Carol's voice snaps you back to reality, having remembered you were talking with her.

"I'm kidding, I would've called you up either way. Really though, how are you?" Your teeth sank down on your bottom lip, probably enough to puncture the skin or leave a small mark, but you let it go once you talked.

"I'm...fine. Other than sitting in my house alone not knowing what to do than sulk in bed or contemplating my life choices." With that answer, the blonde definitely knew something wasn't entirely right. She stays quiet for a while, perhaps thinking.

"Do you wanna go out and hang at the bar? We can do some karaoke if you want that as a birthday present." She offers, and the attempt makes you smile weakly. She never really knew what to do for your birthday, not being the type to do birthdays more than just a simple wish to them. But for you, she'd offer to hang out, which is what you love to do most of the time.

"Sorry, but I don't really feel like partying or anything right about now. Well, tempting, but, I just wanna relax." You say quietly, sliding the recipe book back to its original place.

"Okay, then..." Carol trails off as her mind tries to come up with some more ideas. You were about to think she was going to just hang up sooner or later, but then you hear her voice continue with a more interesting take.

"There's the mall." You raise your eyebrows. She couldn't see you with you being over the phone, but she just knew you were probably surprised. And you were.

"And what would we do there?" You ask, your mind unable to conjure up the slightest of an imagination of going to the mall with her in a casual situation.

"Well, we could grab some ice cream, buy some things, go to the arcade, go...I don't know." She suggests, just nearly giving up. She wasn't good at this type of stuff really, she's simply basing it off of the times she and Monica hangs out together. You could at least picture the straight line her mouth forms when she finished her sentence, and you had to resist a laugh.

"Ice cream does sound really good." Your mind opened a little with the simple thought of ice cream. Even though the comfort of your bed and the couch seemed nicer, it's not a lot of times she ends up inviting you to hang out like this anyway.

"The mall it is." The blonde says, and you can hear some clatter over the phone. She had finished her pancakes, you supposed.

"Am I driving or...?" You trail off, fiddling around with your fingers and sliding them against the marble counter, the coldness a difference to the sunlight coming from the window.

"I'll pick you up." You then hear the sound of keys, and you couldn't back out anymore. She was driving to your house to grab you, and it'd be impolite to cancel.

"Okay." You say under a breath, feeling heavier with every second that goes by. The guilt and anxiety was eating you up, but the date on the calendar just next to the recipe book had your mind getting out of the thoughts.

"I'll be there in 10. Please don't be glued to your bed when I arrive," She said, to which you let out a quiet chuckle. You couldn't really tell if it was in a stern way or a soft way, but it definitely pushed you a little more to get up and change your clothes.

"I won't. See you here." You say gently and the end tone sounds out, making you pull your phone away from your ear.

With that decided, you push yourself off the counter, slowly going off to the bedroom. The closet opens easily, revealing the same clothes you see every day. You shuffle through some of the hanged shirts, looking at what to wear.

Soon enough, you pull one out. It easily slides off, brushing against the many other shirts within the closet. Your eyes don't linger on the other ones that weren't yours, and you close the door after grabbing everything else.

Later on, you get finished up with changing your clothes, and now you were only waiting for Carol to arrive. There was something that prickled within your heart, like a roses stem with thorns, a worry that maybe she changed her mind and she actually didn't want to hang out with you. Maybe she was only doing it out of sympathy? But that can't be true. What about all the times she's driven you back home when you got a little too many drinks?

...You take a deep breath and turn away from the wall you were staring off into like it was the abyss. Instead your hands checked that you had everything on you, like your phone, keys, and your watch.

Then, the sound of a car pulling up at the front of the house made you look up, your eyes carefully watching the windows. You see a Nissan outside, and it was obvious it was Carol arriving.

Quickly, you got off the couch while your phone made sound, definitely a text message from her that she's arrived. You open the front door, going outside. Her blonde hair could be seen clearly through the car windows, confirming the person in your head.

You make your way to the car, opening the front passenger door. "Hey," you say gently, going in and and closing the door along with you.

"Hey." your greetings were simple, a usual thing to happen. Carol glanced at you while you buckled in, giving you a small smile before starting to slowly position the car back to the roads.

The car had some old soft rock playing, filling up the quietness. It also had you already moving just a little to the beats, staring out the window as she drove you both to the mall. She's always had good playlists. Sometimes you'd even have an urge to ask her to give you some of her cds.

"So, what are you aiming to steal my money for today?" She jokes after a song, her eyes focused on the roads. You let out a small chuckle, looking over to her.

"I'm not letting you spend your money on me for something that isn't a drink." You shake your head, fiddling around with your fingers in your lap. The blonde notices it when her eyes flicker over to you for a second before returning to the roads.

"It's your birthday, Y/N. You have to have a little fun. Let loose," she says, and you raise an eyebrow, turning your head to her. The last two words were new, at least when it comes out of her mouth.

"Maria's words, not mine." she quickly stated, making a smile grow on your face. You stop fiddling with your fingers and instead intertwine them with each other, your gaze going back to the window.

"Come on, any ideas?" The car stops at a red light, and she looks over to you. You stayed quiet in thought, although nothing much came up. She sees only the side of your head until you made your decision.

"We'll do yours," you say, having unable to think of anything. Your mind was clouded over. Honestly, a part of your body just wanted to lie in bed hopelessly the whole day, but something else pulled you.

"Then it's settled," she nods, the steering wheel turning with her hand as she made a right. You think over her words on the phone call earlier, 'Ice cream, buy some things, arcade', and you start to get just a bit more excited.

"Ice cream first?" You ask, looking to her with hope. She furrows her eyebrows and makes a face to you, and your lip forms a tight line, like a child asking for something and getting scared of the answer.

"Of course ice cream goes first." The car goes forwards once more, the light having turned green. You cheer quietly, and she gently shakes her head at your antics. At least she got you to release the emotional tension you had in your body. Even if just a little.

The rest of the car ride consisted of singing and dancing, the conversations being light. The weight on your shoulders got lifted up just a little bit more. When you were about to arrive and she was going to park, 'Please Mr. Postman' started playing and your face brightened at the intro.

She raised her eyebrows at your quick happiness at the simple song, but smiled and laughed at how fast you got into singing it. Really, it's always been a main song for whenever you hanged out, but it's been so long since she saw you sing it, she got surprised. Soon enough though, she sang with you, the two of you moving in your seats to the words.

When the song ends, she turns off the engine and both of you get out the car. The parking lot wasn't all that filled up, so it was a chance there weren't many people in the mall.

She puts on her cap and walks to the entrance with you behind her, the noise of crows and other birds made sound, echoing from somewhere afar as you made your way to the sliding doors.

The cold air of the mall quickly greeted you like a slap of reality in the face, like waking yourself up with a cold shower after laying in bed for too, too long. A way to make you feel more alive.

The ice cream shop wasn't far, and with how little amount of people were here, the two of you got to go to the counter right when you arrive to order your preferred flavour.

Your eyes watch the ice cream get put on the cone, and you do a little dance when your hand got ahold of it, while Carol was giving her money to the cashier of the total cost.

The cashier smiles at the two of you and says their 'thank you', making you smile back before turning around, Carol easily catching up with you from your slow walking.

The two of you walk and enjoy your ice cream, the coldness definitely making you more free feeling. There were clothing stores, shoe stores, little snack shops, and every other thing you could ever imagine. You passed by each one though, but you did point out some cool looking things here and there to Carol.

Soon enough, you come upon a pet shop and your eyes widen, your lips matching with a smile. You walk towards it, wanting to look at all the animals. Carol had to walk faster so she didn't lose you.

There were parrots, cats, dogs, hamsters, fishes, bunnies, and even some lizards. Your mouth was agape as you stared at some of them, but you walk over to the cats.

"Aw, look!" You point at an orange cat, who's sitting patiently with it's tail smoothly flicking back and forth as it watched people pass by.

Carol was looking at the dogs until you called, making her go over to you to see what you were melted at. As if you hadn't already from the other little animals.

"This one is so cute." You lean forward and capture the attention of the cat, making it stand up and walk closer to you.

Carol's head tilted slightly and her eyes squinted as she inspected the info of the cat. The name, the breed, the date and place of birth... "...Goose. Huh."

"I want to take it home." You blurt out as you let the cat follow your hand around, and its head moves here and there instead of its body. It was a playful cat, a paw going up here and there to reach out to you.

"You should get it if you love it that much." Carol says, with her usual deadpan voice that you honestly find amusing. Although, for this, your face turns deadpanned instead and you stare at her, making her raise your eyebrows at you. It was nearly a staredown.

"Danvers, I cannot take care of a cat...let alone myself." You gesture to the cat, and it looked at you questionably. Your shoulders slump a little at the last words of your sentence, and Carol frowns a little.

"I'm sure it'll be able to help you cope or something." Really, she was thinking in her head of surprising it to you as a birthday present for later tonight when she sends you home.

"Why don't you get it? I think Monica would go crazy." You glance back at her, and she purses her lips, staring at the cat. It was the most vibrant color of all the other cats.

"And Maria would go crazier." She said, turning to you for a second but then going back to the entrance of the shop instead, perhaps making her escape from you flipping the table to her.

"You can convince her." You say, the volume of your voice going up a little considering she's farther away. You take a quick glance back at the cat, hesitating to leave, but going away to catch up to the blonde.

"No, now, we are going to the arcade." You laugh when you hear her stern voice, although something in you knew she had a thought about getting it.

You looked around as you walked, seeing the arcade not far away now, the place lit up by machines and screens. But something caught your eye and made you look twice.

Were you dreaming? Well...having a nightmare? You felt like so. Your body definitely didn't react in a good way. Honestly, your heart felt like you were about to have a heart attack with how fast it was beating.

Carol's hat made shade for her face from the sun coming through the mall's glass roof as she walked. She stops along with you when she noticed, confusion filling her face at the sudden stop.

When she follows your eyes to where you were looking though, immediately her eyes widen and her face was in complete shock just as yours were.

A brunette, green eyes...green jacket...

It couldn't have been.

You look closer on the face, and it was. And her hand was not swinging by itself as she walked.

It wasn't with your hand either, because you were plenty of feet away from her.

It was with someone else. Something in the back of your mind felt like they were familiar, although you couldn't even dare focus on that.

Your whole day-- well, your whole world fell apart right then and there. Just like that.

You can feel your heart beating up to your ears, and it felt like time stopped. And not in the good way. Oh, you wish. You wish it was the time you saw her green eyes staring back at you and the whole world only felt like it held the two of you. But not anymore.

Maybe it was the numbing adrenaline rush of the shock coming through, but you take in a deep breath, ripping your gaze away. You couldn't bare to look at the sight anymore.

You clench your jaw, your hand gripping itself in a fist. Your eyes pooled with tears and Carol looked at you, her own misery at finding out the truth obvious on her face, although she was mostly worried about you.

"You know what? Maybe we can...do this another day." You say, trying your best to not let your voice shake entirely, but it did falter.

"You don't wanna--" She was about to suggest trying to distract yourself with the arcade, but at the same time, nothing could make you feel better after seeing such a thing.

"Just take me home." Your mouth moved quickly and you spoke quietly, your eyes flicking back to the spot where she was walking, but she was out of sights already.

You turn around and walk fast, not wanting to linger anymore. Carol walks with you. There was nothing said as you made your way out and to the car. The lovely sounds of the birds chirping now fell on deaf ears as your legs kept you moving.

The car door opens easily with the pull of your hand, and you get in, but you were careful to not slam the door. Carol gets in after you, and turns on the engine.

Her eyes go over to you. You already had your seatbelt on and had settled in your seat, staring out the window. She was about to say something, but she held her tongue, not wanting to make matters worse.

And what would anyone have to say in this anyway? Your lover left you, replaced you with someone else, and broke your heart. 'It will get better'? The only path to take was to go through the pain and that was it. Until you somehow get back up again.

The music starts up once more, and it didn't make you happy as much anymore. You couldn't even focus on it if you tried. You were trying to blink away the tears and ignore the way your throat was swelling up on the inside.

Carol drives you back home safely, keeping her eyes on you here and there. The ride was quiet other than the music, but it was obvious the tension was high.

There were questions unsaid, many going around in your head, but you didn't wanna trouble her with all of them, and she probably wouldn't know what to answer them with anyway.

Soon enough, you arrive back to your house, and you gently unbuckle your seatbelt. At the corner of your eyes, your tears were starting to seep out, just a little.

Carol makes sure she says something before she regrets just being silent, "Hey," she said quietly, and you look at her, your eyes shining with unshed tears. It was the softest you've heard her voice yet.

"I'm always here, if you need me," she says. She knows it won't be much, but it needed to get out of her head. You nod, and sniffle, trying your best to not cry just yet.

You don't say anything back. If you did, you would've broken right there. Instead, you pull on the car handle and open the door, getting out.

Carol watches you as you leave, and she makes sure you get into your house safely before getting out the driveway.

You close the front door of the house, locking it, and freezing in your tracks, taking in a sharp breath before letting it out as a sigh. You nearly hoped it didn't happen, that you would only do that and just wake up from sleeping right now.

But then you let out a sob and lean back on the closed door. You hide your face in your hands, closing your eyes as you started crying, and your chest wracks with broken sobs.

How could she do such a thing? Did she not love you? Were you simply not enough? Too much? You couldn't stop yourself with the questions roaming your head, overthinking everything as you go. The kindest soul with the warmest heart, now broken into a tiny million pieces just because someone couldn't talk about their feelings. Yet you seem to always find a way to blame yourself for every situation.

Sure, maybe even if she did talk to you, your heart would still break, but would it have felt like this? Would it have felt like your lungs were going to collapse from your cries?

You sniffle, and try your best to steady your breathing, but you couldn't, so you just let it do whatever it wants. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve, but the tears keep flowing, so it barely did much.

Fatiguely, with a heavy body, you made your way to the kitchen. You wanted to go to the bedroom, but it was so far, and everything in there would only make your head spin even more. The couch was a choice, but your eyes linger on that recipe book you had looked through this morning.

Your hand twitches to grab it, but you bite your tongue and instead grip the counter, letting yourself slide down on the kitchen floor. You clutch your legs and curl up. The grip your hands held with the fabric of your jeans were enough to probably rip them.

You still had hiccups leaving your mouth, tears leaving your eyes, and you were definitely about to sob once more. The kitchen tiles blurred from your vision getting clouded with tears.

Your hands clumsily reaches in your pocket to grab your phone, and you somehow made it to your homescreen.

The phone was set down on the floor, your hands shaking as your tears rolled down to your chin and dropped down to stain your shirt.

You look up, trying to gather yourself up, but of course you couldn't. Your body needed to let the emotions out, especially after such a situation.

For a few more long minutes, you sat helplessly on the kitchen floor, your breaths going with their own minds instead of your own. You take a few deep breaths, your legs splayed out in front of you before you sniffle and take one last deep breath.

You sat up a little more properly with the little energy you have, and slide your phone just a bit closer to yourself, your fingers gliding across the screen as you opened your calls app, and hovered your finger over the contact name.

You tap on it, trying your best to recollect yourself before she picks up. Your teeth bites down on your bottom lip, every tone of the calling sound making your heart beat faster.

It ends, and her voice comes through.

"Hello?" There's the soft voice. The gentle, soothing voice that lured you into falling in love.

"Wanda." Your voice nearly faltered, but it kept a little of it's stern tone. Your hand slid down to the kitchen floor, the texture keeping your emotions steady, at least enough for a couple minutes.

"Hey, what's up? Did you see my note?" She asks. She's been lying to your face all this time and you didn't even know it. How blind were you?

"Do you know what day it is today?" You ask, ignoring her own question. You sounded so calm in your own anger you honestly nearly even scared yourself.

"No...what?" She was confused, and you could imagine the innocent act of a face she made.

"It's my birthday." You put simply.

"Oh..." that was all that sounded on the phone, and you knew the call didn't get cut off. She just didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry I didn't stay Y/N, I...forgot." She says slowly, and it was obvious she was trying to tread her tracks carefully.

"I can come back tonight, I promise." You almost didn't want her to, but you needed to talk it out. You didn't say anything else, not wanting to talk about everything else over the phone.

"Goodbye, Wanda." You whisper, your voice breaking at the end. You were sure she noticed it, but you'd want her to anyway.

You ended the call, tapping on the red button. That wasn't the end of it yet, of course, but for now, your hand only rests on the floor, your body falling limp against the cabinet.

She calls, but you don't hear it. The phone rings, on, and on.

You clench your jaw, tears filling up in your eyes once more. Your hand weakly silences your phone, and for the next couple more minutes, you lay crying, until your throat was dry and your muscles ached from sitting on the floor.

|——————————— ᗢ ———————————|

The sun had gone down by now, and the moon came out of hiding.

You were no longer on the kitchen floor, but you were on the couch, curled up like a cat. You haven't done anything but cry ever since you got home. Only right now, your tears had dried, staining your cheeks

You hear the front door unlock, and you feel it coming, the moment you've been dreading.

The brunette appears from behind the door, closing it as she went in the house. Her eyes roamed the place, and eventually, it lands on you.

She lets out a sigh of relief when she realized you were still here. You let out a heavy sigh as you sat up properly.

She heard it. Even with the distance, the quietness of the room captured it. Her heart beated harder in her chest.

"Y/N, please, I'm sorry." She pleads as she makes her way to the couch, having carelessly kicked her shoes off, leaving one tilted on its side. You haven't even said anything yet, and you almost feel sorry yourself.

"Hey,"-- You were sitting right beside the armrest, so, she leans over and gently puts her hand on your cheek. --"I love you. I'm sorry."

You gently push away her hand, turning to look at her with your jaw clenching. She can see the anger in your eyes and it had her giving you a little space.

"Do you?" You say, your head moving slightly, and she notices the way the corner of your eyes seemed a little red. You weren't even looking at her. That was only the second part of the situation.

"Yes!" She says her eyebrows furrowed. She raises her hands in exaggeration before moving one up to her hair, sliding it back as she let out a breath. "...Why is that difficult to understand?"

"Well, maybe because you didn't even say anything when I said it to you just a few days ago!" Her mouth opens, and you assumed she was about to argue that she was drunk during that time, but she lets out a scoff, and that's even worse.

"You're pissed off about that too?" She seemed mad, and you nearly regret even blurting out the sentence.

You close your eyes with your hands, just wanting this to end even though it's just started and just barely scratched surface of what you need to talk about...or argue. You hoped it was the first one.

"Of course I am, Wanda! Where have you been?" You try your best to keep calm, but your voice was laced with anger. Hers though, was higher volume than yours.

"At work!" She walks around to the front of the couch, and you slide your hand down your face. Her face looked so believable, but you knew it wasn't the truth. You saw it with your own eyes.

"Bullshit." You whispered, looking at her with tired eyes. She gets confused and sits down on the couch, her eyes focused on you. You shift your position.

"What? I'm not ly--..." Her voice was a little high of a volume, and she doesn't finish her sentence when she hears you take in a shaky breath.

"...I...saw you." You said quietly, and Wanda, having been caught up in trying to make you believe her had to go quiet in thought of what exactly you mean.

She swallows down a lump in her throat, her eyes catching yours.

"Saw me?" She asked, her voice reducing down to almost the same volume as yours.

"You...were with someone else." You were shaking and your breath was trembling. You willed everything in your body not to sob while trying to get the rest of the sentences out. Her eyes widened at your words, and that was it.

"And I know it's not another person, because I saw your face." You point your finger to her, gently pushing on her chest with it to enunciate your words. Gently. You were never the type to lash out or be rough even when you were angry.

She goes quiet. Both pairs of your eyes were welling up with tears, that much was obvious. Any other words she's had before had died in her throat.

You see a tear rolling down her cheek from the side, and you held your hands back from wiping it off.

She looks at you, guilt swimming in her eyes, and she takes a shaky breath in before letting it go.

"...There's really..." She looks away from you, unable to even stare back at you. Your heart felt heavier than you knew it could.

"...nothing I could say or do to make you feel better." She said tearfully, her lips going down as she thought of her next words. She swallows her collected saliva again. That hit you like a million little glass pieces piercing through every part of your living, loving soul.

There really was not much she could reason with other than the fact that it had been true. She's fallen out of love with you, but even she didn't want to admit it.

"I've been with someone else. I...wanted to tell you. I just didn't know how." She admitted with her shoulders going up at her last words. There it was. The truth coming straight out of her mouth. Your lips nearly trembled, but your teeth sank down on it.

"How...long?" You ask, and you almost didn't want to know, but for the sake of closure, you urged on. She stays quiet, her own hands gripping the couch.

"How long, Wanda?" You pressed. Was it a month ago? It couldn't have been longer than that.

"Only after eight months of us moving here." It was before you even had your break. You made the math quickly in your head. You moved in a little more than a year ago, so it's been...six months?

You had been in this devouring hole for six months, and you hadn't even realized it. And she didn't tell you or break up with you. Instead she requested a break. No wonder your hope had died to sparks and to nothingness.

"What?" You whispered under your quivering breath, your head tilting in disbelief as your eyes spilled out in silent tears.

"Wanda." You say her name softly. She looked down in her lap as you let out another breath that nearly sounded like a sob. She sniffles, and you know the both of your hearts are breaking.

"Why?" You ask, although it was more of a thought from your head that spewed out unintentionally rather than a logical question. She couldn't answer. She didn't have an answer herself. It just happened. That's how it always is.

"...I thought you loved me." Your voice was small, as if speaking any louder would make the entire universe disappear in fear, just like your love had.

"I did! Or, I do!! I don't know!!!" She blurts out, not being able to decide which one. Her body had deflated at the high chance of losing you tonight.

"So you fell out of love with me completely?" Your eyes watch her carefully, and just for a vivid moment, she hesitantly, just barely nods.

"And you didn't think to just...break it off." You whisper, although it was more of a sentence to yourself. But she heard it anyway. It was obvious what you were pointing towards in your sentence. She sighs. She knows she's taken a step she couldn't take back.

Really, how can someone bring theirselves to having a full conversation about falling out of love? It's a difficult thing to do. Sure, you'd be heartbroken either way, or somehow you would have been able to work it out, but you supposed something else in you just wished you hadn't suffered all those months hoping for absolutely...nothing.

The two of you sit in the silence of what you'd think is death, not knowing what exactly to do with it all. The love you once had was gone. Or at least...hers.

Something spins around in your head. It's been spinning for ages since she had called to take a break, and you had hoped you never had to say it, but what else was there? You could start over, but this love had already started over before. Or had tried to. Technically it was both. This was the end of the road.

"...It's over." You whisper out into the room, and Wanda finally glanced up at you, her face full of heartbreak. Even though she probably saw it coming. You've seen that look before, and your stomach was about to collapse at even a second of it. You kept the eye contact though, needing to fully close this.

In a way, you searched her eyes, for some reason, still searching for anything that once was. But there wasn't anything but hopeless desperation.

"No...no please, I need you." She says, taking breaths in between as she cried. You hated seeing her like this. But you hated going in circles just as much.

"If you really did, then you wouldn't have done such a thing." She had nothing else to say to that. It had been your breaking point. You averted your gaze and stood up, hesitating for a moment, but eventually going off to the bedroom as she sat there in the consequences of her actions.

You walk into the room and close the door, locking it right after. You gently lean your head against the door, while silent tears freely move down your skin. The supply of water in your body was definitely infinite for today. A part of you wanted to laugh at the mere thought, and just to cope, but you were too tired to even do so.

You take in a breath, looking up to the ceiling as you felt your throat swell up, but you try your best to be quiet. You'd hate for her to hear you sob in the other room. She might be doing the same thing herself. You squeeze your eyes shut for a short time, wishing for it all to just stop.

And technically it's about to.

Gently, you push off the bedroom door and your legs take you to the front of your closet. The next move was obvious.

Your hands clenched theirselves as your eyes stare at the closet doors. You take a look around the room, taking in the space with your eyes lingering on some parts. The book Wanda hasn't finished reading. She stopped reading it ever since she started to disappear. You should have seen the signs.

The little teddy bear she got, the daisies you got her in the corner of the room, the DVDs she has in the TV stand, the music collection you have next to it.

You rip your gaze away and let your hands open the closet doors. A travel bag and a luggage bag was just under the hanged clothes, sitting within a compartment.

With trembling hands, you slide both out, putting them on the bed and unzipping them. It was the same bags you used to move into the house.

You grab some of the clothes you once shuffled through just earlier this morning, making sure to remember which ones are Wanda's, and not yours.

They were placed into the bags, and you stared at the folded shirts. They looked wrong. You throw your head back with a sigh, frustrated. The bed dips when you sat on it, the bags moving along just a little with it.

What are you thinking? The promise to stay, to fight through it all, it had all fallen apart. The one person you didn't leave after just a few months, and yet here you are. Packing. You let your body fall down completely on the mattress, legs dangling while you stared at the ceiling.

How many times have you stared up there? You don't even want to know. Before you lost all motivation and your emotions ran slow, you slowly prop yourself up to your arms and got back up. If you stopped now, you won't be gone in the morning.

Toothbrush, toothpaste, everything else you need and all the essentials. The last of it gets stored in the empty parts, and with the quiet sound of the zipper zipping, it was done.

With a relieved sigh that you could now simply lay on the pillows, your arms splayed out, your body giving up the last of its energy. You definitely couldn't get up anymore to do anything else.

This was the last night you were sleeping in this bed.

The crickets couldn't be any more louder with filling up the silence. You hated it. It felt too short, but all at the same time, it feels like it's gone on for too long.

Your vision faded into black as your mind stayed loud, up until it crept into your dreams. She slept on the couch that night.

In the morning, you woke up heavy and go through everything as if you didn't even sleep. Not even a cold shower helped you. Honestly, it might have just helped numbing the pain in your chest instead. You gather your items, gripping your bags tightly.

What if you just drop them and simply isolate yourself in the room? No. You shook your head, walking over to the door.

Your hand remains on the cold door knob for a short while, and you almost stay long enough to have it warmed up from your skin. It gets twisted though, and you open it.

If not for the sleeping figure on the couch, it would have been an empty room. You walk out to the front door with your eyes lingering on her.

Maybe her love was too good for you anyway. You just couldn't give her enough. Or too much. It didn't even make sense anymore. There was no in between your heart and mind could agree on. Even you didn't know what you were thinking.

Just as you click open the lock and went to open the front door, she slowly awakes. The shuffling makes you turn to look at her. You catch the realization and sadness in her eyes when you locked sights. Damn the loud clicks and creaking sounds of the doors.

"Where are you going?" She asks, but it was more of a question, than her wanting to stop you.

"Somewhere that isn't here." You say quietly, like a secret thats not meant to be said. She stares off into a space in the room, lost in thought.

"I really am sorry." You hold your breath a little longer, waiting for her to say something else. But she didn't.

There wasn't anything possible to heal the broken love you held. Maybe if she gave in, but her hands had been touched by someone else and her lips...perhaps had met another's.

"I love you." You whispered impulsively, although quiet and quick, it made sound to reach her ears nonetheless.

But yet, she was silent.

You stare at her for a second more, and few seconds too long to say you're determined in leaving. She wasn't looking at you.

You take a step to turn, and the door slides open with the pull of your hand.

You take another, then when you're outside and the door closes gently, the quietness of it all consumed you.

You check your belongings, you had your bags, your watch, your phone. You have everything except for her.

You check your last pocket, and in it were the keys to the house. You slide it off and it clinks, a familiar sound that you hated made your heart skip a beat every time you heard it.

You leave it off somewhere at the front of the house, and you hope you don't remember where you put it.

It all blurred together as you went to your car, turned on the engine and drove off. Of course you had a plan in mind. You've thought about it a hundred times, but you never thought you'd go with it.

The car arrives to a stop, near the place of your favorite cafe. But you aren't going out. You just needed to drive away from the house.

"Fuck." You cursed under your breath and slammed your fist on the steering wheel, and somehow your hand had slid down to the horn, making you bump into it and the car beeped loudly. You jumped, and looked around alertedly, but no one was there. The sidewalks were empty.

You relievedly let out the breath you were holding once you made sure you were in the clear. Thankfully, it wasn't lunchtime or the weekend.

"God," the word comes out under your breath as you shook your head. The thoughts in your head were harsh, and your shoulders slumped at it.

"How could I have ever possibly thought I was actually the one?" You whisper to yourself, staring at the logo of the car, still somehow shiny, just sitting there in between the controls even from how much you've driven the car.

You grip the steering wheel, but then you notice your arms being covered in a certain cloth. One all too familiar, one you chose in instinct in the morning. You look down on the sweatshirt you're wearing, and it was obvious. It was Wanda's.

You clench your jaw and your hands move to peel it off yourself, the sweatshirt turning into a jumbled up piece of clothing that was inside-out. You didn't even want to look at it, so you threw it to the backseats. You'll deal with it later.

Soon, you went to grab your phone, your hand shaking as you turned on your phone, trying your best to find a certain contact. You hold the device tighter, trying to stop the shaking. But you couldn't.

When you found it, you were hesitant to tap on it, your mind loud of everything bad that could happen. But it was Kate. You take in a shaky breath and tapped on the call button, exhaling your breath as you put your phone to your ear.

"Hello?" Her voice comes out gently. The kinder tone almost makes you let out a breath of relief. Your shoulders relax only a little though.

"Kate?" You ask in a whisper, fiddling a little with your steering wheel and tracing the round shape, the texture brushing the skin of your fingers.

"Hey, what's up?" It was still gentle, but there was a hint of concern in it. She can already tell something was wrong even though you barely said anything.

"Um...I..." Your breath was shaky, and she could hear it. On the other side of the phone, Kate was frowning, but she stayed quiet as she gave you time to get your words out.

You were nibbling your bottom lip as you thought about how to talk about your situation, and in the midst of the moment-- "...Wanda and I broke up," you spew out the words, your mouth not even caring to follow your mind anymore.

"What? What happened?" She was certainly shocked, and you look out the window, trying to distract yourself while at the same time speaking to Kate.

"She was with someone else," you say. The florist you once saw a few months ago came out of his store, greeting a customer outside. It was like you were watching a scene you were once in, in another person's view.

"Oh, shit." She swore out unintentionally, the surprise taking over her mouth. "Sorry," she apologized quickly, and you can imagine her blinking to get ahold of herself. It almost made you let out a soft chuckle.

"...I'm sorry, Y/N. God, I could never imagine Wanda would have done that." Kate said quietly. She adored your relationship together, that much was true, but she also saw the parts of Wanda that you wish weren't true. Yet this, this was an unexpected turn.

"...And since I left the house, I can't even sulk in bed or anything." You let out a gentle breath of a laugh, but it was more of a nervous one.

"I mean, I should've had a plan but-- we'd just keep seeing each other and it just...hurts." The florist had said goodbye to the customer who bought the flowers. He seemed happy as he rewrote some things on his little chalkboard. That man was definitely living his best life.

"Where are you gonna go?" She asks, and you go silent. You couldn't go to Carol's. You wouldn't. She's living with Maria and Monica and you probably wouldn't have a room to sleep other than in the living room on the couch. You wouldn't want to intrude on her living conditions anyway.

"I don't...really have anywhere to go to, so anywhere, I guess." You sink into your seat, looking down in your lap to stop staring at people. Kate was silent for a moment, and you're guessing she either didn't know what to say, or is thinking about something.

"My place is available to you if you want to come. You're always welcome here," she offers, and your eyes relax while your fingers fiddle with theirselves, thinking it over.

"...If that's okay with you. I mean, I don't want to intrude on anything--" You add on after quickly, but you get cut off by Kate.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it, I've missed having you hanging around. And I promise you, I have two forks and spoons now so we don't have to share one or get a plastic one from Mcdonald's that'll break after a few minutes." She jokes, and that actually made you laugh.

"Okay. Okay, thank you, Kate. I'll be there tomorrow." You sit up more properly, getting ready to drive to the airport. You hadn't visited her in a while, so you already had money ready.

"I will be there to pick you up. Okay? Do not get a cab," she says sternly, and you take in a big breath only to let it out as a small sigh.

"Kate," You say sternly back, wanting to protest and not burden her more. But she hums in disagreement. You know she cared about getting you safe and being the best friend she is, but your head was killing you.

"No. No, Y/N. I am not letting you cry in a cab awkwardly first thing you get out the airport." She argues softly, and you let your shoulders down in defeat. At your silence, she waits.

"I'll let you know when I land." You give in, your voice small.

"Okay, good." You can hear the relief in her voice, and your lip tugs up into the smallest smile

"See you, Kate." You were about to end the call, but she speaks up again.

"Hey."

"Take care of yourself."

"I'll try."

"See you."

The call ends, and you start driving.

end of chapter 5.

Series Masterlist <- Chapter 4 Chapter 6 ->

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

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@ludasgf @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @justanotherteenpoet @fxckmiup @dmenby3100 @natashasilverfox @wandsmxmff @tia-thesimp @marvelwomen-simp @may-z3

[not-poignant]

Stupid question, but I remembered seeing you mention having monthly minimum wordcounts on one of your previous posts and I wanted to ask if you're a professional writer? Because at first I was like "that sounds so stressful"* and then I realized that it makes a lot more sense if you're doing it for a living.

*Also acknowledging that people are different from each other and what is stressful for one person might be productive and useful for another.

I am a professional writer!

My original serials are my job, basically, and they're supported by generous folks at Patreon and Ream. That, in turn, allows me to do this in a more professional and focused way, vs. say just as a hobbyist who doesn't update for 9 months at a time. It also lets me share my works for free, in a fandom friendly manner, which lets me keep doing something I love in a way I love to do it, but in a way which is like...I guess more reliable than you'd necessarily be if you were only doing it for fun.

I can instead pledge high fidelity/loyalty to my main serials through thick and thin (hence my wild author's notes), which means folks following WIPs get to know they'll be finished, and I get to enjoy doing this for a living! It's hard, but it's a good hard. Except for taxes.

As for my monthly minimum, that actually started as a way to break out of the very ableist 'you should write every day' (as a professional writer) which is literally impossible for me and my chronic illnesses. I sometimes have big chunks of time where I can't write, sometimes weeks! And where it would be unhealthy for me to make myself.

(More about my writing process beneath the Read More!)

Alongside that, I have quite severe dyscalculia (think dyslexia but with numbers and directions and left and right lol) so I can't keep a 'running wordcount' because the numbers confuse me too much. Luckily, because my writing life is defined by chapters completed (and not novels), I count the wordcount of every finished chapter only. Unfinished chapters don't count! My growing wordcount per month grows only when that draft is finished (my drafts are clean, so chapters only tend to grow or shrink by about 100-150 words per edit, so give or take it all evens out).

It's not how any other author I know does it, but it works so well for me that I've been doing it for nearly a decade now.

I started the monthly minimum (which currently is 25k words per month) because I tend towards being a workaholic, and so my therapist and I established a minimum not as an unreachable goal that's hard to meet, but as an easy goal that's generally effortless for me to reach in good months, and average months, and even many bad ones. After I hit 25k words per month, if I crash, feel burnt out, feel awful, or life gets Life-y in a bad way, I have permission to stop writing. I can just stop. Everything else is gravy. (Though secretly I always want to hit 30-35k but shhh).

When I hit 50k words, I also have to stop immediately and take a mandatory 3-5 day break from writing even if I want to keep writing. Because I don't know it yet, but I'm probably exhausted on at least some level, lol.

I didn't hit 50k at all last year and there is at least one therapist who would be really proud of me about that even though I feel kind of guilty about it, lol.

Here's an example of my tracking:

You can see the chapters I've written, which dates I've written them. They're colour coded, so I can see at a glance if I'm writing enough of a story or not. And then on the far right is an addition of every month's wordcount.

April was so low because I took an intentional writing holiday (which I'll be doing again ideally in March this year). December was so low because December sucks.

And then I erase it all at the end of the year and start again. The blank whiteboard is actually very motivating to write that first chapter because I always feel like I haven't done anything until then.

This whiteboard is two feet away from where I write quite literally, and is never moved etc. so I have a yearly tracker basically that's extremely visible (super helpful to my ADHD brain, because if I put this in a spreadsheet I'll stop updating it after 3 weeks and then forget it exists). The colour coding gives me dopamine, so does adding chapters.

Also acknowledging that people are different from each other and what is stressful for one person might be productive and useful for another.

This is true! This is actually the least stressful way of doing things for me.

That being said, anon, it's still super stressful. Being a serial writer is one of the most stressful things you do, because you have constant and never-ending deadlines for years. Novelists can kind of escape this, in a way, because they can't release novels as often as I release chapters. But I have to be mentally switched on at least 8 times a month, re: putting work out there, making sure it's at least semi-polished, making sure I let everyone know, and tracking responses because obviously, unlike a novel, if you lose interest you can't just "skip ahead" you simply lose your readers. A lot of novelists couldn't live or work this way, a) because they couldn't write a hooky serial and b) because many realise that having to update all the time is really exhausting actually. There's a kind of social labour to updating a serial, and getting it Right every single time. One of my greatest fears that I have nightmares about

Serial writing is the most stressful kind of writing I've ever done (and I've done a few different kinds), I just happen to like the adrenaline rush of this kind of writing, and I happen to work well under a controlled level of stress! I know that, because I've been doing this for over 10 years, refining it, figuring out how to make it healthier (it was really unhealthy at first), getting better at it, figuring out my weak points (some of them are still weak points) etc. I actually think I'm pretty good at it now!

I'm also getting better at not thinking my entire career is over if I take 2 weeks off.

I went from being entirely dependent on a Disability Pension, and like, sometimes having to skip meals and doctor's appointments and even medication due to money issues (the Disability Pension is ironically not enough if you have mental health issues because our subsidised healthcare doesn't cover mental health adequately and Australia has no food stamps system), to being able to live a bit more freely and support my chronic health stuff a bit more because of writing this way!

For the first time ever through these stories I was able to afford a psychiatrist, and a few other things I really desperately have needed since I was a teenager. So being able to write like this, even when it's really hard and I'm really tired, feels still like a miracle to me. I've never been well or healthy enough to work a full-time job with typical 9-5 hours, and always kind of was stuck imagining a life where I'm just...never knowing how to afford certain things, to being in a position where I'm fairly confident I can get my meds every month, or pay for my dog's pet food, etc. It's really nice.

But yeah honestly serial writing is the most stressful form of serial writing there is as soon as you lock it in as a professional job where you must meet nearly 10 deadlines every month and you happen to have pretty intense ADHD so deadlines make you scream a little.

Sometimes what is extremely stressful and sometimes even distressing for someone is also extremely productive and rewarding for them too. We probably wouldn't have a lot of emergency surgeons if that were the bar for how we decide what we do!

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After the Flesh 18+ -Chapter 9-

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 4,872 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Headcanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings:  Sexual language, foul language, scary moment. This is Slasher smut, be mindful of that and use your discretion.

A/n: This chapter took me so long to complete! I had to read over it and edit like four times. I took 48 hrs to make all the art pieces starting from 3pm march first until 6am march second, took a nap, started back up to finish the art at 2:30pm and finalized EVERYTHING for upload at 6am March 3rd. I'm tired bro, I got so carried away with the art I really should have cut it down to just 3 images but artists always suffer for their passion, it's our curse. Let me know if you want to be in the tag list. I update chapter progress on the masterlist whenever something changes.

Please enjoy this chapter! I worked very hard on it so reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated very much.

Tag List: @fan-goddess , @artxasa

Chapter 9 

               The days at the Hewitt house went by slow as molasses, within these dragging days a construction crew had arrived and began repairing your home. They worked quickly and made a lot of headway which is unusual for contractors, the team seemed eager to leave for some unspoken reason. The foreman said that in one month, you would get your home back; you were excited to have your life get back on track despite enjoying your time at the Hewitt house. You made sure to water and trim the fruit trees so that they didn’t overgrow or die, since Dover was still missing, all the responsibility was left up to you. There was so much work to do but you were happy to be able to contribute your time to the property. In the passing days you didn’t see much of Tommy, he seemed preoccupied and was frequently away from the farm which only made the days last longer for you.

Half past 4pm, the day was really wearing on you and the sun was getting low in the sky so you decided to leave the orchard and head back to the Hewitt house to rest. On your walk back, you think about Tommy’s room and what it must look like, when you saw the door under that menacing red light it was simultaneously both frightening and intriguing.

The basement was such a dark and quiet place, so spacious and empty; You remembered that room with hooks that Tommy swiftly prevented you from exploring, your curiosity grew when he spun you around and slammed the door shut. This family has a mysterious history to you, the mention of them allegedly eating people weighed heavy on your mind -can I really get past the fact that they might have been cannibals? – it felt easier to gaslight yourself into thinking everything was fine, so you ran it out of your head.

When you arrived at the house, you make your way through the parlor and see Luda Mae sitting on the couch in the living room. She was reading a romance novel with a muscular, golden-haired man on the cover, it was reminiscent of the classics you had seen in your grandmothers closet as a kid. She sees you and places the book down to the side hurriedly as if she was ashamed of what she was reading,

“I-uh-ahem” She stuttered,

You smile politely “Reading anything good?”

She laughs, “Yeah, this one’s real saucy too. Thought I might get lost in it for a while.”

You felt bad for interrupting her, “Well don’t let me stop you, I’m just heading over to my room for some rest before dinner.”

she replies, “Oh, shoot that reminds me, best get dinner started now.” Luda Mae gets up with a groan and starts walking towards the kitchen.

“Time really does fly by when you find a good book.” She laughs as she passes.

You go to your room and get yourself changed and freshened up before dinner, you didn’t want to be around everyone while having the sweat of farmwork still lingering. You put on a comfortable pair of black tights and a white tank top which matched the white walking shoes you slipped on your feet.

When dinner was ready, you left your room to meet with the Hewitts at the dining table. The scent of roast chicken and baked corn wafted into the room, you were starving from having worked all day. Charlie was already sitting at the table when you arrived, he looked at you and said,

“Didja see the progress on the house?”

You take a seat, “Yeah, it’s coming along really fast, I’m surprised.”

He laughs “Don’t be, that crew probably knows this area ain’t so safe for ‘em. They’re smart, gonna get their paycheck and fuck off.”

You furl your eyebrows, “Why isn’t it safe for them?”

“Ah- Uh...” Charlie stopped himself when he caught a glare from Luda Mae from the kitchen,

“Well, what if they were to get hurt hm? Ain’t no hospital nearby or nothin’” he looked pleased with his answer.

You reply, “That’s a good point I guess.”

You know there is something more to what he said, but you didn’t want to push him. Luda Mae brought in the food, placing it all on the table followed by a big jug of ice-water, she groaned as she sat down; Tommy however, was missing tonight and you were worried,

You ask, “Where is Tommy? Is he not eating?”

Charlie laughs “That boy not eat? Maybe when hell freezes over after pigs fly n’ the fat lady sings.”

A devilish grin forms on his face before he turns to Luda Mae and says,

“Hey Luda, get the ball rollin’ n’ start singin’, then when the pigs grow wings Satan’s ass’ll turn to ice and the boy won’t be eatin’ us outta house n’ home no more.”

Luda Mae just rolls her eyes, she turns to you and says,

“Don’t worry hun, Charlie brought somethin’ to him so he don’t starve out there.”

You push for more info, “He’s been so busy lately; I feel like I never get to see him anymore. Where is he anyway?”

Charlie grabs a chicken leg and bites into it, he starts speaking with his mouth full,

“He’d shred us in half if we toldja. He’s been workin’ real hard though, wants to show you what all he’s been doin’ tonight”

Charlie swallows his food and continues, “He’s got a big ole’ hard on for you girlie, you better not be trailin’ him along fer nothin’, or he might lose it.”

Luda Mae whips her dishcloth at Charlie, who just smiles and winks at you. Luda Mae looks at you and says,

“Hope you get used to this foul-mouthed pig here, I might die from having to apologize on his behalf all darn day.”

She shakes her head at him and follows, “Thomas wants to meet up with you after you’re done eatin’. He wants to show you what he’s been workin’ on.”

Charlie pipes in, “Yeah, I bet he wants to show you somethin’. Probably whip out the fuckin’ anaconda he’s hidin’ down there. For an ugly motherfucker he sure was blessed. God is a real shit heel for that one.”

You squint your eyes at him, and he continues,

“He used to bathe outside when he was a youngin’ but once he grew up a bit the bulls started feelin’ emasculated.” Charlie starts laughing hysterically.

Luda Mae hides her face in her hands, she yells out,

“Why’r you talkin’ bout my boy’s privates like that!? You tryin’ to make us all upset?”

Charlie is now red in the face from laughing, he gets a sick pleasure in making people uncomfortable, but if anything, it just made you unbearably curious. You caught a glimpse of his erection when you watched Tommy run from you at the pond, it was greatly obscured but from what you could see, it was huge; You were able to feel the size and firmness of it in the laundry room, which factualized Charlies words.

He looked over at you, his eyes were watery from laughing so hard, he says,

“I’m sorry honey buns, but you need to be warned before you let him stick that goddamn two by four in ya.” He continues to laugh while he shovels corn into his mouth. You were still not used to his outlandish way of conversation and it made you blush.

The rest of dinner was mostly just Luda Mae trying to keep the subject matter light and Charlie giggling to himself. Once you cleared the table and packed away the leftovers, Luda Mae guides you to the door and says,

“Go wait for him by the silo, he’ll take you to his surprise. I hope you like it dear.”

The sun was now deep on the horizon which was losing its rosy hue, twinkling planets were already visible and the moon was following the dark part of the sky. You see Thomas leaning against the silo, he had one hand in his pocket and the other was fiddling with some wheat from the field to check the progress of the crop. He was wearing a very loosely fit tank top that looked old and worn, his pants were a pale blue jean with dirt and other stains scattered all over, he was still wearing his working boots which means he must have completed this surprise only today.

He looks up from what he was doing, when he sees you, he stood up straight, dropping the wheat to the ground. You could tell he was smiling, his deep blue eyes squishing upward gave it away, this made you smile wide as you felt knots form in your stomach. You felt like you hadn’t seen him in forever, time away really does make the heart grow fonder, it was agony not being able to spend time with him. He extended his hand to you and when you placed your hand in his and realized how small you really were compared to him, you felt like you could only hold onto two of his fingers while he could easily cover more than just your hand with his.

He looked at you and carefully pulled you toward the forest,

“Where are we going? It’s dark in there, sort of scary, isn’t it?” You were hesitant to be going into a dark forest as the sun was rapidly losing its light, he looked at you and tilted his head to the side,

“I’m here” he said calmly.

His voice was so deep and reassuring. You rarely ever hear him speak, so it felt like you won the lottery whenever he did utter out anything. He was walking slowly, he made sure to accommodate the vast difference in gait you both had by staying behind you, he guided you by gently moving you in the right direction with his hand on your shoulder. Even though you were nervous about the darkness of the forest, you felt safe with Tommy close to you. He was so large and unbelievably strong that there was no way harm could come to you.

Suddenly, Tommy stopped and turned you around to face him, he took your hands and covered your eyes with them, you couldn’t help but smile. He put his hand on the middle of your back to guide you further in, you trusted that he would ensure you don’t trip and fall. The ground went from dirt and crunching leaves, to soft grass, then a hard flat surface. Each step you took made a hollow wooden noise as if you were at a harbor. Tommy stopped you and moved your hands from your eyes. You looked around and gasped, you were on a dock that sat on top of the pond.

The moon was already shining a bright light on the water making it look like glass, the stars that now shone in the night sky were reflecting off the surface and turned the pond into what looked like a portal into space. The gentle croaking of frogs created a peaceful ambience, and as you walked further onto the dock you saw some wooden chairs to relax on, one was much larger than the other.

“Did you make all this?” your voice was exasperated with awe.

Tommy nodded again and pointed at you,

You smiled “You made this for me?”

He nodded again and went to sit on the largest chair, he tapped his hand on the other chair to get you to sit with him. You sat down and the deep seat forced you to recline which was relaxing.

“I’ve never had anyone do something like this for me. Thank you, Tommy, you’re such a thoughtful man.”

Tommy looked at you and nodded slowly, he made an approving ‘hmph’ noise, he felt good about pleasing you. The heat tonight was thick, it made your skin sticky with sweat, and you could see a slick shine on Tommy’s arms and chest. You get up from the chair to put your hand in the water, testing its temperature, small fish reveal themselves as they flash in the moonlight. You stand up and remove your shoes, Tommy stands up nervously and you giggle,

“Don’t worry, I won’t take off my shirt or underwear. It’s too hot to just sit down when we have the most immaculate natural pool right under our feet.”

You slowly take off your tights and fold them neatly on top of your shoes, the black thong you had underneath did nothing to conceal your feminine shape; Tommy turns away from you, staring off into the sky in an attempt to avoid gawking at you. It was amusing to you since he already saw most of your body the first time you were in the pond. You slowly lower yourself into the cool water of the pond, its cooling temperature feels like heaven.

Tommy heard you get in and slowly turns around to see you on your back, floating gently with the moon’s reflection circling your body, you looked like a goddess. You saw that he was just standing there watching you, you swim up to the dock and put your arms on the edge, you say,

“You know, you don’t have to just watch me.”

Seeing him act so shy was strange, a polar opposite of the last time you were both in the laundry room where he made no qualms of pushing himself up against your clothed pussy with his dick begging for entry. You watched as he took off his clothes, throwing them sloppily next to your neatly folded pile. You were annoyed that he was wearing black boxers which concealed the shape and size of his package too well, but being able to see his body almost completely unclothed was still enough to have you biting your lip in excitement.

Tommy had very long legs which were complemented by his thick thighs, his butt was muscular from having to haul his hefty body weight all over the farm. His torso was exactly as you pictured it, he had heavy muscle underneath a layer of fat that softened any sharp edges and did nothing but add mass to his already impressive size. His pecs were large and heaved with every breath he took, a smattering of soft hair covered the base of his chest and ran down his abdomen leading towards his groin, getting less sparse the lower it went.

Seeing him so exposed was odd, most people would look vulnerable, but he only looked more intimidating and fearsome especially since his arm muscles were well defined despite his soft torso. His size was not a mirage from thick clothes or padded jackets like most men you encountered, he really was authentically a behemoth of a man.

He lowered himself into the pond and let out a sigh of relaxation when he submerged his torso under the surface. You smile, and swim over to him,

“You deserve to relax after working so hard. I hope we could make this a frequent thing, something we could do together.”

You waited for a response, he looked at you and then up to the sky, he let out a positive ‘hm’ and nodded. You felt like you were in a dream, nothing you experienced was ever this beautiful, and no man was ever as generous as Tommy, you wanted to live in this moment forever. Tommy stands up in the water, he turns to you and grabs your hand to pull you to another part of the pond,

“C’mere” he says.

He pushes past some thick reeds and you end up in a tiny alcove where the water comes up to your chin and tall grasses circle you both which made the area very intimate. Tommy sees you struggling to keep your head out of water, he bends over you and grabs the smallest area on your waist under your ribs with both hands and he lifts you out of the water effortlessly. You let out a short-excited scream as he pulls you up and holds you close to his body. You’re barely able to straddle him, your chest was now just under his chin, your tank top clung to your breasts exposing your now hardened nipples. You placed both arms over his shoulders to prevent yourself from smothering his face with your bosom. He was so strong that you were able to sit comfortably on just the one arm, he looks out towards the grass and says,

“Watch”

Tommy used his free hand to splash water across the grass around you and it erupted with whirring, a horde of fireflies sprung out from their hiding places and lit up the night. You were stunned,

“I’ve never seen fireflies before, this is… this is magical.”

Tommy laughs and slowly turns to let you take in the full effect of the display before you, the glow of the fireflies created a warm soft light that was bright enough to let you see his eyes clearly, you couldn’t help but stare. He looked up at you, his eyes half lidded and glossy, he drank in every inch of the enchanting sight before him. When he looked into your eyes it was like projecting his soul into your mind, you could feel his emotions and you felt a deep comfort from it, like a warm blanket on a cold winter night.

You reach up and move his hair away from his face, he took your hand and held it to his cheek as he pressed his face into your touch, his eyes closing and letting out a deep breath. You smile at him and decide to be brave; you begin to slowly remove his mask but he abruptly stops your action with his hand, you could see his expression was full of worry, you say,

“If I keep my eyes closed will you let me take off your mask? I promise not to open them.”

Tommy looks off to the side thinking, he wasn’t scared of anything except losing you and he was worried that if you saw his full face, it would disturb you. He wondered what you were going to do, but the fear was stopping him from finding out. You see him deep in thought and speak again,

“Look” you close your eyes tightly, “I can’t see a thing, I promise I won’t peek.”

Tommy trusted you, and despite the anxiety running through his system, he removed his mask and let it hang down on one ear. He took your hand and guided it up to the left side of his face, which had no significant damage compared to the other side. You feel his stubble and softly move your hand down to his lips, they were smooth and parted slightly. You smile when your fingers reached his mouth, despite not being able to see his face, from what you were able to feel, you knew he was handsome. You slowly lower your head down and pause, hovering your lips over his and testing to see what he would allow. He didn’t resist.

You pressed your lips onto his and immediately felt a jolt of hormonal chemicals race through you like an electric shock, he let out a muffled sound of surprise. He pressed back and slowly lowered your body so he could kiss you on a more equal level. You extended the kiss by opening your mouth slightly, parting his lips only to press in on them again passionately, Tommy reciprocated the motion and was now breathing heavily through his nose, you could hear his heart beating loudly in his chest as he groaned with arousal, it was so deep that it vibrated into your chest further exciting you.

You could feel some strange deformation on one side of his face, your lips didn’t quite connect with his fully on his right side. You stayed closer to his left side since it felt a little bit more intact, you wished you could see how unique his face was. Imagining the damage done to him at such a young age was upsetting, it only emboldened your feelings for him.

The kiss was long and passionate, you both couldn’t get enough of each other, it felt like a sin to stop. Every time you pulled back from his lips, he leaned into you to catch them again parting and closing your mouths to enhance the connection you both so desperately craved. You could smell the air from his nose washing over you, it was strangely intoxicating almost like it was fresh mountain air which aroused you further. His free arm was now trailing up your spine until his hand found a resting place on the back of your neck.

You wanted more of him; your emotions were getting so intense that you moaned each time the pressure of the kiss increased. You placed your left hand on his shoulder, and your right on his collarbone. You ran your fingers over the thick muscle tensing on his neck, his carotid artery was pulsating with his heart beat, you continued feeling upwards and reached his jawline where his thick stubble prickled your fingertips. His features were so far above a stereotypically masculine ideal, it made you feel a cautious excitement, as if you encountered the final product of evolutionary success aimed to create a monster of man.

You finally pull away, making sure to keep your eyes closed. You are breathing heavily, letting out a soft moan as you lean your head back to get more air. Tommy covers his face back with the mask and gazes at you still drunk off the kiss and feeling lighter than air. The fireflies have now dispersed to the point where it was very dim around you both. He carries you back to the shallow area of the pond so you could stand up.

You smile, “Thank you for trusting me.”

Tommy nods and smiles under his mask. You wade in the water around him as he sits in the water so his torso is once again submerged, his head leaned back and eyes closed. You look around at the leftover fireflies lazily floating over top the glassy pond surface, the water gently laps at your hips.

 A feeling of unease creeps into your body and raises the hairs on the back of your neck, you stop moving and a sudden wave of anxiety rushed over you. In this moment you freeze and quiet your breathing, you felt an instinct to try to listen to the world around you very carefully but you couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. The feeling of something being…off was now overwhelming and setting you on edge. You quietly move closer to Tommy to create a sort of protective border from the surroundings and hold onto his arm, he opens his eyes and looks at you with concern.

“Somethings wrong” you say in a hushed tone.

Tommy immediately got up from his sitting position and stood alert, he closed his arms around you and searched with his eyes to see what spooked you;

He breathed out slowly and moved you back towards the dock. You were confused and frightened, a tense gut feeling was like an ancient ancestral alarm which you knew should never be ignored. He helped you up on the dock and followed behind after you walked toward your clothes. You quickly put on your tights and shoes and as Tommy got his clothes on you looked around, trying to find the source for this sudden dread. You slowly panned across the forest, until you see it.

In the distance, and shrouded in the shadows of night, a silhouette of a person stood still. It was too dark to make out any features and just as you saw them, they disappeared into the bush as if they were nothing but a hallucination. You get closer to Tommy who just finished pulling his shirt down over his body, you press your back into him to feel a sense of security. Tommy looks at you and bends his upper body over you as he looks around,

“Where” he says firmly,

You point to where the shadow was and whisper, “There was someone there, watching us.”

He didn’t need to see what you saw in order to know that the energy outside had shifted, all he wanted to do was get you to safety. He lifted you up into his arms and held you tightly, he took one look around to ensure the exit was safe and bolted; His movements were agile and fast, it almost felt supernatural. The trees whip past and you quickly lose sight of the pond, his footsteps reverberating thuds as he moves through the woods with expert agility.  Your eyes are wide with fear as you watch the forest behind you darken the further away you get; How Tommy was able to see things in the dark was a mystery to you.

Finally, you are out of the wooded area and coming up to where the silo was, the feeling of dread dissipates and Tommy slows his pace down, he wasn’t even huffing and puffing like most people would be doing after running so fast with a grown adult in their arms.

You hug him tightly, “Thank you for carrying me.”

You give him a kiss on his neck and continue to tighten your grip. Tommy brings you into the house and shuts the door behind you both, he gently lowers you to the floor, you keep hugging him as you stand on your tip toes. He felt very protective of you and was mad that someone scared you so much. His rage was building the more he thought about someone being on his property watching the two of you. He wondered how they would have been able to evade the multiple traps he set up around the pond perimeter.

Tommy grabs your shoulders and pushes you back slowly, he lifts your chin to have you look up at him. He sees the worried look on your face and it fuels his rage of the intruder,

“Go sleep, I gotta do somethin’.”

His voice was rich in baritone, you could hear anger in his words. You didn’t want him to leave, but before you could tell him to stay, he was out the door. You made your way to the washroom to shower off the pond water and get ready for sleep, Luda Mae and Charlie were already asleep upstairs, unaware of the situation. You were disturbed by what you saw, but as long as Tommy was out there, you felt safe in the house. You went to bed that night worried, who was that shadow and what will happen if Tommy catches them? The morning couldn’t come soon enough.

Next chapter-

[yiga-hellhole]

TFTK CHAPTER 25: RECRUITMENT UNDER THE TWILIGHT KING

After Zant seized the Triforce of power, the next-most important phase of his plan enters: rebuilding his army. Old allies are in need of rescuing and, conveniently, they happen to be trapped right in his fortress of choice.

aaand welcome back! the next 4 chapters have been up on ao3 for a bit, but i only just got around to the promo art. thank you all for your patience! inspo for the top panel comes from kentaro miura's berserk, chapter 86 [MIND CONTENT WARNINGS IF YOU HAVEN'T READ BERSERK BEFORE], because i wanted this moment of tenderness to look unnerving. YAY <3

speaking of content warnings. CW this chapter for gore and graphic violence. this chapter was betaread, as usual, by @bulgariansumo and @orfeoarte ! thank u so much!

ao3 mirror

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

A ludicrous fantasy Ghirahim would once have mocked was now reality: Zant had claimed the Triforce. Its power thrummed in his veins like a second heartbeat, felt in shocks with the slightest touch. He felt it when Zant’s hand plunged into his chest to take their blade; he felt it when they shared a bed, ramming against his cheek when he laid his head upon his chest; he felt it when they as much as crossed gazes. Always deep, resonant, and rhythmic, the heavy beating of a drum right in his ears. It was alive – breathing that life into that wilted thing of a host, who had died two times too many.

It’d been in his possession for mere days, and already their enemies were grasping for cards. None knew whether to storm wherever he lingered, or to evacuate wherever his serpent eyes sought their next siege. Ghirahim stayed by his side as his scabbard, as his retainer, and, somewhat discreetly, as his lover, march after march, watching the shimmering ocean of battles carried out in their name below, but finding far more intrigue in seeing their flames reflected in the Twilight King’s eyes. There was coldness in them, ruthless like a natural-born killer, but through it burst the sparks of a manic joy. Of elation, that tugged at the corners of his lips. These days, it was getting more and more difficult to read him. 

This was the fourth day. They made it to the Temple of Souls in record time. Winter had not been kind to it – where once a labyrinth of lush roses grew rampantly on its estate, there was now a nonsensical mass of dead, black thorns, so brittle to the touch Ghirahim couldn’t imagine them piercing skin. Yet they must have been, because there rang the occasional whine from their soldiers chopping the paths down. Ghirahim quietly thanked the fact Yuga was stuck in prison somewhere in that dark, gloomy building. The Sorcerer surely wouldn’t have liked to see what had become of his prized garden, much less what Zant’s forces were doing to it. 

When they broke through this first line of defense, the second stood waiting. Four days was not many to prepare against a siege, but it had been enough for Hyrule to put them in a small spot of trouble. Their forces were struggling, a sea of thorns at their backs to be pushed into, and wooden clubs meeting their match against tempered steel. 

But Zant seemed unperturbed. He simply stood and stared at the Temple, watching as the last snowmelt dripped down the balcony. He turned to Ghirahim almost casually, held out his hand, and said, “Perhaps it is a little early for a spring cleaning, but we might as well start, no?”

His Blade answered wordlessly, took his hand. Fingers entwined, they stepped past their frontlines and into contested ground… Only for a shockwave to tear through the opposing forces, and cleave them a path. Those that didn’t perish from the impact launched backward, slamming against the stone staircase leading up to the temple. They traversed this carpet of fallen soldiers almost without a care in the world, undisturbed by those who attempted to break past the force fields around them. Their steps forcing the blood out of crushed organs beneath, crimson splatters colored the ground where petals once lay. The occasional, opportunistic allied soldier would dart past them, but up until the doorway, they cleanly passed down their aisle. 

What would normally require a battering ram and the effort of dozens of men, took Zant nothing but a forceful shove of the palm. The stone door before them thudded and shrieked, a spiderweb of cracks digging into its surface. It gave way soon after. Down it crumbled, the parts of it still intact creaking inwards on loose hinges. Past the rubble, dust, and pebbles, the next wave of Hyruleans greeted their intruders. The first fool to close in on them would feel a sword sneak past his gorget, and then, feel nothing at all. Blood fresh on his blade, Ghirahim struck down the next, and the next, and the next, fighting tirelessly to guide the Twilight King through the crowd.

But where were they headed? They knew nothing of where their prisoners were kept. Digging in his memory, Ghirahim recalled nothing vaguely even resembling prison cells in the entire building. The Temple was an archive, a sanctuary, a mansion. It was not meant to know enemies, much less to harbor them. Moreover, the place was a veritable maze. If they ran around recklessly in search of their lieutenants, they would certainly get ambushed.

At the risk of losing his focus, he started to dowse. Yuga… Though a powerful mage, his presence had always been weak. Ghirahim did not typically track smaller targets, but for the sake of speed, he attempted nonetheless. He honed in on a sound, a smell, a memory… Shrill laughter, rosewater, and a wicked glare from across the studio. Weak chimes in his core confirmed his calibration. 

Yuga was upstairs. But, barely, it seemed… Whatever that meant. He had no time to linger upon it. Amidst his faltering concentration, Zant had slid in to defend him. This sight filled him with such an instinctual feeling of disgrace he took not a split second of hesitation to grab him by the arm, and promptly warped the both of them to the top of the stairs.

Hyrulean troops were sparser here, but they would not be for long once word spread they’d arrived here. Ghirahim looked left, looked right, hoping for a confirming chime to ring out.

Left wing.

Zant kept pace with him, but Ghirahim felt his burning look of inquiry at his back. “Yuga is kept this way,” he hissed out as they ran down the hall. “It’s best we get to him quickly.”

Oh, he could hear it already. How reckless it was to rush ahead with their troops lagging so far behind. How the path should have been clear before breaking out a prisoner. But the fool dragging behind him now had far too much power to worry about such practicalities. They cleaved through the hallway, right past the windows, the paintings – 

… This seemed familiar to Ghirahim. He had a feeling he knew where they were keeping the Sorcerer. Very quickly, he found the thought of it alone tacky. 

To his chagrin, they found the jail room a mere few turns later. Steel bars had been fitted over the door and the stained glass windows around it. Before it stood waiting a handful of guards, who rushed toward them at once. Yuga was imprisoned in his own atelier. 

Ghirahim sighed and took the first of the guards down. These men were slightly more competent, he noted quietly. They would have to be, considering who they were trying to keep in. It took a few nicks on his skin and clothing for him to find a moment’s respite to turn to Zant.

“You can break through those bars yourself, no?”

He nodded in response, hesitating but a moment to step closer to the door. “Right, before we head inside. Yuga is going to be in an incredibly sensitive state. I think it would be wise if I led the conversation,” Zant said, ignoring the guard rushing towards the both of them until he sent the man sailing down the hallway with a flick of his hand. “I fear you might lack the tact for it.”

“Lacking tact? Me? You have some nerve,” Ghirahim growled, refusing to humor him with his usual light air of banter. “You’ve spent far too much time buttering me up to start insulting me now.”

“It’s just a piece of perspective you lack. I mean nothing bad by it,” Zant responded, his hands raised defensively.

Arms folded loosely as to not lose his grip on his sword, Ghirahim frowned back. “And what, pray tell, is it that I lack? Or do you think me too stupid to comprehend whatever you’ve got planned?”

“Come now, not so hasty. It’s just an observation I made. Your disdain for mortals makes you miss out on crucial details, Ghirahim-ili. Do you have even the slightest idea as to what could make him… Distraught?”

Ghirahim sighed, furrowing his brow. “Yuga is distraught to tears at the drop of a hat, to begin with. Were he to be upset in particular about witnessing the defeat of our Master, or something as juvenile as his precious roses being torn down, he would have little more reason to grieve than I do.”

Rumbling down the hall. Some crowd was approaching, whether friend or foe. They both ignored it completely in favor of their conversation. Zant smirked at Ghirahim’s response. “As I thought. I must specify. Had you listened, you would have caught that Lorule is a kind of mirror world. In it, a doppelgänger of each living being is born… Yuga, as it would seem, fills the role of Ganondorf in his world.”

His esoteric trivia again. Ghirahim found it odd timing, frustrating almost. He certainly didn’t enjoy the implications this one carried.  “... I see. What about it?”

“A bit of sympathy is in order, is all. To give you some perspective. To lose Ganondorf, to him, would be akin to tearing your scabbard from you, and leave you without a hand to wield you. You could live, certainly…”

Ghirahim’s furrowed brow relaxed, his face now solemn. Zant was prodding at sore spots and he knew it – Ghirahim had experienced both of those, in relatively short succession, in the past few months. He was forced to speak aloud what he’d kept quietly to himself that entire time. “... But I wouldn’t be complete.”

“Precisely.” 

At once, Ghirahim was annoyed. Must he have been reminded of such agonies now, and share them with one he was so cross with? He had long opinionated himself about Yuga’s incessant clinging to what was supposed to be his Master, but this bit of empathetic pampering from Zant drove a nail right into his ire. Yuga was no more special than he. Even less so! What was a failed copy to a loyal blade!? How infuriating. 

“Hah! And you speak of tact,” Ghirahim exclaimed, frowning with a nasty grin. He decided there was little point in bickering in the hallway. So he marched on forward, giving Zant a stiff shove in the back to hurry him to the door. “This entire lecture could have been condensed to a simple, ‘Ghirahim-ili, let me handle this’. Not a snide comment necessary!”

Zant hardly stumbled, but easily swayed by him as ever, did exactly as he wanted. “Perhaps you are right, but I wanted to even the scales on the snark you’ve been giving me the past few months, just a little.”

“You are very lucky I can’t break through that helmet, Twili.”

“I’m thankful for it every minute.”

With the doorway now free to open, Zant opened the door with silent care and slithered inside. “Yuga, Lord of Lorule. We’ve come to free you from death row,” he announced.

When Ghirahim followed behind him, he realized instantly what Zant must have meant by a ‘sensitive state’. The atelier had been completely thrashed. Broken bottles of pigments littered the floor into a desolate rainbow amidst the toppled furniture. Strewn around the room, some crooked on the wall, were the remains of portraits, their faces burned off. There was but one painting intact enough to discern its subject – though for all of them, it could easily be gleaned. The scene unfolded just by the tall windows, covered in bars and thorns as they were, the grey skies beyond them shrouding the room in a cold, dull light.

Ghirahim felt an icy chill under the golden gaze of his late Master, piercing through him from across the atelier. The last depiction of Ganondorf he might ever see again, rendered in this loving detail, captured him in an instant, with his wild, fiery hair, his powerful build, and that stern, ambitious look that drove him to grovel every time it turned to him. So engrossed was Ghirahim, that he hadn’t noticed the figure wilting before it. 

Yuga sat at the base of the portrait, leaning into a nearby chair for support, as if he once had collapsed there and hadn’t gotten up since. He was shrouded in black, the only color on him now being from his own hair. The once so-well-kept ringlets that bounced on his shoulders had collapsed into an unruly mass of curls, and just then, shifted across his back as he blearily turned his head.

Some glint of surprise passed through his face, but Yuga did not seem to have the energy to have it linger. As he turned to them, Ghirahim’s eye landed on one particular detail. In his madness, Yuga had ripped the casing of a decorative pillow to shreds with his teeth. 

“... Zant? Ghirahim? You – Am I seeing ghosts?”

Zant stepped closer into the light, a dull white interlaced with the shadows of prison bars. “Worry not for your sanity, Yuga. We are very much alive.”

“But… The Desert… We were certain you had perished,” Yuga tried to reason.

Zant’s helmet clattered and folded in on itself. Beneath it, he smiled sympathetically. “By the skin of my teeth, I survived. I have Ghirahim to thank for it.”

Yuga turned to look at Ghirahim again, who, struggling to keep his expression straight after such a grating comment, nodded in acknowledgement. “I would be glad to see you, but, my friends, look at the state I’m in. My masterpieces. Our army. Our Master,” he prattled on, gesturing pathetically to himself. Before Ghirahim could ponder on how pitiful he looked, Yuga’s words took a bitter turn. “Why didn't you assist us?”

Excuses at the ready as usual, Zant responded quickly. “I was bedridden, still, the day Ganon fell. And if I hadn’t been, I doubt our late Master would have wanted us to come to his aid.” 

Barely suspended disbelief crossed Yuga’s squinted eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Ganondorf betrayed us. That desert was meant to be our deathbed, and we failed to comply to his wishes by refusing to be buried in it. I suspect he had been displeased with us ever since our defeat at Death Mountain, and has been attempting to get rid of us since.”

Liar. Filthy, snake-tongued liar. 

“... That – I had no idea, to think that he would…” Yuga was still for a long time, for as far as the chaos outside allowed for stillness. “Fool I was. To be so close to him, and so blind to his plans. But what does it matter now? You say you are here to free me. What, exactly, is left of me to free? I’m nothing, now. I’ve failed, I’ve been humiliated, and now, I am more powerless than I’ve ever been.”

And Yuga was buying every word of it like it was on discount. How fragile grief made the mortal mind! It was getting more and more difficult for Ghirahim to mask his disgust. But he could not simply zone out, close himself off from this exchange. These were lies that the both of them would have to hold dear, as to not betray to Yuga that they were complicit in the fall of Ganon. It would be a very, very bitter lie, for possibly centuries to come. 

Again Zant walked closer to his frail lieutenant. He stood across him now, mere steps away. “On the contrary, Yuga. You will be instrumental in my plans.”

“... Plans? Oh, Usurper. Don’t tell me,” Yuga laughed weakly.

Those final steps were crossed. Zant hunched down, taking Yuga’s hands in his and squeezing them. “But I am. Yuga, you have wit. You have magic. But more importantly, you have my trust. ”

Zant then laid his hands on his shoulders, staring him down with those wide eyes of his. “Tell me, Yuga. What is it that you wish?”

His solemn chuckling having just come to an end, Yuga’s malicious side slipped through the cracks of his composure. He shook his head, cackling to himself through gritted teeth. His next words were growled through tears. “That horrid land gone. I wish all of Hyrule to fall on its knees before me, its people begging us to forgive what they've done. Then, I want it reduced to dust.”

“Then we share similar goals, Lord of Lorule,” Zant smiled. He sensed weakness and dug his jaws in. “What of our Master? Would you not wish him back?”

Fury bulged through the veins in Yuga’s neck. “... Pay… They’ll pay for taking him from us. From ME! Of course I wish for him. It feels like I’ve lost a limb, Zant. Like a part of me has atrophied. But a childish wish like that…”

Just as Yuga faltered again, Zant held him tighter, leaning into his field of vision. “Would you believe me if I told you, that there is a way? To feel his presence, for his power to dwell in you?”

Yuga’s head fell, his voice whittling down to a whimper. “... Mercy…”

“You say you want vengeance. To reduce Hyrule to dust. Then we have that in common, Lord of Lorule!”

As fiercely as he did tenderly, Zant cupped Yuga’s face in his hands. At once forced to look straight at the other man, the first face he’s earnestly met in what may have been weeks, Yuga widened his eyes in surprise. Then, as the sad figure froze in his hands, Zant lunged down and kissed him firmly on the forehead.

Yuga yelped in surprise, his frame seizing up. Then convulsing, as a powerful pulse emitted from the both of them, strong enough to rattle the room and all its inhabitants. A grey, runed pallor spread through Yuga’s skin for just a heartbeat. As small as that glimpse of power had been, it was enough for him to burst into tears. Clinging to Zant’s breeches, he sobbed, and wailed, and pleaded. As simple as that, a new allegiance was forged. 

Ghirahim’s eye trailed from the gray hand stroking and soothing the mourning sorcerer’s shoulder, up to Zant’s face. When their eyes met, a triumphant, subtly vicious smile flashed back at him. What a dangerous ally he’d made.

Time came to free their other prisoner. By now, their forces had fought all the way up to the door to Yuga’s impromptu holding cell. A proper entourage was waiting for them at last. The last words exchanged and his tears dried, Yuga shifted in his seat. In his lap, he still held a black handkerchief, greyed, faded, and laces frayed, where listless hands had wrung the wetted fabric. 

Their lieutenant made some wantful gesture behind him. “My crutches, please, I –” He struggled for a moment, hissing against the movement of his sore legs. “My apologies, I haven’t moved from this spot in quite some time.”

One of Yuga’s crutches turned out broken, doubtlessly during the same chaos that razed through the room he was confined in. Yuga paid the rest of the room no heed as they departed, making a clear effort to aim his gaze at nothing but the exit. Unpracticed as he was with but one crutch, Ghirahim joined his vulnerable side. It was a sorely uncomfortable affair. Both of them, in mourning, regretting the death of the one who symbolized their previous Masters. Yet, Ghirahim himself was composed, while the one currently hanging on his arm was a blubbering mess. Hidden behind a black veil was he, with reddened, puffed-over eyes, his gaunt cheeks, and the flaky skin on his fingers, drenched in tear-stained eczema. His despair truly made him ugly.

Though, he supposed Yuga had stayed by his Master’s side until the very end. Abandonment, betrayal, such forces would never come to stifle whatever sadness came to rear its head in the poor wretched Lorian. 

Ghirahim knew the raw spot his companion carried on his person now all too well. In his envy of such open weeping, he felt inclined to rip it open. At the risk of a warning glare from Zant, he broke his silence.

“I have to know, Yuga. That final hour. Did he die with glory?”

Yuga swallowed, sucked in a choked breath. He stumbled for a moment. Was it truly so easy to topple his composure like this? How delightfully weak.

“Never before have I seen such power. Such raw, glorious fury, encapsulating all he stood for. He was everything, Ghirahim,” were the words he landed upon, final like the closing of a book.

Their violent chaperones huddled like a shield around the three of them, they traversed the swirling halls of the Temple. They did so in silence, mostly, with Zant too focused on tracking the Ring Spirit’s vague magical aura, and the other pair, too engrossed in their own thoughts to waste any words. The deeper they crossed into the Temple, the less disturbance they received. Snarling against their foes, the Bulblin soldiers guarding their flanks fought off the few that dared pursue them into this labyrinth. 

As though breaking free from a spell, Yuga mustered the decency to speak to the one assisting him in walking. He turned to Ghirahim with a slight smile. “You have contempt for him, don’t you, Ghirahim? He broke his promise to you.”

Ghirahim did not respond. The way he shifted his gaze to the floor could have been taken as a refusal to answer, but really, he was just considering the thought for his own curiosity. Contempt? Was he capable of feeling such things for his Masters? How would he go about picking such feelings out from between the mountain of disappointment, sadness, and guilt? This overall inadequacy?

Yuga did not let him consider for long. His smile turned wistful as he spoke. “I tried for you, you know. When he was in one of his rare, fair moods, I’d approach him, and I’d ask, ‘Master, would it really be so terrible if you took him to your next battle? That boy cares for you so, it pains me to see him so neglected’. And do you know what he said?”

Yuga’s words almost shocked him. Fond reminiscence over mutual loss of a meaningful person. Common among mortals, but unheard of for him. How quaint. He’d never had a conversation like this before. The novelty of it alone made Ghirahim set his frustrations with Yuga aside, if only to see as many sides of this exchange as possible. “No. What did he say?”

Yuga mustered a laugh, lowering his voice somewhat in imitation of their Ganondorf. “ ‘That ‘boy’ of yours,’ he said, ‘is a millennia old weapon. You’d do better not to make him go soft’. A hopeless affair, it was! Even for me!”

The realization that Yuga had vouched for him, pleaded for wishes in his stead, without his knowing or urging, weighed on a part of his mind he didn’t recognize. What a strange favor… Ghirahim looked to the man beside him, now seeing an ally… No, a friend, he hadn’t known he had. 

His own ignorance, paired with the thorough typicality of Yuga’s words, brought him a burst of laughter. Yes, that was how their Master was, exactly! “He was right, you know.”

And though Yuga joined him in his laughter, Ghirahim turned away just as his companion was distracted by nostalgic mirth, to hide sadness of his own. That simple exchange confirmed it. The truth settled heavily in his soul. Ganondorf never intended to wield him. Never had, never would. He swallowed the finality of it all and bore the thorns it drove into his throat with silence.

After a long trek through foggy corridors, Zant stopped. To their right stood a door, at first glance unremarkable, with its mundane size and simple wooden frame. Stepping closer, one would notice it completely plastered in talismans. Different colors, shapes, sizes – Ghirahim thought he could even distinguish different scripts. The Hyruleans were thorough with their wards, for even the Demon Lord felt an unpleasant sting standing near the door. Had Wizzro been kept there, these wards would certainly be keeping him firmly trapped inside. 

To the living, though, such things were mere strips of paper, and Zant began idly picking at their edges to peel them right off the door. As he did so, Ghirahim cast a bored look to where they came from, squinting against the persisting fog. He wondered if they’d be able to make it back.

With the talismans removed, the lot of them passed through to find some matter of lodging, perhaps one meant for servants or guests. Its furnishings were mostly empty, save for some boxes and trinkets scattered around the shelves. But, more importantly, there sat a plain jewelry box upon the dressing table, a big, bright red talisman sticking it shut.

Zant seemed to notice his gawking and sidled up beside him. “I do believe I have kept you bored this entire siege. If you would like to do the honors…”

Yuga now taken off his hands, Ghirahim accepted Zant’s offer. He approached the box, and though the talisman itched his fingers through his gloves, he peeled it off no problem. 

Almost immediately, the jewelry box began to shake. Cacophonous jingling of little accessories grated the ears, until a murky, groaning sound muffled all else. At once, the box shot open, a shadowy form bursting forth with clawed hands and gnashing teeth.

“A damn fool you are, to let me out of –” Wizzro roared, only to sheepishly fold into himself once he saw who stood before him. He let out an awkward chuckle. “Ah, erm, gentlemen. Hhhhi.” His mouth closed, then shifted into an eye, which darted between the three men before him. He lingered particularly on Zant, whose magic output evidently made him the biggest presence in the room. Naturally, a Spirit such as Wizzro couldn’t wrestle his attention away from such a phenomenon if he wanted to. “You’ll have to excuse me for the outburst. You see I’ve been eh, locked in that box for – How long, Yuga?”

“Beats me,” said Yuga, unenthused about being involved in the conversation.

“Yes, you get the idea. Quite a bit. Stewing in rage the whole time. You know how it is.”

Ghirahim raised a brow, having stood there deadpanned this entire exchange thusfar. “Sure.”

“Either way, so,” Wizzro said, turning away from them to hide his face. He rummaged around in the box for a bit, plucked his own ring out, and twisted it nervously around his finger. “There’s something… New, housing itself in you, isn’t there, Zant?”

Zant simply stared.

“I take it we’re under new management?”

Now, Zant smiled. “You learn fast. Yes, Wizzro. I will be requiring your services.”

“How much… Bargaining space, do you allot me, Twili? You should know, a spirit like me is in high demand.”

“I know every inch of that fickle mind of yours, Wizzro. You shall have nothing to complain about. And if you did, I would give you reason not to.”

“ Oh yeah. You haven’t changed. Good, good. Very well, then. When do we start?”

“Right away, Wizzro, my good man,” said Zant, holding out his hand as if offering to shake it. Pointedly, his right, so that Wizzro would have no choice but to join hands with his ring in the middle. Ghirahim exchanged a look with the poor sod as he floated by to accept, and found him more nervous than he’d ever seen him.

The shriek that rang throughout the room the second they shook on their pact confirmed that Wizzro had good reason to be nervous. Something told Ghirahim the conniving rat wouldn’t be giving them too much trouble from here on out. With that out of the way, the group of them, reunited at last, turned back down the hallway. There were still rats in the Temple, after all, and no King worth his salt would be caught dead with vermin in his home.

One last ally remained, and he may have been the most difficult to persuade. Frankly, Ghirahim wasn’t enthused about this one, but they were strapped for commanders. His personal opinions, therefore, meant very little. So, there they stood, at the mouth of the Northern Eldin Cave system. Naturally, as they had succeeded in doing so before, their army would greatly benefit from recruiting an entire clan of dragons. Now that Hyrule had succeeded in doing the same, they could not afford to lose their own. 

Thus Zant described it to his co-lieutenants. It was just the two of them today, leaving Yuga to rest and Wizzro to tend to administration. Ghirahim was simply tagging along as his scabbard, as he usually did, these days. To-day, he was glad for it. He wasn’t particularly enthused about the idea of holding a conversation about the dreadful bore that was Volga, Dragon Knight. And he was certain it was Volga they were meeting with. The Dragons of this world hold boundless wisdom, though very few are equipped with the ability to relay it in mortal tongue. This left the Fire Dragons of Eldin with no option but to send their representative before the Twilight King. With the occasional gigantic serpentine head peeping in from the tunnels, Volga met them in solitary attendance, held emphatically close by the entrance of the cave system.

“Sir Volga. We meet again,” announced Zant.

Volga, though clearly displeased by even the sight of his two ‘guests’, kept an impressively stiff upper lip before them. “You know very well I do not bother with formalities. State your business.”

“My conquering of the Seer’s territory surely has not slipped your notice.”

“It has not.”

“You will also expect that I am not content with this alone. Even after Ganondorf’s defeat, Hyrule remains contested ground. Your people, too, have stakes in this. This dwelling alone convinces me. Your relatives hunching through the tunnels behind you, I presume, are far too large, too numerous, to dwell in the caves of a nursery. You wish to expand.”

With a pound of his spear, Volga scoffed, though he did not smile. “Clearly you know everything. Yet you bother to come and interrogate me. Why?”

“I simply thought a little sympathy might prove my good intentions to you.”

Volga, unlike many, saw through Zant’s sweetened words remarkably quickly. That was just about the one of the few things Ghirahim appreciated about him: the man’s resolve was like steel. “Silence! I will not hear another word. Shadow Lord, you are an open book. Next, you thought to offer some grand compromise, a way to use my people as your pawns. 

I decline!“

At lack of response, Volga held his pike at the ready, fire pooling from between his teeth. “I will not repeat myself. Leave!”

Zant chuckled from behind his helmet, padding backward in resignation. But Ghirahim could see this surrender was completely false. Inside those massive sleeves, his fingers itched and twiddled. So Ghirahim steeled himself, his hands tense behind his back.

As he predicted, once Zant joined his side, he jerked his head toward him with violent anticipation. With a snap of his fingers, Ghirahim’s cloak disappeared, his chest exposed. Zant hesitated not even a second to rip his scimitar from its scabbard and bear down on the Dragon Warrior with voracity. 

Ghirahim, naturally, could not stand idly by. Volga’s fighting style was far more exciting to him than the dolt himself, and Ghirahim eagerly seized the opportunity to witness it up close. With a whirlwind-strength spin of his polearm, gashes formed across the torsos of both Volga’s opponents. Yet it deterred neither of them. Furious blows were exchanged between the embers bursting through the air, the temperature in the tunnels at once reaching a scorching heat. Had it just been him and the Dragon, Ghirahim thought, this battle would have been delightfully equally matched, and he would have been eager to tear victory from his clawed gauntlets at the very last second. As it stood, Zant was there also, weakened only by his lack of killing intent. Ghirahim had almost gotten carried away by the thrill of battle – they were there to oh-so-diplomatically convince Volga, not murder him outright. Playtime was over soon. The butt end of Volga’s spear shot towards him, and he surrendered through a refusal to dodge. As Ghirahim tumbled back onto the stone floor, he watched as Zant stood poorly guarded before the warrior now barreling towards him… And suddenly, the Twilight King disappeared.

There was a mere flash of confusion when Zant vanished from sight. Volga had but a second to check his surroundings before his adversary appeared behind him, his spell-drenched hands now enclosed over his eyes.

A sizzle. He screamed. Ghirahim could only catch a glimpse of what Zant had done between Volga’s frantic clawing at his face, but it was enough to draw the conclusion. Slowly, but surely, a metallic, black mask was spreading across his eyes and fusing to his helmet. As Volga stumbled around the corridor, swinging wildly to find either an anchor or the wicked man who did this to him, the darkness down the cave began to clear. 

Looming above the group of men was the rest of the draconic Clan, glaring at them with piercing teal eyes. Some bared their teeth in rage, tongues lashing and sulfurous drool burning holes into the floor, while others swelled their throat sacs, bright and glowing with kindling flame. 

Yet Zant stood comfortably, almost oblivious to it all. Ghirahim came to put himself between the Twili and the panicking knight, with his blade drawn to threaten the foes before them. But something told him that even without this measure of protection, Zant would have had the same poise. 

Zant spread his arms amicably. His upturned hands served as a gesture of peace, but the slight shimmer in the air betrayed it as a somatic command also, for shields to protect him from the dragons’ rage.

“You wish to have him back, no? Volga is a formidable warrior.”

Deaf and blind to his surroundings, Volga began to shift, as if cracking through the shell of his current form could save him from this blight. It did not – red scales turned to pitch black, jagged and pulsing with cyan magic. Ghirahim kicked the nuisance in the horn when he threatened to get too close.

Zant continued his oration. “Then hear me! If it is Eldin that you want, then my Kingdom shall have space for you. I merely request one favor in return: assist me in taking over Hyrule Castle. Doubtlessly, the Princess will have similar plans to my own, and I need the might of your people to overpower her.”

The teeth of his helmet clattering to expose half his face, Zant smiled. “Does that not sound so violently simple?”

The serpentine heads above them growled, their wild eyes darting between each other. Some snarled, baring their teeth, others squinted, and yet others bowed their heads in resignation. With the loss of their interpreter, the beasts had no way to communicate with this strange adversary. But, after what looked like some squabbling, of nipping at one another and snorting steaming breaths, the hostile among them hesitantly turned and retreated into the caves. The largest dragon remaining locked eyes with Zant and nodded.

Zant’s gentle smile from before turned into a wide grin. With a clap of his hands, Volga stopped struggling. At once, he shrunk in on himself, his draconian features reverting back to humanoid ones. But he was different from before. His armor remained pitch black, jagged and pointy, his eyes covered by a visor that seemed melded to his flesh. 

“I will return him to you when Hyrule Castle is secure and my usurpation is finished,” said Zant, nonchalantly under the eyes of the shocked dragons. Doubtlessly, they expected him to revert the curse. “Until then, he will follow me just like this. I’ve found he gets rather uppity when you don’t keep the reins tight… Now, farewell!”

Volga followed Zant wordlessly, like a drone, as the latter cheerfully turned to waltz right back out of the cave. Ghirahim shot one pitying look at the Dragon Warrior’s remaining clan, whose hearts collectively crumbled, and turned to follow.

With three more high-ranking officials under his belt, Zant’s life as a royal stabilized, turned almost mundane. The Temple claimed as their home base, the next phase of his conquering creaked to a slow start, gears a-turning. Piles upon piles of correspondence stacked on his desk, Zant himself laid low, having his commanders at their territory’s borders keep his little place free from violence. It seemed to be working splendidly, because their pretentious pontifex of a King was taking full liberty to have some time off. Ghirahim stood at the staff entrance of the Temple, hands in his sides, waiting for the shadows in the distance to get a little closer. 

Drawing near were Zant, riding the very same Bullbo he once carried the defeated Zelda on (he’d developed a fondness for the beast and was very pleased to discover it was still alive); and Lord Dargas, reigning Duke of Tarm. The plan seemed to be to pamper that wretched noble… Something about guaranteeing them a spot in Holodrum, in case they wanted to expand territories. Ghirahim watched the man fuss over his mustache and depend on three separate pages to get his arse down from his ludicrously sized horse and wondered if they couldn’t have picked some other vaguely rebellious province for that scheme.

Ghirahim stepped aside to let through three Bulblins pulling a cart containing the spoils of their hunt, to find Zant trailing not far behind them. Said Twili came up to him smiling brightly.

Such a smile did nothing to Ghirahim. “So. Did you have fun dodging your responsibilities with our good Duke? I don’t see what you’re stalling for.”

“To you it may seem like stalling,” Zant said, handing the massive spear he’d wielded over to a waiting squire. The weapon was so stupidly large, even an oaf like him wouldn’t miss. “But this, too, is part of politics.”

Ghirahim bumped him just a touch too casually for polite company. Said polite company pranced past them, his suit fully in order and dusted off, and the three of them exchanged a cordial greeting.

Ghirahim’s expression soured the second the Duke was out of view. “You’re trying to win simple favors, now? How very unlike you.”

“Perhaps, but I’ve put it to the test,” Zant began, placing a hand on Ghirahim’s shoulder to lead him into the garden. “For a King, there are two ways to assert his authority. The first would be appeasement; the second, tyranny, forcing obedience purely through violence. Considering your status as Demon Lord, I need not guess which of the two you are more familiar with.”

Ghirahim grinned. “And you are not?” 

“Oh, I am. Most intimately, in fact. Tyranny is how I claimed Hyrule initially, and it is how Ganondorf led his army, as well. Coincidentally, both attempts failed, resulting in our deaths.”

“So you’ve decided to play nice,” Ghirahim teased, nudging Zant’s hand so it could slip to the small of his back.

“Not exactly… Relying on appeasement alone would require resources that we lack. Those of noble blood want extravagance and their every wish fulfilled. Which is where my experience with Twilit politics will serve me well…” Zant trailed off a moment, kicking a perished rose branch into the shrubbery. “Tell me, Ghirahim-ili. What impression would it give to freshly war-torn people, to be met with a new competitor of the throne, who immediately throws luxurious parties?”

Ghirahim gave it some thought. “I’d imagine it could go either which way. Either you assert yourself as resourceful, or you might strike them as a pompous prick who doesn’t know how to handle his own wealth.” Which wouldn’t be too far off, he thought to himself.

“Precisely. That is a gamble I cannot afford at this stage. So, we show them hospitality, a willingness to listen to their demands… But, just as Hyrule does, we have a trump card.”

Zant lifted his hand, his long sleeve dropping down to flash the mark of Power.

“Connection to the divine. I have claimed the Triforce of Power, as none before me could ever achieve, and I’ve wielded its power to seize the North. Any unwillingness to cave to my demands will be quickly snuffed out under the threat of such a force.”

“A solid middle ground, then.”

“So you could say.”

“I take it, then, that our Summit is being held soon?”

“Yes. The Duke of Tarm just so happens to be the first to arrive,” Zant said, turning to the stables behind them. Just as he stood and watched, the prey he’d claimed was being wheeled in through the back door – a large boar, only marginally smaller than his mount. Both found it macabre, a bit of a cruel joke, one that made Ghirahim turn back and Zant grin all the wider. “I’ve extended invitations to just about all our former allies. Not a soul will be missing out – Unlike Ganondorf, I will not be playing favorites. Our forces need to know they can depend on us.”

Such a bold comment made Ghirahim shake off his discomfort in an instant. He sidled up closer to his monarch, nudging him through his thick robes. “Ah… So you have no favorites, none at all?”

Zant smirked, locking this boldness in place by curling his arm around Ghirahim firmly, affectionately. “Well… Perhaps, Demonkind as of late, has been landing on my good side quite often…”

Laughing, making jabs, huddled in the arms of a man who could crush him. To once again linger in the shadows of a greater ruler, but never losing prominence – like the gem-lain hilt of a blade glistening in the shade of a warrior’s cape. No longer would he have demand over the absolute spotlight, but rather, he would share it with a King, who in turn was completed by the sword he’d wield, his deadly tool of choice. A thousand years it had been, from his point of view, since Ghirahim had last lived like this. It was as nostalgic, as the lethargy of it all made his skin crawl. For now, it did little good to struggle against his overshadowing. He reminded himself that this feeling was what he’d chased ever since his revival… But his choice of pseudo-wielder was, to put it lightly, irking to a painful degree. 

The playing field had to be leveled a little bit. He reached over to deliver a harsh pinch to the delicate underside of the Twilight King’s upper arm and reveled in the pathetic shriek it evoked.

[l33bang24]

OMG It’s You…(Part 7)

YouTube!Fem reader x Stray Kids

Summary: Y/N’s YouTube channel is taking off after her reactions to Stray Kids MV God’s Menu. Now she’s making videos nonstop along with working a full time job. What would happen if she got offered a job of a lifetime and met the boys of her succession?

⚠️Warnings⚠️:Arguing,Chan having dark thoughts, thoughts of killing himself, not feeling good enough, Lee Know teasing reader😏 (let me know if I missed anything)

🏷️: @laylasbunbunny @weirdowithaphone @silverstarburst @jusanontstuff @anxiousskylar @drewsandsebastianswife @amararosesblog @niaalove (Taglist open)

(A/N: 🚨🚨🚨ATTENTION 🚨🚨🚨: All text messages are at the bottom of the post. Since Tumblr will not let me post this THE WAY I WANT TO. I have to do it this way. I will put a () to indicate where the text messages is SUPPOSED TO BE so you can scroll down to look at them. (I’m fine. I’m cool){I’M NOT FINE} Happy reading!)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

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Third Person POV

After watching Y/N's video, Changbin turned to his leader, their expressions reflecting a mix of emotions. “Wait, so it's true? You never liked her from the beginning. Is that why you always avoided talking about her? Were you jealous of someone being similar to you?” All eyes are on Chan and in this moment he wishes the floor beneath him would open up and swallow him. “Didn't you like her from the start? You mentioned how much you appreciated her motherly demeanor.” Hyunjin is the next one to speak up. It’s like every word he wants to say withers on his tongue. A few of the younger members are shaking their heads, while one in particular is gazing intently at his Hyung.

"I thought you promised not to bring that up in your letter to her," Felix said, eyes fixed on him. "What's going on? Did you know he never really liked her all this time?" Han blurted out, clearly shocked by the unfolding drama.

“He told me everything, from the start-up to now. When I had last spoken to him he told me he wasn’t going to put that in the letter.” He pivots back to his Leader. "What's different?" All eyes snap back to him. “I decided to be completely honest with her. She always valued honesty over anything else, and I knew she would prefer me to be upfront rather than lie or hide the truth. I was fully aware that it might not be well-received.” His gaze returns to the screen, where Y/N's smile shines through.

"It's hard to believe that she can forgive me for what I've done. I feel terrible knowing that I've caused her pain. It's especially painful to realize that she held onto Wolf Chan as if her life depended on it. And now, I've shattered the trust she had in me. All because I let my jealousy get the best of me over a girl that Stays couldn't stop talking about. I see now that they were just trying to share the story of a fan who loves and supports us, but I twisted it into an emotion that I never should have felt." He looks down at his hands, feeling regretful.

“I was aware of the potential risks when I wrote that letter. I knew that if she decided to share it publicly, there might be people who would criticize me for expressing my thoughts. Nevertheless, she bravely asked her audience not to react with hate towards me.”

As he looks back at his team, he's greeted with a mix of emotions. One person, in particular, has been quiet throughout. It's difficult to believe that his leader has been feeling jealous of Y/N. "I didn't confide in any of you because I know how much you all care about her. Maybe I should have."

"Maybe you should have," Lee Know's words hung in the air, capturing everyone's attention. "I thought you liked her, but now I don't know what to believe. How long did you not like her before you started liking her?" All eyes turned to their Hyung, waiting for an answer.

Anticipation hung in the air as everyone waited for their leader's response. Finally, the answer came: “Six months.”

"SIX MONTHS?!" Changbin and Han exclaimed in unison. Their leader nodded solemnly. All the boys shook their heads in disbelief. "Chan Hyung," the hyung in question looked at his Maknae. "I think I can speak for everyone here when I say we expected better from you. We've always looked to you for guidance, and the one time we were looking forward to something, you go and ruin it with a letter. I hope you're happy." I.N. stood up to leave, and the rest of the group followed suit, leaving only two people behind.

Chan was bracing himself for the inevitable and was ready to bear the weight of the shame and guilt directed at him. Lee Know struggled to contain his anger, but as he sat in the presence of his Hyung, his rage only intensified. He hurriedly got up and distanced himself from Chan. The only person left was Chan's Aussie brother.

Despite feeling upset about his leader’s behavior, Felix chose not to hold any grudges against him. He understands that everyone experiences emotions differently and believes in showing compassion towards others. “They’ll come around.” Chan's mind was lost when a sudden voice made him jump. “Lee Know, probably not so much, but the others will come around. They’re just appalled that not only did you lie, but you kept this from them.”

Chan remained silent, and Felix hadn't anticipated a response. As Felix departed, Chan was left in solitude with his tumultuous thoughts, reminiscent of his early days as a trainee. It had been a while since Chan had been alone with his thoughts in such a disquieting manner. ‘Why didn't I open up to my members about my feelings? Why did I let others' opinions affect me? And why did I confess to the one person I was excited to meet that I couldn't stand her?’ The negative thoughts continued to spiral out of control. ‘You were never fit to be a leader. You lost all the trust you’ve earned over a girl because you got jealous. You should have killed yourself when you had the chance.’ Chan's phone suddenly rings with an unfamiliar number. Without hesitation, he slides the button and answers.

“Hello?”

“I was wondering if you were still alive.” That voice. It’s the same voice as the one they just heard. Chan had forgotten he had left his number for her in case she wanted to talk. He didn’t expect her to call so soon. Any negative thoughts he had vanished, replaced by a rush of anxiety.

“Chris? Are you there?” Realizing he hadn’t responded, he finally replied.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. I just, uh, forgot that I left my number for you. I didn’t expect you to call this soon.” Y/N's laughter on the other end causes Chan's heart to race excitedly.

“Well, I didn’t expect to get a phone number anyway.” She hesitates, and Chan instinctively holds his breath, anticipating the impending strike.

“You have such a natural talent with words. Has anyone ever told you that?” Chan takes a deep breath and slowly shuts his eyes.

"I debated whether to tell you, but I know you appreciate honesty," Y/N nodded, even though he couldn't see her.

“I understand. I didn't anticipate one of my Biases feeling jealous of me. I'm sure the Stays didn't intend to contribute, but their actions may have unknowingly affected the situation.”

"I'm realizing that I made a mistake. I didn't understand what Stays was trying to convey. It felt like they were belittling me and praising you. But I now see that wasn't the intention at all. I regret feeling that way towards you when you've done nothing wrong. I'm truly sorry, Y/N." She heard sniffles on the other end and immediately sprang into action.

“No, Chan, please don’t get upset. I’m not mad, okay? Confused definitely but I’m not mad or angry at you. Please don’t cry. I don’t want you crying over something like this. It’s not worth it.” It almost seemed like nothing she was telling him worked. She felt like she only had one other option.

What if we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine

Nothing could keep us apart

You’d be the one I was meant to find

Chan's tears cease as he listens to a beautiful voice singing - it's Y/N. Her singing, one of his favorite songs, fills him with courage, and he joins in.

It’s up to you and it’s up to me

No one can say what we get to be

So why don’t we rewrite the stars?

Maybe the world could be ours tonight

They finished the song together, and Chan felt a weight lift off his shoulders. For a brief moment, he almost forgot why he was upset. Just as he started to sink back into that dark place, Y/N spoke up.

“I want you to know that you're not alone, Chan. I understand that your boys may be upset with you right now, but I believe they'll come around.” He scuffs lightly.

“You’re starting to sound like Felix.”

"Just know that we can both work through this together. We're in different time zones, but I'm here for you. If I can't respond immediately, I promise to reply as soon as possible. Don't let negative thoughts take over, Chris. You have the strength to conquer them. I'll be your cheerleader, rooting for you every step of the way." Chan's laughter fills the room for the first time in a while.

“Are you going to wear a uniform when you’re cheering for me?” He teases her.

“I don't have one, but I’ll make sure to go buy one just for you.”

(First three pics of Chan)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As time passed, they kept in touch as much as possible. Gradually, his members started to come back around, realizing that their leader had his shortcomings and felt awful after they walked out. However, one person still kept their distance from him: Lee Know.

Chan anticipated this situation, but he felt unsure how to handle it. He pondered whether he should address the issue at all. Eventually, Chan resolved to converse with his mischievous bunny, Minho. However, he promised himself he wouldn't press the issue if Minho were unwilling to talk.

(Last two pics of Chan)

Guess what? Lee Know was doing better than expected. Lee Minho was doing more than okay - he was doing great!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After turning off her camera, Y/N returned to the items the boys had given her. To her surprise, instead of just one phone number, she had received two of them – one from Chan and one from Minho. The realization made her heart flutter with happiness. Y/N prided herself on not holding grudges against people, significantly if they had never wronged her. While it had been painful to read Chan's letter, she tried to empathize with his perspective. She couldn't fully comprehend his actions but could at least grasp what might have transpired.

She couldn't shake the feeling that the boys might be unaware of Chan's true feelings. She hoped they wouldn't be too harsh on him. She also worried about the fans lashing out at him for speaking his mind. After sorting through all the packages and organizing them into piles for upcoming videos, she decided to text both boys or at least she thought she did.

She debated whether to text or call and whether to contact one or both. After half an hour, she chose to call Chan. She was worried about him, and her concerns were justified. She wished she could be there to comfort him. When he started crying and couldn't console him, she decided to sing to lift his spirits. At that moment, her singing ability didn't matter; what mattered was helping him.

After speaking with Chan, she made up her mind to text Minho. She pondered whether they were both aware of sharing their numbers with her or if it was a mutual decision. The tone of Chan's voice suggested that Lee Know was taking it the hardest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She didn't hear from him until the next day after waking up. She smiled and sent a reply. (First two of Minho) They would text each other about what she was up to and what he was cooking for dinner. He even started sending her pictures of the delicious food he makes and his adorable kids. (Last three of Minho) He was on the verge of forgetting why he was furious with Hyung until she casually mentioned him during their phone conversation.

“I’ve meant to ask you this for a while, but I keep forgetting.” He smiles as he listens to the sound of her voice.

“Go on. Ask me whatever you want to know.”

“How’s Chan been doing? I haven’t heard you mention anything about him since I first contacted you.” Lee Know froze and blinked rapidly, feeling overwhelmed and anxious.

“I don’t know. Haven’t talked to him recently.” His words came out stiffly. From her recent chat with the leader, Y/N knew he hadn't approached Chan yet. She didn't want to pressure Minho to speak with Chan, but she also couldn't let things stay as they were.

"Okay, I was just concerned. I didn't know if something had happened. That's why I asked." She says in a gentle tone. Lee Know let out a heavy sigh, and she sensed his unease.

“Minho? Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not okay.”

“What’s wrong? You’re not hurt or anything, right?” He smiles at her, worrying.

“I'm alright, but the group disagreed, and things haven't been the same since.”

“What's the story? If it's too personal, feel free to keep it to yourself.” Lee Know felt a strong desire to kiss Y/N. He would have acted on it if it weren't for the distance between them.

“It happened because of you.”

“Me?! Why me?!” He proceeded to describe what happened after they finished watching the video. He talked about how he stormed out in anger, feeling the urge to punch Chan Hyung but managing to restrain himself. Instead, he released his frustration on a punching bag.

“Everyone else has made up with him, but I haven’t.”

“What’s stopping you?” He struggled to answer that one question. His frustration would bubble up again whenever he tried to think about it.

“A lot of things. That’s all I’m going to say about it.”

“Alright, I hope I'm not prying, but I want to ensure you guys don't end up falling out.” She pauses before continuing, “I understand this may be difficult to hear, but sometimes issues like this don't resolve independently. Having an open conversation with Chan and expressing your feelings might be necessary. I know how much you care about Chan, and I'm sure whatever occurred has strained your relationship. It would be best to address this before it becomes even more difficult to fix. Just a little advice from someone who cares about you.” Lee Know's face lights up with a subtle smile. “You're under no obligation to take my advice, but addressing the issue now might be more beneficial than putting it off.”

Lee Know was sitting on his bed, wrestling with whether to approach Chan or put it off for another day. He appreciated Y/N's efforts to mend things, even though it wasn't her issue to fix. He didn't want to dismiss her good intentions, but deep down, he knew she was right. With the Maniac comeback in full swing, it was essential for them to reconcile and move ahead together.

Lee Know finally decides to take action so they can both concentrate on what's important. As Lee Know strides towards the door and reaches for the knob, he is taken aback to find his Leader standing there, hand poised to knock. They lock eyes, and Chan slowly lowers his hand. "Hey, I was just coming to see if you wanted to talk."

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

My memory is terrible so I wanted to do a breakdown of my stuff every once in a while. Might be monthly, might be whenever I feel like it.

QL - Currently Watching

🇯🇵25 Ji, Akasaka de [7/10] - I do love when Japan does a pov change and this was no exception. Hayama is so far gone. Like we already knew what, but he's been a goner ever since he read his name. He's being worshipped by all these people around him because apparently he's too good looking for anyone to be normal around him, and all he sees is Shirasaki. He said one sentence to him in school that he kept as a reminder. Man is obsessed. I'm so curious about next week. The lines are getting more and more blurred and eventually someone's gotta give. Also Hayama should give lessons on self-control. I have never seen anyone so completely out of his mind in love and jealous and at the same time, so put together. I'm in awe.

🇹🇭 Knock Knock, Boys! [2/12] - Strong start. It's fun, I really liked the flat sharing concept, it reminds me of my London days and kinda like Thanwa, being the mom of the house. I'm wondering if they will settle into their own in-house pairs soon or if there will be cross over, cause that would be fun. Give me mess.

🇹🇭 My Stand-In [1/12] - For a number of reasons I'm waiting to binge this one. I do love watching the gifs on my dash though, pretty is pretty.

🇹🇭 Only Boo! [8/12] - So we're done with highschool and that last episode felt a bit rushed trying to finish all those loose threads but I like that we're getting to a new chapter of their relationship. They continue to be too adorable for words. Side couple - dream kisses my beloathed. From the preview and also the number of thai bl's I've watched I'm thinking this will be a pretty straightforward 'it turns out you like him but now he moved on (not really) and you have to grovel'. I'd love to be surprised though.

🇹🇭 Wandee Goodday [4/12] - I am loving it. Pretty much everything about it. Before I say anything else. Thor is gorgeous and he should do all the shows. Forever. He and Cher are delightful and I love that they are an established couple that seem to have their own roles in the gym and their own relationship with Yak. I said this in tags before I think, but I'm finding it interesting how we collectively talk about this show ending, more often than not, with the caveat 'let's see if it holds up'. We have been burned before and not that long ago so we are all holding our breaths. Contrary to my usual state, I'm feeling cautiously optimistic about this. I think the bones are there for a good show all the way to the end. No one is perfect - except Kao, he is perfection and the ace rep I only dreamed of - and that's great. They are both smitten and complete idiots. I'm looking forward to seeing more of the backstory, and in Yak's case how much of what drives him is a consequence of loss.

🇹🇭 We Are [9/16] - Still enjoying the friendships and still bummed we have no development with Chain/Pun. We had one second of development and it was a look. So much in that look. Not really but at least it seems that Pun is aware of his feelings, so that's something. The last episode kept reminding me of Love Sick because of all the camp stuff. It's an entertaining show but the Q/Toey plot is annoying me a bit now.

QL - Finished

🇹🇭 23.5 - This show lost me about halfway through and I never really connected after that. Even if it really wasn't for me, I'm happy it exists and I hope gmmtv invests in more gl's in the future. I wanted more of the teachers but I'm not greedy and was happy to see that they are together by the end.

🇰🇷Blossom Campus - What a mess. I still cannot believe this came out of Strongberry. I posted my reactions while watching. Final thoughts here.

🇰🇷Boys Be Brave - I really liked this one. Just to get it out of the way, the side couple felt a bit unfinished and could've had a bit more screen time. All the characters had their own stuff going on and 8 episodes just isn't enough to explore that depth in a satisfactory way. With that said. I adore the mains. JinWoo built a wall, put a list on it and we got to see Kiseob slowly tearing it down in its own unhinged unique way. I did a rewatch and something I didn't notice the first time is that when Kiseob is 'caught' with Inho and is explaining what happened while JinWoo hides under the bed, he enumerates what happened just like JinWoo always does. I thought it was so endearing. I found Kiseob's presence on screen always so bright and JinWoo's actor was really compelling to watch. Overall this was a really nice surprise.

🇯🇵 Living with him - Writing this when I literally finished and it's strange. Cause they are so cute by the end. That whole festival date was so adorable, and I think they played the awkwardness of the dynamic change really well. I do think the show dragged in parts and Natsukawa became a tiny bit annoying to me at a certain point. Because he found out so early that Kazuhito liked him that I thought the indecision was too much at times. I kept comparing it in my head to I Cannot Reach You, and the way both Kakeru and Natsukawa's lack of confidence plays a part in how they deal with the friend liking them, but I think in this case the back and forth in his head was irritating to me. It was always one step forward, two steps back. When he found the magazine in that last episode I wanted to punch a wall. Like, oh crap here he goes again. It's great that the friend was passing by so he could do all the work and get these two finally together. For the most part I really enjoyed it.

🇰🇷Love Is Like a Cat - That was a show that I watched. Final thoughts

Rose Watches OJBL

The Novelist (2018) - I put off this one for so long because of reasons and I was so wrong. It's not necessarily an easy watch but it's so good. It's beautifully shot and acted. I went through a whole journey with Kijima, from 'who is this guy?' to 'I fucking hate this guy' to ''I need him to be happy, please'. I will have to rewatch it after I watch all of them because the series is full of details and I'm sure I missed a bunch. Definitely happy I started this journey if for no other reason cause I finally managed to watch this.

Takumi-kun Series 2: Rainbow Colored Glass (2009) - The sad just came out of nowhere. It's got some of the same problems as the first one, choppy editing and even though the cast is new the acting is still not that good. I was less confused throughout which is good, Takumi annoyed me a lot though and the tragic plot was messy and rushed. I'm not sure if I'll watch all of these but probably at least one more and then decide.

Other - Watched

🇨🇳Running Like a Shooting Star (2024)🇯🇵Barakamon (2023)🇯🇵Ghost Yankee (2024) 🇰🇷Wonderful World (2024)

4 Thai BL's coming in June June 7 | My Love Mix-Up (so many mixed feelings) June 9 | Love Sea June 15 | Sunset x Vibes June 26 | The Rebound

As usual my ask box is open for questions or requests. Have a wonderful day/night💜

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Click My Heels But I Am Stuck Here - Epilogue

Pairing: Rolan x Tav

Work Summary:

Rolan is battered, beaten and exhausted. After everything he’s been through to get to Baldur’s Gate, he still has no reprieve from violence and prejudice.

But wouldn’t it just be so sweet to fuck his master’s pretty little wife?

AU where Tav is Lorroakan’s wife.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Epilogue

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1652

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist info

Previous Chapter

Notes: It's been a wild ride folks. Hope you enjoyed :) I have a whole queue of fics that I've been neglecting to focus on this one, so it might be a little while before I write Rolan x Tav again, but I do have plans for the future, and perhaps I could be persuaded to expedite them <3

---

Two Years Later

Tav’s boots were muddy, but she could see Baldur’s Gate in the distance. She was bone-tired, and on any other day, she would concede to Jaheira’s suggestion that they should make camp for the night and continue their journey tomorrow morning.

But she needed to see Rolan. It had been almost two months since she’d last seen him, and the distance was starting to ache in her chest. More than that, she had something important to tell him.

Lia and Geraldus were both on board, so they left their fellow Harpers in a clearing in the woods and began the five-mile trek home. Jaheira had pursed her lips, but not argued. This last stretch of road was very safe, and the three of them were well-armed in any case.

“Are you sure you’re alright to keep walking?” asked Lia, looking at Tav anxiously. Her eyes darted to Tav’s stomach, which was covered by armour, so she wouldn’t have been able to see anything even if there was anything to see.

She hadn’t actually told Lia anything, but her sister-in-law could be annoyingly perceptive when she wanted to be. These last few days of travel had been slow going, because Tav had been ill.

At the last town they’d passed through, she had gone for a private appointment with a cleric, and emerged with more than just potions for her nausea. She was sure that Lia had probably figured it out then, if she hadn’t already.

“I’m fine,” said Tav. “I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“Me too,” said Geraldus.

“Cal’s bed, you mean,” said Lia, poking him in the arm.

“Hush, you.” In the early stages of their relationship, Geraldus probably would’ve chuckled and blushed at the gentle ribbing from his boyfriend’s sister, but they’d been together for almost a year and a half now, and he’d also spent almost as much time with Lia as he had with Cal at this point.

When Tav and Lia had initially joined the Harpers, Cal had briefly considered joining too, but decided the adventurer’s life was not for him. He would much rather help Rolan tend Sorcerous Sundries and stay in the relative safety of Baldur’s Gate.

Privately, Tav knew that he was also staying to make sure Rolan wasn’t alone. She was glad. She would never have been able to go on such long missions if she knew that Rolan didn’t have anyone watching over him and making sure he was eating.

“Excited to get home to your husband?” Geraldus asked her.

She gave him a weak smile. Three years ago, the question would’ve made her blanche. But Rolan was not Lorroakan. The plain gold wedding band he’d given her didn’t weigh her down like the gaudy thing that she’d had from her first husband.

Still, she hadn’t expected marriage to feel so natural this time around. She hadn’t expected to want it, no matter how much she loved Rolan.

But about six months ago, it had come up in conversation, and she realised that marrying him didn’t terrify her the way she’d thought it would. In fact, the idea of calling him her husband was very appealing.

Within a month, they were married. It was a small ceremony with just their closest friends, and his siblings. Afterwards, they’d all had a very merry evening at the Elfsong Tavern. It was perfect.

“I’m hoping he’ll help me with my hair,” she said, lightly touching her braid. “All these weeks on the road haven’t been good for it. And Rolan gives excellent head-”

“I don’t want to hear about that!” Lia interrupted.

“Head massages! Don’t be crass!”

The three of them descended into laughter. It made the long walk a little easier.

It was past midnight by the time they made it to Ramazith’s tower. All three of them were excluded from the extensive wards that kept the tower safe, so they walked in with little fanfare.

The lights were on in the kitchen. That was where the three of them found Cal and Rolan, playing some kind of intricate card game. Myshka was curled up on Rolan’s lap, but as soon as he saw Tav, he leapt into her arms.

“MERMER!” he cried, nuzzling into her neck immediately. She had cast Speak with Animals in preparation for this very moment.

“Hi there, baby,” she murmured, scratching under his chin. Suddenly, she was being lifted off her feet. Myshka was sandwiched between her chest and Rolan’s as he embraced them both.

“Tav…” Rolan sounded breathlessly exhilarated. “I didn’t know you would be home tonight…”

“But you stayed up anyway,” she said as he set her back on her feet.

“Well, I did hope.”

“He stayed up last night too,” Cal chimed in from where he was entangled in Geraldus’ embrace.

“Shut up, Cal.”

“I suppose neither of my brothers are all that happy to see me. The perils of being a fifth wheel,” said Lia pointedly, walking over to the stove.

There was a pot of soup that was slowly simmering. She grabbed herself a bowl and began to spoon soup into it, but almost spilled it all over herself when Cal hugged her from behind.

“I missed you too, Lia,” he said.

Looking a little chastened, Rolan released Tav to go and embrace his sister as well.

“How was your trip?” Cal asked cheerfully.

“Long,” said Tav. “I really need a bath.” She tugged her braid loose from its tie, letting her tangled hair cascade over her shoulders.

“I’m sure I can manage that,” said Rolan.

“Cal, Geraldus,” said Lia suddenly. “Will you help me with my bags? I left some stuff downstairs that needs bringing up.

“What bags?” asked Geraldus, confused, but she elbowed him in the ribs. “Right, of course, let’s go.”

And then Tav and Rolan were alone. Tav was sure there were no bags to be brought up. Lia was just giving them an excuse to be alone.

Rolan put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arms’ length as he surveyed her.

“You’re looking well,” he said. “Lots of colour in your cheeks. That’s good to see. Being a Harper is good for you, as much as I hate to be away from you.”

She knew that he was downplaying his own feelings. Cal had once told her that her long absences were hard on Rolan. He feared for her safety, and he missed her deeply.

He would never tell her the full extent of his feelings though. He didn’t want to pressure her into putting his needs over her own.

“I never want to be away for that long again,” she said, and it was true.

She loved the thrill of adventure, but the tower was her home. Gone were the traces of Lorroakan that had haunted the place. With a combination of magic and interior design, they had made this place into a home for themselves.

“And I doubt I’ll be leaving Baldur’s Gate again any time soon. I’m going to be taking a little bit of a leave of absence, from fieldwork at least. With the resources we have at our disposal here, I can still make a difference without putting myself on the frontline.”

Rolan swallowed. “Really?” There was a quiet, but obvious spark of hope in his tone. “Tired of adventuring already?”

“Well, it’s more that I think it’s probably too dangerous for me right now, in my condition.”

“Condition?” he asked, drawing his eyebrows together in confusion.

She took his hand and guided it to her belly. In the last leg of the journey, she’d removed some of her armour, leaving her in a loose-fitting tunic. His eyes widened as understanding dawned on his face.

“You’re- We’re-” he stammered, disbelieving.

“Pregnant? Yes.”

“Gods, Tav.” He dropped to his knees and pressed his face into her clothed stomach. She put her arms around him, a laugh bubbling up in her chest.

“Are you…” A hint of nervousness entered her tone. “Happy to hear that?”

“I’m elated,” he said. “Are you?”

“I never thought I would want this,” she said. “I vowed to never give Lorroakan a child, so I thought that was it for me. But I want this with you. I want to have your child.”

“Tav…” Tears were rolling down Rolan’s cheeks. He pressed a kiss to her stomach. “I love you so much."

“I love you too.” She smoothed her fingers into his hair, loosening it from the hair tie that was holding it in place. He didn’t protest, still pressing his face against her.

That was how Cal, Lia and Geraldus found them a few minutes later, with him still on his knees, holding her. Lia let out an excited yelp as she took in the scene.

Rolan got to his feet quickly, embarrassed. “Should we tell them?” he whispered to Tav.

“I think Lia already knows. So I think it’s only fair.”

“Alright.” He nodded.

“We’re having a baby,” she said, and Cal almost knocked her off her feet as he pulled her into a hug.  

“I knew it,” she hear Lia shriek, and chuckled into the material of Cal’s shirt. Rolan was hovering behind her, a protective hand on her lower back. As soon as Cal moved out of the way, Lia took his place, throwing her arms around Tav’s neck. “I’m so happy for you two.” She pulled back and held Tav’s face in her hands. “You’re brilliant, you know that? Your kid is going to be a superstar.”

“Our kid is going to have the best aunt and uncles in the world,” said Tav.

Lia turned to Rolan. “You’d better get to work, the mother of your unborn child wants a bath.”

“With rose petals,” Tav supplied.

“She wants rose petals,” said Lia, helpfully.

“I suppose I better get on that,” said Rolan, kissing Tav’s temple. “Anything for you.”

---

Notes:

fic title is from Black Ink Revenge by Automatic Loveletter

"Don't you let 'em know you're dying, dying Dying to break out Dying to get, get, get out Through the window of the upstairs Click my heels but I am stuck here"

[uniquexusposts]

Her || Charles Leclerc

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fanfiction, fluff  Story type: novel  Part: 11/? Word count: 3089 Co writer: @mistrose23

Story summary: Matilde Jørgensen, the new Scuderia Ferrari team principal, faced the nerve-wracking challenge of reviving the team's fortunes and aiming for a championship. Leading a historic team as a 'newbie' and separating her work and personal opinions posed a significant challenge. The big question: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 9. Night Guards

The Ferrari Factory was cloaked in darkness as Matilde's car glided to a halt in the parking lot. The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the iconic factory campus.

With a sigh and a hint of exhaustion, she stepped out of her car. Nerves travelled through her body. After last weekend's situation, she wasn't sure if she wanted to continue her role at Ferrari. However, it didn't feel right to drop everything and leave after only five races. She grabbed her bag from the backseat and locked her car, walking towards the entrance. The factory grounds were quiet at this hour, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle that defined the daylight hours. The parking lot, which was typically teeming with cars and personnel, now held just a handful of vehicles.

Instead of entering the office building, she entered the factory building. She scanned her pass and got in. Matilde exchanged greetings with the guard, who was happy to see her. The man congratulated the woman on the win, and they shared a few words about the race weekend.

After a quick security check, she continued her way to the canteen. Matilde just started to get to know this building. She ran her hand through her hair and yawned. Even though she was still living in the American time zone, she was getting tired because of the darkness outside.

"You are a real warrior," Mario, the manager of the night shift, said when Matilde entered the canteen. The entire night crew looked at the team principal, who was standing in front of them. "I didn't receive a cancellation, but we didn't expect you to still show up for the night shift."

Matilde scanned every person in the room, waiting for their reaction. Would they react the same as the racetrack team? She didn't know it anymore, she didn't know who was genuine and who wasn't.

"You just had a race in America and you are already here," Angelo added, a mechanic.

Everyone looked surprised to see Matilde, but they looked grateful at the presence of the woman. They all were drinking tea or coffee, preparing for their long night at the factory.

A fragile smile came on Matilde's face. "When I say I will be there, I will be there," she said. "I'm still in the American time zone; I will be up all night anyway. Might spend it here as well."

"Well, in that case," Mario said and got up. He made his way to the fridge and took out a white box. "Unfortunately, we cannot pop the champagne now," he said and put the box on the table. "But we can celebrate it with cake." Mario opened the box.

Matilde looked at the cake, and her lips parted. Tears flowed into her eyes when she read the text on the cream. 'Congratulations on your first win!' She looked up and glanced at Mario and then at the team. "Guys..."

"Congratulations, Matilde!"

"Your first win will always be special. We sadly couldn't be in Miami to celebrate it with you, but we will celebrate it with you now," Mario proudly smiled. "It was a perfect weekend for the team, and we couldn't be more proud of everyone."

Appreciation, that was the thing she missed during the entire weekend. How come the track team didn't even bother to ask her to join the celebration, and the night team came up with a celebration themselves? "Thank you," Matilde said. "Thank you for all your hard work, we couldn't wish for a better weekend, and that is because of your dedication and work. Grazie a tutti," she widely smiled. "Grazie ragazzi."

The night team beamed with pride as Matilde expressed her gratitude. Their cheers and applause filled the canteen, breaking the silence of the late-night hour. It was a heartfelt celebration, a sign of the strong bond that existed between the night shift team and their team principal.

Matilde's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked around at her colleagues. These were the unsung heroes of Ferrari, the ones who toiled through the night to ensure that every detail of the F1 operation was flawless. And they cared about everyone within the team. These were the people who kept the operation going.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Matilde approached the cake. She took a knife and began cutting slices for everyone in the canteen. The cake, a symbol of their shared achievement, was quickly devoured as the team was insulted by this midnight treat.

"So, tell us, how was this weekend?" Mario asked curiously.

Matilde shared her experiences with the people. She told about the great teamwork, the problems that were quickly solved and how everything felt like they bonded. Matilde had shared before that things weren't going smoothly within the track team, but she proudly told how things changed this weekend. Due to her professionalism, she decided not to share the moment that broke her heart. It was something she had to deal with, she didn't want to ruin their view on the rest of the team.

"And the celebrations?" Angelo asked. "Huge dinner party?"

The team principal nodded. "Yup." Her eyes met the eyes of a mechanic who was also part of the track team, who was also picking up night shifts every now and then. "It was fun." Matilde was hoping that the mechanic wouldn't ruin her reputation within this crew.

A mechanic scoffed. "Fun for the team, yes."

Her hope sank. Matilde's face straightened, and she swallowed hard. She looked down and waited for the rest of his response.

"We had a fun dinner, indeed. Until something happened," the mechanic continued. Everyone looked at him while he looked at Matilde, who was clearly feeling uncomfortable. "It turned out that our people didn't even bother to invite Matilde to the celebration dinner."

Matilde felt a mixture of surprise and trepidation as the mechanic continued to speak. She had hoped that the incident wouldn't come to light during the night shift. As the mechanic's words hung in the air, there was a moment of tense silence. Matilde could feel the eyes of the night shift team on her, assessing her reaction.

"Yes, it is true," she began, her voice steady. "There was an incident at the celebratory dinner. It wasn't the way I had hoped the evening would go. But let's not dwell on that. What matters is that we had a fantastic race weekend, and the team's performance was exceptional." She shifted the focus away from the negative moment, choosing to highlight the success. It was a delicate balance between acknowledging the issue and steering the conversation toward more positive aspects.

"Why was she not invited?" A woman blurted towards the mechanic of the track team. "How dare you say that in front of her? This is straight-up bullying!"

The eyes of the mechanic shot up to the woman. "Hey, I am not saying this to make her feel more bad; I'm saying this because what happened was not classy from our side. I had heard that Matilde couldn't be there, multiple people asked where she was, and everyone said she couldn't be there. But that wasn't true, no one invited her. And I didn't know that," he defended himself, but also Matilde. Ever since he found out that no one had invited her on purpose, he felt extremely bad about it. "The team principal always joins the celebration dinner."

Eyes shot to Matilde, who looked hurt. "I was told no one was celebrating it because of the early flight the next morning," she replied. "I was with Red Bull because my best friend works at Red Bull, and it's my old team. And my flight was leaving in the late afternoon the next day. I wanted to celebrate it," she defended herself.

Silence fell in the canteen.

"But the champagne move... Legendary," the mechanic said. "How did you dare to do that?"

"What exactly did she do?" Mario asked. He looked at Matilde. "What did you do?"

The mechanic smirked. "At some point, we all got served a glass of champagne, telling us we got the compliments from our team principal."

"How did you know that they were there?" Angelo asked Matilde.

"Apparently, I was in the same restaurant," Matilde replied. "Leclerc texted me, asking where I was, and at that moment, I saw the entire team sitting in the back of the restaurant. I already downed two shots, and I had some champagne in my system, so I don't know what I was thinking."

Chuckles and giggles filled the canteen, causing Matilde to smile lightly. Did this mean that Matilde could feel relieved?

"This is a boss ass bitch move; I love it," a young woman said, who sat in the corner of the room. "As you should, Matilde. Show them how shitty they acted. Own it."

Angelo laughed. "I must say, it's not very professional, but I would absolutely do the same if I were you in that situation. Whoever thought that it was okay not to invite you, should get fired."

"Don't give her ideas," Mario said. He thought the situation was funny because of the reaction of Matilde, but he noticed the situation was hurting her and how she lost the trust in her team. When she entered the canteen, she reacted differently. Now he understood why. It was everything but classy for his colleagues to treat her like that. "It sounds like there was a misunderstanding, Matilde. Maybe the message got lost somewhere along the way."

The woman who had spoken up earlier took a deep breath and spoke again, her voice filled with empathy. "But that doesn't excuse the fact that we should have ensured you were included."

"It isn't your fault, Valentina," Matilde responded. "You weren't there."

"But it is our team; they are our colleagues."

"I really appreciate that. Miscommunications happen, and yeah, so be it. I will pick it up tomorrow. I was in my fault, they were in their fault, and we have to talk about it." She acted like it didn't bother her that much, but the fact that these people supported her more than the people she worked with on a daily base...

"I don't like those people anyway," the young woman said. "They all act like they are better than us; meanwhile, they are taking our credits."

"Don't mind Stella. She says what we are all thinking, but we keep it in front of us, and she doesn't," Angelo replied and looked disapprovingly at her.

Matilde politely smiled at the crew. She made eye contact with the mechanic, who stood up for her. She gave him a grateful nod, which he returned with a smile and a wink. "Anyway, thank you all for your concern, but it happened; it's in the past. Let's move forward," she said, hoping the moment would pass. "And this is told in confidence. So whatever is said here, stays here. Unless you think it is inappropriate, then you know where to find the board, and I will happily have a conversation about it." She realised she had lost the authority, she didn't like authority, but she was the team principal after all.

As the night shift began, Matilde felt a warmth in her heart that transcended the exhaustion of her long journey from Miami. She was there for them, and they were there for her.

Throughout the night, Matilde worked alongside her night shift team. They discussed strategies, reviewed data and ensured that every aspect of the past race and upcoming race was discussed. Matilde picked up some office tasks, preparing for the upcoming week with briefings and meetings.

* * *

The next day, the Ferrari office was bustling with activity. The race track team got back to work after their days off after the weekend. The team had gathered for a small inauguration ceremony, a celebration of Carlos and Charles' impressive performances during the previous race weekend in Miami. It was an opportunity to recognize their achievements and boost team morale.

As the team members gathered in the massive hall of the office, there was a palpable sense of excitement in the air. Colleagues chatted, sharing their pride in the team's success.

Charles and Carlos were standing in the room next to the hall, waiting for the ceremony to start.

"Matilde will be here, too, right?" Carlos asked Charles after not having spotted the team principal. She usually was present before everyone else was at the office.

"I don't know." A frown grew on Charles' forehead. "I saw on Instagram that she was in Denmark, for her mum's birthday or something. Perhaps she's still there."

"Weird," Carlos replied.

"But maybe she's on her way."

Finally, the double doors at the hall swung open. Charles and Carlos stepped into the room, greeted by applause and cheers from their colleagues. Their smiles radiated the joy of the moment. They waved at their team.

"Ladies and gentlemen, colleagues and friends, today we gather to celebrate the remarkable achievements of our drivers: Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz!" The spokesperson of Ferrari took the task of leading this ceremony. "What a race, boys. Congratulations."

The room erupted in applause again, and Charles and Carlos exchanged smiles. However, when the ceremony continued, Charles and Carlos missed the presence of one person. Carlos was asked to say something about the weekend. It gave Charles the chance to scan the hall once again. There was still no sign of Matilde. It worried him. Did this have to do with Sunday? He still hadn't had the chance to speak with her about what had happened, as he felt extremely bad about it, but had she given up already? Charles thought about the situation a lot, and he wondered if he could have prevented it.

The sliding doors of the entrance opened. Charles' eyes shot to the person who had entered the building. He watched how she entered the building and went through security. It looked like she had no idea what was going on. The woman was wearing grey trousers and a blue, oversized button-up shirt, her hair in a low bun. She was carrying two bags and a coat. Once she entered the hall, she came to a halt. Her eyes scanned the hall.

A sense of guilt washed over Charles as their eyes met. He pursed his lips tightly, seeing the emotions written all over her face. Her expression changed from surprise to pain. Her face told stories. Then her face showed a clear message that she didn't want anyone's pity or sympathy. A few other people noticed Matilde's presence as well, being shocked to see her.

Matilde walked towards the podium, between all the people. Anger was playing a huge role in her emotions right now, but she had to ignore it and show who the team principal was. Her eyes met Galileo's, who was standing next to the podium. His eyes widened. Matilde ignored him and dumped her stuff on the ground, next to the podium. She stepped on the podium and stood next to Charles, wearing a professional smile, but her eyes showed a bitchy look. If you were standing close by, you would notice it.

Carlos ended this speech and looked at the spokesperson. His eyes fell on Matilde, who shared a smile. He smiled back, being relieved she indeed was on her way when they were waiting at the beginning.

The spokesperson looked at Matilde. "Well, once again: thank you all for being here," he said. "Matilde, good to have you here as well."

"I was not aware of this celebration," she mumbled under her breath, not knowing Charles heard her. Matilde looked at Galileo; she would have a word with him afterwards.

"Charles, we will go to you in a second, but first, a word from Matilde."

Charles handed the microphone over to the woman next to him.

A smile rested on her face. Over the weeks, she realised how good she became at acting and putting on fake smiles. "Of course, Carlos, outstanding work. It was a faultless race from your side, an almost faultless race on our side. We had an issue, but we managed to fix it in time, so I consider it a faultless race," she said and looked at Carlos. She moved her gaze to Charles. "Charles, your outstanding performances made us all proud. The way you fought with the Red Bulls and defended was just brilliant." Matilde turned to the people in front of the podium. "And you! Each and every one of you is also the reason why the team won. If you were at the track, at the factory or at home, because of you, we put out an amazing performance. It's not just about the victory, but also about the teamwork and determination of everyone. Well done, everyone. Keep up the good work." She handed the microphone to Charles.

"I agree with everything that Matilde just said," he said and chuckled. "We couldn't have done it without the dedication and hard work of every person in this room. This win is yours as much as it is ours."

The hall burst into applause again. Matilde joined in the clapping, showing that she was there for the team. Even though she had a lot of anger in her body, she recognised this moment of unity and celebration, a reminder of what they achieved together, and what they could achieve together in the future.

After the speeches, the team mingled, sharing stories and congratulations. Charles, Carlos and Matilde posed for photos with their colleagues, holding their trophies proudly. The first celebration of the season and as a team with a new team principal were enjoyed, suddenly there were no tensions left.

Matilde stepped down the stage and collected her stuff. It was not even nine hours after the end of the night shift; she wasn't even supposed to be here for another two hours. She walked away from the celebrations, and she wanted to leave the hall, until someone stopped her.

"We have a board meeting scheduled."

Another thing she wasn't aware of. Matilde smiled. "I will be there," she said. She was open to attending the meeting two hours before she was allowed to start working again. "After I have spoken to my assistant."

"Everyone is waiting for you."

"I will be there," she repeated, taking a second to make clear that she would be there. "After I have seen my assistant," she said, looking the man in the eyes, giving him a stern nod and walked away. 

Next chapter

[itsthatpearl]

Layout idea from @secret-smut-sideblog 🩸

Previous Chapter

Astarion x F!OC

Dawn of Love

Chapter 9: LET THE WORLD BURN

AO3 LINK

We meet our favourite Devil again, but this time it's on his playground, and he is not happy.

Word count: 2.5k

Thank you to my sweet darling Ella for beta reading my horrible rambles <3

TRIGGERS: fighting, sad stuff, instructionssss, fingering, multiple orgasms, teasing, PinV, L-bombs and just the fluffiest flufffff.

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“COULD EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP FOR A MINUTE” Astarion shouted, silencing our companions.

Gale pressed his lips together, forming a sharp line with his mouth. I glanced at him, shaking my head a bit. Now is not the time.

Astarion looked at Hope, who was still bound by the chains. He breathed out and looked away.

“Alright. She may come with us. But the Devil will be mad for what we did” he said.

Karlach sighed in relief. I looked at Lae’zel as she jumped to destroy the chains with the Orphic Hammer we had stolen.

Hope ran to hug me.

“Thank you thank you THANK YOU!!” she squeezed me. I looked at Astarion. Our eyes met. I smiled slightly.

“Thank you” I mouthed to him.

He nodded.

“Shall we go? Before Raphael comes here and finds out what we are doing” Wyll muttered.

I held Astarion’s hand as we ran through the halls. If Raphael finds out about us, we are fucked. 

Only a few steps to the portal. Almost there.

The portal vanished into thin air. 

“Fuck” Karlach gasped. “We’re too late”.

“Not at all, little tiefling. You are just in time” a voice purred behind us.

Raphael.

“Let us go Raphael. No need to shed any blood here today” I tried to negotiate.

“Oh but miss Ashthorn, I do not like uninvited guests. I loathe them. And even more, I loathe thieves AND liars. We had a deal, my elf. You broke it. That spawn is useless to me now. And so are all of you. I don’t need such pathetic little vermin in my house” he spat on the ground.

Astarion gripped the dagger in his hand. 

“We did what was right-” I started before Raphael’s loud laughter cut me off.

“HA! What was ‘right’? Oh no. No no no Miss Ashthorn. I thought you were more clever than that. The disgusting amount of feelings you have towards this useless spawn has definitely blinded you. You would’ve needed the Ascendant’s strength and abilities against the Absolute, but you decided some pathetic thing like ‘love’ was more important” he sneered at us.

“One more word from your mouth, and you are a dead devil” Astarion growled.

“We’ll see about that” Raphael smirked.

The following fight was draining. Hope healed us as fast as she could, while Gale tried to hold a globe of invulnerability over us. Astarion pierced his dagger through the cambions, while I tried to concentrate on fighting against Raphael.

“My little elf, there is no use in fighting, you are way too weak without the Ascendant. How sad. To think you might have actually won with him. Now you will burn” he laughed before casting a bolt of fire at us.

“I can’t hold this dome much longer” Gale yelled, struggling to keep the spell cast.

Lae’zel managed to destroy the last pillar, which was giving Raphael more powers. The Devil looked at me, full of rage.

“QUICKLY, DO IT” I yelled at Karlach, who threw her axe right between Raphael’s ribs.

He glared at Karlach while blood burst out of the wound.

“You should not have done that” he growled. His form started changing right before our eyes. 

A demonic creature rose above us.

“Shit” Gale whispered before starting to form a new globe of invulnerability on us.

The battle was barely won. Shadowheart healed Wyll who was laying unconscious on the ground after getting hit really badly by a cambion. I swiped off blood that was dropping down from a nasty cut on my cheek. Karlach helped Gale to make sure Raphael was actually gone for good while Hope ran to hug Astarion, who looked at me with that “I can’t believe we are alive” -look.

“I can’t believe we are alive!!!!” Hope jumped up and down.

“Me neither” Karlach laughed out loud. “Fuck, I was so damn sure we were going to be the devil’s dinner! Fuck yeah! We are badass!” she came to squeeze me tightly.

“Alright alright, stop the celebrating, we need to get back home” Astarion scoffed, but he did look a bit happy by the way that his eyes glinted.

I took his hand and smiled.

“Astarion is right. Let’s go” I said.

I looked at the gauntlets I had stolen from the Hell and kept for myself. The metal glistened gracefully in the dim candle light.

“May I come in?” Astarion’s head popped inside the tent.

“Anytime” I smiled and moved a bit to give him more space.

He smiled as he sat down and looked at the gauntlets.

“You minx, you promised Helsik you’d give them to her” he tutted, smirking.

“Shh. She won't need them. She isn’t fighting against the Absolute” I giggled.

Astarion took the gauntlets from my hands and placed them aside.

“You were insane today. Insane but brave. I…I am proud of you” he said quietly while interlocking our fingers.

I smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. The kiss was tender and soft.

Astarion sighed, eyes closed.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“It’s just…I am afraid. What if the Devil was right. That we can’t beat the Netherbrain or the Absolute without the power my ascension would have provided” he furrowed his brows. Was that…a tear forming beneath his eyelids, wetting his beautiful lashes?

“My love-” I started before he covered his face with his hands.

“Don’t. I look hideous. I am pathetic and I am weak” he sobbed quietly.

I looked at the man in front of me. And suddenly I saw a boy. A boy who was a magistrate, trying to be the best version of himself. The young man who got beaten up, left to die, who was cursed with eternal life. Tortured, starved man who had lost all hope.

“You are not hideous. Your hair moves like a wave in the fresh breeze of wind. Your eyes are like the fire that burns in my heart when I see you. Your skin is soft to touch, your scent addictive. Your lips kiss me better than anyone has ever kissed before, whispering the most beautiful words” I smile as he lifts his eyes slowly to watch me behind his fingers. “You aren’t pathetic, and you definitely aren't weak. You fight better than most of the people I know. You are fast, strong, dexterous and smart. You are funny, handsome and the love of my life” I said, with tears in my eyes.

Astarion pulled me into a hug.

And there we were again.

Two broken souls, who managed to find each other. 

“Thank you” he whispered.

“You are welcome. I love you” I whispered back, holding him against me.

The hug lasted for minutes. Our breaths were perfectly synchronised, arms wrapped around each other.

“I can't give you the life that you deserve, Aurora” Astarion said quietly.

“And what life is that?” I asked him.

“Life of wealth, safety…children” he said, barely audible.

Children.

I closed my eyes for just a moment. That night I met Astarion for the first time…

“Do you think…do you think I could become…” I started to ask but he shook his head.

“It’s not possible” he said and got up.

I opened my eyes and looked at him.

He stared at me.

“You would be an amazing mother” Astarion sighed.

I teared up, smiling.

“I would. And you would be an amazing father” I nodded.

We hugged again.

“I love you. No matter what. And there are other possibilities” I whispered.

Astarion nodded.

“I love you too”

“We are going to strike early in the morning” I announced.

My companions looked at me with straight faces.

“Strike where?” Karlach asked carefully.

“In the Undercity there was a tunnel near the temple of Bhaal, where we killed Orin. We have the Orphic Hammer” I glanced at Lae’zel who nodded back. “We can release the Gith Prince. I am sure he will be happy to help us. We have the Netherstones. We can beat the Brain once and for all” I looked at everyone.

“Fuck yes” Karlach started clapping.

The camp stayed silent while Karlach’s clapping echoed around us. Dame Aylin and Isobel looked at each other, Jaheira shook her head in disbelief and Gale stared at the ground. Minsc, Wyll and Halsin looked at me, trying to give an encouraging smile. Shadowheart stared at Karlac, while Lae’zel had already started walking towards her tent. 

The clapping ended, and a deadly silence filled every corner of the camp.

Karlach stood up, irritated.

“I say we should spend the night like it could be the last one we have” she claimed. “Cheer up! We are going to kick some ass tomorrow!”

I sat alone in our tent sharpening my dagger facing away from the opening. Astarion had gone hunting to get his stomach full. I fiddled with the sharp end nervously, Karlach’s sound echoing in the back of my mind. This could be our last night alive.

I heard the tent flaps opening slowly behind me.

“Take off your clothes” a familiar voice purred into my ear.

I smirked as I felt soft, chilly lips place a kiss on my shoulder.

“Did you have a good hunt?” I sighed, eyes closing.

“Yes. Now take off your clothes” the voice murmured, tickling my earlobe.

“Astarion” I giggled quietly. “We might die tomorrow and all you think is…whatever you are thinking right now” I couldn't help but bite my lip to distract me from the thought.

“Exactly. Might be the last time I get to taste your delectable flesh, my love” a lick on my ear, sending immediate bolts of lightning right between my legs. “So do as I say, and take off your clothes” Astarion ordered.

I started opening the laces of my shirt with shaking hands.

“Good girl, do you want me to help?” his fingers caressed my shoulders, fiddling with the fabric.

“Yes” I whispered.

The shirt fell slowly onto the ground behind me, revealing the soft skin of my nipples to the chilly night air. I could feel them hardening, waiting for his touch.

“Get on your knees” his voice ordered with a stern tone.

I bit my lip and got up enough to slide my legs under myself. There I was now. On my knees, half naked and I hadn't even seen his face yet.

“Good girl. Now spread your legs apart” he's breath tickled my neck.

I opened my legs wider, eyes closed.

“May I touch you?” he whispered

“Please” I practically already whined.

Cold fingers glid along my shoulder to brush against my already incredibly hard nipple. I moaned quietly.

“My my, I can only imagine what kind of a mess you have provided me in between your legs, if this is how you are already behaving” he tutted.

“Fuck, Astarion” a mix of giggle and whimper escaped my mouth.

“I will, soon. Before that, I want you to remember why you chose me to be your lover” he said, nipping at my earlobe playfully.

My breath shattered as the cold fingers snaked their way down from my breast inside my breeches.

A louder moan.

“Aura, we don't need to traumatise everyone, if this is actually our last night. If you keep our friends up, they won't be able to fight” he tutted his tongue again.

Prick.

“Now let’s see…” he started before pushing one of his fingers inside me. 

I covered my mouth to stifle a moan.

“Aurora” the voice lowered. “I don't think it is a mess anymore. You have ruined these breeches. I guess me ruining you isn't so bad then” Astarion licked my neck and started pumping the finger in and out of me.

“Gods” I whimpered, already feeling my orgasm building up slowly.

“Does my sweet little love want to cum?” he asked, adding another finger and pumping faster.

“Yes” I moaned as my head flew back to rest on his shoulder.

“Help me to help you then” he ordered and kissed my cheek.

My hand joined his inside my breeches. I didn't need much more, just a few circles around my clit and I was trying not to wake up the whole camp.

I catched my breath. 

“Your moaning is the sweetest melody I know, Aura. When this is all done, I promise I will get us a home, where you can sing as loud as you can without being afraid of waking up anyone” he whispered while his lips caressed my neck. 

“Mmmm I’d like that” I smiled, completely spent from the way I had just climaxed.

I could feel his lips curling upwards into a smile. 

“I am glad to hear that” he said after a beat.

I straightened my back and turned around to look at him.

He was sweating, a corner of his mouth slightly bloody from hunting. His eyes were draped with lust and his erection was seemingly painful.

“Do you need help with that?” I bit my lip.

“A gentleman never declines one's help” he smirked.

“Oh, a gentleman you say?” I smirked back at him as I started removing my already open breeches.

“A true knight in shining armour, ay?” he bit his lip as I moved closer to him, naked.

I sat down, my thighs trapping him in between them.

“I cannot argue with you” I smiled and started slowly grinning my hips down against his aching, clothed member.

“But tease you can?” he furrowed his brows as his hands came to grip my hips.

“Oh sorry, am I being a bad girl?” I moaned quietly as he started answering my grinding with him making his grip even harder.

“A very very bad girl” his voice came out as more of a growl.

Our lips crashed together, and in a matter of seconds Astarion had ripped his breeches open and pushed himself inside of me.

“You are so tight” he whimpered as he guided my hips up and down his cock. 

I wasn’t able to stifle my moans anymore. If this was actually our last night alive, I want to fully enjoy it.

The pace quickened, the air was full of wet sounds of our thighs snapping together and our mutual sweet moans. 

His voice came out in perfect rhythm, his moan coating every push. 

We kissed more, but even our lips were unable to fully muffle the sound of our lovemaking.

“Aurora, fuck, I- I will cum soon” he whimpered as he struggled to keep the pace steady.

I answered with nodding and moaning erratically, moving my hand back to draw circles around my already incredibly sensitive clit. The sensation became too much to bear, and the sweet tension of a building climax came undone for both of us. 

Astarion buried his face in the crook of my neck, trying to catch his breath. I held him close.

“We must go to sleep” Astarion muttered. “We need every single drop of strength, if we want to stay alive”.

I nodded back and got up from his lap. 

Astarion laid down and pulled me to join him. He took the blanket and covered us both, before wrapping his arm around me.

“Good night, my love” he whispered.

“Good night” I answered, fighting the tears that threatened to gather in my eyes.

I really hope we survive tomorrow.