#look forward to season 3 part 1 next month

[silvadour]

Fire Force (2019-) Season 1 Ep. 21 - Those Connected

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he’s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won’t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

.

.

.

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

[reverie-starlight]

{PR DAY ~ sakusa kiyoomi}

MSBY manager!reader my beloved <3

it’s PR Day for the jackals and you, their manager, have the day off. so why is your boyfriend trying so hard to convince you to go with him?

gn!reader, fluff, an attempt at humor, atsumu slander (as much as it pains me, it comes with the territory of writing a fic like this 😔) suggestive in some parts. not nsfw at all, but explicit language is used and one conversation surrounds that topic, so read at your own risk <3 also, intentional tense-switch in the beginning!!! and just like the first part, it’s not explicitly mentioned, but reader and atsumu have known each other since high school.

part 1 of the mini-series

managing MSBY came with its ups and downs.

on one hand, you wouldn’t have met your boyfriend if it weren’t for this job. and you've never laughed as hard as you have been these past three years with coworkers before meeting the current core line up of the jackals.

but on the other? you had three massive fully grown children under your care. four, technically, if they managed to annoy sakusa enough that he stoops to their level of childishness.

which was unfortunately very often.

…

nearly every week.

…

fine, basically everyday.

and ever since your relationship was revealed to the team nearly a year ago, the “trouble trio” had been behaving exactly like you expected them to. the whole team was slightly insufferable about it, sure, but atsumu, hinata and bokuto really took it too the next level.

so obviously you really valued your days off.

and today was the first day off you’ve had in months. you refused to take off days during the busiest weeks of the season, but today was a PR day.

interviews, promotional videos for the official social media accounts, a livestream or two- all things you were more than happy to leave in the hands of the team’s PR and social media managers.

the birds were singing, the sunlight was streaming through the bedroom window and a cool breeze could be felt against your skin. the day was calm and you were so excited to relax and do all the things you had planned.

but of course, your hopes are just that.

you see your boyfriend standing in the doorway of your bedroom, looking like he wants to say something. your heart lurches into your throat.

“soooo,” he starts, not looking directly at you as he moves to the bed and looks at his laid out clothes. you’re already shaking your head before he can say anything else. he ignores this and proceeds to betray you. “if you wanted to tag along today, you could or whatever.”

he’s shameless. he knows how much you’ve been looking forward to today.

“kiyoomi. love of my life. my darling. what the fuck?”

he lets out a snort and looks down at you semi-pleadingly- a rare sight. “I’ll buy you coffee on the way there.”

oh, he’s bargaining? you smirk. “aww, baby,” you stand up and make your way over to him, dramatically twirling and falling back into him with the back of your hand touching your forehead and the other pressed to your chest. “you just can’t bear to be apart from me, can you?”

the pleading look in his eye fades and he gives you a disgusted look you know he doesn’t mean. his arms stay wrapped around you so you don’t fall. “you wish.”

you shrug and move back to your chair, finishing up your morning routine. “hmm I guess I’ll stay here then.”

you enjoy the silence for a moment before he sighs. “fine, two coffees.”

a loud laugh leaves your mouth when he says that. your boyfriend would never put this performance on for anyone else. it was as close to begging as you’d ever get from sakusa kiyoomi.

you shake your head and sigh. “my love, you know I’ve been looking forward to my day off for so long. why are you so insistent about me going with you?”

suddenly he’s behind your chair and leaning down so his breath tickles your ear. “coffee and lunch and maybe when we get back I could be convinced to try that thing you were talking about…” the words are backed up by a kiss to your jaw and some pointed eye contact through the mirror.

you widen your eyes and search his expression for any trace of a lie.

none.

you cannot believe you’re letting him convince you into this, but the offer is far too good to pass up.

you pretend to mull it over, then meet his eyes in the mirror again. “make sure the trouble trio don’t try to coerce me into working and we have a deal.”

“well of course, I was going to yell at them if they tried anything like that anyway.”

“perfect, then let’s seal it with a kiss.”

“only a kiss, baby, I feel your hands wandering.” he pecks your lips quickly and pulls away before you can deepen it.

you pout. “can you blame me? you’ve got me all excited now.”

he shakes his head fondly and straightens up, moving to put the shirt his stylist had insisted upon for the upcoming interviews. you had to hand it to her- she knew exactly what she was doing.

you watch him with hawk eyes and he just turns his head to look at you in amusement. “stop staring at me and get ready, you perv, we have to leave soon.”

as soon as you step into the building where all the other jackals are, you’re bombarded with confused greetings.

“hey, I thought it was your day off?”

“ayy, manager’s here! good to see ya.”

“what are you doing here? you weren’t scheduled for today, were you?”

you sigh and sip your coffee, letting go of sakusa’s hand as you speak to the coach. “no, I wasn’t. I was kidnapped and brought here by one of your wing spikers.”

he chuckles and glances over at your boyfriend, who is looking up at the ceiling and avoiding eye contact. “I see. well, if anyone tries to get you to work today, just let me know and I’ll help sakusa put them in their places.”

you smile kindly. “thank you, sir, I appreciate it.”

as soon as he walks away, you’re surrounded by the three people you wanted to see least today.

a long sigh leaves your lips as atsumu, hinata and bokuto stare at you in wonder.

“just get it over with,” you grumble.

“how much do ya wanna bet he promised something outrageous?” atsumu.

“what, like an all expenses paid vacation?” hinata.

“no, it’s omi-omi, it wouldn’t make sense for him to take time off in the middle of game season.”

you roll your eyes at their back and forth and glance over at the man in question, who appears to be glowering. you can almost picture the scowl underneath his mask. “you’re all idiots,” he states.

“hey! I haven’t even said anything yet!” bokuto protests.

“yes, but I can practically hear the gears in your brain grinding.”

“I’ll bet it’s a sex thing,” atsumu interrupts just as bokuto is about to defend himself.

you all freeze and stare at him.

your boyfriend, deadly calm, says “miya, I will skin you alive.”

the blonde, who absolutely loves getting a rise out of sakusa, just smirks. “oh, so I’m right then?” he turns to you and slings an arm over your shoulder. “tell me, dear manager, what exactly did he have to agree to in order to get ya to show up on your day off?”

you flick his forehead and shake your head disapprovingly. “none of your business, you freak. just 'cause your dating life isn’t going too well right now doesn’t mean you can pry into mine. download tinder or something if you’re that bored.”

bokuto and hinata snicker at that, but straighten up quickly when he shoots them a glare. suddenly, meian stalks up behind the three of them and clears his throat.

“if you’re all done terrorizing our manager, our social media team is ready for us now. hurry up.” he nods at you with an apologetic smile and drags atsumu away from you. “sakusa, you too. we’ve been waiting for a while now.”

as soon as his teammates walk away and he’s sure they’re not watching him, he slumps a bit and you notice the tips of his ears have gone red. you smile at him in amusement and pat his cheek, the action only slightly awkward due to his mask.

“aw lighten up, kiyoomi, I’m used to dealing with atsumu by now. just ignore him, he wouldn’t dream of bringing that up again if he knows what’s good for him.”

he sighs and drops his shoulders, relief washing over him now that he knows you’re not regretting your decision to come with him. he slips off his mask and presses a quick kiss to your lips. “alright. I love you, just enjoy the show.”

you take his mask and walk with him to the rest of the group so that they can start with the promotional videos.

it’s fun to watch, honestly, because the team’s dynamic does work well for the cameras. they’re not even playing anything up.

you sit through the promo videos they need to film for upcoming games, the silly one-off fluff questions and the fan asks for their instagram page before they’re allowed a break.

sakusa stalks over to you with a small scowl and you smile. “you’re doing great, handsome.”

his expression softens a bit and he offers you a kiss on the forehead. “thank you, darling. care for some lunch?”

you nod and pull him out the door before a certain trio can invite themselves to the impromptu lunch date.

you walk in comfortable silence towards the building’s food court before something pops into your mind. “kiyoomi, you never answered my question from earlier.”

he hums in acknowledgment. “and what might that be?”

“why were you so insistent on me joining you today?”

he doesn’t answer for a moment, but you wait patiently. you know he’s not ignoring you.

finally he sighs and squeezes your hand. “I feel like we haven’t been spending much time together lately outside of work… and I was hoping that by bringing you with me today we’d be able to have at least some time together…” his voice is low, but he’s not shy about it.

you fiddle with the chain around your neck, one he bought for you a while back. "that's very sweet of you, kiyo."

"and..." he hesitates a bit, but you squeeze his hand in return to encourage him. "I feel more relaxed in front of the cameras when you're there."

you melt a little bit. "I'm happy I make you feel that way, kiyoomi. thank you for kidnapping me on my day off, I suppose."

he snorts and you smile. you're about to lean in to pull his mask down for a kiss, but you're interrupted. of course.

"hey, hey, hey! there you guys are! we saw you leaving so figured we'd get lunch with you!"

you honestly don't think you could ever be mad at bokuto, but he is seriously testing your patience right now. not far behind him are atsumu and hinata, one looking smug and the other a bit sheepish. one of them probably brought up your departure to bokuto, either on purpose or accidentally you'd never know.

you sigh and pat sakusa on the back. "yeah, come on. you're all paying for your own, though."

you both ignore the whines of the fully grown children behind you and continue walking hand in hand.

~~~~

BONUS:

"so this question is directed at sakusa..." atsumu reads the question silently and the team watches as he holds back a laugh.

you watch as your boyfriend narrows his eyes at the blonde in front of him and you sigh. things had been going so well up until now.

it’s past lunch break now, and their social media manager had just given them a box full of printed out tweets with fan questions to answer. she snickers to herself as if she knows which question it is and looks pointedly at you from behind the phone she’s recording on.

you blink in confusion, but everything is made clear when atsumu opens his mouth again.

“omi-omi, user @/kiyosdear wants to know if you’re single, or if you’re in need of a dog, because they’re more than willing to bark.”

the social media manager giggles, as does the rest of the team. you feel your eye twitch a bit, but you’re easily able to shove down any possession you feel in the moment.

it’s obviously impossible to ignore so many people vying for his attention all the time, but sometimes it could be a little funny to see how flustered your boyfriend could become from the unwanted attention.

you smile at the small scowl that forms. “no thank you. I’d want nothing less.”

atsumu snorts at his curt answer and hands the box to him. sakusa picks out a question and reads it to himself before blushing furiously and turning his face away from the camera. you watch curiously as meian looks over his shoulder to see what could have garnered that reaction from him and his eyes trail to you amusedly.

the social media manager looks like she’s having a field day, zooming in on sakusa’s red face for a moment. it’s not often something flusters him that badly after all. she’ll milk it for all it’s worth.

the captain pries the paper out of your boyfriend’s hand and reads it out loud.

“@/msby_luvr asks, yo @/sakusakiyoomi, is your team's manager single? totally unrelated, @/msbymanager, are you free on thursday?"”

it’s not exactly a secret to the public that there’s something going on between you two, they just don’t know what that something is.

of course neither of you ever confirm or deny anything, but you imagine being asked outright like that is what caught him off guard.

the camera cuts to you, “offstage” laughing at the question and shaking your head a little in amusement.

or maybe he’s not shy, but rather jealous?

that’s kind of sweet.

regardless, you speak up for him, knowing he wouldn't answer. "I am not single, but thanks for asking."

the camera pans back to the team, just in time to catch the tail end of atsumu clapping your boyfriend on the shoulder.

sakusa gives you a small smile, clearly relieved you took over for him, and goes back to focusing on the interview.

hinata, the poor thing, reads the next question. “oh boy… @/msbymanager asks, sakusa and atsumu rivals to lovers arc when?”

you cackle as both men whip their heads in your direction, betrayal and incredulity on their faces.

raising your hands, you said to them “in my defence, I was still miffed about being dragged here on my day off when I sent it in!”

atsumu loudly refuted the question and the jeers from his teammates, but that was all drowned out by the look your boyfriend sent your way.

you sighed. you were really in for it later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ll 100% be doing more MSBY manager!reader. and I’ll do more PR scenarios as well, bc as much fun as this was to write, it didn’t have as much as I wanted to include. but I’ll have to do more research. thank you for reading!! and happy birthday sakusa <3

tags: @dira333 (ty for inspiring me to turn it into a mini-series) @emmyrosee (Ik you love Sakusa and you wanted the WIP for this a long time ago)

[ivesambrose]

🤍 WHAT YOU'RE MANIFESTING NEXT 🤍

1. 2. 3.

Starting off new pick a cards with something sweet and simple that everyone can look forward to.

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at ivesambrose@gmail.com

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Picture 1

Its likely you've felt rather helpless and alone, as though life has been testing you to the point it feels like a schedule to get to them and tick them off in your mental notepad once done. It is likely you've felt extra strained in your home environment or hometown, you may have attempted to leave but something or the other comes your way. You may have felt consistently blocked or unable to leave or unable to find a solution to a problem you've been facing in regards to your house or family.

A small part of you then decided to turn the worst case scenarios in your favour somehow. One of the ways being, "all of these sufferings will be rewarded. At least, mine will." I imagine you said this to yourself through gritted teeth. I want to tell you that the first thing you're manifesting is learning and accepting that suffering for rewards and accomplishments as poetic as they sound, shouldn't be the default settings you function under.

You're manifesting -

• A solution and clarity. No more illusions that worry you from taking the next step or making a decision.

• A community that allows you to bloom. New friends and network.

• Relocation.

• An end to apathy and boredom.

• An end to turmoil, stagnation and feeling of lack and helplessness.

• The beginning you've been anticipating as everything ends around you.

Timings: The coming 3 months.

Picture 2

You may have felt a lack of proper guidance in your life. That no matter what mentor came through or what ever path you sought to follow, everything somehow got complicated when you looked up to it. So many contradictions and so many lies. So you decided the only constant guidance are your own experiences and intuition. There's a life of adventure you seek, a career that lets you live the way you've wanted, for your words to inspire others without coming off too preachy and pretentious. Life has lacked stability likely due to external forces because you've time and time again done your best to obtain the stability that had been taken away from you. There's an intention you had set some time back and that is finally coming into fruition. Thing is, you knew it was going to happen anyway no matter how dire it seemed, you just needed to water this intention by directing your energy to it. You're manifesting -

• Increase in creativity with the energy to express it as well. Feeling in charge of your life. Leading rather than being led.

• Travelling to foreign locations for higher education or job/career. A career that lets you travel or involves travel.

• More money or increase in finances in general.

• More things or subjects to learn and achieve proficiency in.

Timings : Sooner than you expect. (Likely Gemini season for some)

Picture 3

You don't really shy away from challenges but certain incidents have made you question your faith and entire belief systems, later people and lastly yourself. You're trying to find a middle ground for yourself and also wondering how many transformations till your quiet breakdowns stop. Some of you really want to leave, something that brought you comfort is only bringing you anxiety now and giving you extreme mood swings. It seems as though you're wondering if any efforts you're putting into what you want is even worth it. Quiet your mind for some time. Even for a minute. Till the minutes eventually pass and your mind feels quiet for once. It's okay to have a head full of no thoughts at times. You're manifesting -

• Emotional regulation.

• Better health.

• Luck and expansion.

• Knowledge that you can put into use.

• For some better relationship with a maternal figure or their parents.

• Sudden wealth or unexpected wealth or property.

• Protection from distrustful and downright vindictive energy.

• Success, recognition and enjoying the fruits of your labour. Succeeding in anything you've been wanting to manifest for yourself actually. No extra steps or rules and regulations to follow. Simply acceptance.

Timings: Within 2 months.

[solaireverie]

dr3 | deep blue but you painted me golden

part one — i polish up real nice

[ series masterlist ] part 2 | part 3 | part 4

pairings: daniel ricciardo x f!leclerc!rbr driver!reader, lestappen

summary: [ social media au ] y/n joins red bull and stirs shit up! ft. lestappen's oblivious flirting and danny's impeccable pr training

warnings: language

faceclaim: barbara palvin + random faceless checo pics

author’s note: i first came up with the last post of this series (stay tuned!) and it kind of snowballed into whatever this is 😂 i played fast and loose with the timeline. suspend your disbelief. anyways, enjoy!

Daniel Ricciardo Talks About Red Bull and What Comes Next — The Late Show with Stephen Colbert

liked by charles_leclerc, redbullracing, pierregasly and 459,157 others

yourusername looking forward to racing with an undying commitment to winning 👊 thank you so much @.redbullracing for the opportunity to join the fastest team in the paddock

view comments

charles_leclerc super fier de toi 💙 mais ferrari est toujours la meilleure [ super proud of you but ferrari is still the best ]

↪ yourusername si ça te chante 🙄 🥰 [ whatever floats your boat ]

user not the caption 😭😭

↪ user she definitely saw the interview 😭😭

↪ user christian did say that rbr thought it was "right" to bring daniel back to the team 👀 which team and in which capacity though... 🤔

↪ user praying y/n isn't the next victim of the red bull second seat curse 🔮🧘🙏🕯

user y/n didn't hesitate at ALL with the speed comment huh 💀

↪ user i mean she's not wrong, red bull are currently the fastest and if they keep their momentum they'll completely dominate this season

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername, danielricciardo and 519,238 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, yourusername

redbullracing Pre-Season Testing sees us go fastest as Max and Y/n record fantastic numbers 💪

user holy shit we all know that y/n is a rookie but can we just appreciate her pace during testing??? that's insane for anyone, let alone a driver who's still getting used to the car

↪ user i've been saying it for months y/n could 100% be the next big thing for f1

↪ user can't wait to watch an actual race 🤩

liked by yourusername

user hear me out, rbr 1-2 in bahrain 👀

↪ redbullracing what dreams are made of! 🙌

user y/n proving all the haters wrong we love to see it!

liked by yourusername

↪ user danny would still do better though 😤

↪ user well he's not the one in the cockpit so wouldn't it make more sense to just support y/n as well?

liked by redbullracing, charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 1,258,976 others

yourusername never in my wildest dreams did i think this day would come. getting my first podium in my first formula 1 race is absolutely insane to think about. i don't have words to describe the joy i feel.

thank you to @.redbullracing for giving me this chance, thank you to the fans for cheering me on, and most importantly, thank you to my family for supporting me in chasing my dreams ❤️

i promise i'll keep making you proud. p2, baby!

view comments

charles_leclerc that's my baby sister 😍

↪ yourusername we were born a year and a half apart.

↪ charles_leclerc yeah well max and i are only 16 days apart and he still calls me a baby

↪ yourusername i— you know what, you're hopeless 💀

liked by maxverstappen1, pierregasly, arthur_leclerc

maxverstappen1 congratulations y/n 😁

liked by charles_leclerc

↪ yourusername thank you max!

danielricciardo 👏👏👏

liked by yourusername

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist

[caramel1mochi]

One Hazy Winter [Iso x F! Reader] [End]

[ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 ]

Genre: Angst, fluff ‎ 

Words: 3k ‎ 

Synopsis: One winter before his disappearance, you told your boyfriend Yu about a question you’ve had for so long; one even he could hardly respond to. It took many more hopeless winters for you to finally have your answer.‎ 

Note: Please don't copy or steal my work and pass it off as your own! If you'd like to use one of my headcanons or something, I'd love it if you tagged or asked.

We're done with Iso!! As per the vote, I'm moving on to Yoru once everything's ready. And man is he as painful to write as I remember haha

‎

。+❤ฺ·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ· +❤·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ·

Spring, present day.

ㅤㅤ

It took you a long while to decide on whether that was one of the worst or best months of your life.

On one hand, you came back with a quarter of the harvest you were supposed to get, and you had to wait for a while until your lemon trees would bear fruit once more. That, and working with only thirteen lemons turned out to be much more difficult than you thought when it comes to baking.

And on the other hand, it was fun attempting to come up with workarounds with Ying. That, and you woke up the next morning with a new sensation that wrapped around you like a clingy lover. And it wasn't anything like the miserable pessimism you hauled around, or like the apathy that…

No, no. It was apathy. 

But a more positive kind of apathy. One that beckoned you to come to terms with many dilemmas in your mind. One of them being that winter was just... winter. A season. And like every other season, it had its ups and downs. It wasn't some omnipresent being out to get you, or whatever.

And quite frankly, this apathy was the best feeling you've ever had in a long... well, in your entire life. You woke up looking forward to the day, with a desire to actually get things going.

And that's exactly what you did.

You spent the past three months selling those plants back in your apartment at that nursery, you made friends with that lady who recommended you do such a thing, and now you were back at Yu’s house to check in on your growing orange trees. Heck, Yu’s neighbours even started greeting you whenever you came by.

They definitely saw you carrying the baskets of fruit and wanted some. Maybe you should use this wealthy neighbourhood to your advantage, you mused.

ㅤ

Ying called you earlier and mentioned discussing the state of her café with you since she had ‘more important matters to get to’. And you didn’t really mind, despite still being a mere barista, but she said she’d discuss the details by afternoon… But the location? Yeah, she promised she’d get back to you on that after she’d decided.

You moved down the short corridor, your eyes taking a moment to adjust to the strong rays that poured through the windows of the doors. The darkness around you did not help ease the pain of such a bright light. But even then, you wrapped your free hand around the handle and forced the door open, allowing the brightness to finally balance itself out.

You noticed something yellow out of the corner of your eye. And you would’ve dismissed it if you hadn’t turned to look at what it was. It was… inside the basket. There was one Meyer lemon, probably from that harvest months ago that the two of you missed. It kind of made sense that you’d forget it. You haven’t really visited this house after that day, not with the ongoing streak of snowstorms. And, you know, Ying’s persistence on keeping you safe.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of a nearby mosquito. And immediately, you dropped the watering can and crushed the bug, instantly killing it. Now that you considered it, the one good thing about winter was the lack of annoying insects. That, and the fact it helped plants rejuvenate after a harvest, and that it kept earth’s temperature in check, and… 

No, nevermind. You didn’t want to be warming up to winter. Pun intended.

You moved back towards your growing orange trees and observed their shape for a moment. And like the row of lemon trees right behind them, they looked as otherworldly as they were. The white flowers on it looked even prettier under the sunlight’s strong glare. Much prettier than in the winter, but they both had their charm. Super photogenic.

Just as you grabbed the watering can up from the ground, your phone vibrated with an embarrassingly loud ringtone, and you pulled it out of your pocket only to discover that Ying was calling. At the worst time as well, you thought as you answered and held up the device to your ear.

ㅤ

"Hi."

ㅤ

"Y/N, I've decided!"

ㅤ

Her voice took you by surprise more than the ensemble of loud chirping birds around you.

ㅤ

"Decided?"

ㅤ

"We're going to meet up on the bridge. Do you remember it?"

ㅤ

You kept the phone held up against your ear with your shoulder, grabbing one branch and gently pushing it aside so that the water from your can could reach every crevice of the tree.

ㅤ

"The bridge...?"

ㅤ

"Yes! I was told it looks ethereal in the spring, and it truly does! Ah, and it's closer to the train station than I thought. We can use it as a landmark for when we leave. What do you think?"

ㅤ

You continued watering in silence for a moment. It looks ethereal in the spring? Who the heck told her that?

Whatever, it wasn’t your job to question everything.

ㅤ

"That can work. When do I come by?"

ㅤ

"Actually, I'm already here."

ㅤ

You immediately stopped watering.

ㅤ

"Already? Ying, the least you could've done was give me a heads up."

ㅤ

“I’m sorry, but I have something scheduled for sundown! I’ll see you there, okay? I promise you, it’ll be worth it!”

ㅤ

She closed the call before you could retort.

She was probably going to promote you or straight up just hand you the café. What with how busy she was starting to get and how much she disappeared, it wouldn’t surprise you if it turned out to be actually that. You didn’t really mind taking control of the café, now that you thought about it… Oh, but the idea of dealing with your co-workers’ minute problems sounded like pure torture.

You sighed and continued watering your plants in silence, quickening your pace so that you’d be able to make it to her in time.

ㅤ

ㅤ

It took you a while, but eventually, you made it. And the only guidance you used was the pitter patter of the children’s feet as they ran around and cackled, alongside the melodic chirping of the birds. The bus left a trail of smoke as it sped off, but this one mild inconvenience was immediately drowned out by the sight before you.

Ying was right, the place looked like paradise on Earth now that it was spring.

The waters were crystal clear, the trees were full of life and the grass on the ground vibrated with an enigmatic amount of cheerfulness. Almost like they were harmoniously swaying to a tune you couldn’t hear. Had someone taken a picture of this place, you would’ve convinced yourself it was just editing and that there was no way Earth would look like this.

But it did, you mused as you approached the bridge.

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at a comfortable spot and rest your arms on the warm railing. Thankfully, despite your short height, the railings weren’t too tall and your loose clothes allowed you maximum flexibility to peer through to catch a glimpse of the waters. Short enough for you to be able to comfortably lean on it, but not so short children could fall down.

Your eyes were firmly fixated on the lake. And for the first time in so long, you felt... content.

You still didn't know what your goal in life was. You still didn't know why you should keep going, among many other questions like that. But all you knew was that the path your life headed in... Well, you didn’t want to change anything about it.

What would tomorrow look like? You pondered with a fond smile, holding up the Meyer lemon just above the lake and allowing the sun's light to shine in on it. And it beamed. It beamed with celestial beauty unfathomable to the human mind. 

This was your harvest.

You put down the lemon with an even wider smile and stared at the lake instead, the fish that swam by. Tomorrow sounded amazing, now that you thought about it.

And you looked forward to it.

ㅤ

"Y/N?"

ㅤ

A soft voice promptly came up from behind you. You sighed and stuffed the lemon back into your pockets, before turning around to meet her gaze.

ㅤ

"What took you so long? I thought you were in a hurry–"

ㅤ

The moment you locked gazes with a familiar pair of lilac eyes, your breathing hitched, and time stood still. 

It took a moment to comprehend that this person wasn’t Ying. It wasn’t Ying at all. It was… You felt your heart drop as you rapidly looked the figure up and down.

Broad shoulders, purple eyes, black hair, tall stature…

It was Yu. He stood only a few feet away from you; and he donned a meticulously designed hoodie with collars tall enough to conceal the lower portion of his face. One you had never seen before.

The words were lodged in your throat. Scratch that, no, your mind went completely blank, and the world felt like it started breaking apart.

ㅤ

“Yu…”

ㅤ

"Y/N, I..." He took a step forward, the floorboards audibly creaking under his weight. "I'm so sorry."

ㅤ

His voice had a sombre undertone. Slight and drowned out by the mirth that surrounded the both of you, but it was still telling. It was one that successfully let you know that he drowned in regret, all without saying a single word.

And yet, you still weren't sure how to feel about this. Sad? Happy? Furious? The second option was the most obvious one in your mind, but for the love of God, you just couldn’t form a single thought in your head. Heck, you couldn’t even comprehend the situation in general. All you knew was that Yu was here. And that was… No, wrong wasn’t the word.

His hand gently clasped your shoulder, and a familiar warmth landed alongside it.

ㅤ

"I'm sorry it took so long, but I- I was caught up in so many things, and it all just..."

ㅤ

He then pulled you into a hug. Your cheek slammed against his chest, the impact only cushioned by his thick hoodie.

ㅤ

"I missed you."

ㅤ

You didn't react.

For a few seconds, you stood there with a stiff posture as you stared into space, unsure whether you should return the hug or just stay silent and not do anything. This whole situation felt unreal. It felt like one of those hyper realistic dreams your brain would conjure up whenever it decided it wanted to escape your pitiful life, but that sprinkle of hope always scattered the moment you woke up. But it wasn't. In fact, he stood right there, the familiar scent of lemons taking over your nostrils on account of how close he was.

Yu was here… He was present. He came back.

Though you shut your eyes as hard as you could, tears still formed against your will, and they were quick to stream down your cheeks.

ㅤ

"Where..." you started, "Where were you...?"

ㅤ

You weakly pulled away, but Yu still kept you in his grip. And you immediately took this chance to observe him all over again despite your incredibly blurry vision. It was as if those years had never passed given his features. He still had that same enchanting face, and those pretty lilac eyes that always tore away at your stress with just one glance.

ㅤ

"After all this time..."

ㅤ

You held his cheek and caressed it. His pale skin yielded under your touch, and the palm of your hand outlined the sharp structure of his jaw. The softness of his skin, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes juxtaposed to his stony expression… All of it was all so familiar.

ㅤ

"Why did you leave me, Yu?"

ㅤ

"I'm– I'm sorry, Y/N. It wasn't my choice. If I could take it all back, I would–"

ㅤ

"Why did you leave me?!"

ㅤ

You burst into tears and clutched his hoodie, burying your head in his chest.

ㅤ

"I thought you were dead! I– I thought that– I thought... I thought I lost you...!"

ㅤ

Out of pure instinct, Yu was quick to bring you closer and tightly hold you in his arms.

ㅤ

"I'm here, I'm here, okay? Nobody's dead."

ㅤ

"I thought you died, Yu! I thought you were dead, I– thought you were..."

ㅤ

Your sobs and nonsensical babbles continued. It was all the same repetitive questions about his well being, and more specifically, how you thought he was dead. Each sentence you managed to complete felt like another blade plunging his heart, only further drowning him in guilt.

And unfortunately for him, the only thing Yu knew to do in this situation was hold you and gently caress your back.

ㅤ

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I– I should've explained it all from the beginning. But I... didn't want to lose you if I ever did."

ㅤ

He knew how stupidly soft you made him. How he'd stutter when speaking to you, and how wide his smile had gotten when you two first hugged, your arms squishing his thick white hoodie just to reach his form. The same hoodie he spent hours washing blood off of the night before.

Maybe he should've told you.

ㅤ

"I thought you were dead, I– I thought... that gun, you–"

ㅤ

Though you followed these loosely strung sentences with a curse, one specific word successfully pierced his bubble.

ㅤ

"Gun? What gun?"

ㅤ

This question seemed to bring you back as well. You pulled away, and just the sight of your red cheeks and shimmering eyes, aching with raw emotion, all of it was enough for him to understand how much this impacted you.

ㅤ

"I saw that gun. N– next to that medallion." You furrowed your brow, the sun sharply highlighting your tear-stricken face. "Is that it? Are you in a gang, Yu? Is that what you couldn't tell me?!"

ㅤ

"No! I– I wasn't in a gang, Y/N. It's..."

ㅤ

Yu's gaze fell. Unintentionally, he instead eyed your trembling hands.

He couldn’t hide this anymore, could he?

ㅤ

"I– I'm... Look, as unbelievable as this sounds, I– I was a… I was a hitman."

ㅤ

"...You were what? A hitman?!"

ㅤ

"Yeah. I… That’s the truth."

ㅤ

You narrowed your eyes. It really was unbelievable. How could someone like him be capable of killing someone? No, not someone, but people? And for a job?! You would’ve labelled him a liar if it weren’t for that blasted gun.

Then, a name popped up in your mind, one that seemed to support this idea.

ㅤ

"Iso...?"

ㅤ

He went blank for a moment.

ㅤ

"...That's, uh, no, that's a code name. I switched to a profession less... suffocating. That's what they call me now."

ㅤ

"Ying was in on this?"

ㅤ

Yu's face blanched. But quickly, he held your hand and firmly kept it in your grip.

ㅤ

"She was my only way of knowing you were alive! There wasn't any– Y/N, look, none of this should've happened, I know I should've been honest from the beginning, but I didn't want you to leave if I ever told you!” His eyes darted elsewhere. “Ying wasn’t happy when she found out, but I–"

ㅤ

"I’m not like her! I never would've gone anywhere! You could've been the devil and I still would've stayed because I wouldn’t have kept going if you weren’t there!” You furrowed your brow. ”But that's not the case anymore. I still love you, but I know what I deserve, Yu. I know I deserve a relationship that isn't... one-sided..."

ㅤ

You suddenly choked on your words. Yet, he was quick to respond when he could.

ㅤ

"But we can have that, Y/N! We can start anew, no more secrets. Nothing between us, okay? Nothing but the truth. Just, please..." he squeezed your trembling hand, "give me one more chance. I promise I'll make you the happiest woman on Earth."

ㅤ

Tears began to flow once more, tracing the same path as the ones that had dried out mere seconds ago.

For a moment, your eyes slammed shut, and you used this pause to both catch your breath and comprehend the situation. It was hard to make a decision. Sure, you were unbelievably mad at everything. At Ying, at Yu, at the world, and especially those people who held Yu hostage, if his words were to be believed.

But, Hitman…? It sounded so unbelievable. Yu was just way too kind and pacifistic to commit murder. It sounded impossible.

Almost mechanically, You rested your head on his chest, lying limp as he wrapped his arms around you. The lack of aversion on your side registered as permission for him to hold you. Not that he still didn't remain incredibly cautious.

ㅤ

"Happiest woman on Earth..." 

ㅤ

You muttered ponderously to yourself. You were already happy. But you knew you’d be happier with him. Even after everything that happened, you missed having him by your side again. You missed his curious little questions about things you considered mundane, and that endearing look of realisation as you explained it to him…

Then, a smile lifted your lips.

ㅤ

"I missed you, Yu." You hugged him back. "From now on, you’ll be honest with me. About everything."

ㅤ

Being this close to him, you felt the jump in his palpitations as he registered these words.

ㅤ

"I will! I will. I promise."

ㅤ

You closed your eyes, allowing the familiar scent of lemons to enter your nostrils and put your mind at ease once more. The two of you stayed like this for a second. It felt like this embrace’s sole purpose was to make up for how much you two missed each other. Of course, he knew he would’ve lost a bit of his sanity had he not known about your whereabouts, but he also knew that saying that probably… Maybe it’s best to keep quiet. Thank God for Ying’s updates…

Then, his eyes shot open at the mention of the healer.

ㅤ

“Hey, let’s go home. I have so much to tell you.”

ㅤ

You pulled away and wiped your cheek once more, noticing the eagerness etched on his features. You nodded.

ㅤ

“I’d like that.”

ㅤ

With that, he held your hand and helped you stand up, and the two of you began walking away from the bridge. His thumb promptly began tracing the lines on your palm all on its own. And of course, you couldn’t help but wistfully smile at this familiar

Despite everything, you couldn’t truly hate this man, no matter how much you knew you had to. You just wanted to know how this gentle giant was supposedly a hitman.

You rested your head on his shoulder as you moved.

[gegewrites]

Dr.house- 2 am(smut)

Time wise takes place in season 1, I don't think my timelines exactly right but I can't find exact dates since they're lot really specified.

I’m on a Fuckin role!

4.2k words!!! Not at all edited I just finished this and posted it

5/22/23

Your pov-

It's not every night you get a call from Greg House  to come to his apartment at 2 in the morning...but here I was standing in the entrance room of apartment 221 about to knock on the door to apartment B.

I've been to his house before, I've known the asshole for 11 years, I met him a year before his golfing incident.

I raised my hand and knocked on the door, loud enough for him to hear, quiet enough to not alert the neighbors. I waited for a few seconds of nothing and knocked again, a few seconds later it opened.

"Get in." He promptly spoke, turning around and immediately walking away.

I came in, shutting the door behind me. I kicked my slippers off as i gazed over at the piano, which was obviously being used a bit earlier by the open music and shuffled around music sheets on top. Last week it was tucked in the corner, now it's facing out into the room. One guitar was hung on the wall, the other on a floor stand.

On his coffee table was a half empty bottle of whiskey and a few scrambled folders.

"I was sleeping you know." I said as he came out of the kitchen with a mug. He was still in his work clothes, well the T-shirt and pants part of it, and Now I'm noticing the smell of coffee.

"Fully aware, sit." He plopped down onto the couch and leaned forward, resting his cane against the arm of the couch on his side.

I let out a sigh as I walked over, plopping down next to him. He handed me the red mug right away and I grabbed it.

"That's one hell of a tank top." He commented and I looked down at myself. It was white, and tight. I didn't get dressed alright, I threw on some plaid pj pants, grabbed a zip up hoodie, and threw on my slippers and left.

"Shut the fuck up Greg. I gotta be in the office at six." I took a sip from the mug,"this is fucking good."

"Good, so look at this." He handed me a whole file so I put the mug down on the table and leaned back with the folder.

"Anna Mae Johnson, 56, female..Hallucinating and loosing her vision." I looked up from the file and looked at him, leaned back in the corner of the couch holding a glass of whiskey. "Are you kidding me?"

"No. You were the only neurologist that picked up my call." He shrugged. I'm not just a neurologist, I'm also an ophthalmologist and general surgeon. I didn't let my scholarships at Stamford go to waste. "And, frankly I don't feel like spending another 3 hours with this women."

"Wilson didn't pick up?" I raised my brow.

"Oh no, he did. And he told me to fuck off." He half smiled for a second and i rolled my eyes.

"Could've called me down when I was at the office Greg." I shook my head at him,"Wheres the scans and tests?"

"Red folder." I put down the file and opened up the red folder.

I saw brain scans and negative labs, I was looking for an Amsler grid report or a OCT.

"Did you get an ophthalmologist to look at her eyes?" I looked over at him and he raised his brow at me,"her eyes. She's loosing her vision, did you get some sight tests?"

"Should be something in there." I rolled my eyes at him as I flipped through papers,"Why her eyes?"

"I thought diagnostic medicine was your specialty?" I shot at him and heard his scoff," because macular degeneration, loosing the vision." I opened up the patients file and flipped to the medical history, I felt him shift on the couch, he was sitting closer to me, leaning forward to look at the file...or maybe my chest.

"The gears are turning." He poked my temple.

"Alright, She started having problems with her vision 3 months ago, blurry and getting worse. She went to the eye doctor to change her prescription, it worked for 3 weeks and she never went back. Could be wet AMD."

"abnormal blood vessels growing under the retina. Which have been leaking blood or other fluids, which causes scarring of the macula."he nodded slowly as he looked towards the fireplace.

"So do Anti-VEGF treatment. But the hallucinations aren't a symptom of the AMD. Could be Charles Bonnet syndrome, that's a symptom of vision loss, lack of light entering the Retina so the brains creating images to fill the void." I explained and he hummed.

"can't treat the CBS, but we can treat the AMD, either with the anti-VEGF or laser surgery."

"VEGF first, then the laser." I closed the folders and grabbed the mug and leaned back in the leather couch. "what else?"

"That's really it."He looked back at me and I cocked my head in disbelief at him.

"You didn't know it was AMD or CBS?" I took a sip and he shrugged.

"Had a slight idea, needed a 4th opinion." He grabbed the whiskey bottle and opened it, pouring some into his glass. He closed it and leaned back, holding his glass on his right thigh.

"At two AM?"

"We'll considering you were teaching from three to five, i couldn't bother you. I knew I could get you at two AM, I've gotten you at four." I shook my head as I took snother drink from the mug,"why haven't I hired you?"

"Because I like having my own office." I answered,"my turn, why in the last eleven years haven't I slapped you yet?"

"We'll, for like 5 of those I was married."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Might've wanted to jump my bones afterwards, I've heard some things." I let out a laugh at the smug look in his face.

"We were both single, horny, and drunk." I crossed my right ket over my left leg,"it doesn't count."

"Oh wilson counts it." He smirked snd wiggled his brows. I let out a sigh, and ran my tongue under my bottom k-9s with a smirk on my face.

"I'm not tell-"he cut me off promptly.

"I don't need you too, I've heard it already." He looked away from me and looked over at the fireplace again and then to the coffee table.

"Oh really? What was your favorite part?" I asked sarcastically, Wilson told me he didn't tell anyone we screwed, but I know Greg doesn't count.

"When you- and I quote- sucked his soul from his dick and then rid him like a fucking pornstar." He finally looked at me,"the scratches you left on his back were also very impressive."

"Wow alright." I felt my heart in my throat, not in a bad way.

I sat up and placed the mug on the table, uncrossing my legs and standing up.

"I'm going-"

"No you're not," he grabbed my wrist, not hard but strong enough to keep me,"you wanna see how far this will go. You're blushed, got a little shake in your hand." He let go it my wrist," And I gotta say, your tits look great. It'd be a crime to not give them attention."

"Is that the Vicodin or whiskey talking?" I sat down if the edge if the couches arm, he was placed in the middle of the couch now.

"Me."

"What? Is a Hooker not available for a night call?" I love giving him a hard time.

"I thought she did arrive?" He gasped and looked at me with a shocked expression. I scoffed at him.

"So what? You call me to come here, have me look at your patients files and solve it for you, and now you think I'm gonna fuck you?"  I crossed my arms and he cocked his head before nodding.

"I don't think you are, I know you are. Wilson's bad at keeping secrets and you like to talk." He took a drink from his glass,"so either we can fuck, or you can just keep waiting, but you've been waiting awhile so I don't think you want to."  My jaw dropped slightly at his words. Damnit Wilson. 

I slid off the arm and sat down next to him, my toros turned to him, my arm resting on the head of the couch, my brows furrowed.

"So I'm actually here to fuck you?" I asked,"you couldn't wait. just had to have me huh?"

"I can blame you for my acute insomnia lately, that's why I'm awake."  He leaned forward and out his glass on the table.

"I've finally gotten under Dr.houses skin haven't I?" I raised my brow, a smirk on my face.

"You've been under my skin for awhile, it's not new." That was news to me. these last couple of months it seemed like he could care less. He kept me around, but it wasn’t the same. I knew how he was though, why I never brought it up.

“Really?” I got a surge of confidence, and I took it.

I used my leverage on the couch to move and straddle his thighs, making sure I was careful when coming around to his right leg. His hands immediately came and sat on my thighs

“Thought you were leaving?” He looked over his shoulder to the door,”or was I right?”

“You’re right, I wanna jump your bones.”

“What about your six AM shift?” His hands left my hips and came up to take hold of my hoodie by the collarbones,”suddenly not important because you know you’re gonna get fucked?”

“I suddenly don’t have to go in till nine.” He pushed my hoodie off, I let it fall off my arms and he watched it do so, he then tossed it down to the side of the coffee table. When he looked up at me, I let my lips come down on his, he responded quickly. My hands sat on his shoulders and His hands sat on my ass, he used the grip to pull me closer to him. My chest pushing into his.

I could taste the whiskey on his tongue and the coffee on mine. His beard tickled my chin and all I could think about was how it would feel in between my legs, the thought made my hips grind down on him. His finger tips pushed into my skin as he joined in on the motion. Rocking my hips steadily down on his hardening cock in his pants.

A hand slid from his shoulder to the back of his head, my fingers carding through his hair. I could feel my heartbeat in my pussy, snd I could myself getting wet.

He pulled away from me shortly after, but his lips came back to my skin. Placing a trail of kisses from my jaw to my neck, the feeling of his beard caused a small moan to escape as his hands slid up the back of my ass and took hold of the hem of my tanktop.

I felt him bundling it in his hands, though his lips didn’t leave my neck yet, he wasn’t bitting or sucking just leaving open mouth kisses as he traveled to my collarbones and placed a kiss in between them.

His eyes met mine again, his pupils more dilated then before. He didn’t say anything but took the moment to start lifting my tanktop off snd I let him, he tossed it behind me to my hoodie.

“I knew they were nice, but wow.” His eyes were glued on my chest like a teenage boy to his first playboy magazine. his hands rubbed up and down my waist,”sure they’re real? I’ll be able to tell.”

“They are.” I replied as his hands took hold of them, massaging them. I pressed them harder into his hands, I just wanted to feel him. If I was gonna screw Dr.House, I might as well make it good.

I kept my hips rocking on him, my hips rocking faster and I tried to keep my upper half as still as possible. his hard cock rubbing against my clothes pussy. What a night to wear lace to bed. He pressed kisses to my left breast before taking my nipple into my mouth, that hand slid down my ribs and pushed past the band of my pants and slipped right past my panties.

His tongue swirled around the bud as his finger ran right over my slit before diving to my clit.

“Aah yes.” I sighed out, finally reviving what I want, focusing on grinding into his finger. he wasn’t moving it, just keeping it there for me to use. I appreciate it. His mouth left my nipple and me pressed a kiss between both my breasts. Another moan left my mouth as my head lulled back, my lips stayed parted.

“Wet and needy, just as I was hoping.” His hand slipped away from my breast and onto my waist, he held it tightly,”the tough doctor turns into a little bitch when aroused.”

“Focus on me, not yourself.” I retorted and he scoffed.

Something I was expecting was getting flipped my off of him. He had me pinned under him, his good leg kneeled on the couch, keeping my right leg pinned to the back of the couch, also keeping him stable with the help of his new found grip on the couches arm. His finger didn’t leave the clit In the motion, so he started rubbing faster, even added a second finger.

My chest started rising a bit faster as more moans left my lips, and in true men-fashion, right as it was getting good…he pulled away. His hand exited my pants, but both hands came and met the band of my pants. His weight shifted to his good knee as he pulled both pieces of clothing down my legs, lifting them up when needed, then letting them fall. He tossed the clothing with the rest and I sat up and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, taking a moment to start a heated kiss, one that lasted long enough to slide my hands to the hem of his shirt and start pulling it up.

I pulled away from him to get it over his head and arms and threw it behind Me. Grabbing his face and pulling him back down with me resuming the kiss. Grabbed my previously pinned leg and held it over his hip and pulled away from me. His right hand came back down to my pussy. Wet and begging for anything; Which he gave. His middle finger came down to my core, circling it before diving in. A moan louder then the rest ripped out of me.

“If only I could get that sound copied on a record, could listen to it all day.” I looked at him through slotted eyes, meeting his blue ones which shifted from my gaze to my Pussy. His ring finger joined his middle finger, pumping out of me in a medium pace. My back was sticky against the leather as my back lifted up, my boobs lightly bouncing as my chest rose and fell.

“Feels fucking great.” I moaned out, my eyes falling closed. I felt the couch shift and then lips and a beard against my inner thigh. Trailing open mouth kisses to my core. I couldn’t stop the begging from leaving my lips,”please Greg, please.”

“Gettin’ there.” He quickly commented before his tongue latched to my clit.

My body shivered and my eyes rolled back under my closed lids. His fingers finally found my gspot and my hand shot to his hair, tugging on his crown. My hips rolled into his face as he switched between licking and sucking my clit.

I couldn’t help but moan, i was feeling great. My thighs pressed against his bare and warm shoulders, my calf being nudged by his elbow each time he pumped his fingers. My head felt dizzy, my body warm, and my abdominal muscles tight. I was gonna cum already, last bar hookup was 4 months ago and I’ve barely used my vibrator. There was no doubt I was gonna be the quick one tonight. My hips started bucking up, so his free arm pressed down on hips, holding me a bit more still and controlled. He changed his fingers angle snd pressure, curling them in a “come” motion.

“Just like that!” My voice was a higher pitch now, and within a few second, pathetically, k was seeing stars behind closed lids. My nail scratching against his scalp, trying to hold onto him for dear life, my other hand taking hold of the top edge of the couch.

He kept his pace and speed for bit after my orgasm, trying to push me to a cliff. Which he did Successfully, could probably tell my how I was I moaning his name, how wet his chin was, and how wet I was getting, and used it to know when the right time was to stop.

“Wow.” He breathed out as he sat up, adjusting to sit down properly,”now I understand why you eat pineapple everyday.”

I haven’t even opened my eyes yet, my legs were shaking, and I was catching my breath. I felt his weight leave the couch and heard the shaking metal of his belt, so I opened my eyes. I met his gaze which was staring at me and then they went down to where his hands were. Unzipping his pants, about to reveal the dick I’ve wanted to ride for a few years. I sat up, feeling how wet the bottom of my ass was against the leather. Now I understand why the couch is leather.

I pushed his hands away and hooked my fingers into the band in his boxers and started pulling them down, taking hold of his hard cock when it sprung out. He grabbed hold in his is pants from coming down any further then he wanted m, and he simply shook his head grabbing his cane. I respectfully brushed it off, my hand left his boxers band and traveled up his side sitting on his hip. He was bigger then I would’ve guessed, but it made sense.

I let go of his cock and spit onto my hand, taking hold of his and twisting my fist up and down, when I licked his tip. I looked up at him through my lashes. His head was rested back, obviously an expression of pleasure was plastered on his face, his breathing deep. so I let my eyes fall as I look him into my mouth, not wasting time to flatten my tongue, pumping the base of his cock. I felt his hand snake into my hair, grabbing some in his fist. He wasn’t using it to control me, though it wasn’t hard to tell by his tightening grip he wanted to. I would’ve let him, I kinda planned on letting him, but he only kept me down there for a few more moments before pulling me off.

“What are you on?” He asked the moment his cock left my mouth.

“IUD.” I answered catching the breath I needed. He didn’t respond,”it’s fine, as long as the last prostitute you fucked was clean.”

“Made sure.” He assured me as he sat down, letting his cane rest against the couch again. I stood up to get a better placement over his cock. His hands sat on my hips, his lips finding my breast again. I reach around and grabbed his cock, sliding it through my folds before holding it to my core.

I lowered down on it, moaning out at the initial stretch, and he groaned. His head falling back onto the head of the couch as he took a long inhale through his nose and sighed it out, a whispered “fuck” followed suit. Lowered down more, grabbing onto his shoulders, and biting down on my lower lip to stop a moan that would wake the neighbors from coming out. I lowered down completely onto him, taking a bit more then half of him in one go. I curled forward, moaning onto his neck as his finger tips pressed into my skin.

“When was-“

“Four months ago, shut up.” I mean pushed off of him and met his face, a disconcerted look on his face.

“I’m honored.” His tone was cocky and paired with a smirk. He raised hips and lowered me back down, that fuzzy brain feeling was coming back when he did it again, and again. Each time higher to where his tip was only left, snd lowering me down harder.

“Oh fuck Greg!” My nails pressed into his skin, I caught on with his movement, moving my hips with his guidance. He didn’t like slow I could tell, medium pace was where he liked to start at. Slowly getting faster, snd harder.

My brain drowned out into the sounds of our breathing, my moans, and the loudening groans that came from him. I could feel how wet the inside of my thighs were getting. My hips on auto pilot, riding him quickly. His tip bumping snd rubbing into my gspot.

My nails finally dug into his shoulder when his thumb met my clit and my walls tightened around him. Rubbing Harsh circles against the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves.

“You look fucking perfect.” I couldn’t open my eyes, too overwhelmed with my nerves feeling like they’re on fire, my heart pulsing in my throat and clit,”and so-goddamn (y/n), squeeze me any tighter and I’m not gonna have a dick.”

“Dram-ah- queen.” I said through my shakey , near breathless voice. I didn’t wanna cum, not yet. It was all Too damn good to not savor it.

So I grabbed onto the back of the couch and started really riding him. Rocking and swiveling my hips into his when I came down, keeping my speed and pace constant, at least trying.

“Oh fuuck me (y/n).” His thumb started rubbing faster, ripping a broken moan from my throat. My chest pushed into his, his fingertips pressing further into my waist, no doubt leaving bruises for tomorrow.

“I’m gonna cum.” I speedily warned him.

“Not yet, just a few more minutes.”

“Greg-“

“Just wait.” His tone was firm but tinted with a bit of fake annoyance at my greediness.

“Jus’ want you to fill me up, come on.” My breathing was deep as I spoke but sped up when I stopped. My hairline was damp snd so was the back of my knees.

He bucked his hips up into mine, sounds leaning his throat at their own will, so caught up in his own pleasure he couldn’t even care.

Those few minutes felt like torture, my orgasm on the brink of snapping while his thumb is still abusing my clit. The corners of my lips curled when I felt his cock start twitching inside of me, getting more obvious by the second.

“Now.” He spit out,”gonna full up this greedy pussy.”

It snapped, my orgasm ripped through me, my walls spasmed around him which triggered his orgasm. I pushed my body into his, feeling his warm skin radiating against mine. I could feel him shooting into me, mixing with my own orgasm and spilling down my thighs and onto him.

I rode him till I couldn’t anymore, I finally gave out. His cock buried inside me as I laid against him, his hands holding onto my ass as we caught our breath. Soon after he lifted my hips off of him, his cock sliding out of me and I moved to sit on the leather next to him. Holding one of my knees to my body, my head falling back.

“If I knew your dick was that big I woukd be jumped you years ago.” I let out a breathy chuckled snd he hummed.

“I regret not grabbing your Tits earlier, should’ve acted on my impulse.” He said standing up, putting his boxers and pants back on,”so anti-VEGF treatment tomorrow?” He asked grabbing his cane and leaning against it as he looked down at me.

“Let me check her out first and I’ll confirm.” I answered and looked back up at the ceiling. I heard him walk away so I lifted my head and watched him,”where are you going?”

“To clean up and go to sleep, you coming?” He asked stopping in his tracks.

“Not again tonight, no.” I replied and he blinked at me a few times, a smile keept to his lips.

“Ha-ha!” He sarcastically laughed before going back to his original expression and limping away. I can’t really be mad, I kinda solved his case and got fucked, but now it’s 3:40, and I have work at six still.

[thoughtfulchaos773]

The Sorta Ask Out

Thank you, @devisrina, for being my soundboard and obsessing about this scene with me.

We're closed tomorrow night Carmy brings this up like he just remembered but he clarified that he had been thinking about the Ever funeral (but let's be real, Chef David) for a while. But I also think he's been thinking about Sydney joining him.

Carmy is about to confront his own legacy at Ever, deciding which parts he wants to carry forward and which to leave behind. This connects back to when Marcus asked about legacy, and Carmy answered that he avoided it. Now, he is reaching a point where he has to face it. He wants Sydney to be there (like how he needed her at that walk-in, reading Mikey's note, or his panic attack). Carmy needs her. But he also knows it's something she would enjoy, and as his partner, his peer- her presence feels natural.

You should come. It's how 1. Carmy doesn't really make not going an option. The words are a suggestion, but the tone is very sure she will be there. 2. Growth, Carmy! A big jump from saying 'no idea' by the lockers!

It's also how he played it like he just thought of this. He's looking down and takes a beat once he suggests she join him. When he does, he doesn't immediately look up at her, like he's trying to gauge her reaction.

Sydney, my nervous girl! This was the perfect time to bring up Shapiro, but she's going to dodge it with 'stuff to do,' and I love that Carmy looks at her like she's ridiculous if she misses this chance. (Does carmy also know when she's nervous, scared, hesitant? He can read her that well?)

He wants her to join him and reminds her of the great experience it will be for her (Syd- it's Ever), he knows how meaningful it is and he smiles at her- which was my favorite part.

And he reaffirms to her one more time you should come. Although there's a pending conversation with Chef Shapiro, Sydney is touched by Carmy's invitation. It's Carmy recognizing how great she is and how she belongs with his peers because they're partners.

It also shows how Carmy, like Donna, loves people but doesn't know how to show it. He's almost annoyed by her doubts and almost expects that she reads his mind and knows how he sees her. It's been a month with Carmy being agitated, depressed, and anxious, and it has been affecting her, and I think although Carmy is annoyed by her doubts, it hits him how he's been in the next moment.

Carmy nods with Sydney and says, "Good," and the conversation is over, but it still lingers on his face. Carmy looks like he's thinking, "What was that about?" I think in that moment, it's hitting Carmy how he's been with Sydney because the next moment; he wants to talk about what's on his mind with their relationship.

This time, Sydney and Carmy meet up, unlike the food tour. However, like all of season 3, he is there physically but not mentally or emotionally. He is too focused on his past. But I think the date at Ever and confront Chef David shows he's almost there.

And I just realized, This slow burn is an almost an almost ask-out, an almost date, an almost perfect meal, an almost conversation. And soon an almost kiss.

[esilher]

Art: @esilher   Fic: @mynonah  Thank you so much @bossymarmalade for the quick beta reading! <3  You can read it on AO3

Winter Magic (Part 2) → (Please read Part 1 first here )

“Wait… You think I’m a spy?” Kurt’s eyes widened.

Blaine raised an eyebrow, and Kurt noticed the tension in Blaine’s body at the question.

“Aren’t you?” He asked harshly.

“Of course not! I just told you I work at Vogue.” Kurt replied. “And if you happen to find a coffee shop with that name, please let me know, because I’m pretty sure that name is trademarked.” Kurt snapped. “God, I just…”

“You just…?” Blaine interrupted impatiently, leaning forward in his chair.

Kurt sighed. “I made a bet with my roommate,” he spat out. “We made a bet on whether I could reproduce our favorite winter coffee at home,” Kurt explained. “Her birthday is the deadline. Which is tomorrow, by the way," he added sadly.

Blaine sat back in his chair and tried to process what he had just heard. He studied Kurt’s disappointed expression, wondering if he should believe him.

“You could have just taken a cup of Winter Magic home and put it in a mug, you know.”

“That’s cheating!” Kurt said indignantly. “And I know I can do it.” he added confidently, taking a sip of his coffee. His eyebrows immediately furrowed.

“Are you sure?” The barista asked and Kurt put down his coffee, pursing his lips.

Blaine shook his head, turned his attention back to his coffee, scraping the seam of the paper cup as he thought about it. He took another sip and sighed.

“What did you bet?” He asked, still staring at his coffee.

Kurt looked up at Blaine hopefully. “If I lose, I’ll have to do all the dishes in the evenings.”

“Forever?”

“As long as we’re roommates, yes.”

“Ugh,” Blaine groans sympathetically. “And what if you win?”

“Rachel can’t start warming up her vocal cords before 6am. And I need my beauty sleep, Blaine!” Kurt looked at him meaningfully.

For a moment, a warm feeling filled Blaine’s chest. It happened every time he thought Kurt remembered his name before he realized he was wearing a name tag. Finally, he looked at Kurt again, and seeing the miserable look on Kurt’s face, he couldn’t help but laugh. Okay, he’s probably not a spy, Blaine decided. Thank God… 

“You use too much cinnamon.”

“I like cinnamon.”

Blaine smiled. “Noted. I’ll definitely think about it next time.” He took another sip. “Otherwise, it’s quite good,” he added.

“I know," Kurt replied, as if nothing could be more obvious. “But it’s not the same as yours.”

“No, it’s not. But… I think you’re missing just one ingredient.”

Kurt looked at Blaine excitedly. He leaned forward over his table, his eyebrows raised in question. Blaine leaned forward too, close enough that their faces almost touched. 

“I guess if I told you, that would be cheating too,” he whispered.

“Shit!” Kurt growled. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “You’re right,” he grumbled. 

“I’m sorry,” the barista smiled. “But don’t be hard on yourself, this recipe has many elements.”

“I don’t understand,” Kurt shook his head. “I’ve used soy milk, I added star anise, ginger, nutmeg, hazelnut syrup, cloves, cinnamon, cocoa nibs, turmeric and saffron, a touch of chili, pumpkin syrup…”

“I’m impressed, by the way.”

“What am I missing?” Kurt asked, sounding desperate. “Some exotic spice that I couldn’t find even if I looked for it?”

Blaine laughed, but stopped when he realized it was making Kurt look even more miserable. He took another sip of his coffee and leaned a little closer. “How did you get the proportions so right?”

“Well, I could lie and say it was easy, but since you know I’ve been suffering with this for weeks now…” he covered his face with his hands in embarrassment.

“Kurt, I’ll be honest. I know seasoning isn’t atomic physics, but I’ve been working on these specialties for months to get the perfect balance of ingredients and make them all special, something the customer can’t get anywhere else. You copied our best-selling coffee specialty in two weeks.”

“Well, I did not, did I? I missed something.” Kurt grumbled.

Blaine smiled and twirled the cup absentmindedly in his hand. “I want to know how you did it.”

Kurt shrugged. “I’m pretty good with spices.”

“I can see that.”

“I like to cook and bake, that’s all. I’ve experimented a lot since I was a kid, it’s just fun. There’s not much difference between trying to find a new character for a cookie and this,” Kurt pointed to his coffee and the spices. “It drives me crazy.”

Blaine watched as Kurt tensely organized the small jars in front of him. He was really impressed that Kurt had gotten this far in figuring out his recipe. Blaine was already convinced that the guy in front of him wasn't a spy. He believed him, and he knew that Kurt would soon figure out the last ingredient.

Blaine sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me what spices you use in your favorite cookies.”

Kurt opened his mouth to reflexively say no, since he never shared his recipes with anyone, except Carole. But he froze when he realized that it probably wouldn’t be fair to say no at this point.

Blaine noticed Kurt's hesitation and raised an eyebrow. “Is that a secret, Kurt?” He asked, amused. He leaned closer to Kurt across the table, a playful smile appearing on his face. “I think you owe me that much, Kurt.”

Kurt shook his head, but smiled back at the barista. He opened his mouth to speak, but Blaine cut him off by raising his hand.

“Wait,” he said, and grabbed Santana’s arm as she was about to walk past them. He whispered something in her ear, she nodded and walked on. “I’m listening now,” Blaine turned back to Kurt.

“My favorite recipe is actually quite simple,” Kurt began, playing with the paper cup in front of him, his eyes on the coffee. Cinnamon dominates, of course. No surprise,” he glanced up at Blaine for a second, who smiled at him and nodded encouragingly. “I use cardamom, ginger, vanilla, a little cumin, it gives it character, and…” Kurt’s eyes widened as he finally put the last piece of the puzzle in place. “I can’t believe it,” he looked up at Blaine, who was grinning at him. 

“You’re welcome,” Blaine said, then drank the rest of his coffee, picked up the empty cups and stood up.

“How could I have missed it?!” Kurt shook his head in disbelief.

“It was too easy, I guess. And it doesn’t dominate at all. I’m not a fan of it, but if you use just a very small amount it can balance out the other spices.” Blaine explained. “I have to go back now.”

“Of course.” Kurt nodded and thanked him.

The moment Blaine left the table, another tray landed in front of Kurt with a freshly brewed, steaming cup of espresso, hot water and a vanilla bar next to them.

"Boss ordered this for you. It’s on the house," the waitress said before disappearing among the tables.

-

A few minutes later, Blaine spotted Kurt at the counter, and he couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“Did it work?” he asked as he walked up to Kurt.

“I don’t know yet.”

Blaine looked at Kurt then down at the coffee cup questioningly.

“You tell me,” Kurt said, placing the cup in front of Blaine. “I made this one for you.”

“Thank you.” Blaine smiled in surprise. Slowly, he raised the cup to his lips, and keeping eye contact with Kurt, took a sip of the coffee. He’s nervous, Blaine observed. Cute.

“So?”

Another sip, just to be sure. 

“Wow. It’s perfect, Kurt. It really is.”

“Really?” Kurt jumped with excitement, making Blaine laugh. “Thanks for helping me.”

“I didn’t do anything, you figured it out on your own,” Blaine shrugged. “And you know, if you were looking for a job…” Blaine started, and he realized he was only half joking. But Kurt laughed. 

“No, I’m not. But with this offer you’ve convinced me, I guess the coffee turned out really good,” he said. 

They said goodbye before Kurt headed for the door.

As Kurt walked out of the coffee shop, Blaine leaned against the counter and drank the rest of his coffee. He stared at the empty cup in his hand, lost in thought and smiled. He wondered when he would see Kurt again. He hoped he would come back. Even if Blaine just helped him make his favorite coffee at home, so he had no reason to... 

Oh, shit. 

The thought knocked him out of his good mood. I should have asked for his number. He was wondering how many men named Kurt could work at Vogue, and if trying to find out what would be considered stalking, when Santana appeared next to him.

“I’m an idiot,” he groaned.

“Yes, you are, Boss,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “But at least he’s not,” she added as she reached over and swirled the cup in Blaine’s hand, revealing the handwriting on the other side.

* * * Free refills, anytime! :) Kurt (555) 555-5555

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

My take on the Bad Kid scars! AKA my excuse to make like a 4 page Google doc worth of headcanons.

I've thought about this kind of a lot while considering how I draw the Bad Kids because I love when characters carry evidence of their history with them (not just scars, stuff like the tin flower emblem or Figs Ayda-feather-earring also exist in this category, and I have separate notes for those too)

Since magic is a big part of healing in this world I have some stipulations for what actually causes scarring in my own headcanons-

(Rest is under the cut. This bitch is looong and it's technically unfinished. Heads up for descriptions of injuries and spoilers for the first 2 seasons of Fantasy High.)

So here's the rules:

1. It's a big story moment. Random slashes or scratches or whatever don't show up because they're not relevant to the characters history and they're small enough that I think magical means would completely cover them.

2. The attack downs them. This just makes it easier to track, any attack that knocks a character out has the potential to leave a lasting mark.

3. Based on some comments from Brennan, it seems like low level healing magic (ex. Cure Wounds, Healing Word) is essentially time-based. It basically fast-forwards the healing process months in advance. That's gonna affect how scars work. Unless otherwise stated, that's how I'm gonna approach the magical healing process.

Figeuroth Faeth

• Tuna Surprise Eldritch Blast- Doreen (S1E2)

Small burn scar on the left side of her check/around her lips from when she caught the Eldritch Blast with her face. The Phoenix Egg spell mostly took care of it, so it's quite faint, but it still can get tight and itchy. Fig has a special moisturizer for it that she keeps next to her horn cream.

• Torn ear- Figueroth Faeth (S2E12)

Honestly this is mostly because I find it funny. This is from that moment when Fig rips out her earring to give to Ayda in exchange for the feather. It's very common in D&D designs for characters with long ears to have rips or notches in them to show that they're active or battle-worn. I really like this idea of a kind of Jason Grace style scar where you look at her and you wonder "Woah, I wonder what battle caused that" because she's this legendary adventurer but the truth is that she did it to herself because she's a sweet-hearted dumbass who was tripping over herself trying to give her crush a gift. It got healed up soon enough, there's just a divet at the bottom of her ear now.

Riz Gukgak

• Hand Cuts- Crystal Interior (S1E14)

Riz was tearing through his hands trying to get out of that thing, I can't imagine that it didn't leave a lasting impact. Both sides of his hands and a little up his forearms are covered in slashes. They've healed kind of unevenly since he does a lot of work with his hands that require some amount of dexterity and precision (mostly writing, typing, drawing up maps, ect.) The forearm scars are pretty much settled, but the ones on his palms and fingers are still irritable and sometimes painful enough that he has to stop working. It does not help at all that this kid refuses to sleep or stretch or experience rest, so he probably gets a lot of stiffness and cramping too (at least, more than he would if he actually got sleep ever). Since they got re-agitated in Sophomore Year his friends have gotten very good at noticing when he's ignoring the pain and force him to take a damn break every once in a while. He has a tell for it and none of them will tell him what it is. He appreciates that they care about him, but god is the mystery infuriating. He actively refuses to acknowledge the irony of that.

• Lightning to the Chest- Aelwyn Abernant (S1E12)

In the sister fight Aelwyn knocks Riz out with a fucking lightning bolt. This is what sets Adaine completely over the edge. He gets healed up pretty fast, so it's not a life threatening scenario, but it's still a fucking lightning bolt. He's got a circular burn scar in the center of his chest. Much like Figs, it doesn't bother him much, but it still requires some attention and maintenance for at least a couple weeks. Honestly he straight up forgets it's there sometimes. Adaine probably thinks about it more than he does.

Fabian Seacaster

• Enucleation- Dayne Blade (S1E16)

So the main thing here is the eye, but it also covers a good chunk of the left side of his face. Essentially this big slashing weapon caught him right at the top of where his ear connects to the rest of his head and dragged forward far and deep enough to take out his left eye. Also notable is that he doesn't get any medical attention beyond minor heals for a hot minute. And when he gets hit he spends a couple minutes running around a burning house filled with ash and smoke and blood. The moment of Bill giving Fabian his eye patch is incredibly tender. It's also NASTY, dude. That thing is for sure covered in blood and ash and he puts it right over an OPEN WOUND. I love that scene to death, and there is absolutely no way that that thing isn't getting crazy infected without immediate/magical medical attention. I imagine Kristen and Riz took a good chunk of that frozen time to treat it as much as they could. I picture the slash healing into a pretty thick hypertrophic scar that goes from his ear over his eye to the edge of his nose. He definitely had to actually go to a hospital after prom to get proper treatment. His skin could be mostly stitched back together magically, so the main focus from actual medical professionals was putting in an orbital implant and getting him a conformer to maintain the structural integrity of the eye socket. He probably has a bunch of cool decorative prosthetic eyes for big events because he's a fancy little rich boy, but I don't think he actually uses them a lot (for a couple reasons, the main one is the eye patch. Why bother putting it in when he's gonna cover it up immediately anyway?) He just uses the conformer like 99% of the time. The eye patch mostly has sentimental value, but it also does have that charisma stat boost effect, so he has it on when he's adventuring or at school, but takes it off at home. His big issue is adjusting to his new depth perception. He spends months and months re-learning the sword with Hallariel, which is immensely frustrating. He knows how to do it, but he has to completely readjust how he thinks about approaching it, which I think would really get under his skin. Especially since it's such a big part of his identity at this point. It takes him a good while to get back to his previous skill level, but damn if he doesn't do it.

Kristen Applebees

• Gored Through the Chest- The Great Unicorn (S2E17)

100% my least grounded in any form of reality headcanon. She fully resurrected herself. The scar left from the horn of the unicorn is a little more like a slightly raised tattoo than an actual scar. It's more of a magical imprint of the divine act of resurrection than anything left behind by the wound itself. As her bones and skin and muscles literally stitched themselves back together they sort of knitted into a single point, which grew a patch of discolored skin. The skin is thick, and purplish, and shaped like some kind of rune that doesn't actually exist in any surviving magical language. A permanent mark of the impossible magic she enacted. There's an identical mark that's a little bigger on her back, where the horn entered through. A less obvious element of that scar is how it affected her heart. The thing was ripped apart, and basically the only thing that could fix that was god magic. Luckily, she got that! I imagine that her heart now has this weird rippling effect over the muscle, almost like aurora borealis. It doesn't actually affect a ton because, again, god magic, but man does it fuck with medical equipment sometimes. I also think that if you were to cast Detect Magic on her, without any of her gear or spell effects, you would still read that Raise Dead effect just radiating off of her.

• Pinky Finger- Removal and Resurrection

I think that her right pinky finger didn't entirely recover from having a full bone taken out, and now the last knuckle has some mobility issues. It's just really stiff and doesn't really bend on its own. She's also lost a lot of sensation in that finger specifically. It shouldn't get any more intense than that without extenuating circumstances, but given that god magic is a little unpredictable she and her doctor are keeping an eye on it. She does a lot of stretches and exercises to keep her hands loose and moving. Ounce of prevention and all that. It's also a part of her gym bloke routine in Junior Year.

Gorgug Thistlespring

• Slice Through the Hand- Forest of Blades (S1E3)

All the way around his hand there's this line, as though his hand was cut clean through and then perfectly realigned and glued back together. By Sophomore Year the scar has almost completely flattened, it's just a discolored line all the way around the surface of his hand.

• Crushed Heart- Nerd Ghosts (S1E14)

The effects of this one are two-fold; first, the streak of gray hair, second, a lasting effect on his heart. The prolonged strain on the actual organ of his heart from this encounter left him with increased risk for cardiovascular problems that he didn't have before. He doesn't really notice it (mostly because when it's noticeable he's so high on adrenaline that he's not really noticing anything) but his heart is definitely weaker than it should be. It's not life threatening, but it's for sure something that Digby and Wilma have stressed the importance of monitoring because they are good responsible parents. The actual visible impact from the ghost attack is the streak of gray hair he has, which is permanent. It just grows gray there now. He thinks it looks pretty cool.

Adaine Abernant/ O'Shaughnessy

• Teeth Marks- Jawbone O'Shaughnessy (S1E6)

Basically just a dog bite on her right forearm. Normally healing magic would be able to patch that up without any scarring, but the werewolf pathogen adds a complication to it. Still, pretty average looking scar. She feels a little weird about it, cause on the one hand getting it sucked, but on the other hand now every time she sees it she thinks about her amazing new dad, so there's a weird sentimental element. She and Jawbone have for sure had a long discussion about the validness of any of her feelings about it and how it's ok to acknowledge the harm done to her, even by well-intentioned parties. He probably feels a lot worse about it than she does. The reveal of which probably initiated another very long discussion.

• Gored Through the Chest- The Great Unicorn

This time it's just a normal scar, no crazy magical runes involved. I'm not entirely sure how a fully healed version of this injury would actually... Work? The part that's visible would be the broken skin, so probably a combination of a fine-line scar and a depressed scar, (sharp edges + impaling motion) but I'm not entirely sure how to properly translate that visually, or if it's at all realistic. Further research pending. Anyways she and Kristen have matching injury scars! The besties ever

[amilovesworld]

Checkered Hearts|| 2||

Chapter 1| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5| Chapter 6|

Summary: Y/n, a young journalist chasing her dream in the world of sports, never imagined her path would lead her to F1—or to Carlos Sainz Jr., a driver whose charm and sarcasm quickly blur the lines between professional rivalry and something more. As they clash, argue, and share unexpected moments, Y/n's life is turned upside down, forcing her to make choices she never saw coming. But in a world of speed, fame, and pressure, can she hold on to everything she’s worked for, or will she find herself racing toward something—someone—she never planned for?

Genre: Fluff/ Enemies to lovers/ Slow burn

Pairing: Carlos Sainz jr. x Indian reader

Warnings: looonnng Chapters, long series, slow burn, eventual smut.

Chapter: 2

Y/n sat at her desk, the hum of the office around her barely registering as she mentally checked out. The 2025 F1 season had finally wrapped up, and after months of chaos and bickering with Carlos Sainz and the rest of the team, she was looking forward to some peace and quiet. Her plans were simple: head back to her, spend time with her family, maybe do some hiking in the snowy mountains she loved so much. Just her, the crisp air, and the serenity of nature.

She hadn’t expected anyone to take her holiday plans seriously. After all, it was just a passing comment during an idle chat in the office.

But of course, that was when her boss had to overhear.

“So, Y/n,” her colleague asked, poking his head into her cubicle. “What’s the plan for the holidays?”

Without thinking, she replied, “Probably going hiking in the snowy mountains. Need to reconnect with nature, you know?”

Before she could even finish her sentence, her boss, Mr. Grant, appeared from behind her. “Perfect!” he declared enthusiastically, his face lighting up. “We’ll send you on an all-paid vacation to cover a training camp in the Alps!”

Y/n blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. “Sorry?”

Mr. Grant smiled, clearly pleased with himself. “You said you wanted to hike in the snowy mountains, right? Well, we want you to document a training camp. It’s a win-win!”

Her stomach churned. She had already been planning this for months—time away from work to recharge, to feel at home again. “Wait, hold on. I didn’t mean for work—I meant with my family. I was just...”

Her boss cut her off with a sharp look. “No need to explain. It’s the perfect opportunity. You’ll be accompanying Team 55 to their camp in the Alps for a docuseries we’re working on. We’ve already assigned other journalists to other drivers as well, team 55’s journalist had to back off last minute, but we found you. I know you’ll do great. It’ll be a fantastic piece of work for your portfolio.”

Y/n felt her chest tighten. This wasn’t just an inconvenience; it was a punch to the gut. She had been looking forward to spending time with her family, recharging in her peaceful, familiar world. But now, her holiday was going to be hijacked by a work assignment. A work assignment that she never signed up for.

“I—I really can’t,” she tried to argue, her frustration rising. “I don’t have the time to—”

Her boss cut her off, his tone suddenly cold. “If you can’t handle a little flexibility, maybe you should have stuck to your corporate job. Journalism isn’t for you, Y/n. It’s a demanding field. If you want to go on vacation, you’ll need to be flexible.”

He paused, eyeing her with a hint of finality. “And if you’re serious about this career, Team 55’s training camp in the Alps is your next assignment. That’s where you’ll be going. It’s already been arranged. You’ll be documenting it as part of our docuseries. Take it or leave it.”

Y/n felt her face burn with anger. She opened her mouth to argue further, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, a cold, tight knot settled in her stomach. The one thing she had been looking forward to—spending time with her family in the peaceful mountains—was slipping through her fingers. Her holiday was being stolen from her, and in its place was a job that felt more like a punishment than an opportunity.

But the real blow didn’t come until she heard the last piece of information that Mr. Grant casually dropped.

“Team 55 will be there. You’ll be covering Carlos Sainz and his team. I’m sure you’ll get along with them.”

Her heart dropped.

Carlos Sainz. Of course.

She had spent the last few months dealing with him—his smug grins, his charming persona, his irritating presence. Every time she thought she had gotten the better of their interactions, he somehow managed to make her feel like she was back at square one. And now, her family time, her peaceful escape, was going to be tainted by him, by Team 55, by everything she hated about this job and this career.

How could she get away from this?

As she stood there, her throat tight with the sting of betrayal, she felt her vision blur. She wasn’t even sure if it was anger or frustration that was making her want to cry. Probably a mix of both. All she could think about was how much Carlos Sainz had ruined her life since that first fateful encounter. The coffee spill, the endless arguments, the constant feeling of being undermined. And now, he was going to be the one ruining her so-called “holiday” as well.

Why was everything in her life so entangled with him?

Two days later, Y/n found herself on a plane to the Alps, her camera gear packed and her nerves on edge. When she arrived at the training camp, snow blanketed the landscape, and the crisp mountain air stung her cheeks. She couldn’t deny the beauty of the place, but her mood soured the moment she spotted Carlos Sainz standing near the team’s cabin, laughing with his trainer.

He turned and saw her, his eyes narrowing in recognition. Then, as if on cue, his trademark smirk appeared.

“Well, well,” he said, sauntering over. “I didn’t know you’d be joining us. Couldn’t stay away from me, could you?”

Y/n’s jaw tightened. “Trust me, Sainz, I’d rather be anywhere else.”

His smirk widened, and he leaned in slightly. “Careful. You might end up enjoying this trip more than you think.”

Her glare could have melted the snow beneath their feet. This was going to be the longest assignment of her life.

___________________________________

The first few days of the training camp were nothing short of grueling—for both Y/n and her sanity. Every day began with her documenting Carlos’s rigorous workouts: running along snowy trails, intense strength training, and those absurdly long hikes that left her questioning if her job description had secretly included becoming a mountain goat.

But it wasn’t the physical exertion that was breaking her. No, it was him.

Carlos Sainz was everywhere—his smug face, his infuriating comments, and that cocky smirk she couldn’t seem to escape.

“Y/n, are you sure you’re not the one in training?” Carlos teased as she panted up a particularly steep incline, her camera swaying on its strap.

“Shut up, Sainz,” she snapped, glaring at him through the lens.

“Just saying,” he said, jogging backward effortlessly. “You’re struggling, and I haven’t even started sweating yet.”

Y/n gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to chuck her camera at his perfectly tousled head.

The camp consisted of seven people: Carlos, his four trainers, his girlfriend Elena, and Y/n. While the trainers were polite and professional, and Elena was surprisingly warm and friendly, Carlos was the thorn in her side. And worse, Elena’s presence only added salt to her wounds—not because Y/n had any feelings for Carlos, but because Elena’s easy going demeanor made her feel like she was the problem in this entire equation.

Elena often sat near Y/n, chatting during breaks. “You’re doing such a great job,” she said one afternoon, handing Y/n a cup of tea as they sat on a snowy bench.

“Thanks,” Y/n mumbled, sipping the warm drink and glaring at Carlos, who was doing push-ups in the snow like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“He’s not that bad, you know,” Elena said with a smile, following Y/n’s line of sight.

Y/n let out a bitter laugh. “Not that bad? He’s the most annoying human being I’ve ever met.”

Elena chuckled. “That’s just Carlos. He loves to tease people. But once you get to know him, you’ll see he’s got a good heart.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “I’ll take your word for it.”

That night, Y/n found herself in a rare moment of peace, sitting on the couch in her cabin’s Patio with a cup of tea and chatting with her best friends, Angelina and Meera, over a video call. While everyone else was sleeping, giving her some space to vent.

“I swear to God, I’m cursed,” Y/n groaned, dropping onto the couch as her friends’ faces appeared on her laptop screen.

“What happened now?” Angelina asked, already grinning like she knew a juicy story was coming.

Y/n threw her hands up dramatically. “What hasn’t happened? I’m living in a nightmare. There’s an eclipse on my happiness, and it’s called Carlos Sainz.”

Both Angelina and Meera burst into laughter, their voices echoing through the call.

“An eclipse on your happiness? I love it,” Meera wheezed, barely able to catch her breath. “That’s poetic.”

“It’s true!” Y/n exclaimed, gripping her tea mug tightly, the liquid inside sloshing dangerously close to the rim. “He’s like this… this walking, talking annoyance factory. I think he actually gets joy out of making my life harder.”

Angelina leaned forward, wiggling her eyebrows. “Sounds like someone else is living rent-free in your head.”

Y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, please. He’s the one who actively seeks me out just to torture me. The man has a Ph.D. in being insufferable. I spend every day thinking about creative ways to ‘accidentally’ lose him on a hike.”

Meera smirked. “Let me guess. He’s the most arrogant, insufferable—”

“Hot?” Angelina interjected.

“Annoying!” Y/n snapped, though her flushed cheeks betrayed her indignation.

Angelina grinned mischievously. “Y/n, honey, this is classic enemies-to-lovers. The banter, the tension, the sparks—”

“There are no sparks!” Y/n cut in, exasperated. “Only flames of fury. He makes me want to scream.”

“Uh-huh,” Meera said, her smirk widening. “Scream his name?”

Y/n’s mouth fell open as her cheeks burned crimson. “MEERA!” she shrieked, nearly spilling her tea.

Angelina collapsed into laughter, clutching her sides. “Oh my god, Meera, you’re a menace.”

“Thank you,” Meera said, giving an exaggerated bow. “I try my best.”

Y/n groaned, slumping into the couch. “Why do I even talk to you two? You’re supposed to be supportive, not… whatever this is.”

“We are supportive,” Angelina replied, wiping away tears of laughter. “We’re supporting your journey to self-discovery.”

“What self-discovery?” Y/n grumbled, glaring at the screen.

“That you’re—” Angelina began, but Y/n cut her off with a glare.

“Don’t. Even.”

Angelina just grinned wider. “Yo, imagine if he heard this. Like, he’s just standing outside your door, smirking like he owns the world.”

“Good,” Y/n huffed. “Then he’d know exactly how much he’s ruining my life.”

Unbeknownst to her, Carlos was leaning casually against the patio wall outside her cabin, water bottle in hand. He had come to deliver a message from the trainers but had stopped short when he heard his name. Amusement flickered in his eyes as he listened to her dramatic venting, his grin growing wider with every insult.

Back inside, Y/n was still mid-rant. “And another thing! Who jogs backward up a snowy hill? He’s like an overachieving golden retriever!”

Angelina and Meera were doubled over, barely able to breathe. “Oh my god, Y/n, please write this down,” Angelina wheezed. “I need this energy in my life forever.”

“Write it down?” Y/n groaned. “I’m living it. He’s turned my life into a sitcom.”

Carlos shook his head, chuckling softly to himself. An eclipse on her happiness? He made a mental note to use that line later.

The next morning, Carlos was ready.

“Morning, Y/n,” he said brightly as she shuffled into the training area, her camera in hand and her face still half-asleep.

She eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you so chipper? What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he replied innocently, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. “But I was wondering—how’s the eclipse on your happiness this morning?”

Y/n froze, her eyes widening in horror. “What did you just say?”

Carlos’s grin turned wicked. “Oh, nothing. Just something I might’ve overheard last night.”

“You were eavesdropping?” she hissed, her cheeks flaming.

“Not intentionally,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “But next time, maybe don’t have a full-volume vent session on your patio if you don’t want me to hear.” He paused for a second then continued "I have to say, I’m flattered. Overachieving golden retriever? That’s a new one.”

Y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he replied confidently, jogging off toward the trail. “But you’re welcome to keep pretending.”

Despite her threats and glares, Y/n couldn’t deny the grudging respect she was developing for Carlos. His work ethic was unmatched, his dedication inspiring. But, as always, admiration quickly turned into exasperation.

“You’re supposed to take photos of my workouts, not selfies,” Carlos commented one afternoon, holding out her camera with a raised brow.

“It’s called checking the lighting,” Y/n snapped, snatching the camera back. “Not that you’d understand.”

“Of course,” he said, his smirk firmly in place. “Though the lighting on your blurry photos is… questionable at best.”

She glared at him. “Keep it up, Sainz. I might just ‘accidentally’ lose you on the next hike.”

He grinned. “You’d miss me.”

“I’d celebrate,” she shot back, stomping away.

After a grueling day of ice baths and mountain runs, Y/n sat alone by the campfire, reviewing the day’s footage.

“Still planning my murder?”

She jumped, startled, as Carlos appeared out of nowhere and sat beside her, his hair damp from the ice bath.

“Don’t tempt me,” she muttered, not looking up from her laptop.

He chuckled, his voice lower than usual. “I have to give you credit, though. You’re good at what you do.”

She glanced at him, surprised. “Is that... a compliment?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, leaning back with his signature smirk.

And just like that, their fleeting moment of peace dissolved. Y/n rolled her eyes and returned to her work, vowing that no amount of charm—or damp curls—would change her mind about him.

_____________________________________

Y/n stood frozen in the doorway, her heart pounding as she took in the scene before her. Elena, who had been nothing but friendly to her, was in the middle of a passionate kiss with Hugh, one of Carlos’s trainers. The sight caught her completely off guard, and for a moment, all she could do was stare, her brain struggling to make sense of what she was witnessing.

Elena pulled away first, her face flushed with embarrassment. “It’s not what it looks like, Y/n,” she stammered, her hands raised in defense.

Hugh, looking equally flustered, tried to explain, “Let me explain, Y/n—”

But before either of them could continue, a voice cut through the air, sharp and unmistakable.

“Don’t tell me you both couldn’t keep it in your pants.”

Y/n’s gaze snapped toward Carlos, who had just entered, his eyes narrowing at the scene. For a second, she felt a flicker of sympathy for him. This was clearly something that caught him off guard, too. But before she could say anything to him, he continued in his usual cocky tone, “She’s not cheating on me. I know.”

Y/n’s jaw nearly dropped. Wait—what? Her mind couldn’t process what he had just said. It felt like everything around her was spiraling into chaos. Elena was dating Hugh, but Carlos had just casually admitted that he knew about it?

Carlos, looking unfazed, turned to the two, his voice colder now. “Take your business elsewhere.”

As if on cue, Hugh and Elena quickly gathered themselves and left, leaving Y/n alone with Carlos. She opened her mouth to say something, but her words caught in her throat when he grabbed her hand and dragged her away.

For a moment, she was too stunned to resist. It wasn’t until they were outside, away from the others, that she managed to speak. “Are you in an open relationship?” she asked, her voice a mix of incredulity and disbelief.

Carlos let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “No.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. He seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before continuing, his voice quieter than usual. “Well... nothing can cover this up, so here it is. Elena and I... we’re not in a relationship.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide. What?

“She’s dating Hugh,” Carlos continued, his gaze steady. “But she’s a model, and I’m—well, I’m me. Our PR teams made us a thing. It was a win-win for both sides: they could travel together without any trouble, and my team could feed off the publicity.”

For a brief moment, Y/n thought she detected a hint of sadness in his voice, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. The entire revelation was so overwhelming that it took a moment for her to process it all.

Carlos looked at her, his expression earnest. “Please, I beg you... don’t make this a story. It’s not just about me—it’s about Elena and Hugh too. Their careers don’t need this kind of drama.”

Y/n blinked, stunned by the plea. Her anger flared, and for a split second, she almost felt sorry for him—almost. “Are you out of your mind, Carlos?” she snapped, jerking her hand out of his grasp. “I hate you, but even for you, this is low. Do you have any idea what kind of mess this could cause?”

Carlos looked at her with a mixture of confusion and something she couldn’t quite place, but she wasn’t interested in figuring it out right now.

“If this comes out, your reputation is done for,” she continued, her voice rising with anger. “But if their relationship goes public, she’ll be labeled a cheater—and that’s just as messed up. Oh my God, how can a man with so much money and resources be so stupid? Ugh!”

She shook her head, pacing in front of him, feeling her frustration building. “And you know what? I’m a sports journalist! I’m here to cover your training—not to write Page 3 gossip columns about your messed-up PR stunt. Sure, I’d make a lot of money off it, but no! And my boss? He deserves everything he gets for ruining my vacation!”

Carlos watched her, his expression unreadable. But there was something in his eyes—something she couldn’t quite decipher. It was almost as if she had said something that shifted something deeper inside him.

Y/n turned to walk away, her mind still racing with everything she had just learned. “Fix this, Carlos,” she said over her shoulder. “Before it gets messy. And fire your PR.”

Carlos watched her as she left, his mind racing. For the first time in a long while, he felt something deeper than the usual annoyance or attraction when it came to Y/n. There was something in the way she had reacted, the way she cared about the mess he’d made. He realized, then, that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her for weeks, but now it felt... different. Her words had hit him on a deeper level than he expected.

He leaned against the wall, his eyes distant. It wasn’t just the frustration he felt around her—it was something else. Something he couldn’t quite name yet, but it was there, gnawing at him.

________________________________________

The announcement of Carlos and Elena’s "mutual breakup" sent ripples across social media and the F1 world, but it was carefully crafted to avoid any controversy. The press release was polished, emphasizing their “decision to remain good friends” while quietly brushing the truth under the rug. Elena, understanding the weight of the situation, decided to leave the training camp early to avoid raising any suspicions or creating an awkward environment.

Carlos, true to his word, started looking for a new PR team. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief as he distanced himself from the manufactured narrative of his personal life. But amidst the chaos of restructuring his image, he began noticing something else—Y/n.

Their arguments, once a daily occurrence, started to dwindle. Carlos didn’t know when exactly it happened, but he found himself dialing back his teasing comments and quick jabs. Maybe it was the way she had stood up for Elena’s messy situation, or maybe it was the reality of what he had been hiding from everyone, including himself. Either way, he couldn’t deny that he had developed a newfound respect for her.

Meanwhile, He confided in Lando one evening, recounting the entire ordeal and his shifting dynamic with Y/n. Lando was the first to know about the whole PR disaster, burst out laughing over the phone.

“I can’t believe you begged her not to spill the story! Man, you’ve really gone soft,” Lando teased.

“I didn’t beg,” Carlos protested, though his defensive tone made it clear he had, in fact, begged.

“Sure, sure,” Lando said, still chuckling. “But seriously, you and Y/n. There’s something there, isn’t there?”

Carlos rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “No, there isn’t. She hates me, and I—”

“You don’t hate her,” Lando interrupted. “You’re just too stubborn to admit you like her. Besides, you’ve stopped bickering with her every five minutes. That’s progress.”

Carlos didn’t respond, but Lando’s words lingered in his mind longer than he cared to admit.

_____________________________________________

That evening, Carlos wandered into the common room to grab a drink when he spotted Y/n sitting by the fireplace with her laptop propped up, a phone balanced precariously on her shoulder. Her voice was softer than usual, laced with warmth as she spoke in Hindi, laughing at something someone on the other end said.

Curious but respectful, Carlos stayed at a distance, pretending to scroll through his phone while stealing occasional glances at her. He didn’t understand the words, but the tone was unmistakable—it was the sound of home.

When the call ended, Y/n lowered her phone with a sigh, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of her laptop. She stared at the screen for a moment before quickly wiping at her cheeks.

Carlos hesitated. He wasn’t the type to comfort people—it wasn’t exactly his forte—but something about seeing her like this tugged at him. Before he could talk himself out of it, he walked over and sat down across from her.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice softer than she was used to.

Y/n quickly wiped at her face again and forced a smile. “Hey. What do you want, Sainz?”

He ignored the defensive tone and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You okay?”

She scoffed, but it lacked her usual bite. “Why do you care?”

“Because you look like you could use a friend,” he said simply, his brown eyes sincere.

That caught her off guard. She blinked at him, unsure whether to brush him off or let her guard down. But something about the way he was looking at her—without any of his usual smirk or sarcasm—made her cave.

“It’s nothing,” she mumbled, looking away. “I just... I miss my family. I was supposed to be with them right now, not here documenting your every move.”

Carlos nodded, understanding in a way she didn’t expect. “I get it. Being away from family—it sucks. Even if it’s for something you love doing.”

Her eyes flicked back to him, surprised by the empathy in his voice. “You do?”

He smiled faintly. “Yeah. I don’t get to see mine as much as I’d like. This job—it takes you everywhere, but sometimes it feels like you’re nowhere, you know?”

She nodded slowly, her defenses melting away. “Yeah. Exactly.”

For the first time, they weren’t sniping at each other or trading insults. Instead, they talked. Really talked. Y/n found herself sharing stories about Landour the warmth of her family, and how she missed her mother’s cooking.

Carlos listened, genuinely interested, and even shared a few of his own stories about his family and growing up in Madrid. He was careful not to pry too much, but the way he offered his own experiences made her feel... seen.

By the end of the night, something between them had shifted. When Y/n finally stood up to head to her room, Carlos smiled at her.

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

She paused, glancing back at him. For the first time, her smile was genuine. “Goodnight, Carlos.”

That night, Carlos lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t know what had changed, but he knew one thing for certain—his feelings for Y/n weren’t just annoyance or attraction anymore.

_________________________________________________________

Y/n had been on edge all day, frustrated with herself as she hiked up the steep path in the Alps, her camera bouncing slightly against her chest with every step. What was supposed to be a simple, peaceful hike—a chance to document the breathtaking scenery and escape the intensity of the training camp—was now just another thing that felt out of sync. Weeks of pent-up frustration boiled beneath the surface, and the silence she had hoped would clear her mind only seemed to magnify her worries.

Carlos had insisted on coming along when she mentioned her plans, despite her clear insistence that she could handle it alone. “I’m perfectly capable, you know,” she had said, narrowing her eyes.

Carlos had shrugged, unbothered by her tone. “Sure, you are. But who’s going to save you when you trip over your own determination?”

Now, he was a few paces behind her, silent but undeniably present. She couldn’t see him, but she felt him—that magnetic pull that seemed to follow her everywhere these days. And he wasn’t the same Carlos she had met at the start of the camp. His teasing had softened, his flirtations had grown bolder, and his proximity had become a constant. It was... unsettling. Annoying. Distracting.

But Y/n had more pressing concerns, like finding the perfect angle to capture the golden rays of sunlight breaking over the jagged peaks. She adjusted her camera strap and pressed forward, determined to focus.

Then, her foot slipped on loose gravel. It happened so fast she barely had time to process it. She yelped as she hit the ground hard, her ankle twisting awkwardly beneath her. The camera flew from her hands and landed with a sickening crack against the rocks. Pain flared in her leg, but her eyes immediately darted to her camera, panic rising in her chest.

“No, no, no,” she muttered, scrambling to sit up despite the sharp pain in her ankle. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the shattered lens. “Great. Just great. This is exactly what I needed.”

Carlos was there in an instant, his usual playful expression replaced with one of genuine concern. “Y/n!” His voice was sharp, urgent. “Are you okay?”

“My camera’s broken,” she replied, her voice trembling as she stared at it. “Oh, God, my boss is going to kill me.”

Carlos crouched beside her, his brows knitting together. “Your ankle, Y/n. Focus.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, though her wince when she shifted told a different story. “It’s just a sprain. I’ll manage. But my camera—”

“Forget the camera!” Carlos’s voice rose, cutting her off. His hands hovered over her ankle, careful not to touch it yet. “It’s replaceable. You’re not.”

She glared at him, her frustration rising. “Do you think saying that makes this better? That camera was expensive, and now it’s useless.”

Carlos sighed, running a hand through his hair. “And so will you be if you keep pretending you’re not hurt.”

Y/n huffed, crossing her arms. “I said I’m fine.”

“You’re as fine as a car with a flat tire,” Carlos muttered, his gaze dropping to her ankle. Carlos’s jaw tightened, but instead of arguing, he shifted closer and gently reached for her ankle. “Can you at least let me check it?”

Y/n hesitated, caught off guard by the tenderness in his voice. Reluctantly, she nodded. He inspected her ankle with surprising care, his touch light but steady. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had been this... attentive.

“It’s swollen,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re not walking back on this.”

“I’ll walk just fine,” she countered stubbornly. “I don’t need your help.”

Carlos’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smirk like he usually would. Instead, he stood and extended a hand to her. “You’re not walking back alone, Y/n. Either I help you, or I carry you. Your choice.”

She glared at him, debating whether sheer willpower could get her up without his help. But the throbbing in her ankle made the decision for her. With a resigned sigh, she took his hand.

“There. Was that so hard?” he teased as he helped her to her feet, his arm slipping around her waist to steady her.

“You’re so annoying,” she muttered under her breath, though a small part of her appreciated the support.

Carlos grinned, his usual playfulness returning. “You keep saying that, but I think you secretly like it. Admit it, Y/n. You’d miss me if I wasn’t here.”

“Miss you?” she shot back, narrowing her eyes. “I’d be thriving without you. Do you know how peaceful this hike would’ve been if you weren’t trailing me like a lost puppy?”

“Peaceful?” Carlos raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “You call slipping on gravel and breaking your camera peaceful?”

Y/n groaned. “Why are you like this? Can’t you just be normal for five minutes?”

He pretended to think for a moment. “Normal is boring. Besides, you’d hate me if I were normal. You’d miss this charm.”

“Charm?” she scoffed. “Is that what we’re calling it now? Because I’m pretty sure it’s just a chronic annoyance.”

Carlos laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Call it whatever you want, Y/n. But I’m not going anywhere.”

As they hobbled back toward Villa, the banter between them flowed easily, a comfortable rhythm that seemed to overshadow the ache in her ankle and the broken camera. When they finally reached villa, Carlos eased her onto a bench, his hand lingering on her back just a second too long. Y/n glanced up at him, her irritation mingling with something else—something she wasn’t ready to name.

“You’ve been... different lately,” she said, her voice softer now.

Carlos’s gaze met hers, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Different how?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Never mind.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between her eyes and her lips, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m always different, Y/n. Just pay attention.”

She was about to retort when his hand brushed against hers again, and this time, Y/n felt a rush of heat flood her chest. She quickly pulled her hand back, her mind spinning. Was this him playing the game—or was this something else entirely?

The next day, after her ankle had been treated and she was still somewhat limping, Carlos found himself walking beside her again during another hike. This time, though, there was an unspoken tension between them that neither could ignore.

Y/n decided to turn the tables. As they walked side by side, she let her hand brush against his lightly, just enough for him to feel the heat of her skin against his. Carlos faltered for a split second, his breath catching, but he quickly recovered, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice a little too soft.

Y/n smirked. “Two can play this game, Carlos,” she said with a teasing glint in her eye.

Carlos stopped walking, his mind suddenly racing. “Oh, you’re playing now?”

Y/n turned to face him, her smile playful yet challenging. “I’m not always the professional you think I am, Carlos. I’m just as capable of getting under your skin as you are with me.”

Carlos’s heart hammered in his chest. He took a step closer to her, his voice low and deliberate, as he pulled her closer “Careful, Y/n. You might just find out how much I like it.”

Y/n smirked again, her breath hitching at the proximity. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

As the flirtatious tension between them grew, Y/n realized one thing for sure: this wasn’t just about the playful jabs anymore. Something more was starting to brew, that neither of them was ready to admit. It was there, in the lingering glances, the touches, the way their breaths came faster in each other’s presence.

_________________________________________________________

The air had grown colder as the night deepened, the silence of the Alps surrounding the small group gathered around the crackling bonfire. The flames flickered and danced, casting long shadows against the dark, misty forest. Carlos, Y/N, and the remaining trainers—Hugh, Marco, Win and Lucas—sat around the fire, roasting marshmallows and chatting casually. The atmosphere was relaxed, almost serene, and the group had been laughing together for hours. It felt like a brief escape from the hectic pace of the training camp and the pressures of their respective lives.

As the night wore on, though, the other trainers started yawning, the cold weather seeping into their bones. Slowly, one by one, they made their way to their tents, leaving only Carlos and Y/N by the fire. The warmth from the flames didn't quite reach the chill between them, though. They had spent so much time bickering and teasing that the air still carried a strange, undeniable tension.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the log she was sitting on, glancing at Carlos, who was staring into the fire, his jaw tense. 

"You're unusually quiet," Y/N said, breaking the silence, her voice low but teasing.

Carlos chuckled softly. "Just thinking."

"That’s new," she quipped, giving him a sideways glance.

He smirked, shaking his head, but there was a softness in his eyes. "Very funny." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "But seriously... I’ve just been thinking a lot lately. About my career. My life."

Y/N’s teasing demeanor softened as she sensed the shift in his tone. She set the stick aside and gave him her full attention. "What about it?"

“You ever feel like the world moves too fast?” he asked, staring into the flames.

Y/N paused, surprised by the sudden depth in his tone. She sat back down, tilting her head slightly as she looked at him. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But I think that’s just life. You?”

Carlos let out a short, humorless laugh, poking the fire with a stick. “All the time. It’s like... I’ve been running for as long as I can remember, and I’m not sure I even know what it feels like to stop anymore.”

Y/N didn’t say anything immediately, sensing he wasn’t done. She watched as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, the firelight dancing in his dark eyes.

“When Ferrari replaced me,” he continued, his voice quieter, “it wasn’t just losing a seat. It was like losing a part of myself. I’d put everything into that team, you know? Suddenly, I wasn’t enough. And then,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion, “everyone doubted me when I joined Williams. Even I doubted myself. Williams wasn’t exactly... the team anyone dreams of driving for, you know? People called it a step down, said I’d disappear into obscurity.” He paused, his gaze fixed on the fire. “I told myself it was a fresh start, that I could prove them all wrong. But some days, I still wonder... what if they were right?”

Y/N felt a pang in her chest. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this—so exposed, so human. Slowly, she shifted closer to him, her voice gentle. “You’re wrong.”

Carlos looked at her, his eyes searching hers. “What?”

“You’re wrong to think they were right,” she said firmly. “You’re doing what so many people are too scared to do—you’re betting on yourself. And that takes guts, Carlos. You’ve already proven them wrong just by showing up, by not giving up.”

He held her gaze, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. “Do you really believe that, or are you just saying it to make me feel better?”

“I believe it,” she said without hesitation. “I’ve been watching you these past few weeks—how hard you work, how much you care. You don’t just show up; you give everything you have. And that… that’s what makes you enough.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The only sounds were the crackling fire and the faint rustle of the trees in the wind. Carlos’s eyes softened, and he gave her a small, almost grateful smile.

“You make it sound so simple,” he murmured.

“It’s not simple,” Y/N replied, her voice just as quiet. “But sometimes, you need someone to remind you of what you’re capable of. Even if that someone is a stubborn journalist who can’t seem to get along with you.”

Carlos chuckled, the sound warmer this time. “You? Stubborn? Never.”

Y/N smirked, but her expression softened as she added, “For what it’s worth, Carlos… I think Williams is lucky to have you. And I think, deep down, you know that too.”

"You’re different, Y/N," he said quietly. "You don’t just see things the way they are. You see them for what they could be. I noticed that about you the day you took my first interview, furious but determined."

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I thought you’d ruin my career that day."

"And I thought you’d ruin my life," he admitted with a small smile. "But here we are."

The warmth in his voice made her chest tighten. She looked down, her cheeks flushing from more than just the fire. "Life’s funny like that, I guess."

The fire crackled between them, the silence stretching out but feeling oddly comfortable. They were closer now, physically and emotionally, the walls they had built between themselves slowly crumbling.

Carlos reached out, almost hesitantly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. The gesture was so uncharacteristic of him that Y/N froze for a moment, her breath hitching.

“You’ve got ash on your cheek,” he said quietly, though his hand lingered a second longer than it needed to.

Y/N’s heart raced, but she forced herself to play it cool. “Thanks,” she muttered, looking away to hide the warmth rising in her cheeks.

They didn’t move away from each other, though. The space between them seemed to shrink, the air charged with an unspoken tension. Neither of them said anything, but their eyes met again, and this time, neither looked away.

And then, without thinking, Carlos turned to her, his hand brushing against hers again. This time, neither of them pulled away. His fingers interlaced with hers, his touch warm and familiar.

Y/N didn’t know what was happening—didn’t know if she was ready for it—but for the first time in a long while, she felt something she hadn’t felt before: the desire to not run away. To just stay.

Their faces were inches apart now, the air around them thick with unspoken words. Slowly, cautiously, Carlos leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. And before she could think, before she could stop herself, their lips met in a gentle, lingering kiss.

It wasn’t like the heated moments they’d shared before—there was no playful challenge, no teasing. This was something else entirely. It was quiet, soft, and real. And in that moment, Y/N didn’t need any answers. She just needed to be with him.

When they finally pulled away, the night felt different. The fire was still crackling, the stars still shining overhead, but the air was charged with something new. Something neither of them knew how to define.

_____________________________

At breakfast, the trainers were buzzing with energy, teasing and laughing as usual. Y/N and Carlos, however, were unusually quiet. They avoided eye contact, their movements careful, as if they were afraid of giving something away.

Lucas, one of the trainers, noticed immediately. “Why do you two look like you didn’t sleep?” he asked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Or did something else keep you up?”

Y/N nearly choked on her coffee, while Carlos shot him a warning look. “We were at the campfire,” Carlos said casually, though his tone was a little too smooth. “Talking. That’s it.”

“Talking, huh?” Marco chimed in, wiggling his eyebrows. “Sure didn’t sound like just talking.”

Carlos smirked, though his ears were a little pink. “Let it go, Marco.”

But the teasing didn’t stop, and as the trainers continued to poke fun, Y/N and Carlos exchanged a glance. For a brief moment, there was a spark of shared amusement between them, a silent understanding that, whatever had happened last night, it was theirs to keep—for now.

__________________________________________________

As the final week of the training camp rolled on, the air between Carlos and Y/N was undeniably charged. Their playful arguments had taken on a new dimension, laced with subtle touches, flirtatious comments, and lingering glances that neither could seem to resist. It was a game, one where both of them were getting dangerously good at playing.

The days were filled with their usual banter. Carlos would steal glances at Y/N whenever she wasn’t looking, and she would catch him in the act, only to roll her eyes and return a sharp, teasing comment. Their exchanges became more and more subtle, their flirtation laced with jokes, sharp retorts, and a charged undercurrent that made Y/N’s heart race every time he got close.

One morning, as they were preparing to head out for a hike, Carlos tossed her a quick grin before saying, "You know, Y/N, you’d look even better in a racing suit."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, clearly catching his double meaning. "Oh, really? Because I can’t imagine anything more appealing than that," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. But the way her pulse quickened as she said it was hard to ignore.

Carlos chuckled, leaning in just a little closer as he gave her a wink. "I’m sure you could keep up with the pace. You’ve got more endurance than you let on."

The comment hit her in ways she hadn’t anticipated. She wasn’t sure if he was complimenting her stamina or challenging her, but either way, the heat rising in her cheeks was undeniable.

"Don’t flatter yourself, Sainz," Y/N replied, a grin tugging at her lips. "Just because I don’t race doesn’t mean I don’t know how to stay ahead."

Carlos raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to prove it, but before he could say anything more, Hugh came over, interrupting with a loud whistle. "Alright, lovebirds, can we please stop flirting long enough to hike up this mountain?"

Carlos shot Hugh a playful glare but didn’t say anything, his eyes still fixed on Y/N as if he were daring her to make the first move. She smirked back at him, her heart still beating too fast for her liking. What was happening between them?

That afternoon, as they made their way up the steep mountain trail, the teasing escalated further. The group was spread out a bit, but Y/N and Carlos kept bumping into each other as they navigated the rocky path. Every time Y/N slipped slightly, Carlos would reach out, his hand grazing hers as he steadied her. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched her—far from it—but this time, it felt different. Every time their hands brushed, it was electric.

She tried to ignore it, focusing on the trail ahead, but it wasn’t easy with him so close, his presence more magnetic than ever. Eventually, they found a quiet spot along the trail to rest, the others trailing behind. Carlos sat down on a rock and patted the space next to him.

Y/N hesitated but sat beside him, her heart racing even more now that they were alone. The wind rustled through the trees, but the air between them was thick with unspoken words.

"Do you ever just... want to be free?" Carlos asked, breaking the silence, his voice softer than usual.

Y/N turned to him, curious despite herself. "What do you mean?"

Carlos shrugged, his gaze distant. "I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m constantly on a leash, you know? Whether it’s the media, the races, the expectations—it’s like I can’t breathe sometimes. Like everyone’s watching, waiting for me to fall."

Y/N studied him, sensing that this was more than just small talk. She had seen the exhaustion in his eyes before, but it felt like he was finally opening up. "I get that," she said quietly. "There’s always someone who wants something from you. A story, an interview, an opinion. It’s hard to know where to draw the line. But sometimes, you have to find a way to make peace with it, even if it’s just for a little while."

Carlos turned to her, his eyes intense. "You’re not like the others, Y/N. You don’t ask for anything from me. You just... let me be." He paused, and his tone became a bit more playful, though there was still a trace of seriousness in it. "And for that, I think you’re the most dangerous person I’ve ever met."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? I’m dangerous now?"

"Definitely," Carlos replied, his grin returning, his voice lower, almost like a challenge. "You make me think too much. And that’s not something I’m used to."

Y/N felt her heart stutter in her chest. There was a hint of sincerity behind his words, and the playful teasing was suddenly less playful and more... real.

"Well," she said, trying to keep her composure, "I don’t need to make you think, Carlos. You’re doing a pretty good job of that yourself."

He leaned in closer, just enough to make her breath catch. "Then what are we doing here, Y/N?"

Her heart skipped a beat, her words caught in her throat. They were so close now, and she could feel the heat radiating off him. It was as if the entire world had narrowed down to just the two of them, standing in this moment, caught in the space between what they had been and what they could be.

Before she could respond, a voice from behind broke the spell.

"Oi, you two!" Lucas’s voice echoed up the trail. "Stop making moon eyes at each other and get a move on, yeah? Some of us still want to make it to the top before the sun sets."

Carlos pulled back just slightly, but his eyes stayed locked on Y/N's. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he spoke.

"Guess we’ll have to finish this later," he said, his voice low and teasing, but there was something more in it now. Something she wasn’t ready to face but couldn’t ignore.

Y/N simply nodded, her pulse still racing as they both stood up and rejoined the group, the weight of their unspoken words lingering in the air. The hike continued, but neither of them seemed to be fully present anymore. Their minds were occupied with a question neither was brave enough to answer just yet.

But as they reached the peak, both Carlos and Y/N couldn’t help but notice that things had shifted between them. There was no going back now. Something had ignited in the quiet spaces between their playful arguments, something that neither of them could deny.

The teasing wasn’t just playful anymore. It was a game they were both caught up in—one that neither was ready to lose.

__________________________________________

The last evening at the training camp was marked by a celebratory bonfire dinner. The trainers had gone all out, grilling food over the fire, with marshmallows and warm drinks to go around. The air was filled with laughter and the crackling of the flames, the camaraderie built over the weeks evident in every joke and shared story.

Y/N sat cross-legged on a log, her camera slung around her neck as always, though tonight she wasn’t working. For once, she was just enjoying the moment, soaking in the warmth of the fire and the company of the people she’d spent the past few weeks with.

“So, Y/N,” Hugh began, leaning back on his seat with a grin. “How’s the camp been for you? Documenting His Royal Highness over there.” He nodded toward Carlos, who smirked.

"It’s been... educational," Y/N replied, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "I’ve learned that someone can actually talk about themselves all day long without running out of things to say."

The group burst into laughter, and Carlos raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey! I’m a fascinating person, what can I say?"

"Fascinating, sure," Y/N shot back. "If you consider constant bickering a personality trait."

Win chuckled, throwing a marshmallow into the fire. "Come on, Y/N. You’ve got to admit it’s been fun. You and Carlos arguing is like the soundtrack of this camp."

"Fun isn’t the word I’d use," Y/N said, but there was a smile on her face. "Though I will say, you guys made the experience bearable. Well, most of you." She gave Carlos a pointed look, earning another round of laughter.

"So, will you miss us?" Marco asked, leaning forward. "Or is this just a 'thank God it’s over' kind of thing?"

Y/N paused, looking around at the group. Despite all the chaos, she realized she actually would miss them—the inside jokes, the late-night banter, even the ridiculous arguments with Carlos. She smiled softly. "I’ll miss parts of it," she admitted. "Not the cold mornings or the uphill hikes, but... yeah, I’ll miss the people. You all made it memorable."

"“To surviving the camp,” Win said with a grin. “And to Y/n, for putting up with us—and Carlos.”

Y/n laughed, clinking her glass with the others. “Surviving Carlos should earn me a medal.”

Carlos leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. “Admit it, Y/n. You’d be bored without me.”

“Bored?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow. “If by bored you mean ‘less stressed,’ then absolutely.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Carlos shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.

As the campfire began to die down and people started retreating to their Cabins, Y/n found herself sitting outside, staring at the stars. The quiet of the night was soothing, and she let herself relax for the first time in what felt like ages.

She wasn’t alone for long. Carlos appeared, his footsteps soft against the gravel. He sat down beside her without a word, the two of them sharing the silence.

“You’ll miss it,” he said after a while, his voice low.

She glanced at him. “The camp?”

He nodded. “The chaos. The people. The... arguments.”

Y/n smiled, shaking her head. “Maybe. But I’m not admitting anything.”

Carlos chuckled, and for a moment, they simply sat there, side by side, under the vast expanse of stars.

As they finally stood and made their way back to their Cabins, Carlos gave her a soft smile. "Goodnight, Y/N."

She returned the smile, her heart skipping a beat. "Goodnight, Carlos."

And as she crawled into her Bed, Y/N couldn’t help but think that this was the first time in a long while she didn’t want something to end.

_____________________________

Please let me know if you're liking the story so far or not. need motivation to continue.

Thankyou

[water-lemon-alex]

@dailyiiwheelship END-OF-MONTH REPORT

February Edition!

Happy birthday, Prize Wheely! Sorry for not being so active these past two weeks, but I’m bored and I’m BACK!!! The spreadsheet, after an ENTIRE MONTH, has been updated! mostly! but bare with me please! This is my birthday present to you~

February, the month of love! With only 28 days on the month this year, we have 28 ships! 24 new duos, and 4 new poly ships!

CURRENT STANDINGS

Taco and Yin-Yang have fallen off the podium for the most rolled character overall, making only Apple and Silver Spoon the most rolled characters at 14 each!

A lot has changed this month for our previously least rolled character MePad, who has now been paired with 4 characters ever since. Balloon now has the least amount of rolls with only 3.

Love is in the air for rarepairs galore! Or was that the condishawn? Out of the four Polyship Fridays this month, THREE of them have Tissues in it! Making Tissues take OJ and Clover’s title for Biggest Poly Joiners, alongside Apple once more! Apple retains her titles!

The characters that have appeared the most this month are Bomb, Tissues and MePad! Congrats, MePad!

The funniest part is that Valentines month for the ship wheel doesn’t even feature our only canon couple, OJ and Paper, even at least once! What a sad day…

FEBRUARY HALL OF FAME (100+ notes as of 3/2)

There are only 2 that have reached this milestone. Congrats if your favorite ship is one of these two:

PickleTube (TESTICKLE??????????)

BoxCase

An honorable mention is PepPickMarsh, our Valentine’s Day Ship of the Year! You go, polyamorous veterans!

March is the month of II Season 1’s remaster! May March be a bountiful month for the Inanimate Insanity fandom!

Now for the sentimental part: Happy birthday again, Prizey! I’m sorry for going radio silent on you, but rest assured, every day when I’m at school right before lunch break finishes, or when I’m just on my bed scrolling on a weekend and the clock strikes 1PM, I always look forward to the ship of the day, because seeing these different dynamics from other people’s tags make me so happy! Sometimes I come back from a bad day, but then I see a cute ship come out and it makes my day better! I’ve been following your blog since Day 3, and seeing this blog grow a new genre of OSC gimmick blogs makes me so proud! This post, this spreadsheet, is a love letter to that. (sorry there’s no art tho! i’d love to draw prizey but its pretty late and i have to fully update the sheet) Thank you again for being a boost of motivation each day.

(from my friend willock LMAO for context i called you prize wheely)

Lemi, signing off! -🍉🍋

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[brucebocchi]

Spring 2024 anime, Pt. 1: Ongoing/returning shows and the bench

yo! i also post this on my ko-fi! this is very much a labor of love, so if you liked what i wrote consider throwing a few bucks my way! thanks!

And we are back! This one came a little later because I'm much busier now than I was three months ago, but that's a good thing. It'll be a bit longer before I cover last season's new anime, so bear with me. I'm happy to say, though, that I didn't hate anything I watched this season! So there's that.

As always, the OP is linked in the title of each show. Check them out, there were some good ones this season!

Here we go:

Continuing & returning shows:

Delicious in Dungeon, second cour

Ahh, Dungeon Meshi. At the start of my review of its debut cour, I said that Dungeon Meshi is a difficult anime for me to talk about unprompted because it’s such a complete, self-assured work that saying anything about it besides “PLEASE WATCH THIS ANIME IT’S SO FUCKING GOOD” feels like a fait accompli. After twelve more episodes and spending the better part of a weekend binging the entire manga, I’m left with little else to say besides please watch this anime (and read the manga), it’s so fucking good.

Our adventuring party has managed to slay (and cook) the red dragon and resurrect Falin from its belly, but the victory came at a cost: They have managed to not only invoke the ire of the dungeon’s ruler, the “lunatic magician” Thistle, but Marcille’s use of forbidden resurrection magic has also raised another number of hackles. Reunions aren’t all happy ones and the dungeon is getting weirder.

This line break represents where I wanted to add so much more and just kept falling short. This continues to be an exceptional adaptation of an exceptional manga. For all the silly gags, for all the goofy potshots everyone takes at each other, Dungeon Meshi is a series with a beating heart worn permanently on its sleeve. The group dynamic remains superb, and no less so for the standoffish half-girl-half-cat Izutsumi joining the gang (my joy at seeing her added to the OP was indescribable). The ways in which everything interconnects make up only a fraction of this series’ unmatched worldbuilding; much hay has been made about how Ryoko Kui designed the dungeon as a living, breathing ecosystem, but there’s so much more of that within the human element as well, and the latter aspect looks to only improve when the show returns for the next season.

Dungeon Meshi is, without question, the best anime of 2024 so far, and I will be impressed if anything manages to overtake it in this year’s latter half. The manga became one of my favorites in record time, and I have little doubt that by the end of the second (and almost certainly final) season, one of my favorite anime of all time will indeed be Dungeon Meshi. Ahh, Dungeon Meshi.

KonoSuba: God’s Blessing on This Wonderful World!, season 3

When I reviewed last year’s Megumin-centric spinoff, I mentioned that I’m not quite as high on KonoSuba as other anime fans. I always thought it was a perfectly serviceable comedy isekai, nothing too special, but mostly worth the watch. Even after the letdown that was An Explosion on this Wonderful World! last year, I was still looking forward to the long-overdue third season. And pretty much as expected, what we got was fine. Just fine.

That said, I was instantly delighted to see Megumin once again surrounded by Kazuma, Aqua, and Darkness. And as is frequently the case when those four are together, shit goes south fast. Kazuma, hoping to heal the mental wounds he incurred in the Legend of Crimson film, gets his groove back when he’s invited to regale the adorable Princess Iris with tales of his exploits. As a noble herself, Darkness is mortified throughout this ordeal, scrambling to ensure that Kazuma doesn’t get beheaded for being a loudmouthed freak, and also that Aqua and Megumin don’t accidentally burn the palace down in their revelry. 

KonoSuba gets a lot of comparisons to It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, in that both are ensemble comedies in which the entire main group consists of awful people who don’t entirely like or trust one another. It’s a fair enough comparison, but what makes the group dynamic work for both shows is that the moral center is never a fixed point; the “voice of reason” among either group changes along with the situation to ensure the comedy stays fresh. And the fact that Lalatina Dustiness goddamn Ford has to be the voice of reason for the majority of this season should mortify you.

Darkness losing her mind aside, I didn’t really care for this arc. There was some interesting worldbuilding happening toward the middle of the season, but Kazuma acting way too eager about having a tiny, prepubescent girl calling him “onii-chan” just made my skin crawl, and I’m otherwise pretty much immune to the bog-standard “hey, laugh at this man because he’s a pervert” anime trope at this point. Fortunately, it only lasted for half the season, but unfortunately, it still felt an episode or two too long. The second half of the season followed Darkness’ forced betrothal to a gross noble from an earlier episode, and that arc also felt an episode or two too long.

Season 3 felt like KonoSuba both at its best and worst. The character dynamics are as rich as ever, even as Aqua and Megumin largely fell to the margins in favor of the larger stories. The smaller moments with the main four just bumming around their mansion are always just as entertaining as their larger exploits. The narrative seems to want to continue pushing Kazuma and Megumin together, nurturing the seeds planted in the movie, but later episodes also make a pretty good case for Kazuma and Darkness getting together; for better and for worse, those two absolutely match one another’s freak. Some of the gags this season were pretty darn good as well: This anime’s facials are already the stuff of legend, and we got some bangers here too (see above). For as loud as it often got, there were a few gags that centered on prolonged, uncomfortable silences like a late episode of Evangelion. And for as bored as I started to grow with the last arc, the punchline at the very end of the season almost made the whole thing worth it.

On the other hand, this show somehow got noisier. Some of Explosion’s funnier moments last year came from Megumin’s shrieking outbursts, so Studio Drive (taking over the main series from Deen) seemed to think that everyone needed to yell all the time now. It felt jarring; like watching season 4 of SpongeBob for the first time. I’m also not impressed by the fact that this series still seems to think sexual assault is just the funniest when it happens to men. It was a serious lowlight of the Legend of Crimson movie, and it just seemed to double down this time for a completely unnecessary segment in which Kazuma helps Dust get back at a creep, only for it to backfire on Dust and only on Dust. That shit sucks!

At the same time, it’s still KonoSuba, so ESH. If you made it this far, you’re pretty much along for the ride until it breaks down, so you take the good with the bad. Neither particularly outweighs the other, nor are they enough to push me towards declaring this show as either essential or unwatchable. It’s KonoSuba, and KonoSuba is fine.

Laid-Back Camp, season 3

The reigning champion of Cute Girls Doing Cute Things anime returns to the present day after the 10-years-later film, and it’s in fighting shape. Though the third season of Yuru Camp (another anime I refuse to call by its official English title) is in the hands of a new studio, it’s still full to bursting with all the gorgeous countryside scenery, tantalizing food porn, and whimsical music you’ve come to expect by now.

This is one that was on my backlog for the better part of a couple years, so I figured there was no better time to catch up than to time it with a new season hitting the air. Through two seasons and an original movie, Yuru Camp was peak slice-of-life: Low on conflict, heavy on cuteness, and brimming with personality. It does what it says on the tin; it’s a show about high school girls going camping, and by God are you getting high school girls going camping. And in the meantime, you, the viewer, get to learn the ins and outs of camping while discovering all these real-life, lovely spots along the Japanese countryside with Mt. Fuji always in view, and maybe help boost the local tourism economies once you go outside and touch grass.

The previous two seasons largely followed the girls’ exploits at school and out in the open as individuals and smaller groups before building to a big destination trip with all five of them, but season 3 takes a more, uh, laid-back approach. The first half follows Rin’s bike trip along with Nadeshiko’s hometown bestie, Ayano, until they meet up with Nadeshiko after her own solo excursion. We also get a quick peek at a heavily-fictionalized retelling of Chiaki, Aoi, and Ena’s outing with Toba-sensei, as well as a cherry blossom viewing trip with Nadeshiko and her sister, before the girls all come together once more for a nighttime hanami outing. It’s more of the same, and that’s exactly what you’re here for.

That said, the character work is the glue that holds Yuru Camp together, and it’s as wonderful as ever. Rin and Nadeshiko’s friendship remains a delight, and Hazel covered it better and more succinctly than I ever could in the Yuru Camp segment in her phenomenal video on countryside scenery in anime. Watching Rin bond with Ayano one-on-one on their own trip was a real highlight; they’d hit it off quickly in the first season, and it was lovely seeing Ayano working at Rin’s go-to bike shop in the movie, so I was overjoyed to see more of these two. More than anything, though, seeing a habitual loner like Rin connect so naturally with another person (and one who isn’t Nadeshiko, no less) just warms my cold, dead heart. The looser plotting also gives us the time and space to take in how the girls individually spend their downtime. Nadeshiko’s quickly becoming as much of an expert solo traveler as Rin, and her youthful enthusiasm about everything remains as endearing as ever. We even get to watch her becoming a train nerd in real time! 

At the same time, the communal aspect of camping is a huge part of what makes this show click. Part of that, of course, has been watching Rin’s social circle expanding, but also in seeing how readily campers observe and aid one another. Nobody is “the best” at camping (except maybe Rin’s granddad), so none of the campers in this show have any reservations about going out of their way to help one another. Even an expert solo camper like Rin was a greenhorn at one point, so she’s always happy to give and receive help. The various campers the girls run into along their journeys are always ready with local information about good spots to eat, relax, and take in a good view as well. Even camping on your own, you’re never truly alone.

In that same vein, Yuru Camp is as educational as ever. Along the girls’ travels, we learn plenty about the myriad suspension bridges over the Oi River drainage basin, the various types of passenger trains connecting the countryside, torii gates along the mountains, and clever ways to build a camping menu around local crops. Yes, Yuru Camp is as much food porn as it is nature porn, and the dishes are sumptuous. On that note, my favorite thing I learned this season came from Nadeshiko’s drooling outbursts during the other OutClub girls’ camp retelling: It turns out that there’s an equivalent Japanese colloquialism to what we call food porn, specifically in the act of taunting people about delicious food they can’t have right now, and that is “meshitero,” or “food terrorism.” That is just terrific.

Yuru Camp is in the hands of a new studio for its third season, and the difference is mostly negligible. This is a show that trades largely in vibes, and the vibes remain impeccable. Almost everything still looks and sounds great, but season 3 leans a little more heavily on CG for moving bikes and cars, and they do look markedly worse. Not immersion-shattering, but definitely distracting. The scenery largely looks less hand-painted in favor of a more photorealistic style, which does make me wonder about the actual level of artistry put into it, but that could just be me splitting hairs. Otherwise, it still looks like Yuru Camp, which is all you can ask for.

This show still rules though. I don’t often get intense in my praise of slice-of-life anime, and the ones that get me acting like that are the ones that go to wild lengths for the sake of a joke, like Nichijou and Kaguya-sama. I don’t know what it is about a show as lowkey as Yuru Camp that has me wanting to scream from the rooftops that “THIS FUCKING SHOW WHIPS ASS,” but I’m not questioning it. Maybe it’s cuteness aggression.

Mushoku Tensei: Jobless Reincarnation, season 2, part 2

And we’re back with more of the best-made anime that I can’t recommend in good faith to just about anyone.

The latter half of season 2 surrounds Rudeus’ aims for a quiet domestic life, settling down with Sylphiette and at the request of his father, Paul, taking his little sisters Aisha and Norn into their home (along with a very welcome reunion with their escort). Aisha takes after her mother, Lilia, and is eager to please and help around the house, but Norn’s last memory of Rudeus is of his violent reunion with their father. Norn idolizes Paul, so she doesn’t trust Rudeus and refuses to open up to him. While Aisha is content with working around the house, Norn wants to keep her distance, so she decides to enroll and board at the magic academy.

Norn’s apprehension towards Rudy and the mental anguish it causes her becomes an isolating factor in her daily life, leading Rudeus to believe that she’s being bullied, much as he was in his previous life. Rudy’s attempts at sticking up for his sister fall flat and lead him to realize he’s been projecting on her this entire time rather than actually reaching out to her. It’s these moments of learning and unlearning that nearly make all of this worth it; this was easily one of the best episodes of Mushoku Tensei’s second season, and frankly one of the best episodes of anime I watched all season. Another episode near the end also earned that distinction, but it got weird afterwards. Even in its lower moments, this season traded very well in the themes of family, growth, and loss, and those aren’t always tidy subjects to handle.

Because this is Mushoku Tensei, the cozy home life can’t last forever. Paul’s attempts at saving his wife have continued to fall short, so he calls on Rudeus and Elinalise to come and help rescue Zenith. Rudeus is conflicted; though he finally has the opportunity to save his mother and face his father as a man, Sylphie is now pregnant and he doesn’t want to abandon his wife and future child. As often happens at times like this, Rudy gets some face time with the Man-God who has been seemingly invested in his journey, and for once Rudy flouts his advice to venture out. Many reunions are had, including one that had been teased all season, and a lot of things go south from there. I was spoiled on some of what would happen in later parts of the series, so it didn’t come as a massive shock to me, but it still got weird, it wasn’t really addressed all that well, and people were rightfully put off by it.

On that note, I’ve given up on the idea of this series being about Rudeus improving as a person, because he’s done just about as much “improving” as he’s going to by now. As I’ve said before, he’s not quite the drooling pervert he used to be (he was actually doing great for more than half of this cour before a succubus attack briefly got the better of him), but his moral compass, even in his best moments, still seems to be poorly calibrated. I do see a side of him now that genuinely cares for others and actively wants to help, but it doesn’t erase his questionable acts, nor do I get any sense that he deserves to get the things he wants. I particularly don’t care for what’s already looking like a formula wherein sex seems to be his cosmic reward whenever he hits a low point or achieves something great. For a series that genuinely has such excellent worldbuilding and storytelling, that part feels cheap enough to undermine everything else.

But hey, a rapist died, so it’s not all bad.

I’m not sure I’d necessarily put Mushoki Tensei on the level of Frieren or Dungeon Meshi, certainly not thematically, but with all three off the air this upcoming Summer season, it’s been a minute since we’ve had a season of anime without one of those three lovingly-made fantasy series on the air. It feels like anime has a massive fantasy void now, and I desperately hope I’m proven wrong soon.

Urusei Yatsura (2022), season 2, second cour

The final run of the remade Urusei Yatsura ended on a strong note with an honest-to-God story arc! Lum and Ataru’s tempestuous situationship is put into stark relief with the fate of the world in the balance, except not really; Lum just wants him to think that because she’s fed up with his shit and that’s just how she operates.

Even as disjointed as this run has been prior to the final arc, there were still some gems this season. The time-travel segment where the gang tries to undo Mendo’s fear of the dark was a certified banger, Asuka’s violent androphobia is as funny as ever, and the introduction of Nagisa as a means of further muddying Ryunosuke’s whole gender situation was the most quintessentially Rumiko Takahashi shit I’ve ever seen. It’s the character comedy that makes Urusei Yatsura what it is just as much as the central will-they-won’t-they, and it was just as potent as always before the series hurtled towards its finale.

The four-episode arc to close out the all-stars run, similarly to the final arc of the manga and the final movie of the original anime run, centers on a blowup between our romantic leads over a colossal misunderstanding (sasuga Takahashi-sensei) involving a unilaterally-fated marriage between Lum and the prince of a dark planet, Rupa. Though Ataru and fellow dark-planeter Karula (basically Rupa’s own equivalent Lum) foil the wedding, a carbon copy of Lum created to ensure a proper exchange of vows tells Ataru that she’s over him. Ataru’s feelings are genuinely hurt, and he tells the real Lum that they’re through, and he returns to Earth with Karula, accidentally spreading spores of the dark planet’s enormous mushrooms.

Said mushrooms rapidly grow enormous when exposed to sunlight, so Earth is already in certain danger. Lum sees an opportunity to manipulate convince Ataru to finally get serious, so she sets familiar stakes: She’ll enlist Rupa’s help in destroying the mushrooms, but only if Ataru can beat her in a ten-day game of tag by grabbing her horns, just like when they first met. More importantly, though, she’ll let it all go if he can just say out loud that he loves her. And you know damn well by now that these two are both as stubborn as they come.

As I’ve said before, this is a shorter run, so we may not have the benefit of the entirety of Urusei Yatsura up to this point to be properly salivating for the finale, but I’ll be damned if it didn’t still hit like a freight train. The emotional climax was still meaty and satisfying in ways that made all of this worth it. Half of the joke of this series is that Ataru’s never going to get serious about Lum in a way that matters, but every time the mask slips is a well-earned shot to the heart. The ending is no different, and it made the shorter run still feel worthwhile.

And with that, that’s a wrap on a modern (if truncated) retelling of a legendary comedy manga. I’ll be forever grateful to this iteration of Urusei Yatsura for finally pushing me into getting into Rumiko Takahashi’s classic works, and I’m beyond excited that there’s also a Ranma ½ remake on the way. If David Production takes that one on as well, it’ll be in great hands.

Anime I Watched Two Episodes of and Will Probably Get Back to Later

I Was Reincarnated as the 7th Prince So I Can Take My Time Perfecting My Magical Ability

I mean, you read the title.

This is less an isekai and more of a lateral reincarnation story; magic already very much exists in this fantasy kingdom, but this is about a guy who is very obsessed with magic but sucked at it suddenly gaining a wealth of talent and the opportunity to go absolutely sicko mode.

Lloyd’s existing knowledge of magic serves him well, and he becomes a virtuoso at a young age. He manages to subjugate a demon lurking in the palace’s library and turn him into an adorable familiar (and having the demon go from being voiced by Akio Otsuka to Fairouz Ai was a brilliant move) and just terrorize the poor little shit with his experiments and travails. The kid could basically do a Hollow Purple by the second episode. He’s kind of psychotic, and I love that for him.

This is definitely a comedy, but the comedy is kind of all over the place early on. Prince Lloyd is surrounded by beautiful young ladies-in-waiting who, uh, seem way too into him, and that kinda sucks. Lloyd himself is drawn and animated a little too lovingly for a child as well. It’s definitely uncomfortable in parts early on, but I’ve heard it lightens up on that and gets crazier in the parts that matter, so I’ll be coming back.

And it started with a menacing monologue from Takehito Koyasu himself, so of course my interest was piqued from the jump.

Oblivion Battery

It’s weird, I love both anime and sports, but sports anime was just something I never sought out too much until I picked up Blue Box recently (also please read Blue Box, it whips ass and the anime is gonna be incredible). Oblivion Battery’s debut coincided with the start of the American baseball season, so it seemed like a great time to hop in.

I can’t say I was too intrigued by the premise, though. The intentionally generically-named Taro Yamada quit baseball after middle school after getting utterly rinsed by the high-powered battery of pitcher Haruka Kiyomine and catcher Kei Kaname, so he enrolls in a high school without a baseball club, only to find that his classmates are… Haruka and Kei. Kei, as it turns out, took a bad hit to the head and has completely forgotten all about baseball, and now spends all of his time trying to be a comedy boke for unwilling participants. Taro and Haruka would like Kei to learn about baseball again, so they start up a new club, alongside other classmates who also quit baseball because of the titular battery.

Fine premise, but eh. The hook wasn’t enough of a hook for me, and even MAPPA handling the animation didn’t keep my attention for long. I’ll probably get back to it eventually, but I ended up watching plenty of other anime this season that felt like higher priorities.

Also, I’m pretty sure Oblivion Battery’s manga introduced a character named Aoi Todo before Jujutsu Kaisen did. I still prefer the latter.

YATAGARASU: The Raven Does Not Choose its Master

See, this one I probably should’ve picked up sooner, because it seems like it’s very much my jam, and I’ve seen plenty of praise for it. It’s a dense one, though, and I’d rather not cram it just to turn around and review it a few days later.

I won’t even go into the details because even two episodes in, there are darn near too many of them. This is a massive ensemble cast in and around a succession battle in a fictionalized, imperial Japan-esque kingdom created and ruled by yokai. We’ve got a battle of brides-to-be vying for the hand of an embattled prince, a cunning but resentful empress overseeing the proceedings, a possible spy or two, and a rambunctious little shit who looks like he got plucked out of Avatar: The Last Airbender getting roped into working in the palace. It’s a lot of moving parts, but I’m curious to see how they tie together.

Two episodes in and this show looks good, but probably not as great as it could. I know I’m spoiled on The Apothecary Diaries, but something like this already feels like it deserves better than some of the stiff character animation I saw early on. I’ll reserve my judgments for now.

YATAGARASU is continuing into the summer season, so I’ll take my time catching up on it. This one feels like it deserves to be sipped slowly, not chugged, and I’ll have my tasting notes in due time.

[gazetto-chronicle]

2024.12.05 Ruki IG stories:

(1) Feel free to ask questions or chat every once in a while 👽🔥

(2) Ruki Update. The sample stickers are so cute, I had to stick one on. Might edit them and release them someday. 🤲

(3) Ruki Update, Part 2. Surrounded by the best staff, we had a great photoshoot. 👏 This story is a long one, so I’ll post about it in the future. 📨📮

(4) Look forward to lots of things in December, too! 🔥

On Twitter: "Just now, I opened up my Instagram stories for some questions and casual chat after a long time. Let me hear what you think 👨‍🚀📨"

1) Q: What kind of work have you been doing lately?

A: I’ve been working on music production, next year’s tour merchandise, and things beyond that. I’ve also been continuously working on NIL since summer. Right now, I feel like staying active rather than resting brings more fruitful results, and above all, it keeps my mind feeling healthy. 🍁

2) Q: Have you been anywhere on a walk recently?

A: In the second half of this year, I’ve often taken the time to visit various places.🚶 There were many memorable spots, so I’ll make another post about them before the year ends. 📨📮

3) Q: Have you been to any art museums recently?

A: There’s one I want to go to, but it hasn’t started yet. It’s something I’m really looking forward to.🖼️ If you have any recommendations, let me know 🙌

4) Q: Do you ever feel like you have the “professional disease”?

[Background image is from Chainsaw Man manga chapter 180 and reads "Uh-oh. It's almost time. This is it. I'm losing it. I'm going crazy, so you can disappear now"]

A: Pretty much my whole life.

5) Q: Do you think you'll get another pup?

A: No, I can't. I still haven't been able to throw away his bed. One of my goals is to completely change the interior of my house next year.

6) Q: Thank you for the story mentioning letters. You even included Hong Kong—thank you so much. It made me really happy.

A: I’m truly happy and grateful to receive letters from all over the world. I spent hours reading them. Please feel free to send more! 📮

7) Q: I'm looking forward to the new NIL products ♪ What will they be?

A: This year, I couldn’t switch out my wardrobe with the seasons, so I made items I want to wear right now. I also didn’t get a chance to change my interior decor, so I created things that can easily change the atmosphere and vibe of a home. Additionally, I wanted to capture "my current self," in a tangible way, so I completely shifted my mindset during the design process. It ended up being meaningful for me personally, and I felt happiness in being able to preserve it in this form. This was my 11th production overall. I’ll share more about it in a post later! 📮

8) Q: Thanks to my husband, I’ve become completely hooked ♡ I recently joined HERESY, and in March, I’ll be attending my first live show.

A: Just about a month and a half left until I get to see you all. Please tell everyone I look forward to seeing you in March😎

9) Q: What’s your current motivation for living?

A: You guys. This will never change, so don’t make me say it over and over again. 🤝🙆‍♂️

10) Q: It’s hard to recognize the moments when your heart regains its strength, isn’t it? But just breathing makes everyone amazing and a genius.

A: Even if you know it in your head, we’re not robots, it’s natural for emotions to have ups and downs. 🤝 There are no numbers written on your face telling you how much energy you have today, your age, your weight, or anything like that. That’s why I hope you don’t worry too much about what other people think and instead cherish the time you spend enjoying the things you love. This year, I’ve felt that it’s important to prioritize that for myself as well. Let’s make the most of the remaining month together and have wonderful days ahead. 🍁

On Twitter:

"I answered a few questions, but why do I keep getting asked about my favorite miso soup and oden ingredients? 🍲"

"Thank you for sharing what you're working hard on or what you're struggling to overcome. I’ll find time to respond to all of them and I plan to save it in my highlights."

"It's about time I get back to work 👨‍🚀"

11) Q: Ruki-san, let's go for a Harley ride lol

A: Rather than that, let's make glasses together again lol 🤝 inari_tsuchiya

12) Q: How do you deal with people whose personalities don’t align with yours?

A: Looking back, I’ve somehow managed to climb to a position where I don’t have to interact with such people. Even so, when I must engage with people in those environments, I try to respect them, thinking they probably have many sides I don’t know about. But I still keep a certain distance and avoid getting too close. Also, to put it simply, I don’t have the time to think about people I don’t get along with.

13) Q: I’m moving at a snail’s pace, but once I’m mentally ready, I will definitely go to another live show.

A: I’ll always be waiting for you. I’ve also received a lot of messages asking, “When is the world tour?” That’s definitely something I want to make happen in the near future. Come see me, because I’ll be coming to see you too🏃

[ontoilogical]

Pear Liqueur, Milk and Letters

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Characters: Dame Aylin/Isobel Thorm, Ketheric Thorm Length: 4066 words Rating: T Summary: The Moonmaiden's Emissary and Moonrise Towers' cleric had just met, but are already looking forward to the next opportunity to talk. A series of moments for both of them, individually and together. Notes: Written for Aylin/Isobel Week 2025 @aylinisobel-week The prompts: Moonrise over Reithwin | Mundane, formal, ritual, promise (Day 1)

Big thank you to @oathkeeper-of-tarth and What a Gentleman, who have both contributed to the existence of this fic and its contents.

AO3 link

–

The festivities are planned to last deep into the night, as is customary and somewhat to be expected from followers of the Moonmaiden. Dame Aylin, having finished her task in the area – outmaneuvering a long-planned attack on the enclave meant to significantly weaken Selûnite influence in the region and its nearby towns –  stands somewhat away from the party's central location, holding a generously filled goblet of drink she had been given. The faithful gather around the fire – a staple during the colder months of the year only, her Mother's followers preferring otherwise milder, manifested illumination over the sharp light of a contained, open flame. Dame Aylin does not need the fire's warmth – her unique constitution earns her indifference towards the chill. Nor does she need the attention that comes with a prominent position, having already performed her post-battle duties of opening the evening and recounting individual acts of bravery from the battlefield. Dame Aylin is, however, not free of company.

To the Sword of the Moonmaiden, Dame Aylin,

I send this letter on behalf of Moonrise Towers and its presiding residents, with heartfelt wishes it finds You well. While news generally arrives quickly to us, as we are blessed to be part of a well-travelled route towards other areas, we still await with anticipation for updates on Your triumphant victory and success against our lasting foes. With the Moonmaiden’s guidance, may it be an inevitability.

You may be pleased to know Governor Ketheric Thorm’s efforts to secure enough provisions to last through the cold, cropless season are well underway. As for His daughter, Lady Isobel Thorm – my clerical duties are taking me momentarily outside Moonrise Towers and Reithwin, as I have been called to assist a nearby community in need of an experienced healer.

In case of any other developments, we shall strive to keep You informed to the best of our abilities.

Moonrise Towers, Reithwin and its whole community eagerly await Your return from Your duties, so as to continue those begun here, Moonmaiden permitting.

Faithfully, in Her name, Lady Isobel Thorm, Cleric of the Moonmaiden

Aylin swallows a mouthful of the drink, frowning. It is a strange and not entirely palatable combination of pear liqueur and milk, a Selûnite delicacy. It is previously known to her. Aylin sets the empty goblet on the ground and folds the letter back into a hidden pocket of her armour only she can find. Lady Isobel Thorm, the radiant beacon of her latest longer posting, sent her a letter. Up until now, Aylin had no need to make her location known to others in any capacity, whether because she never stayed anywhere for too long or because there was no one she needed to be available to in such a way, besides her Mother, and she is everywhere. Yet, Moonrise Towers’ cleric had insisted and the Sword of the Moonmaiden complied. One visit to the mail carrier office, one quick pigeon-flown note to Reithwin – Aylin inquired from the locals about what to do and where to go in order to accomplish this task – and she is in possession of her first written correspondence of this type.

Lady Isobel Thorm is, by Aylin's judgement, unlike any person, creature or manifestation she had encountered during her long and storied life on Faerûn. Unlike any experience she can presently bring forth in her mind. Aylin's impeccable memory remembers all, yet thinking back to Moonrise Towers’ welcoming ceremony leaves everything trivially peripheral and forgotten, save for one instance – pale, piercing eyes looking up from a customary bow, a smile as if reserved for her alone and a measured voice full of insinuations, speaking familiar, practiced words of greeting appropriate for the situation. In that moment, spurred by invisible forces, Aylin cared not for the ritual and wanted nothing more than to pierce through protocol and let the Lady speak freely. About what, to what end, Aylin did not know, but the desire was palpable, and imposing. She kept to the prescribed form, having taken note of Governor Ketheric’s proud demeanor and wanting not to make offense. Instead, Aylin chose to take to her knee, extending a hand in invitation that Lady Isobel graciously accepted, Aylin’s lips kissing the leather of her glove. "A pleasure most satisfying to meet your acquaintance, Lady Thorm. The honor of presence is mine entirely." Lady Isobel’s laugh, spontaneous, unexpected and earnest, filled the silent audience hall and Aylin’s ears as if meant to reach the furthest depths of her being. A pleasant shiver visited her body, however brief. Aylin sensed the Governor’s gaze upon them, expression decidedly unreadable.

"Are you enjoying the evening, Emissary?" Dame Aylin turns to the Selûnite sorceress addressing her. They had, no more than a couple of hours ago, fought alongside each other on the battlefield.

"Very much so. It is a worthy conclusion to such swift and efficient success." When she is met with no response, Dame Aylin continues, looking towards the largest of the groupings. "I must admit, it brings me satisfaction to gaze upon allied faces not just during combat, but in the afterglow of it. Dame Aylin is pleased to have met this most noble and heroic group, worthy of the Moonmaiden’s name and blessing."

"We are very pleased you approve of us, Emissary." The reply is curt and modest, very much unlike the talent and prowess the sorceress had displayed earlier. But then, "I am very pleased… Dame Aylin." 

Dame Aylin’s attention stirs back to her, not so much for the mention of her name and title, but for the way it is spoken. Uncertain, curious… as if testing how the words feel rolling off the tongue. All at once, Dame Aylin notes the utilitarian yet beautiful jewelry still adorning her lobes and neck. How her gaze retreats from the opportunity to meet hers. How her dominant, spell-wielding fist is clasped around the wrist of her other hand, perhaps in a bid to contain unwanted action.

Dame Aylin knows what this is, and Dame Aylin is flattered.

–

Dawn crawls from behind the horizon, announcing her Mother’s temporary shift until the next evening. It is a quiet and tranquil affair – the birds have already finished their morning routines; dew dangles off strands of grass, threatened by the possibility of freezing; the Selûnites are asleep. 

A pencil dances idly between Aylin’s deft and cold fingers, having already wounded the piece of paper she had procured for her planned reply by pressing too hard against the surface she was writing on. Aylin favors either hand during combat and the same is true during her pencraft. 

MOST ESTEEMED REITHWIN ALLY

MOST ESTEEMED REITHWIN ALLY CLERIC OF MOONRISE TOWERS

DEAREST MOST ESTEEMED REITHWIN ALLY CLERIC OF MOONRISE TOWERS LADY ISOBEL THORM

Aylin stares at the defenceless piece of paper that is barely holding the weight of her strained words. "Dame Aylin is no less skilled at wielding words than she is her sword," she mutters under her breath. All of this is but another fulfillment of form, as she is close to departure. Still – in case a most talented avian messenger manages to arrive faster than Dame Aylin, it is appropriate to give foreword of her return.

I AM VICTORIOUS.

EXPECT MY PRESENCE SOON.

DAME AYLIN

–

Isobel Thorm works the final, and most visible, strings of her ceremonial garb – not that it would be appropriate for anyone to give them particular attention, considering where they rest. "Perhaps the Moonmaiden’s daughter merits an exception, if she wishes to take a closer look at the handiwork," she quips amusedly to an empty room. The strings’ ends are soon tucked safely behind thick material, unseen. Her soft but dexterous fingers trace the edges of the two fabric ends now held together – a striking chestpiece, worthy of even a divine audience. “Or if I wish it,” Isobel adds idly as she reaches for the last piece of the outfit – a thick hood evoking scenes of clandestine Selûnite rituals that last deep into the cold night, not that this particular piece was ever used for it. Isobel appreciates good etiquette, having been steeped, formed and sometimes stuffed into it, but the lavishly ornamented attire that takes ages to get into does nothing for her besides chafe her mood and, sometimes, even a body part. Assistance on getting ready was available to her, but she did not want it.

Truth be told, her impatience comes from simple excitement. The Selûnite Emissary. The Moonmaiden’s Sword. Selûne’s daughter. Not even the local small community of non-Selûnites could scoff or remain indifferent at the notion. The reason for the visit, however, remains elusive. It was not revealed to them. Isobel fiddles with the clasps in front meant to secure the edges of the hood, beginning to route the fabric under the other material the clasp is already holding, until finally deciding against including the hood at all. "We’re indoors." She drops the hood on the edge of her bed and finishes the outfit off with a pair of gloves, closing the door of her room behind her.

The central space in Moonrise Towers, sometimes used to ‘receive audiences’ but otherwise relegated to whatever her father or any of the more esteemed staff needs it for, is tastefully furnished in silver, Selûnite-decorated ornaments. The candles are long and freshly lit, the space warmed from all the fireplaces working tirelessly in the peripheral areas. "Ah, Isobel," father’s voice reverberates across the hall while an assistant comes to check on his uniform. Deeming everything in order, they move away as Isobel approaches. 

"Everything ready?" she preemptively asks and straightens a moon crested brooch on his lapel that seemed crooked to her. 

"It indeed is," father replies in his best measured voice, but Isobel knows him all too well. There is tension behind his words, a hint of anticipation, as well as the need to reliev– "I hope the Moonmaiden’s Emissary has put in the effort to polish her armour to a blinding and mirrored effect for us. Otherwise…" It earns him a light slap on the chest and a chuckle from Isobel, before she’s already moved away to greet the dog that has been following different people around the space, depending on who was carrying the most bowl-shaped item. 

"Squire, you silly girl," Isobel coos as she crouches down and runs a hand down her back, "I could have told you your mission to land some scraps wouldn’t work today. And I missed you for the dressing." Isobel gives Squire a moment to sniff out whatever hotspot of scent she found on Isobel’s clothes. This patience earns her a wet nose to the face and rough canine paws flailing towards her. "Squire, nooooo…," Isobel manages between laughing and pushing her away to a safe distance. A Tower resident busy with some final task or another glances over their shoulder for the scene.

–

"Most esteemed Ketheric Thorm," the Emissary all but bursts through the front doors, already halfway through the room in a matter of moments, her large wings present, as if invisibly aiding her steps. "Governor of Reithwin, Lord of Moonrise Towers, Paladin of Selûne – I have returned." Lord Ketheric looks over from his desk, making a quick mental note at which point he’s pausing his work. "Dame Aylin, Sword of the Moonmaiden," he is fast and ready to respond, and get up," on behalf of Moonrise Towers, Reithwin and myself, I welcome you. Please, feel free to approach." The futility of his final invitation is not lost to him, for she has already approached heartily.

"Dame Aylin is victorious, with another star of success shining on her Mother’s divine sky," she announces intensely, her voice and posture proud, a fist clenched and raised frontwards. "However," with this her demeanor somewhat softens, "I am also humbled and pleased to be resuming my duties here. Is the esteemed Lady Thorm around, by chance? I would like to give her my highest greetings. Do you know if she has, perhaps, received my correspondence?"

"Correspondence? I am not aware of any," Lord Ketheric replies simply, adding "but Isobel is away on a mission." There is a brief pause. The fatherly worry that intensified a hundredfold in Isobel’s absence threatens to spill out however it can, but Lord Ketheric – once again – successfully pushes it back down. He has put everything into providing a good education for Isobel to succeed as a skilled cleric. To be self-reliant, masterfull in her craft, pragmatic. She will be… is, fine. He doesn’t notice Dame Aylin’s immediate, and rather poorly concealed disappointment at the prospect – and reality – of Isobel’s absence.

"Let us dine together tonight. We will continue our discussions and plans there. Until then, you are welcome to your previous lodgings. They have remained available for you." The Moonmaiden’s Emissary nods with appropriate parting words to match, leaving to be escorted to her room. Her wings flash away as she exits.

–

Isobel’s journey back to Reithwin lasts longer than planned, having run into some unfortunate travellers on the way who were not only going in the opposite direction of their destination, but accrued a myriad of travel-related injuries in the meantime. Isobel, thrilled to help and simply be on the road among its diverse cast of characters, calls forth in her mind the memorized maps she’s always enjoyed studying and a bit of her patron goddess’ magic for the many calluses and poorly wrapped cuts. She receives in return an unmarked, but potent scroll she decides to decipher later. Out of eyeshot, she checks for any attached curses – just in case. 

None. Good. 

"Isobel Thorm, mistress of the barter system," she congratulates herself, not without humour. She is sure at least one family member would give her words about not asking for money, but an unmarked scroll is much more interesting, Isobel thinks.

Father’s relief at the vision of her feels as touching as it is ridiculous. She sinks into his warm, protective hug, allowing herself, and him, this indulgence even in her adulthood. With all the love they have for each other, Isobel still considers the option of adding a couple of days to her next assignment out of Reithwin – wonderlust is a hungry beast.  But then, "has the Moonmaiden’s Emissary returned during my absence? Has she written?"

Father lets her go, giving a gentle squeeze to her forearm as he looks at her with mild amusement, as if waiting for the punchline. "You seem to be very taken with her."

"And you are not?" Isobel sidesteps any sentiments of how extraordinary the Emissary's presence is for this region, for them – all the platitudes and false modesties they’re already gone through. Isobel is, instead, opting for simple, mortal curiosity.

"I am," father offers. "She is certainly a strong and striking presence… though I am yet to witness her skills as a paladin." His tone suggests humour, but Isobel sees it clearly. Pride. The thought father would be stubborn enough to compete with children of gods to reaffirm his standing, whether generally or in her eyes, opens up a whole new avenue of jest. Before she can begin, the relevant information is finally revealed. "But yes. She is in town, helping with local matters. She insisted."

"That’s very generous," Isobel murmurs noncommittally, before her expression turns serious, as if she is deliberating on matters of worldly importance. It doesn’t last more than a moment.

"I’m… sure you’ll get your opportunity to be the better paladin," she adds distractedly. "May I be excused for the day? It was a long trip."

–

Isobel spends no more than ten minutes in her room before she is outside again. A most helpful Towers staff member informed her of the Emissary’s schedule for the day, additionally asking whether Lady Isobel wanted someone sent to summon the Emissary for her. "That won’t be necessary," she responds, taking stock of her bag’s inventory – the scroll is left abandoned on her nightstand, a couple of coins pocketed. "Thank you," she presses a larger one in the palm of her assistant and gives her an earnest look of gratitude. "Don’t wait up. As far as I’m concerned, you’re free for the rest of the day."

–

Whenever Dame Aylin meets with a leader of a Selûnite community – before the end of exchanging experiences, thoughts and plans on how to improve it – she chooses to spend time with the people she is attempting to help. At the moment, an elderly woman, by elven standards, is showing Dame Aylin how she has single-handedly preserved a large amount of food supplies through fermentation and curing with salt. "It is the sheer amount of it which makes it so impressive," Dame Aylin looks on with wonder – she never fails to recognize and admire feats of extreme dedication. But as much as her time is infinite, the day’s and woman’s are not. Soon enough, she bids her goodbye.

Dame Aylin’s steps lead her to Reithwin’s main square. She feels the attention of several onlookers, whether because they sense Selûne’s divine powers benevolently shining upon them, or because she is, as is often the case in certain regions, considerably taller than most. When her eyes inevitably meet somebody’s, she smiles or nods in acknowledgement, but otherwise allows them to go about their business. It doesn’t take long for her to regard the centrally placed monument of her most generous host. It  looms over everyone – even her. It depicts a clean-shaven, younger man than the one she had met. His hand is holding a book, rather than a paladin’s sword. The gaze, pointed skywards, suggests ambition, wisdom and good decision-making. Dame Aylin has been told masonry is a strong craft in this town and now she has witnessed it firsthand.

"You should see it under the Moonmaiden’s light," a familiar yet entirely unexpected voice fills her senses. "Though, most Selûnites would agree Her light has the power to improve anything, generally speaking."

"Lady Thorm," Dame Aylin responds in open astonishment. "I’ve gotten no word of your return. Had I known–"

"I don’t think anyone knows, besides Governor Ketheric, my most frequent assistant and now you. I had just gotten back."

"In that case, please accept my deepest greetings," a hand on her armoured chest and a half bow, mostly with her head, accompany Dame Aylin’s words. Looking back up, she is charmed all over again by the way Lady Thorm meets her greeting. It is simultaneously completely obvious and clear to her, and entirely impossible to describe.

"Please, accept mine as well. But besides the expected formalities, have you been able to see a bit of Reithwin?"

"A bit. But there is much to see, still."

"Would you like a tour?"

–

Isobel’s tour concludes in one of the several places Reithwin has available for drink and food – the appropriately named, though somewhat out of the way, Last Light Inn. It is a charming, lively place, with an assortment of generally liked ales, spirits and seasonal food. While they had passed by the closer Waning Moon during their walk, a more rough and rowdy establishment Isobel had been known to visit on occasion, she decided against dealing with the more complicated introductions that would have probably entailed. Instead, they are standing at one of Last Light’s bars, with Isobel taking the initiative. Dame Aylin seems pleased either way. "What specials do you have?" As the barwoman lists various regional offerings, Isobel chooses one. 

"There’s a Moon-themed one, but it’s neither local, nor would I recommend it," Isobel explains to Dame Aylin over the clamour of the crowd. Dame Aylin nods, rapt. "What would you like?"

"Pray tell, what does the fine establishment recommend? Their best drink, perhaps!" Dame Aylin’s palm lands a little bit too strongly on the bar’s woodwork. While the barwoman looks slightly startled, mostly for the benefit of the surface, Isobel raises her eyebrows without comment and returns back to the task at hand. Dame Aylin sees the edges of a smile and commits it to memory. 

"If there was one drink she absolutely had to taste, one you would serve Selûne herself, which would it be?" The woman regards both of them with bemusement, before saying she knows exactly what they need, turning away to prepare it. A couple of moments later, drinks in hand, they maneuver their way to a table that is miraculously just being vacated. Dame Aylin’s tall and striking frame helps clear a quick path to it. As they sit, Isobel immediately notices the way Dame Aylin’s features shift to displeasure after a closer inspection of the drink.

"It’s Mother’s Milk – their own take on pear liqueur and milk," Isobel explains. Dame Aylin’s gaze snaps up at the name, but otherwise remains looking displeased. Isobel finds it inexplicably charming, but she also sees a quick solution at hand. "Are you partial to ale?"

Dame Aylin looks at her as if she was asked what she keeps under her armour. A moment passes where they’re both just looking at each other, waiting for a resolvement that feels both wanted, and not. "I generally am, yes," she replies, not breaking eye contact.

Isobel looks away just long enough to carefully push her drink over the slightly ragged table. "Try this. If you don’t like it, we’ll go back and find something you do."

Dame Aylin takes the large glass by its body, entirely bypassing the handle. Her lips press against the edge of the glass, taking a large gulp in a way only she knows how. A bit of foam sticks to her upper lip. The cold, bitter liquid goes down as smoothly as it possibly can. Isobel looks on with great interest, but guesses she already knows the verdict. "An excellent drink, worthy of its status."

"Isn’t it? That's why I ordered it." Isobel gestures towards the Mother’s Milk. "May I?" She slides it to her side of the table when she gets Dame Aylin’s confirmation, taking a small but confident sip out of the goblet. "But I enjoy this, too."

–

The hours pass faster than Isobel ever remembers them doing. Dame Aylin, ever formal and knightly, only took her helmet off in all that time, which in turn magically disappeared to wherever she keeps it. Despite the informality of the situation and the collection of empty glasses on the side of the table, the Moonmaiden’s daughter continues expressing every sentiment and thought as if addressing the most revered of audiences. And it completely works, for each word is so earnest and full of conviction – might it be a paladin thing – that Isobel cannot help but hang on to every bit of information the… Emissary, shares about herself. 

Isobel has played gambit after gambit so far, ending up luckier than she ever dared hoping, but there is at least one more limit she wishes to try and challenge. One more dare. Their Lady’s night has made her bold.

"Emissary," she begins and almost stumbles over the title, having strategically avoided addressing her at all if possible, "if you will permit me this freedom…" She is close to losing her nerve, but presses onwards in the last moment of decision, "it would please me immensely if you would address me by my first name."

Dame Aylin’s expression, having been so far jovial and loud, turns momentarily serious and contemplative. Before Isobel has the opportunity to retract her suggestion, an armoured hand grabs her gloved one, and intense, almost alight eyes stare into hers. "If you will call me by mine, it would be an honour, Lady Isobel."

Isobel’s breath hitches, as if the shared intensity is more than she can bear, but then her fingers squeeze instinctively around Aylin’s. "Of course, Dame Aylin."

–

The day is well underway, but Isobel hasn’t left her room, having slept past the point of her usual schedule and extending it ever further to entertain the company of her own thoughts. It’s the knock on the door which finally rouses her. It will soon be time for lunch with her father, and there is a letter addressed to her. Isobel opens the envelope and reads the bold words inside. The smile it elicits speaks of emotions that could push away even the deepest of uncertainties she may be harbouring. Isobel pockets the piece of paper and briefly looks towards the Scroll of Sending on her nightstand, thinking about the future.

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Season 2 Part 10: ~

How it Began Part 3:

The finale of these flashbacks. I wanted to include them somehow in Season 1, but I never found a good point in the story back then. Anyway, back to the road trip next week or this Sunday.

'Are you sure about this, mate?' Roy asked.

'I cannae go to prison, Roy,' Caz replied. 'Suze's income won't pay the bills, and I'm not going to let me weans go homeless.' Roy trilled his tongue and rubbed his mouth in thought, thinking if there were any other options. He could send half of his pay back to Suze, but he knew she'd throw it right back in his face. 'It'll just be for a few weeks,' Caz continued. 'Until things die down.'

'Suze won't like that.'

'She doesn't like any of this, but she wants me to sort it, and that's what I'm doing.'

'Alright.' Honestly, the mention of prison was enough to sway Roy. Of course, he didn't want his best mate to be locked up. Plus, Caz has done so much for him, and it was time to return the favour. And Roy knew exactly who to call.

Sadly, that wasn't enough.

Caz didn't understand. Suze didn't like how he spent the night at Roy's. Didn't she want space? He continued acting like a dad to his weans. Suze didn't like how he was putting on an act. Wouldn't the truth be too much for them? Caz went back to work for the next couple of days. Suze didn't like how long he was gone for. But why? They needed money.

Then 10th September 1975 happened...

Roy and Caz sat Suze down in a chair. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Whenever these two made a plan, she might as well have two of the Three Stooges talking to her. Her eyes lingered to the envelope Caz held in his hands, and she took a deep breath, rubbing her hands on her legs as she leaned forward and waited. Caz sat at the foot of the bed, and Roy lingered in the doorway.

'I'm going with Roy,' Caz said bluntly.

'Excuse me?' Suze asked.

'The rig Roy works at wanted a leccy, and I'm going with him. Just for four months, but I think it will help.'

Suze didn't say anything. She was a complete loss for words. Her togue ran across her teeth, and her hands began to twitch. She was honestly at a loss for words. Caz and Roy shared a look. Caz, pulling out the information package from the envelope, filled the silence. Inside, it contained the general rules and regulations, the expected shift hours, and a pointless book explaining the history of Cadal.

'Christ, but you're a right pair,' Suze sighed. 'Two baws in a bawbag.'

'Now, listen, pet,' Roy interjected with a soothing tone that helped calm the tension. 'I promise I'll take care of him. I had a word with our Keiran, you remember him? Knows Billy Chamberlain from way back. He owes me a favour, reckons he can sweeten Billy up a bit.' No answer. 'Come on. Have I ever let you down?'

'Roy, you lost the cake at the wedding.'

'N-now then, now then...' Roy stuttered and pointed to the floor in defence. Suze wasn't wrong. 'That wasn't my fault.'

'You left it on a bench at Argyle Street.'

'Aye,' because Caz saw this as a chance to find some banter with Suze. Just anything to make her smile. 'You were that bloated, you didn't even remember baking the cunt.'

'Oh, my children, that was before the life of the Lord came to me,' Roy sang, catching onto what Caz was doing.

'Here we fuckin' go...' Caz tried to get his eyes to meet Suze to no luck.

'And you, Mr. McLeary, you can fuss and cuss all you like.' Roy walked towards Caz and gave him a small nudge on the arm. 'But perhaps if you went to the Saracens a little less and the church a little more, then perhaps you'd not be in this pickle, eh?'

Caz tried again and glanced at Suze. She glanced back with an annoyed and tired look in her eye. His attempt failed. Miserably. Roy also noticed and turned his attention to her, switching back to his soothing demeanour.

'Don't look at me,' she scoffed. 'You're the one who agreed to spend the next four months trapped on a rig with this barnpot.'

'Susan.' Roy took her hand. 'I promise you, I promise you, we will get this straightened out.'

'Ah well, ye better,' Suze snapped back, taking her hand and walking towards the window. She ran a hand through her hair before hugging herself, clicking her togue and tapping her foot.

It really wasn't going to get any easier.

12th September 1975.

'Cait, Maidie, your father has something to tell you.' Suze didn't even try and sound positive now. She was exhausted. All the anger and crying, and sometimes refusing to eat or drink, just left her tired. Of course, the girls had noticed something was different, but they didn't know how to express it. Uncle Roy had tried to distract them, but the lingering cloud never left their home. Plus, Suze never used the word father. Something was definitely wrong. Maidie distracted herself by trying to balance a pencil between her nose and upper lip.

'I'm going away,' Caz said bluntly. Compared to Suze, he was trying to keep an upbeat tone to his voice. 'Just for a few weeks with your Uncle Roy, okay?' On cue, the pencil fell onto the table.

'Where are you going?' Cait asked.

'Can I come?' Maidie asked.

'No, girls. Where Roy and I are going is no place for two beautiful princesses like you. But, I'll be back. I promise.'

'But, will you see us at the school concert?'

'Yes.' A lie. 'But, can you show me now?'

'No,' Suze answered with a snappy tone. Maidie jerked and held her head low. Cait gently took her sister's hand from under the table. 'I need to set the table, and your father needs to talk to Roy.' In other words, get out.

15th September 1975.

Caz stood quietly in the bedroom. He held the bedside clock in his hands. 4:45am. His backpack lingered at the front door. It was still dark outside, and there was a chill in the air. Autumn was here. Caz could feel his heartbeat and time slow. Every second felt like minutes. Was he regretting his choices? No. But, he didn't want to leave Suze, even if, to him, he had to. It was for the best. The police should give up after a few more weeks, let alone months. Just until this all blows over.

He looked to Suze, who was still fast asleep. She was peaceful. Caz was jealous. Was she dreaming of anything? Hopefully, it's a good memory. He quietly put the clock back and turned for the door. He wanted to kiss her. Wake her up and tell her he was going and that she meant the world to him, but he couldn't. As much as it hurt, this wasn't going to be an eventful exit. A quick glance out the window showed Roy waiting in the car. Caz put his hand on the door and turned back to Suze. He paused. A single tear fell down his cheek.

'Kiss the weans for me,' he whispered. 'Tell them I'll be home for Christmas.' Another lie. 'I'm sorry, Suze.'

And just like that, Caz was gone...