#... its been so many... like.. 8 1/2 .. 9? somewhere around there

[magnoliamyrrh]

also. realized last night

[dear-ao3]

the 2024 formula 1 silly season and drama master post, part 2 (part 1 here)

Hello and welcome to ah fucking fuck auto caps fuck fuck fuck how do i turn off auto caps AHA there we go okay. take 2

hello and welcome to the great and very insane formula 1 2024 season drama post, part 2. if you are new here or are just looking for part one (which contains the previous 16 (?) races, the off season, pre season testing and everything else, that can be found HERE. (a word to the wise: open it in a browser, not the app, and preferably on a computer to avoid crashing. its fucking long). 

what the hell is formula 1? car go fast. fastest cars in the world zoom around tracks at top speeds of over 300kph, piloted by the top 20 drivers in the world. it might not sound dramatic, but oh man. you will Not be disappointed. this post focuses on the drama, the insanity, the sheer what the hell how is this a serious sport. no legitimately. we've just about seen it all this year. grindr, dogs, watersports, ice cream brands, its all here.

the point of this post? to educate, to catalog the insane drama, and to just have a good time. people like to gatekeep this sport, there is also a lot happening. i try to make it easy to understand. again, probably best to start at the beginning of the post because it does a pretty good job of explaining things, which i began way back in january, and can be found HERE (again, shes long, be careful)

and, as usual, if you do not want to see this post EVER AGAIN, block the tag #saph explains silly season 2024

and a second caution, i assume this post will be getting long as well. including this one we have minimum 9 updates left!

anyway, those of you who have been following along the whole time, welcome back! i know we got a little delayed. and i know we’re on a new post, so lets just briefly take a second for me to explain what the fuck happened. first i had an anatomy test, second i work 2 jobs with fuck ass hours, third tumblr decided to stop letting me look at any of my drafts, fourth tumblr support ghosted me about the drafts issue and the post was half saving half not so i just decided fuck it, were going with post 2, electric boogaloo, and fifth, i decided to start typing this instead in a google docs so. many changes. if you're new here i am usually more on top of this.

but here we are. were back on street circuits. we’re in baku, azerbaijan, for the start of the last third of the season. 8 races remain, world championship titles are still within grasp of multiple people. the drama is dramaing. and today is september 22, 2024 and lets fucking go. 

first and foremost, on account of the fact that this post is late (again, see above), were going to have to do a bit of a speed run. if you're new here, i promise that this is not representative of my normal dedication to the update post. and for those asking, yeah, ill probably compile it somewhere better than a tumblr post after its all said and done, but we don't have time for that now. 

what we do have time for is the Off Week (and like some of the media stuff). and it was filled with silliness: 

george russell decided to wear what can only be described as slightly ugly yellow short shorts with his taylor swift shirt that he got at the eras tour. this was baffling for several reasons, the main reason being that i don't think the internet knew that he was capable of wearing a graphic t shirt

fernando alonso got his aston martin valkyrie finally. in case you are unfamiliar, a valkyrie i think is the worlds fastest street legal car. he posted tweets about this that made it seem like he wanted to fuck the car. hilariously, the car broke down an hour later.

we also had the very thrilling conclusion to grill the grid. oscar won and he somehow managed to look more pleased about his grill the grid win than his first race victory. 

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nico rosberg went to the green awards and he wore a fantastically insane teal blue suit. yes i know hes not a current driver. but you all like hearing about him so ask and you shall receive. unfornunately i cant find a picture of it though

and also not a current driver is mick schumacher, but my roommate asked me to include that he was seen on his girlfriends instagram being bad at golf. like. exceptionally bad at golf. like he hit a tree 20 feet in front of him.

also playing golf was lando norris. except he managed to look like try bolton from high school musical 2.

he also talked about the world driver championship with his friend max fewtrell while they were playing golf. unfortunately i lost this link in the sea of technical difficulties, but the gist of it was that he was saying that there is still hope for him to beat max in the championship (hes about 60 points behind right now). lando doesnt usually talk about the championship because he doesnt want news outlets to paint him as “desperate�� so this was interesting

charles leclerc had an insane off week. first he rear ended someone in monaco. then he spoke at a yacht conference. he was not scheduled to speak at said yacht conference, he was there doing something else and they were like hey you're cool people know you, heres a microphone. he alsp ended up on a weather channel while promoting a karting event he was doing for the jules bianchi foundation (his god father, the one who died during the f1 race in japan 2014). he also changed his instagram pop and re centered it because some random tiktoker told him it matched his aesthetic better.

oscar piastri posted a photo of himself sitting in the cockpit of a plane and then promptly deleted it. because he posted it on 9/11. for anyone who doesnt know what that is, that was when some terrorists hijacked commercial planes and few them into the world trade centers in nyc and the pentagon in washington dc

max verstappen also posted a plane pic with himself and lando norris, but he did not delete it.

we also had the return of daniel ricciardo’s jpg instagram account, which is kinda like a finsta for photos that hes taken. i think lando started this a few years ago. 

heading into the race week we certainly got a weird ass batch of pr. including but not limited to:

lewis hamilton was back on top and slaying in the fit game. as was yuki. 

lewis hamilton also exposed george russell as listening to katy perry pre race. katy perry and taylor swift (this was after he claimed that he liked listening to old school rap music.) though, lewis then started singing wrecking ball???? confusing vibes all around

george was not off the hook yet tho because some intern definitely make him say skidibidi toilet or whatever the thing is idk, i might be gen z but im not insufferable, okay? actually george in baku was just all kinds of unhinged

george and alex also got up to something, what it is no one knows but it is clearly something

max pulled up to the paddock de aged about 10 years. picture one is of him in baku in 2015 (i believe he was 17) and picture 2 is this year. no i am not kidding. 

and franco walked into the paddock telling everyone about argentinian mate (which is a drink, not a friend)

and max shoved a microphone out of the way so everyone could gossip

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then of course, we had some slightly more relevant drama

haas announced that ollie would be replacing kevin at baku. in case you forgot, kevin magnussen received a total of 12 penalty points over the season so far, which means he gets one race ban. how did he get the points? well he was mostly wreaking havoc on everyone else so that his teammate, nico hulkenberg, could drag his car into the points. lets all remember the time in saudi arabia where he managed to get 20 seconds of penalties by basically driving like a mad man just to make sure that nico could keep his position after he pit stopped. anyway, nico was kind of pissed about the race ban situation and said “maybe the guidelines for F1 penalties need to be reviewed as the stewards ‘want to get involved’ no matter the contact.”

in any case though, k mags was out. and ollie was in. we’ve seen ollie before. notably he subbed in for carlos sainz at the saudi arabia gp when carlos had appendicitis. he managed to get points as well. since then, he has been announced as a haas driver for 2025 and is now subbing in for k mags (haas, later in the week called him a super sub. clearly no gen z person read that over.) he can do this because ferrari has a haas engine so they share reserve drivers.

adrian newey finally got employed. i know! i can hardly believe it either! but he did! and youll never guess where! 

ferrari? no that would be too obvious. 

mercedes? nah

williams? no too much of a shit show

aston martin? ding ding ding! just the right amount of shit show! 

that is right. newey is going to aston for 2025. 

apparently he was offered a “good package” according to himself, which i assume means pay and also the fact that lawrence stroll made him a shareholder? stakeholder? whatever its called. in the team itself. basically he has a lot of power. 

he said that he always wanted to work with fernando and lewis. and he couldn't do both. and aston had a better package than ferrari. 

fernando looked positively evil during all the announcement pictures. and called the team "definitely the team of the future" and for those of you who don't know, fernando is positively evil. hes just been stuck in a shit box and we havent seen very much of him, but man does he know how to evilly slut it up. so that will be fun to see.

by contrast, people said that lance was not excited enough. and well. lance 1. has resting bitch face and 2. never really looks excited about anything. also he lives in a world where take your child to work day somehow became his job. (his dad owns the team).

lewis hamilton was asked what he thought about adrian not going to ferrari, and here's what he had to say:

"i feel like, while I have mentioned before that it would be an honor to work with adrian, i have been privileged to work with two championship winning teams that didnt have adrian."

mclaren announced pato o ward would do FP1 in mexico. who is pato o ward? hes one of mclaren’s indycar drivers and one of the f1 reserve drivers. he is incredibly charming and definitely runs his own social media as seen here:

mclaren Also claim they figured out who their number 2 driver is and they claim its oscar. i say they claim because the statements were a lot more complex than that. essentially, according to andrea stella, the priority is to the team first, then lando and then oscar. so they didn't outright say that oscar is the number 2 driver and i am willing to bet real money that this is because mr mark webber, oscars manager, has something in oscars contract that prevents him from being a number 2 driver. this is of course because mark webber was one of the most infamous number 2 drivers in f1 history to none other than menace war criminal sebastian vettel, who in their time as teammates, managed to win 4 back to back world champions. or, top to bottom if you're mrs darbus from high school musical. 

lando was asked about this and he said that yes, the team does support him. though he would not expect oscar to give up a win for him and that it is more complex behind the scenes. i suppose we will see if there are any papaya rules coming out this weekend….

and oscar said "i think the main point is its not purely just going to be me pulling over for lando every single race, because thats how none of us, including lando, wont want to go racing, if we feel that someone has done a much better job on a weekend, whichever way it is, we want that person to be rewarded."

max verstappen commented on the mclaren situation as well. which was funny mostly because red bull has one of the most defined number 1 and number 2 drivers of any team. he said "you look at it form oscar's perspective, he is closer to lando than lando to me. they have to deal with that."

and allow me to put on a tin foil hat as we are about to talk about the future of the red bull seat. because all i have to offer here is a baseball hat and a red bull can. 

a long time ago we talked about the red bull cans. the ones that red bull makes to promote f1. at the end of last season red bull put max and checo on the red bull can. this season at the start it was just max on the red bull can. well. now checo has reappeared on the cans too. and i will tell you what i think this means. it means that checo is not getting swapped this season, which was a possibility for awhile. 

but! there is more! 

daniel ricciardo made an instagram post this week. and it was very interesting. but most interestingly he was wearing a red bull hat.

which he does occasionally, no big deal really. he did race for the for several years, he technically does currently. BUT then he showed up TO THE PADDOCK wearing the red bull hat.

which is Big Interesting. usually you show up in a statement outfit or wearing the team kit. and daniel is not a red bull racing driver. he is a visa cashapp racing bulls driver. they might be owned by red bull but they are Not the same team. so why the red bull hat. in the paddock. well, the rumor is that hes taking checos seat for 2025. and the rumor is that this will be announced before mexico. so checo can have a proper send off. 

and with that. the baku lore. 

theres a lot that has happened at baku. as i said its a street circuit. and i think its the fastest street circuit. but over the years theres been some notable events. 

such as the great kimi raikkonen radio for gloves and steering wheel:

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they gave mini kimi this week gloves and steering wheel in honor of that

the max and daniel crash in 2018 when they were running p1 and p2 respectfully

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and of course. how could we forget. charles’s infamous “i am stupid” radio.

speaking of charles, he crashed again in fp1. not quite in the same spot, but nearly. he took a picture with the marshalls. 

then in fp2 he rage quit, basically saying that the car sucks. 

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but he was back and better than ever in practice three because he managed to top the time charts. welcome back fuck ass ferrari.

some other teams definitely experienced the lows but not really the highs of baku during practice. like lance stroll who came on the radio to say “this is not a car” (good thing they have adrian newey now, right? 

franco colapinto also cut his ear before practice on the neck strengthener stretcher thing that they all use and the team wanted to give him stitches but he was like no no no i need to be in the car in about 5 minutes im not doing that. so he jammed on his helmet and jumped in the car. he also crashed and when he went to the medical center he took off his helmet and there was blood everywhere and they were like no no no you cannot race! and he was like no! this is not from the crash! and then explained it and they let him do qualifying. 

also im pretty sure? ollie bearman crashed? in practice? but frankly i don't have time to google it so whos to say. 

but alas. qualifying. 

i know i know this is kind of a shitty update. i promise ill go all out in singapore. i PROMISE. 

so as i said. its a street circuit. high speed. 90 degree corners. and also windy as hell. we also had the dynamic duo of karun and harry in the commentary box. 

max led the first practice, george led the second and i think charles led the third. or some order like that. 

slipstream here is almost essential (slipstream: going behind another car to reduce the wind drag so you can go faster) 

charles has the last three pole positions (first in qualifying) here in baku, but he has never won. by comparison, red bull have never had pole here but they have won. 

and franco has never been to baku before. 

i think that's all the exposition that we need here. 

q1 started with max complaining about his car. “the car is jumping around like crazy on the rear axle” he said. despite this he was sitting in p3. 

the mid field battle though….the mid field battle was heating the hell up. mostly because none other than franco colapinto, who if you will remember, has never been to baku before, had split the two ferraris. he was in third for the moment, .109 seconds behind carlos sainz and .159 seconds ahead of charles leclerc. we still had a lot of qualifying left to go, so this was probably not going to stay, but it was still insane. he was pushing insanely hard, nearly kissing the walls. clearly he had learned from his crash in practice. 

the two mclarens waited until the very end of q1 to do their final flying push lap, and oscar made it through, but tragedy struck for lando. 

lando was in the middle of his last flying lap, time was ticking down, and there was a Very Brief yellow flag on the track. now, according to rules, you cannot complete your flying lap if there is a yellow flag. so lando pitted and was stuck down in 17th and out of qualifying. this would be the first time that he was out in q1 since vegas last year (which if i remember correctly was also not his fault) 

now though, of course nothing is ever that cut and dry. people thought that there had been a mis showing of a flag. yellow flag means that a car is stopped on track, white flag means that a car is going slowly on the track. and people thought that there had been a yellow flag shown when it was actually supposed to be a white flag (if there had been a white flag then lando would have been able to keep doing his flying lap) lando himself said that he had no idea what people were talking about because there is a light on the steering wheel that lights up when flags are called and he had a big yellow light. so it was clearly a yellow flag. 

if you're concerned about lando being able to pull it out of the bag, id like to point you in the direction of the mexican gp last year where lando qualified 17th and finished 5th. on a track that was hard to overtake on. he can be absolutely insane when he wants to be. worry not gentle reader. 

in any case. also out in q1 was daniel ricciardo, valtteri bottas, zhou guanyu and esteban ocon.

and notably, williams, who was on fucking fire this weekend as we already saw, finished q1 with alex albon in second (ahead of oscar) and franco colapinto in 8th. pierre gasly had somehow managed to also get into 4th. and nico hulkenberg was in 7th with ollie bearman in 13th. i told you the mid field battle was heating the hell up. 

q2. everyone zoomed straight out of the gate. they didn't want to get lando norris’d. but, speaking of that, if lando managed to get no points in the race and charles managed to win, charles would overtake lando in the drivers championship. mark webber himself told this to charles, who was absolutely baffled. 

in any case, charles was kinda suffering right now and that was because he was not getting slipstream from carlos to make his lap faster. meanwhile, carlos seemed to be actively trying to give charles the slipstream because he came on radio to say “he keeps missing the tow” 

and amazingly, franco colapinto was 4 tenths AHEAD of alex albon. alex albon who had not been unqualified by his teammate once since the start of 2023. ex red bull driver alex albon. that alex albon. 

max topped the times in q2, followed immediately by charles. insanely, fernando alonso managed to drag the aston martin to fifth. and franco was right behind him in 6th. by comparison alex albon was in 10th. 

and from q2 we lost ollie bearman, yuki tsunoda (who has never qualified lower than 8th in baku), pierre gasly, nico hulkenberg and lance stroll. so yes, ollie bearman managed to outqualify nico hulkenberg. this is ollies second ever f1 race. 

steaming on forward to q3. 

we had, for review, in q3 the following: 

both ferraris, both red bulls, both mercedes, both WILLIAMS (has not happened since vegas 2023), plus fernando alonso and oscar piastri. 

right out the gate it was wild. 

“red bull! theyve re found their mojo! or have they!” karun said. red bull were in 5th and 6th and not entirely sucking for the moment. 

everyone did one flyer and then came out at the end for a second flyer. 

here were the standings: 

charles, carlos, oscar, george, checo, max, lewis, alex, franco, fernando

and everyone was making it to the line and all was going smooth until-

wait a second what is that

could it be! alex albon! with the air box fan still on his car! surely not!!!

oh but it was! and harry and karun were like oh wow so unfortunate for williams tisk tisk

meanwhile ted jumped on the radio to Loudly announce to everyone that this was insane and if i have time here i will put the rant he ranted cause it was Fantastic.

and what do you know i have time

so we had 3 minutes left qualifying and everyone was pulling out of the pits for their last flyer when oscar hopped on the radio to say

"the williams still has the air box fan in"

"oh what an error! disaster for williams!" karun and harry said. they speculated if the marshalls could get it or if the session needed to be red flagged. but alex threw the fan off the car.

and then they asked "ted have you ever seen that before?" and ted did not hold back:

"ITS A MASSIVE YELLOW FAN HOW COULD YOU MISS IT???!!! HOW COULD THE MECHANICS MISS IT???? I CANT BELIVE THEY WOULD MAKE SUCH A MISTAKE DOWN AT WILLIAMS! SUCH AN EXPERIENCED BUNCH OF GUYS AND GIRLS! WHAT IS GOING ON AT WILLIAMS OPERATIONALLY? HOW COULD YOU SEND A CAR OUT LIKE THAT?"

alex, obviously, got fined for an unsafe release 5k euros. he also had to throw the fan off to the side and got slightly covered in dry ice. he did not get to the a second flying lap. 

franco did tho!

and here were out qualifying results: 

p1: charles p2: oscar p3: carlos p4: checo p5: george p6: max p7: lewis p8: fernando p9: franco p10: alex  p11: ollie p12: yuki p13: pierre p14: nico p15: lance p16: daniel  p17: lando p18: valtteri p19: zhou p20: esteban 

oh ho ho but we werent done yet. because pierre gasly got disqualified from qualifying. for failing fuel flow regulations. and lewis was going to have to start from the pit lane for changing his power unit. 

everyone, and by everyone i mean oscar max and checo, pretty much said that charles was going to get pole no matter what, they knew this coming in and the best they were trying for was second

onto the race. 

notably, this is considered a checo track. this was one of the three races that max did not win last year. because checo won it. its a track that he does well on, evidenced by the fact that he qualified above max in qualifying. so people were expecting big things from him.

and so, we head into lap 1.

charles managed to hang onto the lead. checo passed carlos straight out of the gate for third and max managed to pass george to take fifth. lando had managed to get ahead of nico and up into 13th. notably, franco held onto 8th and ollie was able to hold onto tenth. 

someone who was not doing well was lance stroll, who came on the radio saying that he had a puncture. this was from contact with yuki. lance had to pit for fresh tires and was pretty immediately thrown to the back of the grid. 

by lap 2 lando had managed to get past daniel and was in 12th, he was trying to get past yuki next, which he managed by lap 3. yuki also lost a  spot to nico. 

also slaying in the mclaren was oscar, who took fastest lap. then charles took fastest lap.

and lewis hamilton, who had started from the pit lane, was up to 16th. already. somehow. though he was displeased with the tires, sayig that “this tire is pretty bad” over the radio. 

yuki meanwhile was clearly having a problem because he had started going very very slowly. thought the pit wall said that he had no problems. this would later turn out to be false but we will indulge them for the time being. 

franco was STILL ahead of alex albon on lap 6. STILL. 

lando on lap 8 managed to push his way into points positions, overtaking ollie bearman for 10th. though this was where things were about to slow down for him because in front of him were alex, franco and fernando, who were all very close together and would be hard to get past. 

george was back in bad luck hell as a plastic bag entered his airbox. will he ever catch a break. 

on lap 11 nico hulkenberg finally caught up with ollie bearman and passed him for 11th. 

and max’s car was not working. to potentially no one’s surprise. “i have zero bite in the car” he said. and this was probably true because checo was a whole 6.5 seconds ahead of him. insane gap. 

several pit stops later that i will not detail out because we simply do not have the time, alex albon ended up in 4th and lando ended up in fifth. and oscar was about to get undercut by checo. 

“mojo seems to be back for checo perez” harry said, correctly. 

mojo was back for him indeed. and now he was right behind lando. 

and if you will recall, according to mclaren themselves, priority at mclaren is the team first, then oscar, then lando. but oscar was ahead of lando. so what did mclaren do? 

they asked lando do hold up perez, but not compromise his own race. 

remever a long time ago when i said mclaren wouldn't have any internal drama this season? man how i was wrong.

lando managed to hold up perez for around a lap or two before he got past. this was crucial because this was during when oscar was in the pits. 

thanks to lando and the power of the papaya rules teamwork, oscar ended up coming out in 4th, only .706s ahead of checo. 

mclaren are working together everyone! mclaren are working together!

meanwhile, turns out that yuki did indeed have problems because he retired on lap 17 with a hole in his sidepod from the contact with lance on lap 1. this was now two races in a row where he had had to retire for reasons out of his control. 

several more people pitted. and eventually charles was back out in front, oscar was in p2. until he wasn't. no, he didn't dnf. he overtook charles! he was in p1! he popped out of nowhere! nowhere being 2 car lengths back and just flooring it to spring around charles like a little silly slinky! karun called it a “good, fair and robust defense,” which sounds like its descibing notes in wine. but this was not wine. this was the baku gp. and we were only half done. 

ollie bearman was defending against lewis hamilton, holding on tightly to 14th place. 

charles was still behind oscar and he could not get past, despite the fact that he was still very much in spitting distance. “they are pushing like crazy or they have more grip than us” he said. 

carlos got past both lando and alex albon and was up into 4th

this brought max up behind lando. max was on 11 lap old tires and lando was on 24 lap old tires. but lando still defended like hell and managed to hold onto sixth. max was 0.632 seconds behind lando on lap 25 when he said that “my brakes are not working.” this was hardly a surprise. max has hated the car since china.

also experiencing technical difficulties was sir lewis hamilton. he was stuck down in 14th and was first told to do “everything you can do to get the surface temp down” of the tires. he said “im trying” then several laps later on lap 29 he came on the radio to say “are you seeing how i have to drive this thing?” “yes,” bono, his engineer said. “quite effective though.” 

max was still half a second behind lando. mclaren faked a pit stop call over the radio to get max to pit. he did not. 

but, george russell did manage to pass him. which was “not good for max’s world champion aspirations.”

this was also when ted very bafflingly said that “if i had a sofa in the pit lane i would be jumping up and down on it” im not sure what that was in response to. 

meanwhile, ollie was still holding off sir lewis hamilton. and charles was trying to get oscar to pit again by lying over the radio. it was not working. 

lando did a pit stop finally and came out a whole 15 second behind max. he was hoping to catch max by the end of the race. but it might be tight. lets go last lap lando. 

“lando, imagine andrea on your shoulder saying ‘zero wheel spin’ in every exit,” lando’s race engineer said. if you're confused, everyone else was too. 

10 laps to go and here were the order of affairs:

oscar

+.449s charles +1.865s checo +2.989s carlos +16.530s george  +1.909s max +11.535s lando +9.715s fernando +2.589s alex +2.451s nico +4.667s franco +1.590s lewis +1.261s ollie +1.791s pierre +9.205s daniel +23.919s esteban  +.789s lance +3.862s valtteri +3.631s guanyu 

lando was determined. he took fastest lap on lap 43 and was 8.8s behind max

at this point, the leaders were starting to lap the cars in the back. “the back markers are starting to come up,” checo’s engineer said to him. “its going to get messy.”

“hold onto your hats and if you don't have one go get one and hold onto it” harry said. harry would turn out to be correct. 

we had the top 3 all running very close to eachother, that was oscar, charles and checo and “welcome to the party carlos sainz!” who was now 1.2 seconds behind checo in the four way battle for the lead.

definitely not leading was lance stroll, who retired on lap 47 with a brake problem. 

oscar managed to pull ahead of charles by 1.5 seconds, finally knocking him out of DRS range. so now it was a three way battle for second. and charles had “no rear tires. no rear tires at all.” 

and, just like i said he would, lando managed to pass max on lap 49. he was closing the gap slowly in the championship. 

“verstappen’s day goes from bad to worse,” harry said. because lando still had fastest lap, so he would score 3 more points than max. which is important if lando wants to beat max in the championship (though i think hes still like 60 points behind)

meanwhile! franco managed to pass nico hulkenberg for 10th! he was in the points!!!! at his second race!!! 

but this was short lived because there was a crash! a big smackeroo! between carlos and checo!! checo was mad, carlos didn't know what happened. 

what happened was that carlos was trying to pass checo but checo did not move over. it was deemed an equal fault accident. both of them were utterly confused at what happened and apparently spent 20 minutes in the medical center being utterly lost and aparently saying that sometimes this sport sucks. and! contrary to what several people said! checo did not bang on carlos’s helmet after the crash. 

the crash actually caused chef's dad to have a heart attack. he is stable now.

and well. this clip of george from the post qualifying interviews definitely didnt age well:

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but! since we were a matter of a few laps from the end, this meant that the rest of the race was finished under a virtual safety car. 

which meant 

OSCAR PIASTRI WINS THE AZERBAIJAN GP

and george inherited p3! 

and on his own merit too! no safety cars, no team orders, no weird shit! 

“yes!” he whispered over the radio. 

he almost fell getting out of the car, then gave us all the “one moment” hand gesture before properly celebrating. 

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he also got driver of the day! 

(this was marginally better than george russell, who said over the radio “i cant get any rubber (to pick up on his tires) all im getting is leaves”)

gunther steiner also hosted the post race interviews. which was interesting. 

george said that the most difficult part of the race was “driving full gas into a wall of carbon fiber on the penultimate lap…the vsc should have come out sooner” 

charles bashed ferrari because they didn't do any high fuel runs in practice. 

oscar was entirely pleased. “i managed to overtake and hold onto it for the next 35 laps..one of the better races of my career.” and honestly, oscar winning a race straight after mclaren basically announcing that he was their number 2 driver is nothing short of hilarious.

and! mclaren was now leading the constructors championship by 20 points! for the first time in ten years!!!!

the top three had a moment outside of the car that was filled with baffled: 

and oscar's engineer tom got to stand on the podium with him. he usually takes a selfie with oscar after each race he podiums at, but he was too excited to so george took this picture for them

(george also aparently demomished oscar in a game of uno on the plane, immediately humbling him)

george also shielded himself from the champagne on the podium

the cooldown room reacted to the crash in a very straight forward manner:

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and very quickly cause its midnight and the singapore gp starts in 8 hours, the post race, speed ran: 

-mark webber told off laura winter for thinking that oscar didn't have good tire management

-alex albon was “super happy, that's a lot of points for us” (williams finished in 7th and 8th). he cut his own interview short when ollie bearman arrived, saying “I can go, im happy to go” and then waving comically. 

-williams was so pleased with this result they blasted everyone with champagne. and they overtook alpine in the constructors championship! this was also their best race finish all season

-(and a quick note, if youre going to really blame logan for being that shit of a driver here, please remember that the car he was driving was several rounds of upgrades behind alex's pretty much the entire time he was driving it)

-ollie became the first driver to ever score points in his first two races for two different constructors because the double dnf pushed him up to 10th place. he said that there was not much difference between the haas and the ferrari, the ferrari was just red

-franco continued to charm everyone and flirt with the reporters. 

-they interviewed george and lewis and the camera had to be adjusted for george's height. it was comical and resulted in my favorite edit so far of the season (sound on)

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-lando looked pleased and happy for once. he said about holding off checo that “i didn't hold him up i just had to cool my tires a little.” he was delighted to be leading the constructors for the first time in ten years and he defended alex albon saying “i struggled to get past alex for a while, which is common, alex doesnt make mistakes.” he also ratted on max for going to fast during the VSC and said “i didn't complain, facts were stated.” and to sum it all up he said that “im executing things well, i’m very quick…i’m not going to be the happiest guy, but i am never the happiest guy….car is performing well everywhere…some red cars behind us seem to be our biggest competitors right now” 

-by comparison george insulted all of pirelli. the tire people. “pretty infuriating that it (the pace) changes this so much….its black magic, people who make the tires don't understand the tires…..for 20 laps we had a car not worthy of points and for 20 laps we had a car fighting for victory and the only difference is the tires.” 

-lewis was notably upset after the race and walked through the paddock with his helmet on, not wanting to talk to anyone. but he did talk to franco and ollie and congratulate them on a job well done defending against him and racing against him. franco even fangirled over this on his instagram. 

-charles was clearly upset with ferrari. he was so upset he posted a thirst trap.

-and oscar. oscar was very happy this afternoon. and his mom was there! she doesnt usually come cause it scares her, but nicole was there today! 

-mclaren celebrated with a hell of a lot of champagne. both oscar’s wina and lando’s insane recovery, and the fact that they were leading the championship. red bull have been dethroned, at least for now. 

-there was so much champagne that lando took off his socks to spray it. all seems well at mclaren. 

-at least one thing is for sure, oscar had a better time here this weekend than last year when he got food poisoning and only ate four pieces of toast

and with that. we head into singapore. quite literally as it is starting in a few hours. again, i apologixe about this post. its a little sad, but the next one will be better. pinkly promise. 

see you all soon!!!

[schemmentigfs]

Sweetening The Deal. (part 12.)

Summary: the future might be uncertain but Melissa Schemmenti knows that she will be fine by your side.

Warnings: mentions of miscarriage, sex references, body images & family neglect?

WC: 7.48k.

tags: @lifeismomentsyoucannotunderstand @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota @kukikatt @dopenightmaretyphoon @schmentisgf @pitstopsapphic @jeridandridge @aliensuperst4rr

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11.

i know I said that this was the final chapter, but tomorrow is my b-day and i wanted to celebrate by posting something special. So more sweetening the deal coming soon hehe. 🤍

The white sheets are tangled, clinging to fevered figures, a testament to the slow-burning pleasure that still lingers in the bedroom like the scent of candle wax after the flame has been snuffed out. Somewhere between the haze of bliss and the weight of exhaustion, a hand moves, unhurried. Tracing the outline of a familiar shape. Fingers, roughened by time and habit, drag across soft flesh, pressing into the warmth of another body as if memorizing it, as if mapping the dips and curves like a cartographer tracing the edges of a long-lost land.

The touch is possessive but still reverent, a contradiction wrapped in each absentminded stroke. A thumb ghosts over the ridge of a hip bone, then up, tracing lazy circles into the plane of a stomach that rises and falls in a steady rhythm. A palm, broad and sure, flattens against bare skin, absorbing heat like sunbaked stone after dusk. There is no urgency now, no hunger, it is the kind of touch that lingers in the afterglow, an unspoken claim that needs no words.

Just the raw connection of two souls together.

Knuckles drag upward, slow as honey dripping from the edge of a spoon, pausing when they reach the valley between ribs, the gentle space where breath hums just beneath the surface. A sigh, barely there, escapes into the quiet. The fingers flex, then loosen again, curling as they ghost along the curve of a waist before retreating, settling in the hollow of an arm that welcomes them like a tide pulling the shore back into its embrace.

And then, as the weight shifts, a voice rough around the edges, still tasting of pleasure, breaks the silence.

“Did I wear you out, babygirl? Sorry, I couldn't help myself, you were so…fuck.”

The tone is low, featured with satisfaction despite the clear apology, curling into the tight space between you like smoke. It’s the kind of comforting voice that lingers, that seeps into the skin the way warmth does after a sun-drenched afternoon.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you let the camera in your hands do the talking.

The lens is small, compact, fitting snugly between your fingers as you angle it toward her. The yellow glow of the lamp casts golden hues across her skin, highlighting the mess of red waves sprawled against the pillows. She looks undone in the best way— green eyes half-lidded, plump lips swollen from where they’ve ghosted over yours too many times to count. There’s something lazy in the way she watches you, something indulgent, like she’s letting you have your fun because she enjoys the attention.

Melissa Schemmenti doesn’t ask for a spotlight, but damn if she doesn’t belong in one.

You lift the camera slightly, framing her with the precision of someone who knows this subject all too well. The freckles dusting her shoulders. The sharp cut of her jaw softened by the remnants of pleasure. The way her chest still moves with the rhythm of spent adrenaline.

Her redbrows lift, a flicker of amusement sparking in her orbs. “What, you takin’ pictures of me now, brat?”

You hum, the lens whirring softly as it focuses. “Always.”

She breathes through her nose, shaking her head like she’s exasperated, but the ghost of a smirk betrays her. She shifts slightly, the hand that had been resting against your skin now reaching for the bedsheet, tugging it up just enough to shield herself from view.

“Gonna sell these to the tabloids?” your girlfriend teases, holding back a yawn. “’Scandal: Young Woman Ruins Sugar Mommy’s Reputation with Risqué Bedroom Photos.’”

You laugh, thumb brushing over the camera’s shutter button but not pressing it—just watching, just soaking her in. “Ruins? I think they’d call it an upgrade.”

The redheaded woman scoffs, but you see the way her mouth twitches, the way she tips her head back slightly, exposing the long line of her throat like an offering. The same throat you had kissed, bitten, worshiped not so long ago. You could still hear those little whines and whimpers.

And then, quieter, like she’s letting herself be soft just for you. “That what I am to you? Just some scandal?”

Your heart clenches, but not in a bad way. In the way it always does when Melissa Schemmenti lets her guard down, when she peels back the layers of sharp humor and lets you see what’s underneath.

You lower the camera.

“No, baby,” you murmur, reaching out, fingertips grazing the back of her hand. “You’re my favorite thing to look at.”

She doesn’t say anything, but the way she squeezes your hand tells you enough.

Melissa lets the silence stretch between you, her hand still curled loosely around yours. Her eyes flick downward, and for a moment, she just looks.

The sheets barely cling to either of you, draped in careless folds, revealing more than they conceal. The glow of the bedside lamp casts long shadows, accentuating the dips and curves of your bodies, the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to your skin. Her gaze lingers over the softness of your stomach, the marks she’s left behind on your collarbone, the way your chest rises and falls with each quiet breath.

She shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow, the movement making the sheet slip lower on her own body. You watch as she drags her fingers across her own skin absentmindedly, tracing the outline of an old scar on her hip, then following the faint indent where your thigh had pressed into hers not long ago.

For someone who usually carries herself with a guarded confidence, there’s something unguarded about her now—something raw, like she’s allowing herself to be vulnerable in a way she rarely does.

The older woman whistles, eyes meeting yours again, something unreadable flickering there before she speaks.

“Y’know…” her voice is quieter now, like she’s speaking more to herself than to you. “Sometimes I forget how small you are.”

You arch a brow, shifting onto your side to face her. “Small?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Compared to me,” she murmurs, her fingers reaching out to brush over your hip, her thumb dragging lazily across the skin. “But then I see you like this, and it’s like… I dunno.” Her eyes flicker over you again, something thoughtful in them. “I remember just how much space you take up.”

You swallow, watching her. “That a bad thing?”

Her hand stills for a second, then presses a little more firmly against you.

“Nah,” she says, rough but certain. “It’s the best fuckin’ thing.”

And then, like she’s said too much, she shifts onto her back again, exhaling toward the ceiling. Her fingers find yours under the sheets, twining them loosely, grounding herself in the quiet.

Neither of you speak for a long moment. Just the sound of breathing, the warmth between you, the weight of something unspoken settling in the air.

Breaking the silence, you lift the camera, framing her in the viewfinder, and grin to yourself. “You look like a painting, you know that?” The words slip out lazily, affectionate, half-mumbled as you lean in, pressing a lingering kiss to her naked arm. Your lips brush over the warmth of her freckled skin, and for a second, you just breathe her in.

Melissa hums pleasantly.

You adjust the camera again, fingers tightening around it, preparing for another shot. But then, the redheaded woman shifts suddenly, rolling onto you with a fluidity that makes you gasp, the weight of her pressing you deeper into the mattress. The warmth of her skin, the scent of her still clinging to the sheets, the way her hair falls over both of you like a veil—it steals the breath right from your lungs.

“Whoa,” you squeal. “Love, what are you doing?”

“Shhh, pretty girl. Shh,” the redhead simply hushes you. “Just feel me. Us.”

Your grip on the camera falters. It slips from your fingers, tumbling onto the bed with a soft thud, but you barely notice because her lips are on yours. Slow, unrushed, savoring. She kisses like she has all the time in the world, like she’s trying to drink you in, one lingering brush of lips at a time.

And then she pulls back just enough to laugh against your mouth, her nose nudging yours in a teasing little rub, her breath still tasting of sleep and you.

“Fucker,” you murmur, grinning against her lips.

She smirks, shifting her weight off you, rolling onto her back with a satisfied sigh. Stretching her arms above her head, she tilts her chin up, letting the golden light catch the freckles dusted across her collarbones. “We should go out,” she muses. “The sun’s out. Feels like a waste lyin’ around all day.”

You hum in protest, not moving, just watching her. She glances at you from the corner of her eye, amused, before exhaling and pulling herself up.

“Don’t go for too long,” you sigh quietly. “I can’t stay away from you for more than one second.”

“I won’t, baby,” she promises you.

And just like a blink of an eye, Melissa Schemmenti disappears into the bathroom, the door creaking slightly as she nudges it closed.

The mirror is fogged at the edges from the quick shower she took, but the reflection staring back at her is painfully clear. She steps closer, bare feet cool against the tile, hands bracing against the sink as she lets her gaze drift downward.

Her stomach softens as she exhales, the gentle curve of it folding slightly as she leans forward. Her fingers twitch before they reach out, hesitantly grazing the loose skin just above her navel, the place where time and life and age have left their mark. She presses, feeling the give beneath her fingertips, the way it doesn’t snap back like it used to.

Olive eyes flicker upward, meeting her own in the mirror.

She trails her hand higher, over the faint stretch marks curving along the sides of her breasts, over the skin that isn’t quite as smooth as it once was. She cups one gently, thumb brushing over the slight indentations, over the places where her body has changed in ways she never asked for, in ways she’s spent years pretending not to notice.

She hears his voice in her head before she can stop it.

Jesus, Melissa, you gonna do something about that?

No wonder you always keep the lights off during sex. How am I supposed to fuck someone disgusting like you?

What the hell happened to you?

Her throat tightens, a sharp inhale cutting through the silence. The woman presses her palms flat against the counter, trying to steady herself, but the weight of those words clings to her ribs, squeezing like a vice.

She blinks rapidly, but the sting behind her eyes doesn’t go away.

So she does what she always does. She breathes through it. She squares her shoulders. She tells herself it doesn’t matter.

But when the first tear slips down her cheek, she doesn’t wipe it away.

The tear falls slowly, a delicate trail carving a path down her cheek, and as it disappears, another one follows, unbidden, as if it knows there is something buried deeper, something that has yet to be acknowledged.

Melissa’s gaze lingers on her reflection, but it starts to blur, the edges softening as memories creep in, unwanted but insistent.

That night. The one she’s never spoken of. Not to Teresa, not to Barbara, not even Pearl.

Her fingers tremble against the cold porcelain of the sink as the memory unfurls like a silent, violent wave—distant but never truly gone. The silence of their house after everything, when the world outside felt like it was holding its breath. She remembers the weight in her stomach, the odd heaviness that made her think something was different, something had changed inside her. The nausea had been subtle at first, a persistent reminder of something new taking root.

But she never told Joe.

She remembers the heat of the shower that night, the water falling in streams down her back, warm against her skin. She remembers how she had pressed a hand to her belly, feeling the way her body was shifting, making space for something she hadn’t yet fully processed. She never told him about the quiet moments when she had caught herself dreaming of the future—a small, fragile future, but hers nonetheless.

The cramp came suddenly, sharp, ripping through her like lightning. She had stumbled, hand bracing against the cold tile wall for support, her chest tightening with something that felt like panic, but she had told herself it was nothing. It was nothing.

But it wasn’t.

Melissa had bled. More than she had expected, more than she had imagined. Until her legs had given out, and she had collapsed onto the bathroom floor screaming. The pain had been unbearable, but it wasn’t just the physical ache. It was the weight of the secret she hadn’t shared with him, the secret that now felt like a betrayal.

She never told him. She couldn’t. Not then, not after everything else. She couldn’t bear to see the pity in his eyes, couldn’t bear to be reminded of how badly they had drifted apart, how he had already begun to turn away from her before she ever had the chance to speak.

He never knew she was pregnant.

The thought twists in her chest, sharp like glass. She presses her hands to her soft stomach, but the ache isn’t physical anymore. It’s deeper, something hollow and bruised, something she’s tried to fill with years of anger and sarcasm and distractions.

Another tear falls, and this time, she doesn’t try to stop it. She lets it run freely, mingling with the others, collecting at the curve of her jaw before dripping onto her bare chest.

She had never mourned it. Not properly. Not with anyone.

Melissa Schemmenti had always been too strong to break, or at least, that’s what she had told herself. But right now, in the silence of the bathroom, with nothing but the hum of the fan overhead and the soft sobs that she couldn’t hold in anymore, it feels like she’s been breaking for years and no one had ever seen it.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, just holding herself, just letting the quiet grief wash over her. The memory of that night lingers in the corners of her mind, an echo of something lost, and for the first time, she allows herself to grieve it. To grieve what could have been.

And as the sobs quiet down, she stares at her reflection once more, the tears still streaking her face, and whispers, barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

But there’s no one there to hear it.

The quiet hum of the fan in the bathroom feels almost deafening now, the sound mixing with the faint rhythm of her own breath. Her tears have slowed, leaving her face flushed and her okigg eyes swollen from the weight of them. But even in the emptiness of the bathroom, there’s still something pulling her—something far gentler than the anger or pain that has been her constant companion for so long.

The forty-five year old exhales a shaky breath and wipes the remnants of her tears from her cheeks, swiping at her face with the back of her hand.

As her gaze drifts back to her reflection, something soft flickers in her chest, the pull of it undeniable. Her.

The thought of you comes to her like a warm, steady breath, an anchor in the chaotic tide of emotions.

Melissa had never expected this. To feel seen. To feel wanted. But you had given that to her in ways she never could have imagined, soft words and touches that never felt too much, never felt like a demand. You had accepted her, scars and all, with no questions, no judgments.

She can’t help but smile faintly at the memory of your laughter, the way your eyes light up whenever you look at her, even when she feels unworthy of it.

Then she hears it.

A soft, affectionate call, carrying through the thin walls of the bathroom, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

“Lissa…”

Her name, spoken with such tenderness, carries a weight of its own. It’s the way you always say it—like it’s a secret shared between the two of you, a word that holds so much more than just her name.

She closes her eyes for a moment, feeling the heat of your affection reach her, even from across the room.

And in that moment, she knows. She knows that this—you—is the part of her life she has been waiting for, the part she never thought she deserved, but you had given her anyway. You had pulled her from the ruins of her past, shown her the parts of herself she had locked away for so long, and wrapped her in a love she didn’t know how to accept, but that she was learning to embrace.

Your girlfriend takes a deep breath, steadying herself, and runs her fingers through her damp hair, wiping away the last remnants of her tears.

“Yeah, baby?” she calls back, her voice softer than before, more open, more vulnerable than she’s let herself be in a long time.

“Can you please come here?” you respond again, and she can hear the affection laced in every syllable. It’s the kind of sound that feels like a promise, like you’ve carved a space for her in your world, a space that’s hers and hers alone.

The moment the bathroom door creaks open, Melissa’s attention snaps toward the soft rustle of fabric. She doesn’t immediately register the quiet sigh that follows, but then she sees you—standing just outside the doorway, eyes wide and focused on something in your hands. Your brow furrows, the slight frustration evident as you tug at the straps of your bra, trying to adjust it, but it’s clear the task is not going as smoothly as you’d hoped.

Her heart catches in her chest, the vulnerability of the moment not lost on her. You’re struggling with something so simple, so small, and yet, there’s something endearing about it. She watches the way your hands move, your fingers trembling slightly as you try again, biting your lip in concentration.

The green eyed woman doesn’t know why it affects her so deeply—maybe it’s the way you seem so effortlessly beautiful even in these small moments, or maybe it’s the way your actions feel like a reflection of the trust you’ve placed in her. Either way, her chest tightens, and she steps forward without thinking, her own emotions still raw but now focused entirely on you.

“Need some help?” her voice is softer than before, carrying a gentle edge of care as she comes closer.

You don’t say anything right away, but the way your eyes flick up to meet hers, hesitant, makes her heart ache. It’s like you’re not used to asking for help, like you’re trying to handle everything on your own.

With a soft giggle, she reaches out, her fingers brushing against yours as she takes the bra from your hands, a quiet tenderness in her touch.

“Let me,” your sweet girlfriend murmurs, guiding your hands away.

Her movements are careful, unhurried as she helps you, the way she slides the straps over your shoulders with a quiet gentleness making your breath catch in your throat. There’s nothing rushed about it, no haste, no pressure. Just the simple act of caring for you, in a way that makes you feel safe.

As she fastens the hooks at the back, she brushes a kiss against your shoulder. The simple act makes you feel seen, cared for, like she’s truly with you, in this moment, in every imperfect, messy part of it.

“Better?” she asks, her breath warm against your ear, and when you nod, a smile breaks across her face. It’s small, but it reaches her eyes—eyes that are soft, full of something deeper than just affection. It’s understanding.

“Mmm,” you nodded, feeling a bit shy, but Melissa can hear the gratitude in it, the quiet relief that you never have to do this alone again.

“Good. Now if you don’t mind, m’ gonna relax for a bit.”

The Schemmenti hernines moves toward the couch with a severe slowness, her body still warm from the previous activities. The air in the bedroom cool against her bare form. She doesn’t rush; there’s a languid grace to her movements, like the world could wait for her. She settles into the cushions, the softness beneath her figure almost making her feel like she could disappear into the fabric, into the quiet hum of the room. She leans back, a cigarette between her fingers, the tip glowing softly as she inhales deeply, the smoke swirling around her like a ghost of something forgotten.

Her body, fully exposed to the space around her, seems so effortlessly at ease, as though vulnerability has become a part of her that she’s finally learned to wear without shame.

You watch her for a moment, your gaze tracing the curve of her shoulders, the line of her spine as Melissa leans back, cigarette smoke rising around her like a halo. The way the light falls across her skin, casting shadows in all the right places. It’s art in its purest form. You feel a sudden rush of emotion, a deep need to capture her, to freeze this moment before it slips away into something more ordinary.

“Mel,” you start, a softness to your voice that makes her eyes flicker toward you, her gaze meeting yours with an unspoken curiosity.

She raises an eyebrow, plump lips curling around the cigarette. “What now?”

“Can I… Can I photograph you?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment, delicate, tentative. She blinks slowly, the smoke curling around her like an answer. There’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, something fleeting and vulnerable before it’s replaced by acceptance.

“Uh. Sure,” she says quietly, the word slipping out with a surprising tenderness.

You move carefully, as though approaching something sacred, your camera warm in your hands, the tool to capture what she offers. Your fingers tremble slightly as you raise it to your eye, framing her figure. Melissa sits still, almost too still, as if she’s unsure of what to do with the sudden attention.

You guide her gently, urging her with soft words, coaxing her into small shifts of movement. “Look to the side,” you plea, and she does, her gaze unfocusing, distant, lost in the quiet of the room. The light catches the curve of her chest, the softness of her stomach, the way her skin seems to glow even in its imperfections. She is both fierce and delicate, all at once.

“Just like that, sweet girl,” you praise. “So good.”

She blushes.

You capture the moment, the slow exhale of breath, the way her skin seems to shimmer in the soft light. Every click of the shutter feels like a step deeper into her, into the vulnerability she offers so freely, so openly now.

You direct her again, this time guiding her to lift her arm, the motion slow and languid as she reaches toward the back of the couch, her body arching just slightly, the tension in her muscles visible but beautiful. Her skin stretches, soft folds and gentle curves that you want to hold in your hands, to memorize.

“Turn your head more?” you ask, and she does, her hair falling just so, the strands catching the light like liquid gold.

The next shot is a closer one, the camera resting on the curve of her waist, the delicate line of her ribs, the way the light dances across the freckles on her shoulder. The smoke from her cigarette twirls in the air, swirling with the softness of the moment, making everything feel dreamlike, as if the world around you has paused, holding its breath.

You focus on the details now. The way the ash of the cigarette trembles at the tip, ready to fall. The curve of her lips, barely upturned in a smile. The way she shifts slightly, a subtle movement that makes her seem so alive, so human.

Each shot, each click of the shutter, feels like you’re preserving a memory. Not just her body, but the essence of her—raw, unapologetic, and yet so effortlessly tender in this space between you.

You take a step back, looking at her through the lens one final time, capturing the image in your mind even before the photograph is developed.

Melissa Ann Catarina Schemmenti is art in its truest form.

Flawed. Naked. Unafraid.

You sigh quietly, gazing at the picture. “Holy shit. Babe, you are so beautiful.”

Melissa barely has time to react before you’re tugging her forward, your hands warm and insistent against her. She lets herself be pulled, the cigarette slipping from her fingers into an ashtray, forgotten in the wake of your touch.

“Where should we go?” you prompted, voice filled with something light, something playful. Your arms wrap around her, your body pressed close, and she can’t help but let out a small, breathy laugh.

She wants to say nowhere. She wants to say right here, because there is something about the way you hold her, the way you look at her, that makes the world outside feel so unimportant. But then she sees the way your eyes shine with anticipation, with the thrill of movement, of escape, and she sighs, knowing there’s no saying no to you.

“The market,” the Sicilian murmurs, lips brushing against your temple. “Or the beach. Anywhere you want, amore.”

“Anywhere?” you press your nose against hers.

“Mmm. Anywhere, beautiful.”

Now, the world rushes past in a blur of golden light and warm air.

Melissa grips the handlebars of the Vespa, the engine humming beneath her, the cobblestone streets of Italy rolling out ahead in uneven, beautiful chaos. The buildings blur into flashes of terracotta and pale blue, laundry swaying from the balconies above as if waving them along. The scent of espresso and fresh bread lingers in the environment, mixing with the salt of the sea that isn’t far now.

And then there’s you with your arms wrapped tight around her waist, your body pressed against her back. She can feel the way you laugh against her, the sound vibrating through her ribs like music. Your chin rests on her shoulder, and she catches glimpses of your smile in her peripheral vision, wide and unrestrained, the kind that makes her chest ache in the best way.

She lets one hand briefly slip from the handlebar to rest atop yours, squeezing gently, grounding herself in the warmth of your touch.

The wind catches your hair, and you let out a delighted gasp, gripping her tighter.

“Faster, Mel!” you call out over the roar of the engine, full of reckless joy.

Melissa just chuckles, shaking her head but giving in anyway, twisting the throttle, making the Vespa leap forward.

The world blurs faster now, the streets giving way to open roads, the city melting into the promise of the sea.

The Vespa slows to a stop near a sun-drenched piazza, where the sound of distant waves mingles with the lively hum of conversation. The redheaded woman kills the engine, her hands steady on the handlebars for a moment before she feels you slip off the back. Your warmth leaves her, but then your fingers find hers, lacing together effortlessly as you tug her along, feet light against the cobblestone.

Hand in hand, you wander through the square, past market stalls brimming with ripe peaches and sun-warmed tomatoes, past old men playing cards beneath striped umbrellas. The day is golden, spilling over rooftops and onto your skin, and your girlfriend feels it seeping into her bones, softening something deep inside her.

Then it happens.

A small, wobbly child, no older than two, stumbles toward you with an excited squeal, hands outstretched as if drawn to you by some unseen force. The mother. Young, exhausted, but smiling—hurries after, but you’ve already crouched down, hands on your knees, meeting the baby’s wide-eyed delight with your own.

“Hey, little one,” you coo, your fingers reaching out as the child clumsily grasps at them. “You are a curious one, aren’t ya?”

Melissa simply watches from afar, her heart slowing, thickening.

You let the baby grip your fingers, guiding her in a tiny, unsteady spin, both of you giggling when she nearly topples. The mother laughs, thanking you, but you’re too caught up in the moment, wiggling your nose at the child, sticking out your tongue, making the little girl burst into bright, bubbling laughter.

She swallows hard.

It’s not just that you’re good with kids. It’s not just that you’re patient, playful, effortlessly gentle.

It’s the way you look at the child. Like she’s something precious, something to be cherished. Like you don’t see a burden but a gift.

The Schemmenti woman exhales slowly, her grip tightening on the strap of her bag.

She thinks about things she rarely lets herself think about.

She thinks about how, for most of her life, she never let herself want this. Not really. Not after Joe, not after everything. She had buried that part of herself deep, convinced that she wasn’t meant for it. That no one would ever look at her and see a future like that.

But now.

She looks at you, the way your eyes crinkle at the corners, the way you let the baby grasp at your fingers like she’s the most important thing in the world.

She pictures you with a child. Not just any child. Hers.

Yours.

A life that looks nothing like the past. A love that builds instead of breaks.

Melissa’s throat tightens, her chest aching in a way she can’t quite name.

The baby squeals again before her mother scoops her up, offering you a grateful smile before disappearing into the crowd. You stand, brushing off your knees, turning back to your girlfriend with a grin.

“She was so cute, huh?” you say, nudging her playfully.

The older woman doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, she lifts a hand to your face, brushing her knuckles against your cheek with a tenderness that catches even her off guard.

You blink up at her, surprised, but you don’t pull away. Her other hand finds your waist, fingers pressing lightly into your skin, grounding herself.

“Yeah, she was.”

Melissa keeps her hand on your waist, her gaze fixed on you, but her mind drifts to places it’s rarely allowed to go. The laughter of the baby lingers in her ears, soft but echoing, a melody that pulls her deeper into the daydream.

She imagines you and her, walking down a sunlit street with a stroller between you, a small, content child nestled inside. She pictures you laughing at something silly the child does, your eyes bright, filled with that same warmth she feels now. Your hand would be on the stroller’s handle, your other hand likely brushing through the child’s messy hair as you coo softly to them.

In this scenario, it’s natural. It doesn’t feel like a dream, but a truth that’s just waiting to happen. It’s easy, effortless, like the two of you were always meant to find your way here. The baby would be yours, and the love between the three of you would fill every room in every house, every corner, every dark moment.

But then, she shifts her thought just a bit further, and she can see it clearer. Pearl.

She imagines Pearl, the woman who raised her, holding the baby in her arms, sitting in her faded armchair with the child nestled against her chest. The child, still in that phase of babbling, would look up at the eldest with wide, curious eyes, calling out the one word that would wrap everything up in a bow:

“Nonna.”

Nonna.

The word echoes in Melissa’s chest. She feels it like a weight, like a treasure. The softness in Pearl’s eyes, the way she would grin, utterly taken with the baby. She could see her rocking slowly, humming a lullaby under her breath—one that she had hummed for Melissa herself as a child. She can almost hear it, the words slipping softly into the air, woven with love and the kind of tenderness only a grandmother can give.

She sees the retired housekeeper smiling down at the baby, smoothing a hand over their little head, murmuring about how precious they are, how lucky they are to have found a family like this. A family that’s been broken, rebuilt, and now—finally—complete.

And in this daydream, you girlfriend imagines herself standing beside Pearl, holding your hand, watching the two of them together. There’s a sense of peace she’s never allowed herself to believe in. For so long, Melissa had told herself that this kind of happiness wasn’t meant for her. But now, with you, with the possibility of this, she can see it clearly.

The way Pearl would look at her, too, proud, content, seeing her with a child in her arms. The child of the woman she raised and knowing that this is what she always dreamed for her.

Family.

The green eyed woman blinks, the quiet swell of emotion taking her by surprise. She tightens her grip on your waist, and you glance up at her, noticing the distant look in her eyes.

“Hey,” you say softly, your voice cutting through the fog of her thoughts. “What’s on your mind?”

She meets your gaze, her heart beating a little faster, her chest tight with something both scary and wonderful. She doesn’t say anything at first, letting the warmth between the two of you hang in the air.

And then, she just smiles, a little uncertain, but completely there.

“I’m just… thinking about the future.”

The words feel strange, like she’s letting go of something heavy, but the weight of it doesn’t feel so bad anymore.

Your fingers tighten around hers, and for the first time, she lets herself imagine it—really imagine it. A future with you. A future where Pearl gets to have a grandchild.

The daydream doesn’t end when Melissa blinks back to reality. It lingers, weaving itself into her soul, refusing to let go.

She imagines nighttime.

She pictures your bedroom, the lamplight casting shadows against the walls, the gentle hum of the city outside barely audible over the quiet giggles coming from the gigantic bed.

Your bed.

Her wife is there. Her wife. The words settle into her chest like something sacred, something she never thought she’d deserve. You’re propped up against the pillows, your hair a little messy, your expression sleepy but content. And in your arms, cradled against your chest, is your baby.

Your tiny Schemmenti.

Melissa sees herself in the vision, slipping into bed after changing into one of her old, soft t-shirts, her red hair slightly damp from the shower. She watches as she reaches for the baby, gently, carefully, her large hands engulfing the tiny, warm body. The baby, so chubby, so soft, with round cheeks and heavy little limbs immediately clings to her, their small fingers grasping at the fabric of her shirt, nuzzling into her.

The redheaded woman can feel the weight of them in her arms, the warmth of their skin against hers, and the way they squirm just enough to get comfortable before settling. She pictures herself making a silly face, puffing out her cheeks, crossing her eyes just to see the way the baby bursts into laughter, all gummy and bright.

You’re laughing too, eyes filled with nothing but love as you watch her. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, but you’re smiling, tilting your head as Melissa wiggles her nose against the baby’s cheek, making them giggle even more.

Then, there’s another presence—a warmth that makes the entire scene feel even fuller.

Pearl. Again.

She’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, watching with that deep, knowing smile of hers. She’s older now, but her eyes hold the same pride, the same unwavering love that she’s had for Melissa since the beginning.

She sees her shake her head, letting out a soft chuckle. “Never thought I’d see the day,” Pearl sobs with emotion.

Melissa looks up from where she’s pressing soft kisses against the baby’s plump cheeks, her lips still curved in a gentle smile. “Yeah?” she says, her voice teasing, but there’s something vulnerable beneath it.

The woman who raised her steps forward, reaching out to brush her fingers through her auburn hair in that same way she did when your wife was just a little girl. “You deserve this, honey,” she says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

And suddenly, Melissa Schemmenti feels it.

All of it.

The weight of love—real love—settling deep into her bones, filling all the spaces she once thought were empty forever. The love from you, from the baby in her arms, from Pearl. It’s a kind of love that she never thought she was worthy of, not after everything, not after Joe, not after years of believing she was too damaged, too broken.

She blinks rapidly, but it’s no use. The tears come anyway, slipping down her freckled cheeks, catching in the corners of her mouth. She lets out a shaky breath, tightening her hold on the baby, pressing them closer, like if she holds them tight enough, she can keep this moment forever.

You shift beside her, brushing her hair back, thumb swiping gently at her tears. “Oh, baby,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re gonna make me cry too.”

Melissa lets out a watery laugh, sniffling as the baby shifts in her arms, looking up at her with wide, curious eyes. Their tiny fingers reach for her face, patting at her cheek, and she catches their hand, pressing a soft kiss to their palm.

Pearl is still there, watching, her eyes glistening. “Told you,” she says again, shaking her head with a smile.

Your wife lets out another breath, her heart so full that it almost hurts.

For the first time in her life, she believes it.

She deserves this.

She deserves love.

Her chest tightens as the warmth of the vision lingers, the imagined weight of the baby still present in her arms, but then like a candle flickering in the wind, her mind drifts elsewhere.

To her.

Teresa Schemmenti.

Her mother. The woman who gave birth to her.

Melissa gasps, suddenly feeling the weight of something else pressing against her ribs.

She doesn’t think of her often. Not really. At least, she tries not to.

But here, in Italy, with the scent of home in the air, with the sun warming her skin and the echoes of children’s laughter in the distance. She justs can’t help it.

The older woman thinks about the last time she saw her mother, the way the woman sat in that room, her eyes distant, unfocused. A ghost of who she once was.

The dementia had taken so much.

It had taken the sharp-witted, steel-spined woman who once ruled the Schemmenti household with a glare alone. It had taken the mother who, despite her flaws, had always been there. Present, even in silence.

And now? Now, there were moments where Teresa didn’t even recognize her own daughter.

Melissa closes her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply.

She remembers the first time it happened. walking into the care facility when John Antony called her earlier, greeting Teresa with her usual smirk, only to be met with a confused stare.

“Who the hell are you?! Where are my kids? Can you please help me?”

The words had knocked the breath out of her.

She had frozen, standing there like a goddamn statue, waiting—hoping— that maybe her mother’s eyes would clear, that recognition would bloom across her face.

It never did.

She had nodded, muttered something about checking in, and left before the lump in her throat could choke her.

And now, sitting here in the piazza, hand in yours, she wonders..will her mother ever know?

Will she ever know about you? About the life Melissa is building? About the woman she loves, the future she wants?

Will she ever know that Melissa is happy, that she made it, despite everything?

Or will she simply fade further and further away, lost to the disease, to time, until nothing remains but a name on a plaque and a past no one remembers?

Your girlfriend swallows hard, staring down at her free hand. She flexes her fingers, studies the lines in her palm.

Then, suddenly, your fingers are there. Warm, gentle, sliding between hers, grounding her back to the present.

Melissa blinks, looking up at you. Your brows are furrowed, concern evident in your eyes.

“Sweet girl?” your tone is soft. “You okay?”

You feel a squeeze in your hand.

The redheaded woman doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she just looks at you, really looks at you. At the way the sun catches in your hair. At the kindness in your eyes. At the love, the certainty that sits so easily in your expression, like you never once doubted your place at her side.

And just like that, the heaviness eases.

Not completely.

But enough.

She squeezes your hand again, and this time, she manages a small smile.

“Yeah,” Melissa reassured you. “I’m okay.”

After some minutes, your girlfriend swallows the lump in her throat, her grip on your hand tightening. The weight of her thoughts lingers, pressing down on her chest like a stone she can’t shake off. She looks at you again, at the way your fingers rest so easily in hers, at the warmth of your presence beside her. She blinks slowly, the decision settling in her bones before she even finds the words.

“I wanna see her.”

You frown, tilting your head slightly. “Who?”

“My mom.”

“Oh.”

Melissa nods, her jaw clenching for a second before she forces herself to relax. “Yeah.” She looks down at your joined hands, tracing circles over your knuckles absentmindedly. “It’s been… a while. I don’t even know if she’d remember me.” Her voice drops slightly, something fragile threading through it. “But I think I need to try.”

You don’t speak right away, and for a moment, she worries—worries that you’ll tell her it’s too late, that Teresa Schemmenti is too far gone, that she’s only setting herself up for disappointment.

But then you squeeze her hand, your thumb brushing over her skin in that way that always calms her.

“I think that’s a good idea, Mel.” Your voice is gentle, sure. “I think she’d be happy to see you.”

Melissa huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know about happy. She was never too fond of me. Just of my siblings.”

“She’s your mother,” you remind her softly. “And you’re her daughter. Even if she doesn’t remember everything, maybe some part of her still knows.”

The green eyed woman swallows again, looking away for a second. “I just…” she sighed, rubbing at her temple. “I spent so long feeling like I wasn’t enough for her. Like I wasn’t what she wanted. And now, she might not even know me. Feels like a cruel joke.”

You shift closer, your free hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Maybe it’s not about what she remembers,” you say softly. “Maybe it’s about what you need. If you want to see her, if you want to talk to her, then that’s enough of a reason to go.”

Melissa studies you, her chest tightening for an entirely different reason now.

You make it sound so simple.

And maybe, in a way, it is.

She sighs again, nodding slowly. “Yeah.” She glances toward the horizon, where the sun is starting to dip, casting everything in a golden hue. “I think I need to do this.”

You smile. “Then we’ll go.”

Melissa looks back at you.

“We?” she echoes, arching an eyebrow.

You nudge her playfully. “Of course we. You think I’m letting you do this alone?”

Melissa chuckles. “Didn’t think you’d wanna waste your time in some nursing home or a boring mansion, babe.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile doesn’t fade. “Your time isn’t a waste to me.”

She gulps, looking at you for a long moment before she exhales again, softer this time.

“Guess we got a trip back to Philly to make then,”she brings your hand to her lips, pressing a kiss against your knuckles.

And for the first time in a long while, the thought of seeing her mother doesn’t feel as terrifying.

Next chapter.

[saikira999]

~ Headcanons for twst characters playing Minecraft.

Another parts about:

Idia and Malleus!

Riddle and Leona!

Jade and Floyd!

[Azul]

Headcanon, what if Idia and Yuu somehow convinced Him to play minecraft, Azul...:

1) "Why are there cubes everywhere??? I don’t understand anything...."

2) When he learns that monsters are appearing in the dark, he places two stacks of torches around himself in horror.

3) Crying from the physics of trees.

4) Will try to make a copy of Mostro in Minecraft.

5) He does not like to dig in mines and fight, but prefers to engage in agriculture, construction and trade.

6) He built his own village, with a complex hierarchy, its own economy and an underground mafia, where he keeps all the villagers under iron grip.

7) Every five minutes:

<Octo_businessman> fell from a high place.

<Octo_businessman> tried to swim in lava.

<Octo_businessman> was blown up by creeper.

<Octo_businessman> was drowned.

<Octo_businessman> starved to dead.

8) If one of the players hits or kills an squid in front of Him, He will take it as a personal insult.

9) The only one on the server who goes to bed on time and swears at everyone in the chat, because he cannot miss the night while others are awake.

10) Chief of food, armor and potions (Not for free, of course)...

11) Tries to negotiate with the pillagers.

12) Most likely, his house is either a clumsy box decorated with vines and blue flowers, or a huge penthouse with twenty rooms. There is no middle ground. Also, it seems to me that his house would be somewhere on the beach, or in the middle of the lake.

13) Drowned people are his worst enemies.

14) Makes secret chests with all sorts of treasures that he clearly does not intend to share.

15) Already dug up all the gold and ransacked all the treasuries, while the others fought with the ghasts and withers.

16) He comes into the game the least often, because “I actually have my fill of things to do.”

17) He is afraid of dolphins, because he personally knew real ones and knows that they are not the friendliest guys (No, seriously. Dolphins are assholes. Just Google it).

18) Terrible in PVP and always dies first.

19) He says that He doesn’t care about griefers and considers their tricks to be child’s play, but in reality, he is very offended and complains to Yuu in PM on discord.

20) Likes to play in small groups of 2-3 people and does not like to play alone or with too many players.

(A SMALL UPDATE! Previously, this post was dedicated only to Azul, but I decided to make two characters for each post, for beauty, so I'll add another Lilia from the request here.)

[Lilia]

Lilia has been familiar with Minecraft since the game's inception:

1) "Ha-ha, I love adventures!"

2) Competes with Idia, who spends more time in the game and brazenly takes advantage of the fact that fairies do not need sleep as much as people (even the cursed).

3) Daddy's house is either a cave full of vegetation and bats, or there is none at all, since Lilia prefers to roam the entire server. Usually wanders the world on a fast black horse in leather armor painted green, but often runs on His own two feet.

4) He named His horse Samson.

5) He is constantly accompanied by bats.

6) During His adventures, Lily has found many interesting resources and items, and in order not to carry everything with Him, He makes ingenious warehouses with traps, which the entire server covets.

7) Sometimes takes other players on His campaigns. For example, Malleus, Sebek, Silver, Idia and Yuu.

8) Thunderstorm of PVP. Want to fight Him? Good luck.

9) Seriously... You will need luck VERY much.

10) His favorite biomes are forest ones. He hangs out especially often in Taiga and Tundra.

11) The second admin and dad of the server, who suggested Idia the idea of ​​creating a world for the rest of the Twst guys.

12) The most secretive player on the server after Idia. In most cases, He disappears somewhere far, far away, but occasionally, He can be found bargaining with other players, sitting in a tree, or on a campaign. He also likes to play pranks and make fun of other players.

13) For some reason, all the monsters in the area ignore Him, or quickly run away.

14) Collects records (He especially likes "Ward" and "Pigstep").

15) His favorite soundtracks from the game are "One More Day" and "Firebugs".

16) Lilia has already cleared out all the treasures, sunken ships and pyramids, and in order to further annoy other players, He usually leaves signs next to the empty chests saying “Lilia Vanrouge was here :3”

17) Didn’t go to the End because caught flashbacks because of the dragon.

18) Was the one who informed Malleus that a dragon egg cannot be hatched and raise a baby dragon, and without knowing it, he regrets it.

19) Helped Idia find suitable mods for hatching and taming the dragon :D

20) "Silver, bring Your old man a glass bottle of water..."

...And then He goes off to brew an invisibility potion so he can shoo away and banter other players around with an evil giggle.

If you like My post, please reblog Me! :3

Also, if You want a doodle and headcannons for some other twst character, I will be happy to answer Your requests. They are open :D

[juniper-sunny]

The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 11

For your first date, Silco has a lot in store for you: a harrowing tale from his past, along with the oddest of surprises...

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Eventual Smut | Fluff | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Fix-It || SFW | WC: 4.6k

beta reader: @silcoitus <33

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8  |Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

Life in the Undercity is short, so courtship rituals are fast and intense, especially for the youth. Maturing quickly is a matter of survival in Zaun, and romance is no exception.

 You have a decent amount of experience yourself, maybe a little less than average. But it wasn’t something you ever discussed with Silco. As curious as you were about that aspect of his life, you didn’t know how to bring it up casually, especially without drawing attention to yourself. Once, Vander had asked Silco how long it had been since his last visit to Babette’s. Your friend had rolled his eyes and retorted coolly, but had still flushed a deep red to the tips of his ears.

 Needless to say, you hadn’t pressed him to answer the question directly.

Sometimes, your shifts at the Embrace involve supervising children. You’ve lost count of how many times kids and teenagers have confided in you about their own relationship woes. Of course, you always listened sympathetically, offering comfort, advice, hugs, snacks, or a shoulder to cry on depending on the situation. But you can’t help but feel an amused awe when a girl around Vi’s age vents to you about a love triangle she’s involved in. 

Now, on the night of your first date with Silco, you curse yourself for not paying closer attention, wracking your brain for any helpful suggestions you could follow tonight. According to one teenage girl you overheard, you shouldn’t kiss until the third date. 

So much for that advice. 

At the time, Silco had seemed enthusiastic when he kissed you back. But you had days to exhaustively replay that moment over and over again in your head. 

Did he really want you? Or was he just caught up in the moment? Had he pulled away too soon? Was he smiling or grimacing?

 You tried to tell yourself that everything was fine. He hadn’t canceled the date, after all.

 But your worries still gnawed on you, late at night when the giddiness and anticipation turned to anxiety. It led to a lot of sleepless nights that worsened the dark shadows under your eyes.

 Then there was the matter of what you’re going to wear. Silco had said he wanted to bring you somewhere “special”, and he was fairly confident that you hadn’t been there already. He refused to give you any more hints, saying that he wanted to surprise you. Was this place in Zaun or Piltover? You’d have to take the answer into consideration when planning your outfit. Undercity garb would be too scrappy for the upper city, but Topside couture would be too fancy for the underground.

 For now, with less than an hour left before Silco is due to pick you up, you put on your nicest dress from the Undercity. It’s sleeveless and clean, light gray with plenty of decorative dark straps and brightly polished brass trappings. A wide, leather wrap pulled tight around your waist helps emphasize your curves like a corset. The dress ends just above the ground, long but still loose enough to be breezy; you can’t help but admire how it twirls flirtatiously when you spin. Your black ankle boots have a low heel, scrubbed clean of all grime from the Undercity.  

To add a romantic flair to your look, you style your hair elegantly and pick out a corsage of nightbloom flowers. The petals are long, silky, and pointed, the outer layer a seven-pointed star of purple and the inner star of red. The green and white stamens complement the pale pitcher plant next to it, its red veins matching the crimson ribbon tied in a bow around your wrist. Zaunite flora might not be able to match the beauty of their Piltover counterparts, but you know that Silco will appreciate you wearing your Undercity pride on your arm.

Just as you throw on a vest jacket, someone knocks at the door. 

Nervous, you force yourself to take some deep, steadying breaths. You still can’t help but run to the door and almost trip over yourself before you open it.

Silco stands there, tall and straight, his handsomely carved profile illuminated by the low sun. He has most of his hair neatly pulled back in a bun, except for his bangs hanging rakishly over his left eye. With his hair out of his face, he looks so dashing that you almost miss the pale gold tie knotted at his throat, tucked snugly under the collar of a blood-red shirt. The tie slips under a dark vest with brass clasps and studs, clinging close to his lean waist. He has his jacket sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his wiry forearms. A picnic basket hangs in the crook of his arm. 

“Good evening,” he says casually, taking a step closer to you. The movement of his lips brings back the irrepressible memory of the kiss, and you blush deeply.

 Even with your eyes turned downwards at his polished, steel-toed boots, you struggle with the impulse to close the distance between you and kiss him. Your shyness wins out and you force yourself to stay put on your threshold, dragging your gaze up his cheekbones before meeting his brilliant eyes. “Hi.” 

He looks at you gently, the softest you’ve ever seen, a light and warm smile playing around his mouth. It spreads into a toothy grin of appreciation when he says, “You’re beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you stammer out, blushing even deeper. Your face is hot as you turn away from him to pull your front door closed behind you, your hands fumbling with your keys as you lock it. “I like your new hairdo.” 

“Is my hairstyle the only facet of my appearance that appeals to you?” he asks teasingly. 

“No! You look great tonight—I mean, you always look great—but tonight you look—extra great—red is an amazing color on you—” you babble, inwardly cringing at your inability to shut up. “You look good in everything—Topside formalwear is overrated, you know? It’s so expensive for no good reason—” 

He chuckles, extending a hand out to you. You clamp your mouth shut as you take it, savoring the feel of his rough calluses sliding against your palm. He squeezes your hand reassuringly as your fingers intertwine. 

“Thank you,” he says, still amused. He starts walking leisurely, thoughtful and considerate of your slower pace. “Perhaps we’ll have the opportunity to don formalwear on another date. We can show Topside how we wear it better than they could ever dream of.” 

“You’re already thinking that far ahead?” you ask, glad to tease him back. 

“Of course,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’d be a fool to ever let you go.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you say happily. “Maybe we can go suit shopping someday; you’ll need a bunch when you’re sitting at that fancy Councilor’s table.”

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah; Janna forbid you wear the same suit two days in a row. Then they’ll never listen to anything you have to say,” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. 

“I’ll be sure to budget for a new wardrobe when the time comes,” he laughs. 

The stroll through Lower Piltover is relaxed, but somehow so exhilarating. Your enjoyment of Silco’s company is enhanced now that you don’t need to hold back your affection for him. You take every chance you can to touch and compliment him, staying close to his side even when moving around other pedestrians on the street. 

Maybe you’re too hopeful, but he seems to match your energy. His smile never leaves his normally stoic face, his eyes twinkling at you even as the sky dims with the setting sun.

Silco leads you through the cobblestone streets, which gradually empty out as people head home for the night. He approaches a long, yellow-and-black-striped barricade at the end of the avenue. Attached to the barricade is a sign with the words “NO ENTRY – CLOSED FOR REPAIRS” painted in bold letters.

Your date glances around surreptitiously, making sure that no one is watching from the nearby buildings or the sidewalk. 

Then he swiftly ducks under the barrier, pulling you along with him.

You laugh at the thrill of rule-breaking. Silco’s pace quickens into a jog. He looks back at you over his shoulder as you stride to match his pace. His steel-sharp, mischievous grin has your heart pounding harder than the running.

Just as the stone under your boots gives away to wooden planks, Silco skids to a halt. He spins and catches you in his arms as you collide with his chest. His hands are warm on your elbows as he holds you, patiently waiting for you to catch your breath.

“Could you wait here a moment?” he asks. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

You nod, still panting too hard to speak. He turns and strides off purposefully, leaving you to hunch over with your hands on your knees, wheezing with your whole chest. You try to pull yourself together, not wanting to look undignified in front of Silco. But your lungs still burn, scraping against your ribs. You can barely hear the faraway scraping of wood on wood over your own huffing and puffing. A metallic click rings through the air, followed by Silco’s careful footsteps heading your way.

Just as he rounds the corner, you straighten up, retying the corsage around your wrist. You busy yourself with readjusting it, trying to look nonchalant even though your heartbeat hasn’t slowed down yet from the exertion.

“Thank you for waiting,” he says as he comes to a stop in front of you. This time, he offers you the crook of his elbow. You hook your hand around it, glad to be touching him again.

“Is this safe?” you ask, thinking back on the barricade.

“I placed the barrier there myself,” Silco says with a smirk. “Just to ensure that we wouldn’t be disturbed.”

He leads you carefully onto the wooden pier, steering you around large barrels and missing planks where a careless step could have your foot plunging into water. You both walk out onto the end of a dock where three wooden crates have been assembled into a makeshift dining arrangement. The crate in the middle is covered with a picnic blanket. A cheerfully burning candle and two carry-out boxes that you recognize from Jericho’s sit on top of the improvised table. Silco’s basket is tucked next to the boxes, its lid now open to the evening air.

Framed against a deep blue sky tinged with orange and streaked with indigo clouds, the scene is very charming and cozy, a hidden oasis in the Undercity that you’re encountering for the very first time. 

“Welcome! To Zaun’s finest seaside dining establishment: the East Shore Diner,” he proclaims with a grand sweep of his free arm. He speaks with all the gravitas of a circus showman, but he swallows subtly. His glance at you is nervous, turquoise eyes darting between each of yours as if hoping to find your approval there. 

You wonder if Silco has been as anxious as you for this date. A genuine grin spreads unbidden across your face as you squeeze his arm encouragingly. “I can’t believe you were able to get a reservation for tonight! I’ve been on the waitlist for ages.” 

“I may have threatened the owner to ensure a table would be made available for us,” he chuckles. “They’ve saved the freshest catch of the day for our dinner.” He steps ahead of you to pull one of the crates out for you to sit on, as if it were a chair at a more formal restaurant. 

“Silco… thank you,” you say softly as you take a seat on the box. “This is so nice.” 

He smiles at you while he picks up the carry-out boxes, opening the one in front of you first. The delicious smell of sharp spices wafts out of the box, and you look inside to see kebabs of juicy, fatty dark meats from Jericho’s, still warm and steaming. 

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a chef,” he admits. “I’m incapable of making anything on par with your cooking—” 

“You remembered my favorite!” you beam at him. 

He grabs two glass cups from his basket and places them on the table. You recognize them as his favorites from The Last Drop, as thick as crystal and embellished with elegant gold trim at the rim and bottom. After grabbing a flask from his basket, he pours into both glasses with a flourish, the orange drink sparkling in the candlelight. 

“If you’d like some alcohol, perhaps we could stop by The Last Drop later tonight,” he says, finally taking a seat opposite you. “But I know you have a shift tomorrow at the Embrace—” 

“Silco… this is perfect,” you say warmly. “I wouldn’t ask for anything different.” 

Your date is a wonderful companion and friend, polite and charming as always, if a little more flirtatious than usual. When you ask if he brought napkins, he reaches across the table to touch the corner of your mouth with his thumb, wiping a drop of sauce off your face. He holds your gaze as he licks his finger clean, the candlelight dancing in his eyes. It’s only when you blush and look away that he finally reaches into the basket to grab a napkin for you. 

But his eyes flicker to the water whenever he thinks you’re not looking at him. You ask him a question while he’s still chewing, and he turns to gaze at the river, a faraway look in his eyes. It’s the same look he gets while he’s thinking hard about something—something visible only in his imagination, but intangible to everyone else. Even after he swallows and sips his drink, he continues staring out at the horizon. You have to repeat your question a few times before he turns to you with a snap, startled as if he forgot about you. 

“Do you have a date with an aquarian Vastayan later or something?” you tease him. 

“My apologies,” he says, wincing with embarrassment. He focuses all his attention on you now, his gaze intensifying as he reaches across the table to take your hand. You let him, entwining your fingers through his.  

A muscle in his jaw twitches as he scoots forward, leaning towards you. 

“I almost drowned in these waters,” he says quietly. 

Your eyes widen in shock, and you can’t help but gasp. Even though he’s sitting here in front of you, alive and well, your heart lurches in terror at the thought of his near-death. 

“Ever wonder what it’s like to drown?” he asks. “Story of opposites… 

“There’s peace, in water,” he says slowly. “Like it’s holding you, whispering in low tones to let it in… and every problem in the world will fade away.”

You squeeze Silco’s hand tighter, determined not to let him fade away. Hoping to convey how much you care about him, that he can rely on you to pull him out of the depths whenever he needs rescuing. 

As you ponder his statement, you purse your lips. You’ve never experienced a sensation like that before: to be held in the embrace of the elements, an all-encompassing comfort surrounding your whole body, even as they drag you closer to oblivion. It’s too frightening to think of for long. 

You keep your gaze fixed on Silco, patiently waiting for him to continue.  

“But then there’s this—thing—in your head, and it’s raging,” he says with bared teeth at the last word. He continues staring in your direction, but now through you, into the middle distance of some unseen horizon. 

His free hand drifts to hover over the candle. He brings his palm close to the tip of the flame, letting it graze his skin. The blinding flare and Silco’s smooth, deliberate turning of his hand hypnotize you, as if the flame were a puppet he was controlling expertly. 

He clenches his fist forcefully, the flame flickering in the sudden burst of wind.  “Lighting every nerve with madness—to fight… to survive.

“And all the while this question lingers before you… ‘have you had enough?’”

His gaze turns back to the river again. You fight the urge to cup his face in your hands, not wanting to interrupt him. 

“It’s funny,” he continues. “You could pass a lifetime without ever facing a choice like that… but it changes you forever.” 

You bite your lip. It’s hard to fight back the instinct to get up and hug him, to hold him tight and never let him go. But you know he would feel smothered by your concern.  

“You said… this place was ‘special’ to you,” you say carefully. “Is it okay if I ask what happened?” 

“A platoon of Enforcers pursued me here. I had no choice but to take shelter in these waters,” he says simply. 

“That was brave of you,” you say in awe. Everyone from your side of the bridge knows that the Piltover River is engorged with pollutants from Topside’s industrial operations. The water is slick to the touch, swirling with colorful oils. It’s unsafe to drink, much less submerge oneself wholly in. 

“It was here that I learned, I had to take control of my life,” he says grimly. “To become what they cannot kill. 

“To be shown your own weakness is a gift… one that I would like to share with you.”

“Are you telling me that I’m weak?” you ask jokingly in an effort to lighten the mood. You bite your tongue, cursing yourself for your poor timing.  

He stands abruptly. You raise an eyebrow at him when he takes off his jacket. His vest is next, and he folds his clothes neatly before placing them on his chair.

 Just as you begin savoring the sight of him in his tight red shirt, he whips off his tie and begins unbuttoning his top.

“What are you doing??” you ask in alarm. As reluctant as you are to look away from Silco undressing, it still feels wrong to ogle. You clap your hands over your eyes when he untucks his shirt. When you catch a glimpse of his lean, pale torso between the gaps in your fingers, you clamp your eyes shut.

 The rustling sounds of his undressing continues, now joined by the clinking of his belt buckle. Followed by the snap of metal clasps on his boots being loosened, then the quiet creaking of wood as Silco walks lightly towards you. 

“Let me show you,” he says earnestly. 

“Show me what?” you blurt out. You don’t have to look at him to know that he’s extending a hand out to you. 

“Do you know how to swim?” 

“Maybe,” you squeak out, too agitated to give him a straight answer. “You want to go in the water, right? Go ahead—I’ll watch our stuff.” 

Silco’s breath on your forehead startles you; you hadn’t sensed him leaning in so close. He presses his lips to your cheek, soft and lingering, whispering your name imploringly. 

You crack open your eyes and peek at him. Even though you can only see a sliver of his face, his gaze is intense and adoring, too earnest to refuse. 

“Fine,” you sigh in defeat. “Do I have to take my clothes off too?” 

“It’s better to be unencumbered by them,” he says with a delighted grin. 

“If you wanted me to take off my clothes, you could’ve just asked—” you grumble under your breath. 

“Pardon?” 

“Nothing!” you exclaim too loudly. “Just—just get in the water already, Silco. I’ll be there soon.” 

He waits for you to lower your hands before he plants another excited kiss on your temple. In his haste, he clumsily bumps against your forehead, jostling you in your seat. 

Just as quickly, he runs gracefully towards the end of the pier, his long limbs streamlined as he raises his arms and brings them together above his head, fingers forming a sharp point to pierce the river. The splash is quiet, reminiscent of a paintbrush dipping into water. 

You get to your feet slowly, stretching to get some blood flowing after sitting for so long. The night is cool, and you rub your arms for warmth. But a quick, surreptitious peek at Silco’s neatly stacked clothes confirms that he stripped down to his underwear. For the sake of fairness, you do the same, stacking your clothes next to his. You carefully untie your corsage and lay it on the table. As a precaution, you blow out the candle. 

When you stand on tiptoe to scan the water, Silco is nowhere to be seen. You walk carefully to the end of the pier, one small step at a time, conscientious of splinters stabbing your bare feet.

“Silco?” you call out when you reach the edge. 

A breeze gusts past as if in response. You shiver as the chilled wind brushes against you, goosebumps sprinkling across your skin.

You kneel down cautiously, then take a seat. When you dip a toe into the river, you flinch at the cold. Ripples unfurl and spread across the surface as you slowly, slowly, lower your foot into the water, adjusting to the temperature. 

Eventually, the water’s chilly void becomes a tolerable caress. You kick your feet in boredom, watching the reflections of the moon and stars distort on the river’s surface.

A strong grip closes around your right ankle.

You’re yanked off the pier. 

Your heart leaps into your throat. Wind rushes past you. 

You crash into the water with a shriek.

Dark oblivion surrounds you completely, bubbles dancing all around you as you scream. A muffled sound comes out of your mouth only to be smothered when the river floods it. You gag and try to cough out the greasy, bitter liquid, flailing every which way to right yourself. The water already coalescing into a film against your rapidly blinking eyes.

Disoriented, you spin around, unsure of which way is up. Panicking at the thought of your corpse sinking into the depths, Silco and your friends never learning of your demise—

Something takes hold of your sides. You instinctively kick out, your foot colliding painfully with something long and thin.

Before you can kick it again, the thing’s grip on you tightens, solidifying its hold on your waist. 

You’re propelled to the surface, limbs dangling uselessly as you resign yourself to your fate.

But your head crashes through the surface. You spit and sputter out mouthfuls of water, taking in heaving breaths of rejuvenating air. Your arms thrash wildly as you struggle to stay afloat.

In between the dripping locks of hair plastered against your eyes, you see Silco. His mouth is open in laughter as he swims towards you.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he chuckles.

You cough, hard and hacking, throat scraped dry despite all the water you almost swallowed. “Help!!”

“Pedal your legs,” he instructs calmly, still smiling. “Spread your arms out and push downwards. The water is your cushion, not your enemy.”

You shake your head furiously, water drops whipping off your head. “Bastard—!”

“You can do it,” he says encouragingly. 

You panic as your chin dips underwater. Out of desperation, you follow his advice.

Instead of flailing your legs, you pedal. The water doesn’t resist, and your legs glide through the river easily. Your splashing becomes less frantic as you find a rhythm to push against the surface, more efficiently keeping you afloat.

All the while, Silco watches you patiently. You cough one final time as you find your footing, so to speak. Treading water adequately, if not gracefully.

Finally, he swims to you, closing the distance as his hands find your waist. His hold feels familiar, and you frown even as your arms automatically wind around his neck.

“Did you pull me in?” you ask in a hoarse voice.

He nods, still mirthful. “I only meant to ‘sweep you off your feet’.”

“Dummy,” you say, headbutting him in exasperation. “I could’ve drowned.”

“I would never let that happen,” he vows solemnly.

You snort in annoyance, but you don’t pull away from him.

You’re so close to him now. It’s different from that time in the councilor’s closet, when you were forced into his proximity by necessity. You could let go and swim away; as unorthodox as his teaching methods are, you no longer feel helpless in the water. 

Instead, you’re hypnotized by the sight of Silco dripping wet, dark hair sparkling like dewy grass on a misty morning. Droplets sliding down his temples to trace his cheeks, dripping off his nose and chin. The moonlit gloss of water on his lip that you’re aching to taste. His turquoise eyes brighter and clearer than the dark azure of the river.

You cling to him, a tall buoy in the river, solid and warm against you as you hug him close. Shivering as your bodies align, your breasts pressed flat against his chest.

His fingers glide against the waistband of your panties as he wraps his arms around you.

He hooks his chin over your shoulder. His warm exhales tickle your skin.

You cautiously coil one leg around his waist. You’re rewarded with a sharp, surprised inhale from Silco when your cunt grazes his pelvis.

Your other leg hooks around him, slotting him perfectly against you, a key nestled into the lock of your embrace.

The temptation to kiss him feels different this time. To open the floodgates of not just affection, but lust as well. The craving of feeling his skin against yours with nothing between you, the friction of your bodies warming you hotter than a bonfire. Even now, you almost wish you had stripped fully nude.

It’s the next step you’ve wanted to take with Silco long before you kissed for the first time. But now that you’re at the threshold, there’s something about it worth savoring, just before you take the plunge. The contradiction of bobbing peacefully in the river with him, entwined in silence even as your heart hammers underneath your rib cage. The slow caress of his hand on your side even as his cock hardens against your cunt.

You nudge your nose against the shell of his ear. Blinking water out of your eyes as you drag the tip of your nose against the contour of his cheekbone.

Pressing the bridge of your nose against his.

He swallows hard. Water drips from his chin to outline the tendons of his throat.

Waiting. 

Wondering.

Wanting.

You kiss him.

Bursting with desire, it’s more disorienting than when he pulled you off the pier. Marveling at the novel sensation of him dripping wet, kissing him dry while reacquainting yourself with the shape of his lips.

He responds just as eagerly, a devouring hunger in the movements of his mouth against yours. Groaning as his tongue fills your mouth, wet, heavy, eager to taste the inside of you and forgo all other flavors forever and ever.

His fingertips dig into your hips, nails biting into your flesh. Water splashes as he insistently grinds his cock against you, furious at the barrier of clothing between your bodies. 

You gasp as your shoulders dip below the water, sinking without the aid of Silco treading water. He kicks out impatiently, as if staying afloat was less important to him than kissing you. 

“Take me home,” you beg, so breathlessly that you’re not sure if he heard you.

He moans deeply as you capture the corner of his mouth in a kiss. You drag your lips against his cheek, settling on the hinge of his neck and jaw. You plant yourself there, eyes closed as his soft, damp hair brushes against your brow.

“Are—” he stutters, breath hitching. “Are you sure?”

You gently trap his earlobe between the tips of your teeth before letting go, whispering in his ear:

“Yes.” 

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If you liked this fic, please reblog and/or leave a comment! My inbox is also open to requests for both sketches and drabbles, or just to chat. Feel free to say hi :3c

Chapter 12

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 3.

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

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

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,2K

tag: #what was that

summary: Renly returns to work only to throw herself into her project. Viktor is happy to have her back, but will keep it to himself at all cost! Also - bullshit science and some backstory.

author’s note: Beta reader: @rennethen

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Renly quickly forgot about that cat idea when it dawned on her how right Jayce had been. Indeed she began spending more and more time at the lab, only visiting her campus apartment when she needed to do laundry. They all worked relentlessly, whether on their own projects or collaborating on shared ones. Additionally, Renly assisted Heimerdinger’s classes and periodically tutored the younger students. She and Jayce looked a bit scruffier than usual with the beautiful Mel Medarda out of town for a few weeks and for Renly, well… there was no reason to look better than bare minimum.

Viktor was the only one to maintain his routine, always presentable, even when the dark circles under his eyes betrayed how many hours he had spent adjusting hextech blueprints. He was also the only one getting annoyed by the perpetual mess left around by the other two—scrap paper, spare clothes, dirty dishes, and his beloved coffee pot, always empty, never cleaned. They had a few disagreements about it—Renly had tried to explain the concept of hyperfocus, which couldn’t be interrupted under any circumstances, while Jayce always apologized and made fresh coffee instead.

She was desperate for a breakthrough, which felt as though it was slipping through her fingers. And even though her work wasn’t as glamorous and grand as hextech, it was so vitally important to her. She remembered herself as a child, her brother’s death from Grey, toxic waste exposure, and how she hadn’t understood then that it was irreversible. To this day, she refused to accept that nothing could have been done. In his memory, she had already decided to call the medicine ‘Angus.’

She stared at the flickering light above her workstation, the bubbling of chemicals the only sound breaking the silence. The logical thing would be to go home, sleep, get a fresh perspective. And maybe try a little bit harder to forget about John. But the desperation, the ache of disappointment—and the sting of humiliation—made her restless.

Renly rubbed her temple, her fingers trailing over the faint tension lines that had deepened over the past week. Every formula she scribbled felt like a dead end, every hypothesis mocked her with its glaring flaws. She glanced at the collection of vials on her workstation—half of them untested, the other half failures. Somewhere in the cacophony of bubbles and scattered papers, a small voice whispered that maybe this wasn’t her fight to win. But that voice only made her clench her jaw harder.

Her gaze flicked to a photo tucked into the corner of her workstation. A boy with bright eyes and a mischievous grin. “I’m trying, Angus,” she murmured, the name catching in her throat. The ache of guilt and frustration mixed into a cocktail that burned her chest. She shut her notebook and went back to staring at the flickering light above. The lab felt suffocating and empty all at once.

The silence pressed in on her like a lead weight. She wanted to scream, to shatter the stillness, but all that came out was a shallow sigh. She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. Maybe she should go home, sleep, and come back with a fresh perspective. But what if tomorrow was no different than today?

Viktor appeared in the doorway, his cane tapping softly against the floor. He hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. “You do realize that exhaustion is not a substitute for productivity, yes?”

Renly snorted, not bothering to look up. “You sound like Heimerdinger.”

“That is not a compliment,” Viktor muttered, though his lips twitched into a faint smile. He leaned against the nearest counter, watching her work. “You should go home.”

“And you… should mind your own business,” she shot back, but her tone lacked venom.

“Fair enough,” Viktor said, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he stayed, quietly observing, until Renly finally put down her tools with a sigh. “Why are you still here?” she asked.

Viktor tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Perhaps I am... curious.”

Viktor’s fingers brushed over the edge of the counter, tracing absent patterns against the cold metal. He hesitated, his cane shifting slightly in his hand, as though debating whether to leave or stay. The flicker of the workstation light caught in his gaze, casting shadows that softened his usual sharpness. He looked at her with an intensity that made the silence feel heavy—not the silence of a quiet lab, but something deeper, laden with unspoken words.

“I’ve noticed,” he began, his voice quieter now, “that the lab feels... different when you are not here.” He straightened slightly, as if realizing how much he’d said. “It is likely just the absence of your noise. You are rather loud for someone so small.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a faint smirk, but his eyes stayed locked on her, waiting for her response.

Renly blinked, caught off guard by his admission. The way he said it—measured, deliberate—made her chest tighten with something uncomfortably close to hope. She tried to deflect. “And what is it that you are so curious about, exactly? My tendency to break things under pressure or my... unique approach to teamwork?”

Viktor’s lips curved upward slightly. “Teamwork, you say? Is this your way of bringing up your impeccable massage skills again?”

Renly flushed, pointing a pen at him like a weapon. “If you don’t want me reminding you, stop bringing it up first.”

“You were the one who dragged it back into the light of the Bunsen burner,” Viktor countered smoothly. His voice was calm, but there was an edge of amusement that made her want to sink into her chair.

“Well, I—” she stammered, but the words refused to come out. Her face burned as Viktor tilted his head, his smirk widening ever so slightly. “Forget I said anything,” she muttered, turning her attention back to the workstation.

“As you wish,” Viktor said softly, his tone maddeningly neutral. But the glint in his eye betrayed him, and Renly could practically hear the laugh he held back.

“I might, perhaps, be curious about both.” Viktor shifted his weight onto his cane and regarded her for a moment longer than necessary, his sharp eyes assessing, as though dissecting her every feature and reaction. He was endlessly relieved that she came back. Though slightly concerned about her current state not improving.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m an open book,” she said lightly, bringing him back to the conversation. But there was a tension to her voice, a nervous energy she couldn’t quite mask.

“I have always been more interested in… difficult books,” he murmured, his tone softer now. “The ones that require careful study.”

Renly’s breath caught. It was subtle, easily missed, but there was something in his voice—a challenge, or maybe an invitation. She tried to steady herself. “Careful, Viktor. You’re starting to sound like Jayce when he’s trying to charm his way out of trouble.”

“That is a dangerous comparison,” Viktor replied, his tone drier now, though his gaze hadn’t wavered. “I would like to believe I am more… subtle.”

Renly laughed; the sound lighter than she expected. “Subtle, huh? I’ll give you that. But you should know—” she stepped closer, lowering her voice to match his, “—I’m not the kind of book you can study in one sitting.”

Viktor’s brow arched ever so slightly, a flicker of intrigue passing through his features. “I would not expect otherwise.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them shifted—something unspoken, tentative, and charged with the weight of possibility.

Renly felt her heart skip a beat, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and broke the eye contact, her gaze drifting to the nearby workbench littered with diagrams and half-finished experiments. “Well, if you’re looking for something more straightforward, Viktor, I think Jayce keeps plenty of picture books in his little office,” she quipped, trying to recapture her footing.

Viktor made a low sound, something between a laugh and a hum of amusement. “Jayce prefers works with… fewer complexities. I find myself drawn to challenges.” She realized that Viktor’s thick accent made a certain spot in her brain tingle.

Renly looked back at him then, catching the faintest flicker of something warm in his expression—interest, maybe, or amusement, or something she didn’t dare name. “Well, I hope you’re ready for disappointment,” she said, half-joking but wary of what his words might mean. “I’ve been told I’m more confusing than challenging.”

“That remains to be seen.” Viktor turned away, his focus drifting to one of the diagrams pinned to the wall. It was a complex sketch of a device she’d been working on for weeks, each line and symbol carefully detailed. It was supposed to make the delivery of her future cure possible on a larger scale and cleanse an entire district at once. As she was pointed out by Jayce – in the wrong hands that could be a deadly weapon. It was quite ironic, coming from his mouth.

Viktor reached out, his gloved fingers brushing the edge of the paper. “This… is yours?”

Renly nodded, thankful for the shift in focus. “Yeah. It’s still in the early stages, though. Just an idea, really.”

His eyes traced the lines, his expression unreadable. “It is… bold. Ambitious.”

“Ambitious is one word for it,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “Jayce called it reckless.”

“Jayce is often blind to subtlety,” Viktor replied, his tone mild but carrying the weight of experience. “This—” he gestured to the design, “—is not reckless. It is innovative. You see possibilities where others see only obstacles.”

Renly blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. “Well, don’t tell Jayce that. I’d hate for him to think I’m smarter than him.”

Viktor’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Viktor’s gaze lingered on the diagram, but Renly had the distinct feeling his thoughts were elsewhere. She wanted to say something—anything—to fill the silence, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Renly,” Viktor said suddenly, his voice softer now. He turned to face her fully, his expression more serious than she expected. “About… earlier. John. You should not allow someone to make you doubt your worth.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt the burn of tears threatening to return. “I… I know,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” he said simply, his tone firm but not unkind. “Because there is no doubt, at least in my mind, that you are capable of far more than he could ever see.”

Renly didn’t know what to say. Instead, she managed a small, trembling smile, her chest tightening with something that felt dangerously like gratitude—or something more.

***

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jayce’s voice pulled Renly out of the trance she had fallen into while staring at the blackboard covered in her notes.

“Um… are you kidding? My thoughts are priceless.” She grinned at him, and he laughed.

“Well, of course, I never meant to pry on your genius,” he added but saw her cheekiness was already gone, replaced with exasperation.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it without a sample.” She slumped down in her chair and added, “And I doubt that anyone from the docks would give me one willingly, even though I’m technically a local there.”

“And what do you need exactly?”

“Ah, bone marrow preferably,” she said with ease, but when she saw the horror on Jayce’s face, she immediately added, “But that’s obviously out of the question—it’s dangerous and painful." signalling him to calm down. "So, the blood sample, maybe saliva, and any… umm, excretion fluids from, like, blisters or boils,” she continued, no longer paying attention to Jayce, whose face grew more repulsed by the second. "Oh, and obviously,”—at this point, her friend was silently praying for her to finish—"it has to come from someone with Grey exposure symptoms."

Jayce, having shaken his distaste, gave her an obvious look. “Well, that shouldn’t be so hard then. I mean, the boils and… fluids might be impossible, but the blood and saliva?”

“Care to elaborate on what’s so easy about it?”

"The fact that you exist alongside someone like that every day, who also happens to be a scientist—and who would probably sacrifice far more than a blood sample in the name of progress?" And in the name of making you happy, he thought, though he kept the sentiment to himself.

She slapped her forehead with an open palm. She had been so caught up in her own frustrations and doubts that she hadn’t even considered Viktor an option—a glaring oversight she now felt foolish for.

“Gods, how am I so stupid? I take everything back; you are smarter than I.” Before Jayce could express his confusion about that last remark she added, her mind racing „But wait… do you really think Viktor will agree to this?”

“Definitely. Maybe just don’t say anything about the… fluids.”

***

She can do this. It’s fine, it’s science and all. It took her a few days to collect herself enough to actually ask Viktor for this favour. She made sure to tidy up her notes in case Viktor asked for any further explanation.

Renly lingered in the doorway of the lab, her heart racing slightly. Viktor sat at his workstation, engrossed in whatever mechanism he was fine-tuning. The rhythmic tap of his cane against the floor punctuated his movements as he adjusted screws with steady precision. She hesitated, unsure how to approach the topic.

“Viktor,” she began, her voice cutting through the low hum of machinery.

“Renly,” he replied without looking up, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest of smiles. “To what do I owe the honour? Or are you here to borrow more coffee filters?”

She stepped further in, shifting her weight nervously. “Actually, I was hoping to borrow something a bit more... personal.”

That got his attention. He looked up, raising an eyebrow as his hands stilled. “Personal?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath, mentally rehearsing the phrasing she’d agonized over. “I need a blood sample.”

His expression didn’t change immediately. He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Are you planning to sell it at The Lanes, or is there a scientific reason for this peculiar request?”

She laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “Scientific. Definitely scientific.”

He set down his tools and leaned back in his chair, gesturing for her to elaborate.

“Okay, so… I’ve been working on this formula to counteract the effects of long-term exposure to the Grey. But I’ve hit a wall because I need a sample from someone with exposure symptoms. And, well...” She trailed off, motioning vaguely toward him.

“Ah,” he said simply, his gaze narrowing slightly in thought.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” she continued quickly, her words tumbling out. “And I totally understand if you’re not comfortable with it. I just—”

“Renly,” he interrupted, his voice calm. “It is fine.”

She blinked. “It is?”

“Yes,” he said, rising slowly to his feet and reaching for his cane. “You are not asking me to donate a kidney. A blood sample is... manageable.” His lips curved into a faint smile as he added, “I only hope you have the proper equipment. I doubt either of us wants Jayce involved in this.”

“Right, of course,” she said, fumbling with the small kit she’d prepared in advance. “I can handle it. Promise.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow as he sat on a nearby stool, rolling up his sleeve. “That remains to be seen.”

Renly approached cautiously, trying to suppress the sudden wave of nerves washing over her. “Okay, uh, just relax your arm.”

He gave her a pointed look. “I am relaxed. Are you?”

“Totally,” she lied, though her hands betrayed her as they fumbled with the stasis band. She moved closer to him, taking his arm gently and rolling up his sleeve.

“You are trembling,” he remarked lightly.

“I’m not trembling,” she shot back, but the slight shake of her hand betrayed her again.

“Perhaps I should do it myself,” he offered, half-teasing.

“Don’t you dare,” she muttered, steeling herself.

Viktor’s forearm was lean but surprisingly solid beneath her touch, his skin pale against the dark fabric of his shirt. Her fingers brushed against his wrist as she adjusted the band, and she felt the slightest hitch in his breath—so slight she wondered if she imagined it.

She avoided his gaze, focusing instead on securing the stasis snugly just above his elbow. “Tell me if it’s too tight,” she murmured.

“It is fine,” he replied, his voice quieter now, almost curious.

Renly pressed her thumb into the crease of his elbow, coaxing the vein to rise. She could feel his eyes on her, and the proximity made the air between them feel heavier. Viktor was always so composed, but now his stillness seemed heightened, as if he were studying her in the same way he might study an equation.

“Do you always take this much care?” he asked, his tone light but carrying an edge of something unreadable.

She glanced up, catching his gaze for just a moment before looking away. “I like to make sure I get it right,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You are very thorough,” he said, and though his words were neutral, there was a warmth in them that made her cheeks flush.

Her thumb brushed over his skin one last time before she picked up the needle. “All set,” she said briskly, trying to steady herself. “This won’t take long.”

“There,” she said triumphantly, as the blood began to flow into the vial. “See? Professional.”

“Impressive,” Viktor said, though his tone carried a trace of mockery. “If you ever tire of chemistry, you may have a future in phlebotomy.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Once she’d sealed the vial and carefully labelled it, she turned back to him. “All done. You survived.”

“Barely,” he said dryly, rolling his sleeve back down.

Renly hesitated for a moment, holding the vial. “Thank you, Viktor. This really means a lot.”

He nodded, brushing down his sleeve as she carefully packed the sample into a sterile container. “I hope it proves useful,” he said simply, his tone neutral but distant, as though he was already retreating back into his usual reserve.

Renly stilled, the words forming on her lips before she could stop them. She pressed them back, fiddling with the clasp of her sample kit. But the thought wouldn’t leave her, and she knew this might be her only opportunity to ask.

“Viktor,” she began cautiously, her voice quieter now, unsure. “I, uh—this might sound awful, but… if you—” She faltered, her nerves getting the better of her.

He turned to her fully, his brow creasing in concern. “If I…?”

She let out a shaky breath, her eyes darting anywhere but at him. “If you ever… you know, cough up anything… I mean, if it happens, not that I hope it happens, but…” She groaned, clapping a hand to her forehead. “Gods, I’m making this sound terrible.” She just remembered what Jayce had said about her mentioning additional fluids.

His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture stiffened. “You mean to ask,” he said slowly, carefully, “if I would be willing to provide a sample of my… condition.”

Renly winced, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter behind her. “I’m sorry, I just— I know it’s not my place to even ask. It’s just, if it does happen, it could be invaluable for the research.” She looked up at him finally, guilt written across her face. “But I really, really hope it doesn’t come to that.”

For a moment, Viktor said nothing. His eyes studied her, not with anger but with a weight that made her chest tighten. “You have been aware of it,” he said softly, his voice devoid of accusation.

She swallowed hard, unsure how to answer. “I notice things,” she admitted, almost in a whisper. “But it’s not my business, and I’ve never—”

“You do not need to explain,” he interrupted gently, sparing her the rest. He turned, leaning his weight onto his cane. “If it comes to that, Renly, you may have what you need. But I will hope, as you do, that it will not.”

There was no bitterness in his tone, only quiet acceptance. It made her heart ache in a way she hadn’t expected, and she opened her mouth to say something but the only thought that came to her mind was another blunt and awkward comment.

“Look, I can only imagine how hard it is… I want you to know that this is not what I think of when I think, well… of you.” She desperately tried to convince him that she herself not a long time ago had completely overlooked his condition.

Viktor, as he would be, was not convinced. “For what it is worth, I appreciate your honesty. You do not have to back out of it now.”

She blinked, taken off guard. “What do you mean?” Renly asked, her brow furrowed, unsure of where his comment had come from.

Viktor gave a soft, humourless chuckle, leaning slightly on his cane as if drawing strength from it. “The first time we met,” he began, his tone measured, “you stared. Not at me—at this.” He gestured briefly to his cane. “I am no stranger to it. People have a tendency to look at this first, and then decide what sort of man I am. I had assumed you were no different.”

Renly’s lips parted, silent realisation of his initial coldness washing over her. “Wait—first time we met? You mean the day this horrible goo blew up into my face?”

He tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as if to remind her not to play coy. “You paused when I approached. You stared. Perhaps you thought I didn’t notice.”

Renly blinked again, completely thrown off course. Of all the things she thought he might say, this wasn’t it. She let out a short laugh, her voice incredulous. “That’s what you think I was staring at?”

Viktor raised a brow, his expression a mix of curiosity and scepticism. “Were you not?”

“No!” Renly shook her head vehemently, her cheeks flushing. “Gods, no. I was staring because I thought I recognized you.”

He frowned slightly, confusion flickering across his face. “Recognized me?”

“Yes!” She stepped closer, her hands moving animatedly now as the words began tumbling out. “I wasn’t sure at first, but the way you walked, the shape of your face—it all clicked. I was trying to figure out if you were… well, you.”

Viktor still looked puzzled, though his expression softened. “You’ll forgive me, but I am not sure I follow.”

Renly hesitated, suddenly feeling ridiculous, but there was no turning back now. “When we were kids, I used to play by The Undercity docks every summer. One year, there was this boy—I think it was you—who wandered off into this dark, abandoned cave. Everyone thought he’d gone for good. But hours later, you came back, like it was nothing.”

Viktor’s brows knit together as she spoke, his grip tightening slightly on his cane. “You remember that?”

She nodded fervently. “Of course, I do! It scared the life out of me. I thought you were some kind of magician when you walked out.”

He was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he let out a low, disbelieving laugh. “You mean to tell me you remembered something so… trivial, and that is why you stared?”

“It wasn’t trivial!” Renly protested; her face still flushed. “You disappeared into a death trap! Which was rumoured to have an evil wizard within it as well! I was terrified for you. And then you just climbed out like you’d been on a stroll through a garden. Who does that?”

Viktor’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, though his eyes were distant, as if piecing together fragments of a memory long buried. “I suppose I never thought anyone would remember such a thing. Least of all you.”

Renly smiled sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, now you know. And for the record, I wasn’t staring at your cane that day. I was trying to figure out if the brave, reckless boy from The Undercity had somehow made it all the way here.”

Viktor tilted his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “And have you decided?”

Her grin softened, her gaze meeting his. “Oh, I decided the moment you opened your mouth to tell me I’d miscalculated the viscosity of my formula. Only the boy who walked out of that cave would have the gall.”

His quiet laugh filled the space between them, and for a moment, the weight of their earlier conversation seemed to lift. But the memory lingered in both of their minds—one that now felt like a thread tying them together, fragile yet strong.

[binbogummy]

Humans are —

I had the urge to write but was so all over the place on what I wanted to write for that I stuck everything I'm into right now onto a wheel and spun it. And guess what? Good Omens won.

Some tags: Reader-insert | Female-reader | Platonic x reader | Fluff | Sickfic | Post-Season 1, Pre-Season 2

Words: 2k+

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

Chapter 10| Chapter 11|

~

The rain seemed to fall in sheets, hammering against the Bentley's exterior as it cut through the streets of London. The windshield wipers worked overtime, squeaking faintly as they swiped away the relentless downpour, only for the glass to be blurred again in an instant.

Despite the storm's ferocity, the old car seemed as indifferent to the storm drenched street as its driver did to the complete lack of visibility.

Thunder growled somewhere in the distance and the steerlights overhead illuminated the car's interior and its passengers in brief flashes as they flew by overhead while Crowley cruised a casual 75mph through the tight heart of Soho.

You sat in the passenger seat, watching the water streak and beat against the window as the dark, almost Gothic atmosphere outside was completely blurred.

"All those jokes about London weather really weren't an over-exaggeration, huh? I don't think I've ever seen it come down like this." you mused, finally interrupting the comfrotable silence before a quick cough cleared the building scratchiness in your throat.

Crowley, one hand on the wheel and the other casually draped over the gearshift, didn’t take his eyes off the waterfalling windshield for a moment. "Exaggeration’s the human specialty, love. But in this case, dead accurate. Can't say I haven't seen worse, though."

You let out a little huff and smiled, ironically catching his attention in the form of a sidelong glance, albeit noticeable from under his dark glases, with the soft sniffle that followed your words.

"Not that you seem to mind it too much. Couldn't wait to queue for coffee in the rain? Or maybe you fancy another walk along the Thames, in a gale, without a coat?"

"I had a coat!" you shot back confidently despite Crowley's scathing recap of your week in the city so far. "Besides, it's not exactly as easy for me to get around as it is for you. I've got to make the most of my time while I'm here. London is huge. No matter how many times I come to vist, I can't see enough. No way I'm gonna let the weather get in the way."

While visiting Crowley and Aziraphale was one of the major points of your trip, you'd planned your one-off week in the city around visiting them at the beginning and end of your trip, using the days in between to run around London as you saw fit. With plenty of little pop-ins to Azi's bookshop, of course.

"And you'll be heading home when, exactly?"

"After this weekend." You confirmed, muffling another cough into your elbow. "Catching my flight first thing monday. Oh, and I... appreciate the ride." You added quickly at the end; a strategically placed 'thank you' you hoped he wouldn't notice.

He'd just happned to be passing by as you were running back to your hotel this evening, and considering the way the weather had escalated from a drizzle to a light tsunami, you were rather lucky he had been. How he knew about your escapades from early this week, though, you couldn't be sure. Not that the answer would surprise you.

"Oh, 'course of course." Crowley hummed aloofly, brows raising as he turned sharply to park along the curb. You were momentarily surprised. The rain had muddled the windows so thoroughly you couldn't quite tell where you were but you suppose it was possible he'd already made it to where you were staying considering the speed he was going.

"Oh? Are we there already?"

"Not quite." He killed the engine with a flourish, the car purring into silence as he threw his door open and stepped out onto the street. You recoiled briefly in surprise, the sound of the battering rainfall tripling in volmue as the door was opened. "Gotta drop something off." He continued and you were instantly bitter about the way the falling water seemed to part around him. "Come on then." He casually nodded for you to follow before shutting the door.

You took a moment to sigh, pursuing your lips and briefly wondering if he'd be kind enough to extend that supernatural waterproofing to you, but those hopes we quickly dashed when you stumbled out of the passenger door and the rain immediately greeted you with a cold, unceremonious slap from nearly all directions.

It took everything in you to repress a shriek. The downpour was hard, icy and relentless, soaking through your cloths in seconds. The only brightside was that you'd long since realized where you were and made a mad dash for Aziraphale's bookshop.

"Why'd you park so far away!?" You whined, further waterlogging your sneakers as you splashed through the small current rushing along the curb.

Crowley, one the other hand, had only just rounded the bently, retrieving something from the trunk before following after you at the pace of someone on a leisurely stroll, the rain continuing to slide off and around him and the cardboard box he was now carrying with ease.

You weren't in any mood to wait for him to catch up, but when you reached the familer door of A.Z. Fell & Co, you were disgruntled but unsurprised to find it locked as it always was after hours despite the warm light illuminating the inside.

"Hurry hurry hurry!" You called, waving him over frantically

"I'm coming, I'm coming." He assured, but made no attempt to hurry at all. He had to find this hilarious because it wasn't until he finally got close did the knob you'd been desperately jiggling finally turn, and you nearly fell into the bookshop, your shoes squelching as you stumbled to steady yourself.

Despite being thoroughly soaked through, once inside, the warmth of the shop was quick to wrap around you, and the familiar scent of old books and faintly spiced tea was enough to just barley cut through the smell of cold rain clinging to your skin.

You sighed deeply, catching your breath and composing yourself after the run inside.

"Excuse me~." Crowley hummed and you stumbled again to the side as he slipped in after you, but once he was through you were quick to step back onto the mat that sat inside the entrance, conscious not to drip or track water anywhere inside. "Angel, I've got your books!" He called to the ceiling before tossing the heavy box with a careless thump onto a nearby table, and in doing so spun to look you up and down.

The expression on your face said it all but he only gave you a quick, toothy grin before yelling to the ceiling again, "You got any coffee?", and heading back to what you knew to be Aziraphale's kitchen without waiting for a response.

Not a second after he'd disappeared, though, came the response accompanied by eager footsteps.

"I'm afraid I'm all out at the moment, but I put some tea on when you said you'd be coming! I do wish you would have waited until tomorrow though, this is far from the kind of weather one should be-"

Rounding the spiral staircase from above came Aziraphale, but the hint of exasperation that often laced the angel's tone when speaking to Crowley was interrupted when he reached the bottom and caught sight of you dripping at his door.

His eyes widened in dismay as they took in your thoroughly drenched form. His expression shifted from surprise to see you, then delight, and then to immediate concern, his usual flustered demeanor amplified by the sight of you standing on the increasingly soaked mat at the door.

"Oh, my dear!" he exclaimed, bustling toward you with fluttering hands as if trying to decide whether to usher you inside or scold you for being reckless first. "What on earth are you doing out in this dreadful weather? You’re absolutely soaked through!" Before you could respond, he yelled towards where the demon had disappeared. "Crowley! Get in here!"

"Hm?" Crowley popped back out, a steaming mug in his hand that he took a casual sip from.

"You couldn't have given her a ride? Really?" The angel chided and Crowley scoffed with mock offense, motioning towards you with his mug.

"I did! How do you think she got here? Would have had to walk herself the whole way to Marylbome, otherwise." He shrugged taking another sip of what you were sure you could smell to be fresh brewed coffee.

"I'm alright." You finally spoke up, attempting to reassure Aziraphale. "Just got a little wet on the way in since someone decided to park halfway down the street." You exaggerated lightheartedly.

"That's not true." Crowley was quick to defend, leaning against the doorway to the hall and jutting his mug at the window. "Parked right out front. She's just a bit slow."

You turned to look through the storefront window and the Bently was in fact, right out front now, its headlights fading out as it seemed to have just re-parked itself on its own.

If looks could kill then the one you gave Crowley...still probably wouldn't have had much effect on a demon.

"But anywayー" You decided to move on, "He did offer me a ride back to my hotel. So I can't complain too much. I'll be alright." You insisted, fighting another sniffle.

"Oh, no, no, no," Aziraphale tutted, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and elbow to shepherd you deeper inside. "That won’t do at all. You’ll catch your death if you stay like this much longer!" He returned to fretting with a mixture of exasperation and genuine concern, gently guiding you to the back of the shop. "Come now, off with your coat." He coaxed and was quick to help you out of the dripping garment. You took your eyes off of it for just a moment, and once off of you, it seemed to have disappeared from his hands completely and into thin air. "I'll fetch you something warm to drink right away."

"That's really not necessary! I appreciate it but I really should be-"

"Nonsense," Aziraphale said firmly, already moving towards the backroom. "Stay there. I'll also fetch some towels, and a blanket! And Crowley, for heaven's sake, don't just stand there. Make yourself useful, please."

Crowley raised an eyebrow over the brim of his glasses, clearly unimpressed by the angel’s scolding, but set his mug down with a dramatic sigh. "Fine, fine." He gestured lazily, and you felt a sudden warmth spread through your damp clothes. In an instant, they were bone-dry, though your hair was still wet and the faint chill of having been soaked still lingered on your skin. "There. Happy?"

Your expression softend in surprise as you looked down at yourself, "Yes, actually. Thank you." You thanked genuinely, shuffling in place in a bit of an attempt to shake off the remaining chill.

Aziraphale returned quickly with a few towels and a thick knit blanket stacked in his arms. He paused again when he saw your now-dry clothes before nodding approvingly and setting them by the large armchair that sat near his phonograph.

"Here we go, dear." The angel was at your side again in an instant, gently ushering you toward the armchair and making sure you got settled. “There now, sit down, and we'll have you warmed up in no time!" He assured, handing you a towel.

"Thank you, Aziraphale," you murmured, accepting the towel and starting to dry your hair. It might of been the act of sitting down so suddenly that aggravated the congestion building in your chest, but your murmured thanks came out terribly hoarse and you were forced to clear your throat with a deep cough.

The angel hovered for a moment, seemingly torn between bustling off to do more and staying to ensure you stayed settled properly. You'd actually let yourself relax for a moment, eyes falling closed with a deep breath and another quiet sniffle.

"Really Crowley, you might have mentioned she wasn't feeling well." The knit blanket was draped over your shoulders and meticulously tucketed around you, and you opened your eyes again in surprise.

"Huh?" Aziraphale's words forced you to try to perk up, not wanting to worry the angel, but he seemed to have already diagnosed you. "What? Azi, I'm fine. Again, just got a little waterlogged there is all." You laughed.

"Oh please. You’ve been out in that dreadful weather all day, haven’t you? Honestly, you must take better care of yourself."

"All week actually." Crowley corrected and Aziraphale’s gasp of horror was so genuine it almost made you laugh again, despite another scratchy tickle building in your throat.

"All week? Oh, my dear! No wonder you look absolutely done in! Crowley, how could you let this happen?"

"Let this happen?" Crowley repeated with brows furrowed. "What, am I supposed to follow her around with an umbrella? She's a big girl, Angel. She makes her own terrible decisions."

You opened your mouth to protest, but another cough bubbled up before you could form the words. Crowley smirked, clearly enjoying the validation of his point. Aziraphale shot him a withering glare before patting your hand protectively.

"Well, if you're going to follow her around regardless it wouldn't hurt to be prepared!"

"I'm sorry what?"

"Oh, never mind," Aziraphale quieted down softly, his voice taking on its usual warm, soothing tone as he turned his attention back to you. "You're here now, and I'll make sure you're properly cared for. You'll not go running about in the rain again while you're under this roof, do you understand?"

You began to muster some argument, but your voice seemed to come out hoarse again. "Azi, really, I'm fine. I think I just have a cold, if anything."

"Nonsense," he said again, his gentle smile doing nothing to mask the resolve in his voice. "When it comes to humans, even a sniffle left unchecked can turn into all sorts of unpleasant things. Rest now, and let me handle everything. It'll be quite nice, you'll see!"

"But-"

You were interrupted again when he began fussing with the blanket he'd draped over your shoulders. "Are you warm enough for now? I can fetch another blanket if need be." Then, a fittingly angelic sounding jingle, like that of a bell, sounded from the bookshop's backroom and he stood up tall. "Oh! That would be the tea! You stay put and I'll be right back!"

After Aziraphale bustled off again toward the backroom, you allowed yourself to sink deeper into the armchair with a groan, feeling the warmth of the blankets start to seep into your thoroughly chilled bones.

The smell of brewing tea began wafting through the shop and Crowley plopped himself into one of its many mismatched chairs, his long legs crossed as he pushed his sunglasses down just enough to peer over them at you.

"You know," he drawled lazily, "for someone who claims to be fine, you’re looking suspiciously weak-willed right now."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale's voice called from out of sight. "Be nice!" He scolded but Crowley just grinned.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real energy behind it. You were more worried about inconveniencing Aziraphale at the moment.

"But that's what you get for running around like a daft tourist, aye?"

You let out a small laugh despite yourself, though it quickly dissolved into another small cough. Maybe you were a little worse off then you originally thought.

Crowley leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself, but before he could continue his teasing, Aziraphale returned, carrying a single tea cup and saucer to you with a sense of urgency that would have led anyone to believe it was the cure for cancer.

"Here you are," He began, setting it on your lap before gently guiding your hands to the saucer and handle, as if worried you didn't have the strength to hold it on your own. "Drink this, dear. It'll do you good. Chamomile with a bit of honey. It's quite soothing.".

"Aziraphale..." You sighed, your resolve slowly caving as you took a sip.

"Good, good," Aziraphale said, "Now, you’ll stay here for the night of course, won’t you? No need to rush off anywhere."

"I really couldn’t impose—"

"Nonsense," he interrupted again with his word of the day, waving off your protest with a flutter of his hand. "You’re not going anywhere in this weather, not while you’re under the weather yourself. I'll fetch you some night clothes and once you've finished your tea we'll get you straight to bed."

"To bed???" You groaned and Crowley nearly snorted, slapping his knee.

"Excited to play nurse again, are we, Angel?"

"Perhaps I am." Aziraphale nodded, "But with only the most honest intentions in mind, of course." He assured you. "I look forward only to seeing you back in tip-top shape! Now, drink up, and I'll arange the guest room~"

~

I'd like for this to have 3 chapters, but that will depend entirely on my ability to deliver...

[gds-daisy]

here for the bigbang matching event!!

1. ry!! aka @namsgyu

2. she/her but i don’t really mind!! presenting feminine but not overly (if that makes sense? lowkey depends who im around. if they have more feminine energy, ill swoon over to more masculine and opposite!!)

3. little bit of both!! i like talking to new people, but i wont share a lot of details about myself. but with my closest friends i’ll talk about AAAANYTHING. definitely a bit of self-deprecating humor to cope with life and its troubles. i journal a lot to make sure my best AND worst memories never get forgotten, both are life lessons after all! on the weekends, love going out with small group of friends to restaurants (izakayas!) and having a few drinks and even a smoke if the night ends up in that direction. HUGE karaoke fiend! screaming is such a GOD TIER for me to release the pent up stress accumulated over the week

4. recently my hobby has been immersing myself in learning japanese. anime, manga, dramas, podcasts, im learning it all!! it’s also to help me for my japanese proficiency test im taking in july. i like shopping if thats considered a hobby? mainly for my apartment like new plates or for fashion items like clothes, makeup, accessories, etc!

5. biggest pet peeve is when someone can’t read the room. for example, i was at karaoke recently and this guy queues five of his own songs that NOBODY else knew!! like hello dude we have songs we’d like to sing too, at least pick something other people can sing along to!!

6. my ideal partner, hmmm that’s a tricky one. i really like when people understand me without me having to say anything because im can be quite shy when speaking up about what i like or not. i’m the type of person to say smth like “i can go anywhere as long as its with you” but i really like going to amusement parks with huuuuge roller coasters!! somewhere we can take a lot of photos and have fun together without thinking toooo hard on what to do

7. acts of service!! melts my heart when people do something for me, even as small as saving a seat for me on the bus.

8. usually i have a really tomboy-ish style! catch me in a simple t-shirt, baggy pants or athletic shorts, and a windbreaker. i love wearing nike clothes! if im going for an outing though, i keep the baggy pants and swap a t-shirt out for something more fitted, it’s my time to show off my body!! most of the time im wearing darker clothes or beige/grey tones!

9. my favorite color is dark red? burgundy if you will. i’m standing at a short 5’1 (abt 155-157 cm). currently studying at an international university, majoring in business admin! currently i’ve been into korean and japanese pop and can listen to anything expect for country (idk, i can’t vibe with it). i’m an only child so a lot of my life was spent under strict parental monitor, so to have fun i had to sneak around a lot!!

10. nsfw pls 👉🏼👈🏼 im a switch leaning sub!! if the person im with is strongly dominant, i will have no problems complying! if they’re switchy, it definitely will bring out the dom in me hehe. idk how many of these are considered as kinks but i like: oral (giving AND receiving), cnc/free use, degradation, public/semi-public, hands GOD i love hands, VEINS UGH YES, overstim!

im sorry if this was so long- i figured you’d have an easier time if there was a lot of details you could pick from!! IM SO EXCITED TO SEE WHAT YOU COME UP WITH!! be sure to take lots of breaks in between writing these!! MWAH 🩷💞

for ry 🖤

i match you with…

kwon jiyong

you and jiyong match each other so well <3

your energy is what captivates him and steals his heart

he absolutely loves that you guys have a similar work ethic but it also worries him

when he notices you’re a bit more burnt out than usual, he steps in and tells you to take a day for yourself

there’s unwashed dishes? he’ll take care of it. you need to do laundry? he’ll take care of it.

he’ll even make sure to buy all of your fave snacks along with a VERY cheesy stuffed animal before coming home to surprise you

the two of you decide to watch a variety of different shows and movies

he loves watching them with you because he loves seeing you happy and all smiley (he loves them as well but he would never confess that to you)

when you suggest going to an amusement park, he automatically says yes because he hasn’t been able to experience it with how time consuming his trainee life was and who better to experience it with than you? <3

you talk him into going on the ferris wheel and even some of the more “scary” rides

“ji, it’s not that scary!” you say with a giddy laugh as the ride starts to become more turbulent while he’s screaming his lungs out.

despite this he still managed to have a great time and even won you a manga stuffed animal (which he spent TOO much money to win but he would do anything for you <3)

jiyong LOVES tagging along with you on solo shopping trips and seeing how cheery you get

he ends up paying for everything and carrying all your bags without you having to ask him even though you insisted you could take care of it

even when you’re out shopping with friends, he’ll still hand you his black card :)

there’s nothing jiyong loves more than watching you sing your little heart out at karaoke night

if someone annoys you there, you’ll be a bit more sulky for the rest of the night which means jiyong has to take things into his own hands even if it involves dragging you back on that stage! :)

he notices that you tend to journal a lot and when you run out of space, he will buy you a brand new one and surprise you with it

“oh ji you didn’t have to!” you cried out as you wrap your arms around him, his hands now tracing the small of your back.

nsfw!!

when you and jiyong first had sex together, you could tell he was holding back a bit

the sex was still passionate and lustful don’t get me wrong, but you could tell he didn’t want to push your limits until he was sure what you liked

when you told him you were into free use, you guys made sure to have a safe word just in case things went too far

after all consent is very sexy!!

after that conversation it was like something changed in jiyong and the way he fucked you

sometimes you were woken up in the morning by him devouring your wet cunt

this man gets so pussy drunk it’s not even funny.

“g’morning jagi,” he says to you softly. “and good morning to you too,” he says to your pussy in between each individual flick of his skilled tongue

he also puts your free use kink to good use when you misbehave for him ESPECIALLY IN PUBLIC

“such a greedy slut for me, aren’t you jagiya?” he says as he piledrives his cock into you while you’re mounted against the bathroom stall door, forced to take every inch.

jiyong noticed your fixation for his hands almost immediately

during sex, he always makes it a point to slip his fingers into your mouth for you to suck

while he loves being in charge, he still needs to be taken care of every once in a while :)

after a long day, he’ll come home to you absolutely exhausted and you know exactly how to relieve some of his stress—by riding him of course!

jiyong is a SLUT when you suck him off

he’ll be letting out the most orgasm-inducing moans and whimpers known to man, which only makes you double your efforts and suck him off even harder

safe to say that man will cum down your throat without any complaints from you!

aftercare is so so important to the two of you!

in most cases, one of you will run a bath for the two of you to enjoy together and enjoy each others company in your dazed out states

if you guys are too exhausted to get up, you guys will cuddle until both of you eventually fall asleep <3

[thesensteawitch]

What's Your Beauty?🥀

Pick A Pile Reading

💚(Left to Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)💚

Hello, Senstea Souls!

I am back with another collective reading that will tell you what's beautiful about you. Take this reading as it resonates. For any personal readings feel free to DM me or email me at thesensteawitch@gmail.com.

Pile 1

Tarot Cards: 2 of Swords, 8 of Pentacles, 4 of Wands, 5 of Wands, 2 of Wands, Ace of Cups, 3 of Cups, 7 of Swords

My dear pile 1, you are as beautiful as it gets. It's only you who cannot see it. Just like a deer doesn't know that the fragrance is coming from its naval and searches for it in the whole forest same is the case with you. You see beauty in everything and everyone except yourself. Have you forgotten that the beauty that we see in others is in ourselves? Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. God, I feel so sorry for you that I have to remind you this because something happened to you your own thoughts make you believe that you're not beautiful. I will tell you what's your beauty. Your beauty is that you are hardcore loyal when it comes to relationships in your life. You make sure that every friendship and relationship is based on strong foundations. You provide stability and protection to your loved ones. You don't see people as competitors and this quality of you is such emanant that others envy you. Even those who are close to you. It's those who you cherish the most. They secretly want to cut your wings and they even do. Someone is fishy around you. Some of you may be great planners, adventurers, and artists. I sense strong Sagittarius and Capricorn placements. The thread that you bind with others is your beauty. How you intricate relationships with calm and how you give others space to pour their heart out is your beauty, pile 1. Your only weak point is you give others words more value than yours. And that's where you lose your beauty. New voices emerge in your head and keep feeding you with information about someone that you are not. Your beauty grows on people. It's slow but refreshing. You nurture others to the extent that you sometimes end up parenting them. You're so beautiful pile 1 save yourself from predators. Sending so much love your way. If you want to know your Divine Masculine/Feminine energy then feel free to drop a message in my Tumblr inbox. Below I am sharing my:

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Pile 2

Tarot Cards: 9 of swords, 6 of wands, 3 of cups, 6 of swords, the hanged man, 7 of cups, 2 of wands, king of pentacles

Hello, my dear pile 2. I see something strange here. You stick to extremes. If you shift your perception and choose to see the situation upside down you'll notice what you've achieved till now. If you just keep aside the sleepless nights you'll see what those sleepless nights have given to you. They made you shine like a star in front of a crowd. You've been praised by many people in your lifetime. There may be many who broke your heart but there was always that one person who acted as the silver lining to your dark clouds. You're a great performer pile 2. You are a great friend. You are an overachiever despite facing so many challenges in your life. And you doubt your beauty? Come on!!!!! You have the quality of Jesus, self-sacrifice. You've sacrificed a lot to be where you are today. You are very good at balancing things, pile 2. Somewhere your career might be suffering nowadays but believe me you can manage. I hear, “We have come so far my dear look how we have grown.” Free yourself from all the wrong narratives of beauty you have got stuck in your brain. Beauty comes from within. Focus on grooming your soul and pull it out of the mud. You need emotional healing. You are too concerned about your relationships. You are everything a person can ask for. You don't need assurance from anybody. You don't even need it from me. You know that deep down ARE A BEAUTIFUL SOUL. Your dreams are waiting for you to achieve them. You think things through is your beauty. For some of you, I am getting that your sibling may be your strength. Those who stayed are the ones who know what you have. Those who force you to stay now don't know how to stop themselves from taking from you. You can sometimes be that addictive for people. Ask yourself what's there that you need to heal within. If you want to know your Divine Masculine/Feminine energy then feel free to drop a message in my Tumblr inbox. Below I am sharing my:

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Pile 3

Tarot Cards: Temperance, The Fool, 5 of Pentacles, The Empress, Knight of Wands, The Star, 3 of Cups, 8 of Cups

Hello, my beautiful pile 3. I see that your beauty is that you stay with people through thick and thin. Even if you suffer you stay. You only walk away when you are not cherished or valued for what you are giving to another person. You have passion for life. You know your limits but you still carry yourself as if you are limitless. You stretch your dreams as far as you can. You are not afraid to demand. You don't think you deserve less but life at times throws difficulties your way. When the choice is needed to be made you realise that you're only human and you can only do so much. You have many wishes and there's no way that you feel you can't have them. Some of you may have life path 5. You are dreamers. Your beauty lies in your never-ending optimism. You work hard and smart. Your ideas are unmatchable. You not only think but show the world what we can dream we can achieve. I am amazed! So beautiful, pile 3. No one can stop you from achieving what you want and people around you know that. You have the strength to walk away from relationships that come in the way of your big goals. The world you want to create is just not about money. It's also about the community. As you have so many desires and things to do your life asks you to organize well so that you can perform tasks well and on time. It's important for you to not let yourself get involved in work that doesn't fit well with you. Your enthusiasm can sometimes take the best of you. Make sure you plan things through by not letting your passion go out of your hand. Last but not least you carry the faith of a child. If you once prayed for something you believe it's going to happen. It's a quality that adults struggle with but I am happy to see that you still carry faith in your heart. It is the only thing that is going to bring your dreams into reality. It's the most important ingredient, my friend. If you want to know your Divine Masculine/Feminine energy then feel free to drop a message in my Tumblr inbox. Below I am sharing my:

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[anki-of-beleriand]

Bad Liar ch. 18

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers - Mentions of Natasha/Maria being married

Warnings: Slow burn - Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - violence - mentios of abused and sexual assault - idiots in love - violence - suggestive themes - drama - angst - fluff

Author's note: The world had changed, and Wanda finally had a chance to show you and tell you how much she loves you and how much you had changed her life for the better.

Well, guys, this is the end.

I surely hope you guys like this chapter as much as I love writing it, and that in general you love the story. I wanted to give you a closure to what had happened and to how the story of both, Reader and Wanda would unfold, but I also wanted to give you a glimpse of the future so. Hope you enjoy the read! Thank you to all of you who stay to the very end, it was quite amazing to have you with me all this time.

Please rmemeber English is not my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes, hope you like this one.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Wishing upon a shooting star

Now and Forever

Time was a funny concept.

After the incident with Vision and Agatha, the world continued its slow travelled into a new year and the normality of life. But for you and your family, it became a painfully slow process in which you had to face many decisions and harsh realities. In the last couple of days, you had tried to make everything work, you made sure not only America but Wanda and the twins had the support they needed to continue on, while also dealing with the legal affairs involving Vision.

Everything had been a part of your life and how you were building up from scratch what had been put in jeopardy in a matter of hours.

Still, you and Wanda endure, and you couldn’t help but fell more in love with the woman that had been picking up her pieces while being everything you and her children needed. You massaged your neck tiredly, the house was completely alone and Wanda and the twins were still out somewhere with Natasha and Maria.

At least that was what she had said to you when you asked for her companionship to your appointment with the doctor. It had been a strange day, a very lonely day in which you had been left alone with your thoughts and emotions.

You whistled glancing around your living room before directing your attention to the stairs, America had long gone somewhere with Kate and you regretted not having agreed to her and her idea of joining you at the hospital. With a heavy sigh, and some tiredness you made your way upstairs ready to take a shower.

Of course, noting could had prepared you for what you found there.

The room was completely empty.

You stepped forward until your eyes fell upon the clothes that had been neatly organized on your bed. Right on top of your favourite trousers there was a single note with your name on it, you recognized America’s messy handwriting and you couldn’t help but smile at the words she had left written on the piece of paper.

Today is finally the day!

Wanda has been planning this for a very long time, and since I am very amazing sister, and sister-in-law, I decided to give her a hand.

I choose your favourite clothes and left everything ready for you to get dress and ready for your date with Wanda. You and her both deserve this time, and I think it would be the perfect time to just be yourself and talk about everything but what had happened lately. Please, be happy. I will take the twins to Kate’s place and you two will have the rest of the afternoon and the night for yourselves. Please, just write to me and make sure you enjoy the date.

Love, the best sister in the world (me)

Your smile only grew knowing in the last couple of days America had been completely secretive though always offering hints of how much you were going to love the surprised. Wanda had been holding her secrets just as tightly, and by the time Friday finally arrived you were really dying to know what Wanda had prepared.

“Very well, one hour before Wanda is here,” you mumbled to yourself letting your eyes wandered around to check your clothes. With a wince, you left your backpack and the jacket on a chair and went to the bathroom.

You couldn’t help but gasped at the sheer pain you felt running through your arm, leaving the sling to the side and helping yourself out of your clothes. Your reflection blinked back at you, the wound on your left arm was still red, and fresh, pulsating from time to time reminding you not only of the cold winter days, but of what had almost happened two weeks ago.

With a frown, and a shake of your head you turned around getting the bath ready.

Today was about you and Wanda and whatever it was she had prepared for you, there was no time to think anything sad or regretful. With a smile on your face, you put on some music and decided to get ready for the woman that had already captured your heart.

A deep void of anticipation settled on your lower abdomen and you could hardly wait to see Wanda again.

You glanced at your reflection with a critical eye.

America had put together the suit your dad had chosen for your first official meeting in the company. Your lips curled lightly, it had been a while since you last used those Chino pants, or that blazer, but it was your favourite one because of how it made you look. How it made you feel. You smiled fixing your left arm to rest comfortably on your midsection, the blazer and pants tailored fit complementing your body form with the dark colours you favoured so much. 

You found your eyes in your reflection, your body tingling with anticipation and a void expanding on your abdomen. Your heart shrank with emotion, when you recalled Wanda's eyes on you, her smile and the sweet timbre of her voice. If you were to be honest you didn't know when you felt for her, when you lowered your guard and allowed this woman and her children to take home in your heart. You just knew that one day, her smile took your breath away and her eyes on you made your heart fluttered with want.

The mobile on your bed vibrated several times, you furrowed your brows grabbing the phone while reading the message. You smirked, you turned around and went directly to the first floor making sure you had your wallet and keys on you. The moment you opened the door your throat went dry, 

She stood by your door wearing a single, dark blue dress pressed around her horse but loose around the waist. There was a black coat on her, with her hair straightened up and light make-up glistening on her face. She smiled shyly at you, her eyes taking in your frame before they settled in your eyes, her cheeks wore a dust of red you were familiar with.

“Hey.” She greeted tentatively dipping her head while looking away for a moment.

You shook your head, blinking a couple of times before stepping forward.

“Hey.”

Wanda leaned back, her tongue playing with her lips with her hands closing tightly around the purse she had borrowed. 

“You look beautiful.” You finally stuttered out, your face warming up when those green eyes fell on you once more. 

Wanda put a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile softening leaning into the touch of your hand on her arm.

“You look good, too.” She replied and you were quite relieved you were not the only one incapable of speaking properly at the moment.

“Only good?” You asked teasingly, Wanda opened her eyes, shaking her head.

“You look amazing.” She finally stated, rolling her eyes when you just chuckled.

“Amazing, eh?”

“You always look good,” Wanda lifted her hand and put it on top of yours, “are you ready?”

You stepped out of your house closing the door behind you, you grabbed her hand placing a kiss on her knuckles with a single winked that made Wanda falter for a moment.

“I'm all ready for you, Princess. I'm also very excited to know where you are taking me, and what you have planned for today.”

You couldn't hide the excitement in your voice, you bounced on your feet while Wanda merely shook her head pointing to the car. 

“It's still a surprise and as such, you are going to be asked to wear a blindfold.” 

You cocked a brow at her, your lips curling playfully.

“Kinky.” You chuckled when Wanda slapped you playfully on the back, she rolled her eyes but you could tell she was blushing profusely.

“Come on, we have reservations.”

Wanda started walking down the lane but stopped when your hand closed around her forearm. She turned confused, her eyes finding yours and the seriousness of your expression made her turn completely to face you. 

“We cannot go like this, you know?” You shook your head, but Wanda merely creased her brows tilting her head.

Whatever question she had, or whatever she was going to say was soon cut by your lips finding hers in a slow, tentative kiss. Her breath caught in her throat, and you just loved the way she tilted her head placing her hands on your forearms giving into the kiss while opening her mouth with her tongue teasingly playing with yours. You smiled into the kiss, sowing down until your forehead was resting against hers. Both breathing hard, flustered with lips swollen from the kissing.

“Are you…are you happy now?” Wanda asked and her voice, while still recovering, suddenly was huskier than ever.

You nodded, placing a sweet peck on her cheek, stepping back before you couldn't contain yourself.

“Yep, now we can go.”

____________________________

The ride to your destination was a silent event.

The silence was filled with music and conversation about your doctor’s recommendations for the physical therapy and Wanda’s care of her throat. You had leaned back against the eat, with a smile playing on your lips while you gave the woman sitting beside you a trust you rarely placed in anybody else.

When the car finally stopped, your stomach was squirming deliciously and your heart was jumping with anticipation of what was going to happen. You waited until a warm hand placed itself on your leg, your body tense leaning in to follow the voice of Wanda.

“I thought very hard on this, you know?” Wanda was speaking softly, with her voice filled with memory and something you couldn’t quite name, “I’ve been going through so many changes, and when I was finally getting to know myself I met you.”

You cracked a smile leaning your head without being able to see but sensing Wanda’s eyes on you.

“That was one hell of a first good impression?”

Wanda snorted, her hand clenched tenderly around your knee.

“No, I hated you.” This time around you could tell she was not joking, but her voice merely softened. “I hated what you made me feel, I felt vulnerable but at the same time there was this horde of butterflies on my stomach and my chest was always tight and throbbing…it was infuriating. It was confusing.”

You lifted your right hand; your movements were slow and tentative waiting to see if Wanda would stop your advances but she never did so. By the time you took off the blindfold, you could see the face of the other woman looking right outside the parking lot of a big, black building. Wanda let out a breathy sigh, it came right from her chest and by the time her green eyes found yours your heart skipped a beat.

“I wasn’t sure as to what I was experimenting until…” Wanda shrugged, “until I told Hope, then everything make sense.”

“Was it the first time you…” your question caught in your throat, there were many things you wanted to ask, furrowing your brows you realised there were certain details about Wanda you had yet to see, you had yet to know.

Fixing your position on the seat, this time around it was you the one facing her while the building stood like a shadow in front of you.

“Was it the first time a woman flirt with you?” You asked tentatively, Wanda nodded tilting her head until she was locking her eyes with you.

“It was the first time I actually admit to liking a woman, Y/N.” Wanda then softened her features, her hand seeking yours, “today I want to make it special, I want for you to know and to feel just how much you mean to me. I…I may be slow with words, but I don’t want you to think I am not experiencing the same emotions as you do.”

Your lips broke into a half smile, you leaned forward until your lips were on her ear. Wanda shivered her eyes fluttering close as you spoke.

“I love you.” It was a simple whisper, three words you had gotten used to tell the other woman with every single ounce of honestly you could show her.

“I know.” Wanda replied back turning her face until your lips and hers were brushing against one another, you snorted shaking your head.

“Very well, Han Solo, where are we?”

Wanda furrowed her brows scrunching up her nose the very same way the twins usually did when confused. You chuckled tucking her locks behind her ear.

“What did you call me?” She asked tentatively leaning back, you raised a single brow.

“You know? Han Solo? Star Wars? Princess Leia?”

Wanda shrugged shaking her head, her eyes twinkling in silent laughter at the face of pure mock disbelief you were wearing at the moment. It was as if you were genuinely offended by her lack of knowledge for what you were saying.

“God, as soon as this is over you and I are going home to see the movies, the original ones before I settled on letting you see the full saga.” You commented opening the door of the car.

Wanda followed your actions, but just before the both of you left the warmness of the car she decided to speak.

“Funny, I thought that after we left this place you and I could be doing something totally different once we were home. I was dying to know what else you could do with that mouth of yours.”

The young woman smirked closing the car door behind her and walking down the parking lot, her cheeks were a witness of her embarrassment but her heart fluttered happily when she heard your cursed and gasp. The door closing with a loud thud, while your footsteps hurried up behind her.

The night promise to be fun.

The main entranced had been decorated with silvery banners announcing the newest show, the doors were closed and a single sign to the left showed the place had been closed hours ago. You furrowed your brows; it was until the both of you had been standing closed to it that you realized you were in the Natural Museum and the Stark Planetarium. The place was huge and it had been built just outside the city to make it possible for the observatory to get easiest access to a clear sky.  Your eyes lighted up leaning in to observed inside the glassed doors, Wanda stood by your side writing something on her phone while waiting patiently with you.

“How did you know?” You asked leaning back, Wanda shifted her weight from one feet to the other facing you with a soft smile.

“I did pay attention when you helped the twins with their homework, and I did my investigation to make sure I wouldn’t get this wrong.” Wanda stepped closer to you positioning herself on your right side so she could grab your hand in hers. “I want this date to be special.”

“Being with you is what makes this date special.” You pecked her cheek, and Wanda just shook her head.

“You’re such a sweet talker.”

“Nah, I’m just saying the truth.”

Soon the doors were opened and a single guard opened the doors, he smiled at the both of you while passing a set of keys to Wanda giving her silent instructions as to where they should go and which parts were off limits for the both of you. You observed as the young woman listened carefully, she took the map the man was giving her while also pointing to something on the tablet he was holding. Your heart skipped a beat thinking of all the things she had done, if only to get you to where you two were at the moment ready to enjoy the strangest date you had ever been to.

“Very well, we’re not allow to disturb the rest of the exhibitions so let’s see, I think it’s down here.”

“Lead the way, my lady, I am but a humble peasant at your mercy.”

Wanda chuckled grabbing your hand dragging you through the corridors, it was only the both of you and the sound of your footsteps disturbed the silent scene spreading before your eyes. You had been in that place several times through your youth and adulthood; it was one of your favourite places in the whole world and you had a sneaking suspicion this part of the date had been America’s contribution.

“No way…” you whispered this time around walking faster until it was you the one dragging Wanda behind you, your smile grew just as you turned around and found the planetarium had been fixed in such a way that right in the middle of the ground there was a single table with two chairs.

You had been there when your father was helping around on the renovations, at that time you were but eight years old, but the idea behind these new arrangements was to make camping-like scenario for some of the youngest people that would fill the place in the future. The idea was to make of this dome of the most accurate and real in the whole country. 

Let’s make it feel as if they were actually outside, watching the stars above their heads on a nice, summer night.

Your face broke into a nostalgic smile as the words of your father filled your mind.

Wanda took a deep breath her hand squeezing yours tenderly, her heart beating fast just as you let go while strolling around the place. The planetarium was located on the west wing of the building, it was the biggest in the east coast and it usually held some of the most important films about astronomy and history in the whole country. The projection dome was done with neutral colours with a LED system that came along with the latest technology for audio and special effects. It had been a couple of years since you last were inside the Domo and finding yourself in the midst of such a place only brough a bubble of happiness that spread all through your senses.

Everything was already set up, and the lights that were lighting up the place were just centred on the single table with two chairs right in the middle of the room. Instead of the normal chairs that were placed around the theatre, you found yourself looking at a scene that never thought possible and you knew right there and there of all the effort that Wanda had taken that very first time to give you the perfect date.

“Do you…do you like it?” Wanda finally broke the silence approaching you with a tentative stare in her eyes, she approached the table signalling the cutlery with the table, the glasses of wine and the single bottle resting on a small side table inside a bucket filled with ice.

You turned to the woman standing beside you, it was quite incredible that even after all she had done there was still some trepidation in her features, the nervous picking of her fingers while she tried to offer explanations of how everything came to be. Of the careful planning she did to make sure everything would be ready, that everything would be there on time.

You stopped her tirade just as she was about to tell you she chose as the main course had been lasagne accompanied by a white wine.

Wanda got her words tangled in her throat, her lips trembling lightly until she lifted her arms to return your hug. For the very first time, after what happened in New Year and the process of recovery you and Wanda allowed the comfort of a single hug.

“This is amazing.” You whispered making sure she could feel everything you were experimenting at the moment.

Wanda closed her eyes, taking in the sweet aroma of your perfume and surrendering to the warm of your body. You leaned back, brushing your fingers on her hair while taking in the marks on her eyes and the tentativeness behind her stare.

“Nobody had done this before, you know?”

“Really?” Wanda asked right away, you shook your head. Wanda pursed her lips stepping back a little.

“You don’t have to say that, you know?”

You furrowed your brows seeking her eyes with yours until she couldn’t look away from you.

“I mean it, Wands. I’ve been in many dates some of them were unique in the way the presented themselves, but…well, this…” You lifted your eyes to the dome stretching your arms while twirling around, “having someone worry enough to make something I like? Not many did, and not in the way I was expecting.”

“Well, I just thought…” Wanda turned around when the gates of the theatre opened and there came a couple of waitresses bringing over the food.

You grabbed Wanda’s hand leaning in to place a single kiss on her knuckles, the young woman rolled her eyes at your gesture but took it for what it was.

“Let’s eat, and discuss this, my lady.”

“Let me help you out.” Wanda replied walking fast to the closest chair pulling it out waiting for you to sit.

You grinned taking the chair while Wanda too the one right in front of you, the two young men worked was placing the plates filled with food while also serving the wine and leaving two glasses of water as well.

Everything was perfect, the smell of the fresh lasagne filled your nostrils and it was quite evident you couldn’t shake the smile adorning your features. Wanda puffed out her chest, a sense of pride overcame her knowing she had made it possible for you to not lose your smile or relaxed posture.

“This is delicious,” you moaned while tasting the food, Wanda blushed glancing at the food while nodding in agreement. “God you bought it in Olympia, didn’t you?”

“Yep, Ajak was very kind to offer the services of the waitress and the food and actually all the things you see here.”

“You really outdo yourself with the date, Wanda.”

Wanda lifted her face taking in your frame, she smiled going back to her food.

“I really wanted to make this special for you.” Wanda grabbed her wine frowning her brows for a moment, “I never thought I could be this special with anyone, let out feel like this for someone else.”

You focused on the food, but soon you noticed the sweet melody of a familiar song playing in the speakers inside the dome. Your eyes lighted up turning to Wanda who was offering a tiny smile, she really had thought about everything.

“Very well, what’s your ideal date?” You asked all of a sudden, Wanda was taken aback for a moment blinking at the randomness of the question.

“My ideal date?”

“Yep, you just said you couldn’t imagine being this special, but you are special, Wanda. Perhaps, you were never given the chance, but I know you must have something inside your head that cold be define as the perfect one.”

Wanda chewed on her lower lip, narrowing her eyes for a moment before leaning in.

“I have always thought that a walked down a beautiful part, or forest leading to a lake is an ideal date.” She stated thoughtfully, “mom used to take Pietro and me to this beautiful forest near the city back home, she always told us the stories of her youth, and I always thought that would be the perfect place to have a date or a marriage proposal.”

You nodded pursing your lips impressed, Wanda then turned to you her eyes gleaming strangely.

“How about yours?”

You opened your eyes blinking a couple of times before leaning over, “I have to say, this one? It’s at the top five of my favourite dates ever.”

Wanda made a face of disbelief but you stopped her with a gesture of your hand, you drank some wine shaking your head.

“I mean it.” You declared strongly, “I love history, and I love everything that has to do with museums and books, if you want to win my heart, this is the perfect spot to start over. But I would say the perfect date would be on Prague’s Strahov library. Now, that would be quite the adventure.”

The conversation soon flew the same way it did before the incident, you caught Wanda giving in while leaving the stress on her shoulders ease out and her expression relaxed while the conversation grew around the topics she handled well. You never lied to her, while you had your share amount of dates usually they involved other type of activities that, why you liked them at a time, they hardly related with one of your passions.

Laughter filled the planetarium; the acoustics of the place made it easy for the sound to be enhanced. The conversation grew around different topics, and soon whatever happened in the past, whatever physical wounds the both of you carried still were forgotten.

And it was in that moment you remembered why you fell in love with Wanda.

“Thank you, this was delicious.” You glanced at the waitress smiling gently at her, the young woman flushed returning the smile until she caught the glare coming from Wanda.

“I will bring the desert.” The young woman picked up the last of the dishes and hurried out of the place.

You cocked a brow at Wanda who had not stopped following the other woman with her glare, when she returned her attention to you it was only to find your amused smile adorning your features.

“Jealous much?” You chuckled when Wanda clicked her tongue looking away.

“Should I be?”

This time around you did laugh at the absurdity of the comment, Wanda rolled her eyes sending you a withering stare before huffing and crossing her arms. You waited until the dessert had been served and another bottle of wine was brought, this time around the rest of the lights went out and there was only a single one left to create a foggy atmosphere around the centre of the room.

“I think you are adorable when jealous.” You stood up serving the wine, you knew Wanda was following you with her eyes but for now you focused your attention to the task at hand. “I still remember that time in which you saw me and Carol, there is something utterly cute about it.”

“I’m not jealous, and I don’t think being jealous counts as adorable. Or cute.”

You clicked your tongue shaking your head, the glass was soon filled with the red beverage on the bottle. You passed the glass to Wanda who received it, the glint in her eyes told you she was enjoying the changed in the topic. Or perhaps, what she was enjoying was your attention. You nodded to her mobile taking your glass in your hands.

“They give you control of the room, didn’t they?”

Wanda pursed her lips glancing at her phone while nodding.

“Mr. Stark taught me the basics, and how to make sure that everything was perfect for the show.” Wanda mumbled, she gasped when you grabbed the phone seeking the app where Wanda was trying to handle the dome.

“You took my playlist, didn’t you?” This time around there was a hint of affection tainting your voice, Wanda nodded as if it was obvious.

“I wanted this to be about you.” She mumbled well aware that your eyes were now on her.

“Let’s make this about you and me, then.” You ran your thumb around the playlist until you found the song you were looking for. Your mouth broke into a smirk, and the sudden glint of mischief that appeared in your eyes made Wanda winced.

“What are you thinking?”

You left your glass of wine, stretching your hand to Wanda who took it without thinking it twice.

“Dance with me, my love.”

Wanda looked away with a tiny smile on her lips, her cheeks burning up while she started shivering under your hold. You stepped closer waiting for the song to start, your body moulding perfectly against Wanda’s one.

“I trust you know how to dance, Wands?”

“I…I know the basics.” She replied locking her eyes with you.

“Then, let me stir you around the curves.” You winked at her, loving the sound of her laughter.

The sound of the trumpet was the first thing that came into the speakers, and soon the music formed around the voice of Elle Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Wanda snickered gasping when you twirled her around before pressing her body to yours, the dance started slowly with you just swinging around.

“Why that song?” Wanda finally asked, you shrugged with memory written in your eyes.

“Mom used to listen to it, America’s mom.” You clarified, “her mother used Elle to perfect her English when they first came here.”

Wanda nodded leaning closer, her arms sneaking around the nape of your neck. You wiggled your eyebrows bringing another chuckled from the young woman.

“And she taught you how to dance?”

“Yep.”

“Mom used to teach us as well,” Wanda rested her forehead against yours, “ours was more classical, but still it was nice. She was a little obsess of making me be a debutant, and Pietro a escort in the traditional sense.”

Wanda furrowed her brows at the memory, but whatever memory came with it soon was forgotten and replaced with a content smile.

“It was actually nice, and I enjoyed it greatly.”

“I would love to dance something classical, any song in mind?” You asked tentatively, Wanda opened her eyes a little taken aback by your inquiry.

“You want to? Really?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Wanda tilted her head thinking for a moment until the song finished and the both of you stood in the middle of the room just looking at one another. The young woman leaned in kissing you tentatively, when she parted from you your heart was already trembling under the sheer passion she shared through the kiss.

“No, perhaps later, right now I want to keep spoiling you.”

Not sooner had she said this, Wanda turned around making her way to the futons resting on the floor. She fixed them with care, full aware of your curious eyes on her; woman made sure to take her jacket off of her and fix everything so the both of you could rest comfortably on the floor.

“What else did you plan?” You finally asked approaching her with the same amount of curiosity, Wanda was smiling shrugging lightly.

“You’ll see, don’t be impatient.” Wanda hesitated for a moment before turning to you, “do you mind serving the wine and bring it over?”

“Not at all.” With one last glance you turned to the table ready to serve the wine when all of a sudden the lights went out.

You froze on the spot, lifting your head to see if perhaps it had been a malfunction in the system or there was something else involved. Soon, you could feel the breeze touching your heated face, the small resounding of drums that went increasing until music of ancient design filled the room and a single dot of white appeared on the far edge of the screen crossing the dome above your head like a shooting star.

You gasped turning around to see Wanda smiling at you, she had dismissed her heels and her coat approaching you while the music transformed into a soothing melody. She locked her eyes with yours, and while you couldn’t see it, you could feel her trembling hands on your blazer helping you out of it while fixing the posture of your sling.

No words were needed it when those fingers worked around the bottoms of your shirt and then she took you to the futons she had fixed on the ground. With a stretch out hand, you allowed her to direct you to the ground almost chocking on your spit when she knelt in front of you taking your shoes off of you.

“Wanda…” You couldn’t keep the silence, but your voice sounded strangled almost fearful to break the spell the both of you seemed to be in.

“This is about you.” She replied simply, crawling to you her lips found yours in the sweetest of kisses the both of you had shared so far.

You found yourself on your back, those lips dancing with yours in a silent invitation. Your heart was beating hard, you were sure the sound of the drums had long ago been replaced by the sound of your heart. Your put your open hand on the back of Wanda’s neck putting her closer until you were on your back and she was almost on top of you.

“I love you.” Wanda all but whisper in your ear, her face almost hidden in the crook of your neck while her warm breath caressed the skin behind your ear.

There was a moment of silence, your heart finally stopped while you registered those words coming from her. You never expected Wanda to say those three words any time soon, you understood the kind of pressure she had been in, and the life she had been living before meeting you. Hell, the amount of time the both of you had known each other wouldn’t give you both enough time to say such a deep declaration, yet you couldn’t deny what you had been feeling for the woman hovering above you at the moment.

Your eyes found those emerald ones, the affection she had always shown you was there gleaming with hope. She waited with her lips swollen, and a dust of pink on her cheeks; Wanda leaned in her nose playing with yours while her eyes closed to engrave the moment in her mind.

“I love you.” She said it again, this time around louder, stronger and you knew she meant it. Every single word.

Your eyes flickered soon to the screen above your head, this time around everything changed and it was as if the both of you were right outside. The night sky was gleaming above your head, with a million started twinkling merrily at you, the start gliding slowly until the movement of the starts start speeding up and soon everything changed and the first constellations came upon the screen.

Wanda could see the stars reflecting in your eyes, she was very careful with her weight always favouring your right side. Her lips curled into a smile when your face lit up with glee at the sight above your head; she remembered the first time she asked for help. America and Hope had been so sure about their proposal that Wanda couldn’t say no, but she opted to add some of the things she had learned from you in those conversations in the middle of the night.

“I love you, too.” You finally replied back, this time around those eyes were filled with affection and completely focused on Wanda.

The young woman dipped her head turning on her side until she was resting right beside you, her hand sneaking comfortably around your midsection.

“I’m sorry it took me this long to say it,” Wanda started but before you could reply she shot you a quick glance shaking her head, “you had been my saviour in so many ways. You can imagine where I was when I first met you.”

“I was a bitch on that meeting.” You recalled, but Wanda merely chuckled nodding.

“You were and I hated you for that.” Wanda turned to you never losing her smile or the affection in her voice, “and then I got to know you and I was…confused. You were making me feel so much, in so little time, and I was afraid.”

Wanda snuggled closer to you, “I’m not afraid anymore, and after thinking about it I realized I love you. As in, I’m in love with you, Y/N, and I don’t think I can stop my heart right now…”

“Why would you stop it?” You inquired turning on your side, wincing when you put some stressed on your left arm.

“I don’t know, what if…”

You leaned in kissing Wanda before she could finish her sentence, Wanda giggled welcoming the kiss before making sure you were back on your back instead of putting some unnecessary stress on your arm.

“Don’t think about the what ifs, Wanda.” You nodded to the sky above your heads, the music had changed into winds and cords, and the story of the first constellations came to be right in front of your eyes.

“I know it is too soon, still. That there is a lot to work on, but if you allowed it…I will be by your side until the last start in the sky had been consume by time.”

Wanda leaned closer to you, her face hidden once more by your neck though this time around you could feel her lips on your neck.

“How do you do it? How can you say such things and make me tremble until there is nothing else but you?”

“It’s a gift.” You chuckled when Wanda lifted her face rolling her eyes.

“I want to be with you, for as long as you want me, Y/N.”

“Then, let’s be together.” You sneaked your arm around her putting her on top of you, “let’s be a family and see where it goes.”

“I love you, and I just wanted to make sure you knew it.” Wanda insisted, you nodded pecking her nose.

“I know.”

“I wanted to make of this night something special,” Wanda said her hand lifting to cup your face and soon her fingers started dancing down your jaw to your neck to the open shirt. For you it was soon evident what she meant, and while she tried to look confident in what she was doing you could see the flash of uncertainty in her eyes.

Her hand was trembling, whatever expertise she had tried to show soon vanished when you realized she was getting closer to your chest.

“You don’t have to…you know?” You could see the glint of hesitation in her green eyes, Wanda clenched them closed in frustration. “Hey, Wands…look at me.”

It took a moment, but then she lifted her eyes and soon she was looking right at you.

“I don’t need sex to know I love you and that my heart is already yours, Wands. And I don’t need you to prove it to me; Wands whenever you are ready I’ll be here more than happy to make you scream in passion.”

Wanda gasped this time around her blush grew from her chest all the way to her cheeks, she tried to look away from you but you made it impossible for her to do so. Your wounded arm finding her face in a single caress.

“How can you be so understanding? God, I just…” Wanda leaned against your touch, “I feel foolish.”

“Never, Love, I just know… and I’m not in any hurry, whenever you are ready, I’ll be ready as well.”

Wanda sighed and whatever tension had been building around her left her body, this time around, when she kissed you she did it with the promise of the future. She laid down by your side, and soon she focused her stare on the stars above your head.

“I love it, this moment just you and me…”

“I thought we need it, you have been amazing with the twins but…” Wanda trailed off shrugging, “I think we were also needing this time to know one another. To actually share in an alone time.”

You smiled nodding your agreement, her hand found yours and soon your fingers intertwined with hers. The stars danced above your heads, and soon your voice joined the music and the different scenes playing with the constellations. You filled in the gaps with the stories you recognized, with Wanda asking questions or helping in the narration until soon you two were talking about mythology and reality.

“I wish this night would never end,” Wanda whispered glancing at the projection of the stars above her head, the show was about to end and she couldn’t help but voice what she had been experimenting in her heart.

“It doesn’t have to be over.” You replied turning to Wanda, the other woman furrowed her brows and you pressed your lips together turning on your side so you were facing her.

“Someday, right?” Wanda replied locking her eyes with yours.

“Someday.”

She smiled snuggling closer to you, “for now I wouldn’t say no to you sleeping with me, I mean without…I…”

You snickered placing a kiss on her forehead, “I know.”

“Did you imagine this will end like this?” Wanda finally asked, her eyes focusing on the sky above her head.

“No, I imagine it will start like this.” You glanced at the same stars, the same shooting star you saw at the beginning gleaming in the distance ready to travel through the sky.

“What do you mean?” Wanda scrunched up her nose, you placed a single kiss on her forehead nodding to the sky.

“I imagine this is how my relationship with you will start, and that after today we just ready to face the new challenges this relationship may bring.” You shrugged glancing down at Wanda, “I’ve been in love before, but…with you? It feels right, as if I was waiting for you.”

Wanda opened her eyes lightly before her expression softened.

“I realised that when…when you stood by my side regardless of my past.” Wanda rested her head on your shoulder, “I think this is the first time I have been in love and, I want you to be the only one.”

“well, love, you have a shooting star to make your wishes a reality.” You pointed to the screen and soon the shooting star crossed the dome and the show was over.

“what did you wish for?” Wanda inquired turning to you, you winked at her nuzzling her nose with yours.

“It’s a secret.”

“That’s not fair! You know what I ask for!”

“I do?” You furrowed your brows, Wanda nodded looking away for a moment before locking her eyes with yours.

“I wish for you to be my one and only love.”

You were shocked for a moment, but soon you answered to such words by kissing Wanda softly.

“And you?” Wanda finally said once you parted from the kiss.

“Me? Well, love, you will have to wait.” You smirked when Wanda seemed indignant at your declaration.

“Oh, come on!”

You pocked her nose, leaning in to kiss her pouting face away.

“Nu-uh, Princess, patience is a virtue, and I know you will know what I wish for with time.”

Wanda groaned in mock frustration, she was about to stand up but her hand grabbed her phone and soon a new projection started in the dome. You raised a single eyebrow when Wanda pinned you to the futon, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.

“Well, then, meanwhile I will just do the second part of my wish.”

“Second part?” Wanda nodded leaning in.

“Yep, I wish to kiss you, and show you how much I love you, how much I thank the skies for having me given the opportunity of meeting you.” Wanda then leaned closer to your face, “I wish to kiss you until the story above our heads is no more and the only option you have is to take me home and spend the night with me.”

“Then, my lady, allow me to make those wishes a reality.”

Their laughter soon filled the dome, and it came accompanied by a sudden gasp and the sound of kissing and playful banter.

Wanda never imagined that her decision to leave Vision would end up with her finding herself, while in the process getting a job and making new friends. Not even in her wildest dreams did Wanda imagine that she would come across someone like you that, for the very first moment create a lasting impression on her to the point Wanda decided to explore the relationship.

Her past had finally stayed in the past, with Vision in jail and her getting the full custody of her children, Wanda now was sure she could secure her future while at the same time seek out the peace and happiness she so desperately needed. Now, with you kissing her slowly while sharing a moment of pure, and unrestrained happiness, Wanda knew that every single decision she had taken had led her to that moment, it had led her to you.

And she didn’t regret it.

With you, Wanda understood that she didn’t need to lie to herself, that she didn’t need to hide or to run. With you, Wanda discovered she could be herself and finally give in.

To be loved, and to love.

That was all that matter.

**********

Three years later

Morning had arrived with a bright sun, and no clouds in the sky.

You served the coffee while glancing out the window, the sound of running footsteps brought a smile to your face knowing that the holidays were the perfect opportunity for the twins to break havoc. No sooner had you thought this, Billy and Tommy came through the door wearing the baggy pants and the t-shirt they had chosen to wear that day.

“Morning, Y/N!” Billy came to you wrapping his arms on your midsection before going to the fridge, Tommy chuckled sitting down on the stool waiting until Billy brought two glasses and set the orange juice on the table.

“You guys have a lot of energy for a Monday morning.” You hummed when they shook their heads innocently.

“Nu-uh, just…America told us she would take us to the lake.” Tommy said shrugging.

“And, we haven’t said anything about…you know.” Billy mumbled looking around the room before settling his eyes on you, “so we thought you would be happy to know we will be out of your hair today!”

You chuckled ruffling his hair affectionately, setting your coffee on the table while serving the orange juice to the boys.

They had grown a great deal and now at seven they were far smarter than you or even Wanda gave them credit for. Three years ago, you never thought possible to fall in love again, nor did you thought whatever started as a tentative relationship would end up being the best that happened to you. You glanced at the boys that started talking animatedly while mentioning the different places America and Kate were supposed to taken them to, you smiled knowing your sister adored them and was about ready to do whatever they wanted as long as she got to spend some time to them.

You sighed leaning against the counter taking a long sip from the coffee, in the last years a lot of things had changed in your life. America had finally found her passion, she had decided to pursue a career in international affairs and her path led her directly into one of the most important universities in Europe, which ended up with Kate studying a couple of miles away from her. Whatever had started as a school crush, it had developed into a serious relationship that both of them had dealt with maturity.

You had finally gotten the time you needed to organise the business, and while your presence was always required when important matters arise, you had taken it upon yourself to be in charge of the development section of the company. It was easier, and it gave you the time you needed to spend with Wanda and the children.

The sound of childish argument brough a smile into your face, soon you caught the well-known voice of your girlfriend and your heat melt right away when Wanda appeared behind the hall wearing a familiar frown while placing her hands on her hips.

“Okay, you two, stop this argument right now or there won’t be any outing with America.”

“Yes, mum!” The twins said at the same time focusing on their beverages.

You locked your eyes with Wanda, your lips curling into a smile while the woman softened completely making her way to where you were standing casually. She leaned in pecking your lips while stealing your mug.

“Morning.” You whispered wrapping your arm around her hips, she giggled leaning forward before accepting a deeper kiss.

“Ugh, mom!”

“Y/N!”

You finished the kiss turning to them, “I will hold you to this moment when you guys bring over your partners home and decided to kiss them in front of us.”

“No!”

“Never!”

“I would never be this corny!”

“Never!”

You chuckled rolling your eyes, Wanda leaned in kissing you one more time before going to the coffee maker and serving another cup of coffee. You glanced at your watch knowing America would be there any moment now, your heart beating a tad bit faster while the heavy void you had felt on your lower abdomen increased and your chest tightened at what you had planned for the day.

Tommy and Billy glanced at one another before placing their hands on their mouth and snickering, you mock glared at them and the sudden exchanged didn’t go amiss to Wanda. The young woman narrowed her eyes standing right beside you.

“Okay, what is it?” She asked, and her suspicions only grew when the three of you answered at the same time.

“Nothing!”

You glanced at the twins, the three of you started laughing while Wanda softened her features. Even if she got curious, and a little wary, she couldn’t help but love these moments in which you and the twins would behave like a family. Once she had given in, you became the light of her life, your smile and your occurrences were always a source of amusement and tenderness, and the twins had come to love you in ways Wanda thought would be difficult to do so. They accept you faster than what she thought, and ever since that day after the planetarium you and her had been together in the good, the bad, the ugly and the pretty.

“You guys…” Wanda started but whatever she was going to say was cut short by a knock on the door.

“Save by the bell, guys! That must be America, love.” You gave Wanda a quick peck on her lips before running towards the door, once more the twins looked at one another before holding back their snickers.

“Okay, what is it?”

“Nu-uh, mom, it’s a secret!” Tommy said emptying the glass in a single sip.

“We promised not to say anything, mom.” Billy continued shrugging before approaching Wanda and offering her a hug, “but I love you!”

Wanda narrowed her eyes hugging Billy back, “I love you too, both of you.”

“Hey!! Where are my favourite guys in the whole world?!”

America stretched her arms to welcome Billy and Tommy, Kate rolled her eyes moving past them with a smile to greet Wanda. Wanda chuckled when their attention turned to Kate, America approached her wrapping her arms around the young woman.

“Ugh, I missed you so much, Wands! How’s everything? My sister still giving you trouble?”

“Hey! I never gave her any trouble, did I?” You pouted standing beside Wanda, the other woman shook her head putting you closer to her.

“Never, my love, you are a well-behaved girlfriend whenever you and the twins are not playing to break havoc.” Wanda pecked your lips turning to America. “Everything is perfect, but I have a feeling my girlfriend and my sons are planning something I should know about.”

This times around America opened her eyes with her mouth hanging opened, Kate gasped and the twins put their hands on their mouths. You snorted rolling your eyes, with this level of secrecy it was a surprised Wanda had not really discovered what you had planned for her that day.

“No, I mean there is no…Oh, look at the time, guys are you ready?” Kate babbled looking around while trying to evade any interaction with Wanda who had her eyes on her.

America snorted softening her stare while her girlfriend took the twins to their room, she then turned to Wanda who had a single eyebrow lifted waiting for an explanation she would not receive. At least, not from America.

“Don’t look at me, I’m just a passerby ready to take the twins on an adventure of a lifetime.” She said lifting her arms, Wanda snorted turning to you.

“You know, sooner or later I will find out your secrets?”

“I’m counting on it, Wands.” You whispered leaning in to kiss her, “now, how about you go and take a bath and I help America around.”

Wanda nodded dreamily, she gave you a quick smile before turning to America and giving the young woman another hug.

“It is good to see you again, America, see you tonight at dinner, right?”

“Yeo, we will be there!” America glanced at Wanda walking away, she waited until she was pretty sure Wanda had left before turning to you. “Well?”

“Well? You’re the one who should tell me if everything is ready!” You whispered harshly at your sister glancing down the corridor before settling your eyes on America.

The young woman rolled her eyes, but her lips played a familiar smile while she tapped something on her phone. Soon you were giving a fine idea of what she had prepared with the help of Kate and your friends; it had been hard at first to get what you needed to make of that day special. Your face lit up completely, and America could see the ghost of a smile on your lips while your eyes scanned the images she had store on her phone.

When you first shared with America your intentions, the young woman had been excited. In the last couple of years, she had seen the love between you and Wanda grow in something completely different. It was not the same relationship you shared with Shuri, and certainly it wasn’t the same type of relationship Wanda had shared with Jarvis. The both of you had been the best that could happen to the other, Wanda had learnt to love and be love, to trust in herself while also trust in the affection others held for her. You learnt to let go and to actually trust in the person beside you, you got to see how Wanda was ready to be a part of your life without losing her own little universe with the twins.

It had been a rocky path, there were fights, and sometimes it was quite difficult to fight against the demons of the past. But, America knew, if it hadn’t been because of the deep love you two felt for one another, the relationship would have been over years ago.

“I think she will love it, and I’m just…” America trailed off before offering you a quick hug, “I think this is amazing.”

You sighed putting your hand inside your pocket, the squared box resting inside your pocket.

“Thank you, this looks amazing.” You glanced at the hall before turning to America, “at what time you think we can go over there?”

“Mmm, I would say the best would be around 4pm, we will be there waiting for you so…” America waved her hands excited, “God, I can’t hardly wait, please tell me if anything happens.”

“I will, Kiddo, thank you.” You wrapped your arms around her, “I really missed you.”

“I missed you too.” America chuckled when she caught the excited chatter of the twins and Kate coming over, “now, I will take them off of your plate for a while, we will have time to get up to date, for now, go!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You watched as they left in the midst of laughter and light conversation, your hand sneaking inside your pocket putting out the black box you had bought a long time ago. Your heart skipped a beat, your hand clenching tightly around it ready to give the next step in your relationship with Wanda. Your lips broke into a tender smile, the memories of the last three years filling up your mind with determination and love.

“Y/N?”

You put the box away turning to see Wanda approaching you slowly, the swinging of her hips and that flirty smile she wore made your mouth go dry and your lower abdomen tingled with anticipation.

“Yes?” You asked, Wanda came to you chewing on her lower lip playfully.

“Since the kids are gone, and you and I are alone, I thought…we could shower together, don’t you think?” This was said in a low, husky tone, her lips wrapping around your earlobe while her hands sneaked inside your shirt.

“I think…you have a wicked mind, Wands.” You replied, but before Wanda could do or said anything else you took her in your arms crashing your lips to hers.

Needless to say, you and she left the home later than what you should, but the both of you had satiated the thirst you had for one another.  Love evident in your faces, as you walked around the city hand by hand.

_________________________________

The country of Sokovia was a beautiful land with a rich past and a colourful landscape.

Wanda had been excited when you announced the trip, not really believing you were going to comply with her wishes until you present her with the four plane tickets. By the time you four had arrived at the city of Novi Grad, Wanda had been completely excited telling you and her children all about her hometown. She spoke of the difficult times they had lived, and the wonderful things the new government had done to fix the mistakes of the past.

Billy and Tommy had been avid listeners, and they had started talking to Wanda and to you in sokovian while Wanda was just completely happy with the development on their vacations. You had been just happy to see her smile, to see the excitement in her eyes when she pointed to all the places she remembered.

“I still can believe you brought me here.” Wanda said sitting down on the table right outside a beautiful balcony looking at the far away mountains covering half of the city.

“Why not?” You replied taking the menu with a smile, “if anything, I should be sorry for taking so long, but you know? Life has been getting in the way, and I wanted for you to have time to enjoy this place.”

Wanda didn’t know how you did it, the way you were always giving it your all to make her happy. She leaned forward placing her hand on top of yours.

“This is perfect, and it’s the perfect time.”

You smiled back at her, looking at the menu while glancing at the watch on your wrist. You were getting restless as the time for the main event approached; Wanda was looking at her menu pursing her lips before returning her attention to you.

“Can I order something for you? There is something in here I want you to try out…” She trailed off glancing away for a moment, a shadow crossing her eyes, “it is something mom used to cook for me and Pietro and I just…”

“I would love to, Wands. Go ahead, you’re the expert so we will do as you said.” You replied closing the menu, you waited until the food had been ordered before leaning forward playing with Wanda’s fingers.

“You know? Now that you mentioned this about the food, I remember the story you told me once.”

“Which one?” Wanda furrowed her brows blinking away while trying to remember.

“The one about the forest, is around here, isn’t it?”

The way her eyes opened wide, and her whole face lit up made your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her as she turned around trying to point out the direction in which the forest was located.

“Yes! Oh, I can believe you remember…”

“I remembered everything you tell me, love.” You replied, and it was the tone of voice you used what made Wanda turned to you with narrowed eyes, you softened your features offering a reassuring smile to her.

“I always make the effort to have it in my mind so I can make sure to bring happiness to you, to see the very same expression you are wearing at the moment.”

Wanda turned her head away, her cheeks burning bright red while she smiled tenderly at your words. Even after all this time you still got to make her feel so self-conscious of the love you profess to her.

“I love you for that.” Wanda finally said, and you smiled back at her winking.

“Well, what about you and I go over there after lunch? I’m pretty sure at this time of the year must be quite the sight.”

“You mean it?” Wanda exclaimed excitedly, you nodded and soon thank the heavens you were sitting down for the kiss she gave you made your knees trembled and your whole body tingled with anticipation.

******

The afternoon was falling slowly, the wind was cold so the burning sun above your heads was not as strong as it could have been in a dry weather.

You and Wanda walked down the city, your hand joined in a single embrace while conversation flew with easiness. The topics varied from school, to your work, to the recent happenings of the world, to the twins and America; soon you two found yourselves talking about movies and books, the places you would like to visit or the worlds you would like to be in.

Life with Wanda was never bored, and every single time you discovered something new about her that made you fall in love with her even more.

Her excitement at being in her country was something you would cherish forever.

She dragged you down the streets, and then down the pebbled road leading to the forest. The place had changed since she was last there, it was now a national park that had been taken care off with the strictest rules and cares a country could provide to such a beautiful setting.

You took a deep breath when the road spread before your eyes, your eyes lifted to the signs, most of them pointing to different sections of the forest. Your eyes finally fell on the word Lake, and you lifted your hand to point it out to your girlfriend.

“There, lake, can we go there?”

“Yes, of course!”

You chuckled when she just grabbed your hand again, she twirled around wrapping her arms around your neck leaning in to kiss you slowly.

“Have a told you how much I love you?” She asked playfully, you placed your hands on her waist helping her walked backwards while you advanced down the road with her in your arms.

“Mmhm, not recently, no. I think I need a reminder.”

Wanda giggled leaning in, her kisses were soft and tentative, “I love you, Y/N, every time I think this is not possible, I fall in love with you even more and I just…”

Your heart shrank at her confession, putting her to you with your lips moulding against hers you poured all the love you felt for her.

“I love you to, Wands.”

Wanda sighed standing by your side lifting her face to the trees above her, her eyes gleaming happily just as the both of you advanced towards the lake. The forest was located it twenty minutes away from the city, and the entrance had been built around a public parking lot where people could acquire all the necessary materials for camping or a nice picnic. Some of the different paths had been fixed to give easy access to the people that visit the place, but the road leading to the lake had been left untouched with the nature almost claiming it back.

You were admiring the huge trees surrounding the area, the sound of the birds and other animals running around to hide away from the humans. You lifted your stare to see the blue sky above your head, and the cold breeze touching your heated skin. Everything was quiet and peaceful, only the sound of your footsteps seemed to interrupt the sounds of the nature.

Your eyes lifted squinting them when you spot the opening right ahead of you, your lips curling slightly when you finally spotted something else. You had arrived to the lake, with a quick gesture you stood before Wanda stopping her advanced towards her destination.

“What is it?” Just like she did early in the morning, she narrowed her eyes with a glint of suspicion gleaming in them. You shifted your weigh from one foot to the other, your hand scratching the back of your neck while your eyes danced around instead of facing Wanda.

You stood before her, your hand sneaking inside your pocket until you brough forth a single blindfold. She cocked a brow, half-amused, half-expectant at what you had planned.

“I may or may not have planned something for you.” You said tentatively, Wanda snorted but all you could see in her face was love and amusement.

“Figures, and I bet Billy, Tommy, America and Kate are in it?” She already knew the answer, but there was something else she couldn’t pinpoint to.

“Yep.” You admitted lifting your hand, “there is something… I mean, it is a surprised.”

“And I have to wear the blindfold.” Wanda grabbed the piece of clothing, never losing her smile, she winked at you, “kinky, perhaps later on we can use it for other…kind of surprised?”

You laughed out loud shaking your head while helping the brunette put on the blindfold.

“I love how your wicked mind works, Mrs. Maximoff.”

“Well, I love it when you play along, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

You let out a deep breath, the sun was still high in the sky and now Wanda stood before you blindfolded. Her hand found yours, squeezing comfortingly with that beautiful smile you had come to love and crave.

“Are you okay?” She finally asked, you swallowed down your doubts nodding before you remembered she couldn’t see you.

“I am.” Then, as an afterthought, “I’m just nervous.”

Wanda brought your hand to her lips, never losing her smile.

“Whatever it is you prepared for me, I know I would love it and…Y/N…there is no one else I would love to be with right now, you are the love of my life.”

You chuckled loving the tenderness Wanda used when talking to you, the fact she had come to know your insecurities and was always ready to reassure you of her love and your worth.

“And you are mine, Wands, now let’s go…”

You grabbed her hand and without wasting any more time you led her down the road towards the lake.

The lake was a great extension of water that spread out before a small beach surrounded by the forest. It was filled with grass, trees and bushes, with a crystalline water that was reflecting the light of the sun and the colour of the sky at the moment. This part of the forest was usually used for light lunches, and some swimming but at this time of the year the place was emptied and you had taken advantage of your money to get this small spot for you and your family for a couple of hours.

There was a single bench that had been decorated with red and pink, there were some balloons with a bucket filled with ice and wine. You helped your girlfriend so she could sit on the bench, all around her there was nothing more than flowers, blue lilies and orchids, the full scene had been planned out and built with the help of America and Kate that had just come from their hiding place with the twins.

You smiled at them putting a finger to your lips, standing before Wanda you pulled your mobile out of your pocket and let a single song filled the silence around the both of you.

“Oh, that’s…” Wanda trailed off when she recognized the trumpets and the melodic voice of Elle Fitzgerald. “Y/N…”

Your name sound beautifully on her lips, you took a deep breath looking around the place knowing you had chosen right. The lake was gleaming to your right, while the forest stood to your left, the mountains wearing a white bald head projected a protective shadow on the valley. This was what Wanda had always desired, what she had harboured in her heart when she still believed in love.

“Y/N…” She repeated your name, this time around with a hint of apprehension in her voice.

You knelt before her, your left knee touching the ground while your right knee bend to hold your elbow up your hand opening the box you had been carrying with you for over a year.

“You can take the blindfold off, Wanda.” You finally said, and your voice trembled with the sheer emotion you were experimenting at the moment.

Wanda took her blindfold, soon her breath caught in her throat and whatever sight she had before her became a blurred of colours and familiar images. Right in front of her was the lake and the forest of her childhood, the very same she had visited in her mind and memory after leaving Sokovia behind. Her green eyes flickered around until they found your eyes, and soon they fell upon the box in your hand and the silver ring resting in there.

The music was still playing around the both of you, and Wanda wanted to see if there was someone else or if the both of you were alone. But she was incapable of looking everywhere but at you.

Your lips trembled, your hand trying to hold still as you cleared your throat lifting your chin to face her with determination and love.

“Wanda Maximoff, I have brought you here because I love you.” You stated taking a deep breath making sure you never wavered in your intentions. “I realized a long time ago I can’t even think of the possibility of not having you by my side, of not living and growing old with you.”

Wanda sat frozen on the bench, her heart hammering hard against her chest while her stomach drop and her body tingled all over until a heavy pressured settled on her chest.

“I have loved you from the moment I met you, I just didn’t know it yet.” You chuckled shaking your head, “and I would love to make you happy, to love you, to cherish you, and to be your friend, your partner if you allow me…so, today in this place and with my heart on my hands, I want to ask you…”

“Yes…” Wanda whispered, you furrowed your brows shaking your head.

“No, wait, I need to ask…”

“Marry me?” Wanda asked, her voice trembling and her lips breaking into a content smile, you frowned though your eyes gleamed with amusement.

“No, you marry me, please?”

Wanda threw herself at you, her arms wrapped tightly around you while you fell to the ground hugging her back. She was sobbing, her voice a mere whispered in your ear.

“Yes, yes, I will…Yes, I marry you.”

You laughed turning your head and kissing her deeply.

“Then, yes, I marry you too, Wands.”

America and Kate both rolled their eyes, but the twins were squealing excitedly no longer able to hold themselves the run towards you and Wanda joining in the embrace.

Wanda turned to them surprised, returning their hug while turning to you and stretching her left hand where you placed the ring on her finger. Your smile was huge, and it was matching hers with the twins hugging both of you while talking excitedly.

“That means I can call you mom now?!” Tommy finally asked with you almost choking on your spit.

Wanda rolled her eyes fixing his hair before lifting her eyes to glance at you.

“Only if she wants to, Tommy.”

“You want to, don’t you, Y/N?” Tommy asked pouting, you ruffled his hair putting him to you.

“Only if I get to call you Tommy bear!”

Laughter soon filled the lake, with everyone enjoying the rest of the afternoon while you alongside with Kate, America and Wanda toast to the engagement.

“I can believe you…” Wanda closed the distance tilting her head to taste your lips with hers, you smile into the kiss with your hands placing themselves on her hips.

“You remember…” She said softly, in between kisses.

“I never forgot, Wands. With you, everything is easier, you know? I love you, and I just…I want to make you happy.”

“You make me happy already.” She replied leaning into your embrace, “but I will be complete the moment I can call you my wife.”

You smiled placing a single kiss on her forehead.

“I will be complete the moment I can call you wife as well.”

Wanda turned in your arms, her eyes following her children while they talked and played along with America and Kate. You placed your chin on her shoulder, watching the same scene with a soft smile adorning your features. The young woman lifted her hand to see the ring you had placed moments ago, a green stone that matched her eyes and white gold recovering the ring.

Her life was finally hers, and her happiness was finally something she knew she deserved and that was right there for her to live it. Wanda never imagined the moment she made the decision of leaving Vision her life would change so drastically, she never even played with the idea of falling in love again or finding someone ready to be patient with her past and fall in love with her.

Wanda never entertained the idea of anyone wanting to marry someone like her, damage and with two kids that were still growing up. Then, she met you. And she couldn’t imagine being without you by her side.

With you, she learnt to love again, to trust and to give herself without fear.

“Tonight, America and Kate are taking the twins to a festival and then back to their Air BnB so…we have the house for ourselves, to celebrate.” You whispered playfully, Wanda leaned back placing her hands on yours.

She tilted her head with her lips teasing yours.

“Then, let’s celebrate with them first, before I show you my appreciation for all the wonderful things you do for me.”

“It’s a deal, Love.”

“Y/N.” She called your name with a serious tone, you turned to her welcoming her kiss before smiling goofily at her.

“What was that for?”

“I love you.” She said simply, you softened squeezing her hand comfortingly.

“I love you, now and forever.”

And, of that, Wanda didn’t have any doubt for she too love you now and forever, until the end of time.

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hi hi! I love your translations💙I’ve been listening to yume no kanata on repeat it’s literally my favorite, is there any way possible we could get a translation for it🤞🤲 thank you for everything!!

Skipping around in the request queue while I chip away at Torima Get on the Floor. So sure thing!

Stylistic notes:

This song is written in a semi-literary, confessional style reminiscent of an I-novel. In the interest of capturing a similar tone, I've been a little loose with word choice and sentence structure but have taken care not to introduce new ideas. Some reasonable assumptions have been made and marked in footnotes.

The song is playful with its ambivalence in subject and listener. "You" is only explicitly mentioned twice (信じられるのは君だけだわ - You are the only one I can trust; 君の背中は今日も強く大きく見えたんだ Today again your back looms before me), and every other stated subject is conveyed via pronouns connoting distance or lack thereof. Distance plays a distinct role throughout the song thematically. Gentarou, the speaker, is placing himself at a distance from the listener ("you") in a deliberate subversion of the close, intimate nature of confessional writing.

This ambiguity allows for many valid interpretations of the same song. While it might be possible to write an equally ambiguous version of the text in English, I suspect the overall effect would be far more avant garde than the Hypmic writers intended. I therefore chose the interpretation that made the most sense to me: the listener ("you") being both Fling Posse and Gentarou's brother.

I encourage casual readers to ignore the footnotes, but those interested in alternate translations or the nitty-gritty details of this song will have plenty to devour.

Translation:

Oh, I'm so very tired of this mundane, superficial world we live in. I keep waiting for the truth. (Or is it your response I'm waiting for?) [1] I know the object of my desires will never come--but still, I wait. Oh, I'm so very tired of being betrayed, of having my expectations shattered, so I think I'll choose to place my trust in you--and only you. I'm not sure I feel at home in "my" new room yet. [2] You are gone, but some part of you remains--a warm afterimage that refuses to cool. [3] [4] For you've gone and hidden yourself away again somewhere far, far away. [5] I can only wonder: Where are you? What does the world look like through your eyes, wherever you may be? [6]

I say nothing when the rain comes pouring down upon my head. I make no sound when sorrow weighs my steps--but it matters little, for there is no fooling you.

Wherever I look in town, there you are. [7]

Wishes rattle off your tongue as automatically as you draw breath. [8] It's enchanting, really--so much that I find myself torn between you and "you." [9]

There is nothing more wretchedly useless than meaning, but all the same, I must admit--not one word of all you've said was a lie. [10]

The fated hour is close at hand, but there's so much more of this story still yet to read--I don't want to give it up now.

For as we speak, the very same stars that shine down on me are bathing you in their light somewhere far, far away. [11] I can only wonder: Where are you? What does the world look like through your eyes, wherever you may be?

You mustn't think I'm being dramatic. I'm not putting on airs when I speak in such a fashion. I've simply [12] staked everything that I am--gambled my life--to do what I must. [13] It has changed everything. Everything--the vacuous, [14] insipid world we live in; my truth [15]--has transformed into... [16]

I say nothing when the rain comes pouring down upon my head. I make no sound when sorrow weighs my steps--but it matters little, for there is no fooling you.

Wherever I look in town, there you are: in this spinning record of a town [17] that brings me ever closer to hopes of better tomorrows [18]--carries me far, far away. [19]

Footnotes:

[1] "Truth" is placed at a neutral distance from the speaker, hence "the." "Your" response is assumed based on series context. Presumably, it's Gentarou's brother responding/waking up from his coma. The word "truth" is spoken in the song but written with the pronunciation for "response" in the lyrics. This is a common tactic in writing to suggest and emphasize that two disparate things are the same, hence the parentheses.

[2] It's perfectly valid (and perhaps more natural) to read this line as "Are you settled into your new room?" Per series context and the following line, I chose to make Gentarou the subject for the purpose of this translation. "My" is in scare quotes to draw attention to Gentarou assuming his brother's life; it is original to this translation.

[3] I leaned into the emotional aspect of this line to convey the connotation of 温もり/warmth. 温もり often suggests emotion, love, etc. and to preserve the cooling image from the source I kept the word "warmth" as is and added the "afterimage" and "some part of you" aspects for tone. "You" is assumed from context and the distance in その. Were we to read this as Gentarou talking about his brother's room (see footnote 2), I suppose this would indicate something like "You still carry your life/energy/warmth with you into your new [hospital?] room."

[4] The excessive em-dash usage is a translation original and was chosen for tone. The deliberate placements are for poetic structure.

[5] Added "far, far away" for distance imagery (see the その) and to set up repetition for the final lines of the song. Again, this is for poetic structure.

[6] "You" is assumed. An argument could be made that Gentarou is referring to himself (almost in third-person) as the one hiding away and looking out at the world, perhaps not seeing anything, but this wouldn't be my first reading of it.

[7] I originally wrote something like "Wherever I look in town, I see you stamped over it in an indelible imprint" but decided that a simpler, shorter line would have more effect on the heels of the longer sentences preceding it. The literal "Today again your back looms before me" is referring to the common image of "seeing [someone else's] back" or the speaker feeling that someone else is worthier/stronger/"ahead of" themselves. It can also be accompanied by a feeling of someone being "close" enough to catch up with, Here, I interpreting it as Gentarou seeing reminders of his brother everywhere and thinking he has big shoes to fill. Later, I read the "you" as having switched to Fling Posse, with Gentarou seeing the mark they've made on the world and thinking he's finally "close" enough to join them emotionally. It could also be read as Gentarou literally walking a pace or two behind Fling Posse on an outing, with his attention focused on them. Finally, the この on "town" suggests a closeness of feeling. I opted for simple "in town" for the simplicity and the closeness implied in its colloquialism.

[8] "as [someone] breaths" is a common phrase and is short for "as easily as [someone] breaths." The verb used for "speaking" on this line has a somewhat negative connotation, so I went for "rattle off the tongue."

I'm interpreting this "you" as Fling Posse.

[9] Added "between you and 'you'" for clarity. The scare quotes are simply for readability and to draw attention to the nature of the two listeners. That Gentarou feels forced to choose between his brother and Fling Posse is an assumption on my part substantiated by canon and context of the song.

[10] The その on "words" gives it a distance that suggests these words belong to "you." I found this interesting--I would've assumed it was Gentarou talking about himself if not for the rest of the song's structure.

[11] "夜天光" is technically cosmic background radiation, but I swapped this for "stars" for the sake of tone. I'm not sure if the distinction carries intended meaning. I'm inclined to think no... I could see an argument for tying this into Gentarou's feelings of emptiness, but as the word contains nothing about the vacuum of space in Japanese, this feels like a stretch.

[12] Intentional oxymoron. Gentarou is being very dramatic in his word choice.

[13] "do what I must" is implied. I was a bit torn on how to handle this, as the source only outright says "to take on" and leaves the challenge/hurdle/ordeal implied. This can be interpreted in a number of different ways, particularly Gentarou facing Otome over the manuscript, so I tried to preserve the ambiguity in such a fashion that would still be poetic.

[14] I'm not married to any of the wording in this translation apart from this use of "vacuous" to suggest emptiness.

[15] Bolding and italics mine for emphasis. The word "truth" from the opening verse is now paired with この for closeness. Used "my" for the same effect.

[16] The source trails off to imply that a change has been made, that the vapid everyday has become meaningful and fun. I spelled out "It has changed everything" and "transformed" to preserve this meaning and also let it trail off to avoid putting extra words in Gentarou's mouth.

[17] The 廻る/"spinning" alludes to Torima Get on the Floor, so I added the "record" for clarity.

[18] 明日を迎える/"to reach tomorrow" is a common hopeful phrase, so I used the common phrase "better tomorrows" and fluffed up the phrasing for tone.

[19] The 彼方/"other side"/"far away" from the title

[bookworm551]

Take the Edge Off | Part 2 | Focus

Things are tense between you and Miguel, and it all comes to a head when you try working a mission together.

A/N: this is technically a part 2, but it stands on its own pretty well. I might just keep going with these posts bc I can’t get him out of my head

Warnings: p in v, fingering, biting (ykwim), MINORS and my roommate DNI

Word count: 4.4k

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

With all the time you spent in Miguel's dimension, sometimes, you forgot that you had your own. You loved spending time amongst the Spider-Society, so many of different people who were like you in all the important ways. It was a nice environment, but it was also nice to be home every once in a while.

You'd been home for about 10 days now. You had never gone so long without being called in for a mission, and while it was nice to take a break from capturing anomalies, it also made you a little nervous. You came back the day after Miguel had visited you and left you a new gizmo...

...among other things.

Now, it had been nearly a week and a half, and there had been complete radio silence from Earth-928. You were starting to think that your little encounter with Miguel was to blame. Maybe he wanted you out now.

You had gone out to your favorite spot in the city to clear your mind. Just as you were preparing to swing back home, a beeping noise captured your attention from your wrist. Your heart leapt as you raised your arm in front of you, and Lyla's glowing, yellow form appeared from your watch. "Hey there," she greeted casually. "Boss wants you to run backup on an anomaly on Earth-287."

You smiled faintly as the code appeared on your device. "Sounds good," you replied, standing to your feet and walking onto the side of the building so that you were staring straight down at the street hundreds of feet below. "I'll be right there."

You activated the code, and a dimensional portal opened up in front of you further down the building. Taking a breath, you let go of your grip on the building and allowed gravity to pull you down into the portal. The shift in gravity was exhilarating as you emerged from the portal into Earth-287.

Emerging from the portal, everything was dull. The sun had set a while ago here, but even if it had been out, the colors would still be strangely muted. The building that you stood atop of overlooked a large city with strange gray, yellow, and green lights. This was a weird dimension.

Standing together, Pavitr and one of the many Peter Parkers was there. Upon seeing you emerge from the portal, Pav perked up. "You're here!" He said in an excited voice as you approached. You smiled under your mask and replied with the same energy, "I am!"

Glancing around, you noticed the lack of a certain presence you had expected to be there. "Is it just you guys here?" You asked casually. Before they could answer you, a cold voice behind you said, "What are you doing here?"

You whipped around and found Miguel's figure looming over you. Though his face was concealed behind his mask, you could tell by his rigid stature and unwelcoming tone that he was not very happy to see you. This was not really the greeting you'd hoped to receive from him.

"Lyla sent me," you told him defensively. "She said you wanted me to run backup with you." The eyes of his mask squinted down at you menacingly. "I didn't send for you," he said in an level tone. You crossed your arms in front of your chest and stared up at him stubbornly. "Then why am I here?" You demanded to know.

"Actually, you did mention calling for an extra member," Pav reminded him cheerfully. You looked back at Miguel with triumphant posture. "And here I am," you said. Miguel didn't seem amused, and he stared down at you for moment before sighing in resignation.

"Fine," he muttered reluctantly before turning away from you to look at his watch. "We have a Goblin anomaly somewhere in the vicinity. This is a routine bag and tag, but we need to cover our bases and sweep the area separately. Whoever finds him first needs to call it in for the rest of us. Am I understood?" His gaze seemed to be fixed on you, and you felt like his last question was directed at you.

You cocked your head a little at him before replying in a smooth voice, "Yes, sir." Miguel didn't reply nor did he give you any sort of reaction, but you could feel his eyes on you as you walked toward the edge of the building. "I call the north side," you stated before casually falling off the side and swinging away.

Leaving them behind, you were gliding between the buildings, looking for any signs of the anomaly or any traces of environmental glitching he may have left. You swung through the strangely-colored city until you landed on the top of a building to observe the cityscape below. You crouched low on the edge of the building, scanning carefully for any signs of the anomaly.

After a few minutes, you were about to get up and swing away before the sound of feet landing behind you stopped you. You whipped around and shot a web reactively. Miguel sidestepped your web, his head tilted in an unimpressed posture.

"I told you, I called north," you said with a huff of annoyance. "I have reason to believe the anomaly is somewhere in this direction," he told you vaguely. You put a hand on your hip. "Okay, well, this is my direction. I'll let you know if he shows up," you stated stubbornly.

"Hey, this is my mission," he argued. "I can go where I want." You rolled your eyes under your mask. "Whatever," you muttered. "Just don't get in my way."

He chose not to respond to your comment. An uncomfortable silence settled over you, and you didn't know whether to leave it or to try to alleviate it. Miguel made the choice for you. "Where have you been?" He asked finally. It was an attempt at a normal conversation, at relieving some of the tension that was wedged between the two of you.

You shrugged and replied nonchalantly, "Home. I figured you'd call if you needed me, and you did."

"Need is a strong word," he muttered. You scoffed softly. Miguel never wanted to seem like he relied on anyone. "Well, in that case, I can just go home. The newest episode of my favorite show comes out tonight." Despite his face being hidden behind his mask, you could tell that Miguel was unamused. "Let's just focus on finding this anomaly," he grumbled, turning his face away from you back to the streets below. 

"I'm focused," you told him casually. "Are you focused?" "I could probably focus if you could shut your mouth," he snapped. "Maybe I would if you asked nicely for once," you shot back, a smile pulling at your lips behind your mask. "Ever heard of saying please? Or maybe...por favor?"

His head turned slowly to look at you, and it was impossible for you to tell what he was thinking. "No?" You said. "Okay, then I'll do as I please."

He sighed in exasperation but didn't say anything. Just as the silence felt overbearing, a large crash captured your attention. "Sounds like our guy," you said before somersaulting over the edge of the building and swinging toward the sound. Miguel was right behind you as you both headed for the noise together.

There in the streets was your guy. Goblin was recognizable across any dimension, and this was no different, but looking at this short figure below, you almost wanted to laugh. He was thin, and his figure was stooped, and he didn't have a glider like you were used to seeing. This would be a cinch.

The anomaly spotted you before you could reach him, and he crouched with a sneer and called out, "Spider-Man!" Then, seeing your figure next to Miguel, he added, "...and company?"

"I'm Spider-Woman!" You clarified cheerfully as you shot your web at him. "Nice to meet you!" The little goblin rolled out of the way before your web was able to catch him.

"Where am I?" He demanded to know. Behind your mask, you rolled your eyes. "Always the same questions," you muttered. "'Where am I?' 'Who are you?' 'What is this place?' When are you guys gonna switch it up and ask how I'm doing?"

"Can you stop talking and focus?" Miguel snapped as he tried webbing the anomaly to no avail. You sighed. Banter was your thing. In fact, it was almost every Spider-Person's thing except for Miguel. It was definitely not his thing.

"You'll have to forgive my colleague here!" You called out to Goblin as you twisted in the air to avoid one of the bombs launched at you by him. "He's a little crankier than usual. I'm not sure why."

"You want to know why?" Miguel called out to you in irritation, webbing a bomb and throwing it back at the villain below. "It's because you're getting on my last nerve!" You sighed in exasperation. "I'm pretty sure you've only got one nerve, and someone's almost always on it," you grumbled.

You both managed to knock the anomaly into a dim warehouse. Together, you webbed his arms to the wall he was cornered into. He was looking around frantically for an escape. "Listen, bud, this isn't personal," you told him. "We just need to make sure you go home." You felt pretty confident about this whole mission, definitely one of the easy ones.

Goblin stopped struggling to free his hand and looked at you with a crazed smile, and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the sight. "Workplace relationships can be tricky," he stated. "I think you two should try resolving some of this tension."

Before you could reply, the anomaly kicked his leg, and a small, metallic sphere came rolling out of the sole of his boot. You barely had time to say "Uh oh," before the explosion knocked you and Miguel backwards. As you were recovering from the impact, the Goblin actually took flight, breaking free of the web bindings.

"What the hell?" You exclaimed. This Goblin didn't use a glider like you were used to, he had some weird type of rocket boots. He flew up and smashed his way out of the warehouse window and out to the sky with a loud cackle.

"He's getting away!" Miguel shouted as if you weren't already aware of the fact. You both slung yourselves up to the window and outside the building, but the Goblin was much faster than you both, and before you could catch up, he was out of sight.

Miguel punched the wall next to you and snarled in frustration. After taking a few breaths, he lowered his arm and stood completely still except for his deep, even breathing. His back was toward you, and you could tell that he was holding back a tidal wave of fury. Well, you might as well break the dam.

"You're awfully quiet," you stated reluctantly. "Anything you want to get off of your chest?"

Miguel whipped around and looked over you menacingly. "You let him get away!" He shouted at you.

"Me?!" You asked incredulously, ripping your mask off of your face. "How was that my fault?" His suit receded from his face as well, displaying his frustrated expression. "You were supposed to catch him! It's a very simple expectation," he told you angrily.

You scoffed. "Well, excuse me for not knowing this Goblin had flying boots instead of a glider," you said. "It's just as much your fault as it is mine."

Miguel wasn't happy with that statement. He took a step closer to you and crossed his arms over his chest. "It is your fault," Miguel snapped at you. "And now he's gone again." You stepped toward him defiantly and crossed your arms to mirror him. "Maybe if you weren't breathing down my neck, I could've gotten him," you retorted.

"That's your excuse?" He asked in an exasperated tone. "Yeah, it is," you replied sharply. "What's yours?"

"You're distracting me."

"I'm distracting you?"

"Yes."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," he said in a low voice as he took another step towards you so that his face was inches from your own, "you are distracting me. You never should have come on this mission." Your heartbeat sped up a little at how close he was now, and you couldn't help but look at his lips as he spoke.

"Well, too bad," you told him stubbornly. "I'm here, and you've got to deal with it. So, instead of fighting about it, why don't you get off my ass and help me catch this guy?"

"You don't get to tell me what to do," he argued. "I'll stay on your ass if I want to." You raised an eyebrow at his comment and had to suppress a snicker. Miguel realized as soon as the words left his mouth how they sounded, and he closed his eyes in a mix of exasperation and embarrassment. "Just focus on finding the Goblin anomaly," he grumbled.

"Oh, so you don't want to stay on my ass anymore?" You clarified with a smirk. He scowled down at you and snarled, "Do you ever just shut up?" You weren't deterred by his temper. Instead, you batted your eyelids up at him and gave him an overly-sweet smile. "Only if you ask nicely, remember?"

Miguel finally had enough of you. He shoved you back against the wall, making you gasp in surprise, and placed a hand on your throat. "I'm done being nice with you," he growled before crashing his lips down on yours with every ounce of his frustration.

You kissed him back with as much aggression, your tongues exploring each other's mouths impatiently. His hand slid down from your neck to grope your breasts over your suit. You sighed loudly as his hands roamed across your body, and when he pressed his knee between your legs, you couldn't stop the moan that emerged from your throat.

"What about the others?" You gasped. "What if they find us and—," Miguel cut you off with another open-mouthed kiss. "I don't give a fuck," he murmured against your lips. "They can watch for all I care."

You took a shuddering breath as he pulled at the neck of your suit. It had been designed for easy removal when you needed a quick change back in your world, but now, Miguel was using it to his advantage to pull it down over your shoulders. You didn't resist him disrobing you. You hadn't expected this at all, but with the frustration you both caused each other, you shouldn't have been so surprised.

You pulled your arms out of your suit as he peeled the fabric off of your torso. Miguel didn't have the patience left in him to properly undress you. Your suit was at your knees before he abandoned any further effort of taking it off. "Fucking full-body suits," he muttered in annoyance as he pressed heated kisses to your exposed neck.

You huffed an amused breath while you kicked off your boots and the remainder of your suit. His lips left a trail of sloppy kisses from your collarbone, up your neck, until they finally found your mouth. His tongue forced its way between your lips, and you couldn't help but moan at his overpowering touch. You barely even felt rough surface of the wall against your back as Miguel pushed his body against yours.

He was so tall that it seemed like his figure was devouring yours. To remedy the height different, Miguel's large hands hoisted you up by your thighs close to his own height and pushed you up against the wall roughly. You grunted at the force of his body shoving you against the brick, but you didn't care, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. You had both hands gripping his head, pulling his mouth to yours eagerly, tongues practically down each others throats.

Miguel's hands were gripping tightly at your thighs before he reached up and pulled down on your underwear. He wasn't holding you up anymore, relying instead on your ability to stick to the wall to keep you upright. Now that he didn't have to support you, his hands were free to do what he liked.

Your breathing quickened as his fingers teased the outside of your hot entrance. He traced over your clit, causing you to groan and throw your head back against the brick. "Is this what it takes to get you to shut up?" He growled in your ear. You wanted to say something snappy back to him, but right as you opened your mouth, he pushed two of his fingers into you, and you were unable to do anything but let out a gasping moan.

Your fingers ran through his hair, gripping it tightly as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Not such a smart ass now, huh?" He observed smugly. You wanted desperately to prove him wrong and shoot him a smart retort, but the pace he was setting with his fingers rendered you speechless.

You leaned your head against his as you took shaky breaths to regain some semblance of thought. "What h-happened to focus on the— on the mission?" You managed to ask through panting breaths. His fingers were curling inside you, making it difficult to speak properly.

"I told you," he whispered in a low voice, his lips tickling your ear. "You're distracting me. How am I supposed to focus when you're here with me?" He placed a wet kiss on your neck, and you sighed at the sensation.

"All I can think about is how good you feel around me," he murmured against your skin, "and all the pretty sounds you make." His fingers continued fucking you while his thumb started moving in circles around your clit, forcing a loud moan from your mouth.

"Even your scent," he continued. "I could smell you the minute you arrived. It's been driving me fucking crazy." Your legs were starting to shake as you felt yourself growing closer. Miguel could sense it too, no doubt, from your staggering gasps and the tightened grip you had on his hair.

"And now, you're letting me touch you like this in the middle of a mission," he said. "How do you expect me to focus on anything when you're here?" His voice sounded frustrated, angry almost, and that frustration was evident in the way his pace increased.

You were gasping his name over and over again, unable to say or do anything else. He was touching you in all the right places in all the right ways. The resentment you had felt for him before had completely transformed into lust, and as he continued moving his fingers in and out of you, you knew you weren't going to last much longer.

Miguel ran his tongue up the side of your neck before whispering into your ear, "Look at you. Are you gonna cum on my fingers while we're on a mission?"

As if to answer his question, your whole body began shaking, and you let out a trembling moan out as your orgasm overtook you. Something resembling a laugh came from Miguel's lips as he felt your body clenching around him, and he was pulled in closer by your gripping arms. Your breathing came in shallow gasps as your body trembled with his touch.

After a moment, his hand slowed down until he pulled out of you completely. Dazed, you blinked your eyes open to look at him. His eyes were red with lust, and he brought his hand up and sucked his soaking fingers without looking away from you. Your body was still twitching from your high, and the sight in front of you made you moan softly.

"I'm not done yet," he murmured as he gripped your jaw in his hand. You were still recovering from the intensity of your orgasm, and your head was limp in his hands. He noticed and moved your face back and forth to test your submission. "Dios mío, you're a mess," he noted with a smirk. "Are you gonna let me fuck you like this?"

Still trying to recover your breath, you were barely able to give him a faint nod of your head. "That's right," he said softly, placing another kiss on your neck, but you were barely registered it as you felt something hard at your soaking entrance. Miguel had retracted his suit just at his waist, and it seemed that this time, he hadn't even bothered with wearing anything underneath.

"Must be convenient having a nanotech suit," you commented under your breath. "It's not nanotech," he corrected. "It's much cooler than that." You rolled your eyes. Even during sex, he had to be right. "Whatever," you replied. "You don't have to nerd ou—"

You cut yourself off with a sharp gasp as Miguel pushed himself into you without warning. You tugged at his hair reactively as the stretch of your pussy made you whine. "Just shut the fuck up," he muttered into your ear.

He gave you a second to adjust before he started moving his hips against yours. You head fell back against the wall as he thrust in and out of you desperately. He had no regard for how the rough brick was scraping against your skin. He was now engaged entirely in his own pleasure, using you to channel all his frustration into satisfaction. You didn't mind one bit.

His pace was relentless. His head was pressed against your temple, and his panting breaths tickled your ear. You still had a tight grip on his hair as he fucked you mercilessly while your other hand held onto his shoulder in desperation.

Miguel's hands were digging into your thighs as soft grunts formed in his throat. "I've been craving you all week," he told you with a gruff voice, interrupting the repetitive sound of his hips slapping against your cunt. "The way you feel, how you take me so well, it's all I can think about."

You whimpered in his ear as he continued rolling his hips against yours at a savage pace. You were getting high off of his words, and all you could do to encourage him was moan. "I've been...thinking about you, too," you whispered to him, the overwhelming sensation of him railing into you causing you to pause every few words. "Late at night...when I'm all alone. I think about h-how good you feel...inside me. It makes me so hot."

Miguel growled in response, your words obviously having an effect over him. His lips met yours in a hungry kiss, and he actually let out a soft moan of his own. He let go of one of your legs to bring his hand up to the wall to support himself, and you heard the brick next to your head crack as his fingers clawed at the stone.

He pulled away from your lips and brought his mouth down to kiss your neck. His movements were growing more desperate and sloppy, and you knew he was getting closer to finishing. After a second, he raised his head up from your neck to rest against your own.

"Do you trust me?" He whispered in your ear.

What kind of a question was that? He had you pinned to the wall, fucking you mercilessly in another dimension in the middle of a mission. You certainly didn't not trust him.

Still, at his relentless pace, you found it difficult to speak properly, so you nodded your reply. "I want to hear you say it," he grunted. You were breathing hard as you tried formulating words. "I do," you gasped. "I-I do trust you."

That seemed to satisfy Miguel. His hips moved faster and harder into yours, and without further warning, he sank his teeth into the base of your neck. You cried out in alarm as you felt the tips of his fangs pierce your neck. You hadn't expected him to do that, but you couldn't deny that the pain made the pleasure even sweeter.

For Miguel, having his teeth in your skin made him go wild. It was like a primal reaction, and whatever self-control he'd had evaporated. He began pounding into you, using your neck almost like an anchor while he thrust into you over and over again.

Your eyes became unfocused as a knot formed in your stomach from the overwhelming sensation of Miguel's cock and teeth inside of you. "Don't stop," you begged with a gasp. "Don't stop, I'm gonna—"

You couldn't even finish your sentence before another powerful orgasm took over your body. A loud cry emerged from your throat as your thighs tightened around his waist, and your whole body began shaking. You gripped Miguel's back and hair desperately as his movements became erratic.

Just as it was becoming too much for you, Miguel's body tensed, and he let out a long, rare moan against your neck as his hips grew still and he came inside you. He took a couple seconds to recover his breath before he released the grip of his jaw on your neck. You let out a small whimper at the feeling of his teeth being removed from your skin. In response, Miguel ran his tongue over the two new sets of puncture marks you now had.

"Was that alright?" He asked with surprising softness, referring to his bite. You nodded honestly and replied, "I thought it would hurt more than that." He licked over it again as he pulled out of you, earning a quiet sigh from you. "Believe me, it could have," he said in a low voice.

You turned your head to look at him, meeting his eyes with your own, and you couldn't help the faint smile that pulled at your lips. You tilted your face up and kissed him. It wasn't the ravenous kisses from earlier, it was soft and slow, a token of appreciation.

"You're not allowed to come on missions with me anymore," Miguel mumbled against your lips. "Do you understand?"

You chuckled softly at his statement. Truthfully, you'd forgotten you were even on a mission. You opened your eyes to look at him before you whispered, "Yes, sir."

His jaw twitched, and he ran his thumb over your lips in admiration. "We need to get going," he told you after a pause. You looked up at him with a sly smile. "Think you can focus now?" You asked. His eyes flashed up from your lips to your eyes, and a faint trace of a smile formed at his mouth.

"I wouldn't count on it."

[masculinepeacock]

the story doesn't touch her

@garcavisconde || Strange Girl, Laura Marling || The Anthropocene Reviewed, John Green || Poems, Louise Glück || How Bad I Wanna Live, Maya de Vitry || Ritual is Journey, Chris Abani || @creacherkeeper || The Anthropocene Reviewed, John Green || Myth, Amythyst Kiah || @aweega

[Image Description: Ten images of text.

1: *covered in blood* i will.... *trembling* CHOOSE TO BE KIND... *in pain* i will be... NICE to others... *wanting to kill* i will see good in EVERYONE *yielding a knife* i will NOT be like those who hurt me... *screaming* i will be BETTER then who i was..."

2: "My lonely girl // MY angry girl // My brave // I love you, my strange girl".

3: "For many species of large animals in the twenty-first century, the single most important determinant of survival is whether their existence is useful to humans. But if you can't be of utility to people, the second best thing you can be is cute. You need an expressive face, ideally some large eyes. Your babies need to remind us of our babies. Something about you must make us feel guilty for eliminating you from the planet."

4: "My soul has been so fearful, so violent: forgive its brutality."

5: "only place for my heart is the very next step // only place for my hands is holding to the ground around me // i was lost from my body worse than i thought // now i love her more than ever, yeah she's all that i've got".

6: "As you lay dying I asked, What if your biggest regret? // Every kindness withheld, you said. // Every flicker of pleasure denied, you said. // Look, you said, sunlight."

7: "story magic is scared of her and the god of evil death and chaos wants to put her in a jar".

8: "But it's an exceptionally minor vice, and for whatever reason, I've always felt like I need a vice. I don't know whether this feeling is universal, but I have some way-down vibrating part of my subconscious that needs to self-destruct, at least a little bit."

9: "I said, somebody somewhere // will find what's left // Oh yeah // And we'll become a myth, man, // oh man".

10: "characters with prey animal rage // characters with both the abject terror and murderous desperation of an animal that knows it is cornered and destined to be eaten. you just can't get that kind of angst out a successful hunter. but alternatively i posit: predator animal fear. which is a totally different thing". /end ID]

[yiga-hellhole]

TFTK CHAPTER 25: RECRUITMENT UNDER THE TWILIGHT KING

After Zant seized the Triforce of power, the next-most important phase of his plan enters: rebuilding his army. Old allies are in need of rescuing and, conveniently, they happen to be trapped right in his fortress of choice.

aaand welcome back! the next 4 chapters have been up on ao3 for a bit, but i only just got around to the promo art. thank you all for your patience! inspo for the top panel comes from kentaro miura's berserk, chapter 86 [MIND CONTENT WARNINGS IF YOU HAVEN'T READ BERSERK BEFORE], because i wanted this moment of tenderness to look unnerving. YAY <3

speaking of content warnings. CW this chapter for gore and graphic violence. this chapter was betaread, as usual, by @bulgariansumo and @orfeoarte ! thank u so much!

ao3 mirror

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

A ludicrous fantasy Ghirahim would once have mocked was now reality: Zant had claimed the Triforce. Its power thrummed in his veins like a second heartbeat, felt in shocks with the slightest touch. He felt it when Zant’s hand plunged into his chest to take their blade; he felt it when they shared a bed, ramming against his cheek when he laid his head upon his chest; he felt it when they as much as crossed gazes. Always deep, resonant, and rhythmic, the heavy beating of a drum right in his ears. It was alive – breathing that life into that wilted thing of a host, who had died two times too many.

It’d been in his possession for mere days, and already their enemies were grasping for cards. None knew whether to storm wherever he lingered, or to evacuate wherever his serpent eyes sought their next siege. Ghirahim stayed by his side as his scabbard, as his retainer, and, somewhat discreetly, as his lover, march after march, watching the shimmering ocean of battles carried out in their name below, but finding far more intrigue in seeing their flames reflected in the Twilight King’s eyes. There was coldness in them, ruthless like a natural-born killer, but through it burst the sparks of a manic joy. Of elation, that tugged at the corners of his lips. These days, it was getting more and more difficult to read him. 

This was the fourth day. They made it to the Temple of Souls in record time. Winter had not been kind to it – where once a labyrinth of lush roses grew rampantly on its estate, there was now a nonsensical mass of dead, black thorns, so brittle to the touch Ghirahim couldn’t imagine them piercing skin. Yet they must have been, because there rang the occasional whine from their soldiers chopping the paths down. Ghirahim quietly thanked the fact Yuga was stuck in prison somewhere in that dark, gloomy building. The Sorcerer surely wouldn’t have liked to see what had become of his prized garden, much less what Zant’s forces were doing to it. 

When they broke through this first line of defense, the second stood waiting. Four days was not many to prepare against a siege, but it had been enough for Hyrule to put them in a small spot of trouble. Their forces were struggling, a sea of thorns at their backs to be pushed into, and wooden clubs meeting their match against tempered steel. 

But Zant seemed unperturbed. He simply stood and stared at the Temple, watching as the last snowmelt dripped down the balcony. He turned to Ghirahim almost casually, held out his hand, and said, “Perhaps it is a little early for a spring cleaning, but we might as well start, no?”

His Blade answered wordlessly, took his hand. Fingers entwined, they stepped past their frontlines and into contested ground… Only for a shockwave to tear through the opposing forces, and cleave them a path. Those that didn’t perish from the impact launched backward, slamming against the stone staircase leading up to the temple. They traversed this carpet of fallen soldiers almost without a care in the world, undisturbed by those who attempted to break past the force fields around them. Their steps forcing the blood out of crushed organs beneath, crimson splatters colored the ground where petals once lay. The occasional, opportunistic allied soldier would dart past them, but up until the doorway, they cleanly passed down their aisle. 

What would normally require a battering ram and the effort of dozens of men, took Zant nothing but a forceful shove of the palm. The stone door before them thudded and shrieked, a spiderweb of cracks digging into its surface. It gave way soon after. Down it crumbled, the parts of it still intact creaking inwards on loose hinges. Past the rubble, dust, and pebbles, the next wave of Hyruleans greeted their intruders. The first fool to close in on them would feel a sword sneak past his gorget, and then, feel nothing at all. Blood fresh on his blade, Ghirahim struck down the next, and the next, and the next, fighting tirelessly to guide the Twilight King through the crowd.

But where were they headed? They knew nothing of where their prisoners were kept. Digging in his memory, Ghirahim recalled nothing vaguely even resembling prison cells in the entire building. The Temple was an archive, a sanctuary, a mansion. It was not meant to know enemies, much less to harbor them. Moreover, the place was a veritable maze. If they ran around recklessly in search of their lieutenants, they would certainly get ambushed.

At the risk of losing his focus, he started to dowse. Yuga… Though a powerful mage, his presence had always been weak. Ghirahim did not typically track smaller targets, but for the sake of speed, he attempted nonetheless. He honed in on a sound, a smell, a memory… Shrill laughter, rosewater, and a wicked glare from across the studio. Weak chimes in his core confirmed his calibration. 

Yuga was upstairs. But, barely, it seemed… Whatever that meant. He had no time to linger upon it. Amidst his faltering concentration, Zant had slid in to defend him. This sight filled him with such an instinctual feeling of disgrace he took not a split second of hesitation to grab him by the arm, and promptly warped the both of them to the top of the stairs.

Hyrulean troops were sparser here, but they would not be for long once word spread they’d arrived here. Ghirahim looked left, looked right, hoping for a confirming chime to ring out.

Left wing.

Zant kept pace with him, but Ghirahim felt his burning look of inquiry at his back. “Yuga is kept this way,” he hissed out as they ran down the hall. “It’s best we get to him quickly.”

Oh, he could hear it already. How reckless it was to rush ahead with their troops lagging so far behind. How the path should have been clear before breaking out a prisoner. But the fool dragging behind him now had far too much power to worry about such practicalities. They cleaved through the hallway, right past the windows, the paintings – 

… This seemed familiar to Ghirahim. He had a feeling he knew where they were keeping the Sorcerer. Very quickly, he found the thought of it alone tacky. 

To his chagrin, they found the jail room a mere few turns later. Steel bars had been fitted over the door and the stained glass windows around it. Before it stood waiting a handful of guards, who rushed toward them at once. Yuga was imprisoned in his own atelier. 

Ghirahim sighed and took the first of the guards down. These men were slightly more competent, he noted quietly. They would have to be, considering who they were trying to keep in. It took a few nicks on his skin and clothing for him to find a moment’s respite to turn to Zant.

“You can break through those bars yourself, no?”

He nodded in response, hesitating but a moment to step closer to the door. “Right, before we head inside. Yuga is going to be in an incredibly sensitive state. I think it would be wise if I led the conversation,” Zant said, ignoring the guard rushing towards the both of them until he sent the man sailing down the hallway with a flick of his hand. “I fear you might lack the tact for it.”

“Lacking tact? Me? You have some nerve,” Ghirahim growled, refusing to humor him with his usual light air of banter. “You’ve spent far too much time buttering me up to start insulting me now.”

“It’s just a piece of perspective you lack. I mean nothing bad by it,” Zant responded, his hands raised defensively.

Arms folded loosely as to not lose his grip on his sword, Ghirahim frowned back. “And what, pray tell, is it that I lack? Or do you think me too stupid to comprehend whatever you’ve got planned?”

“Come now, not so hasty. It’s just an observation I made. Your disdain for mortals makes you miss out on crucial details, Ghirahim-ili. Do you have even the slightest idea as to what could make him… Distraught?”

Ghirahim sighed, furrowing his brow. “Yuga is distraught to tears at the drop of a hat, to begin with. Were he to be upset in particular about witnessing the defeat of our Master, or something as juvenile as his precious roses being torn down, he would have little more reason to grieve than I do.”

Rumbling down the hall. Some crowd was approaching, whether friend or foe. They both ignored it completely in favor of their conversation. Zant smirked at Ghirahim’s response. “As I thought. I must specify. Had you listened, you would have caught that Lorule is a kind of mirror world. In it, a doppelgänger of each living being is born… Yuga, as it would seem, fills the role of Ganondorf in his world.”

His esoteric trivia again. Ghirahim found it odd timing, frustrating almost. He certainly didn’t enjoy the implications this one carried.  “... I see. What about it?”

“A bit of sympathy is in order, is all. To give you some perspective. To lose Ganondorf, to him, would be akin to tearing your scabbard from you, and leave you without a hand to wield you. You could live, certainly…”

Ghirahim’s furrowed brow relaxed, his face now solemn. Zant was prodding at sore spots and he knew it – Ghirahim had experienced both of those, in relatively short succession, in the past few months. He was forced to speak aloud what he’d kept quietly to himself that entire time. “... But I wouldn’t be complete.”

“Precisely.” 

At once, Ghirahim was annoyed. Must he have been reminded of such agonies now, and share them with one he was so cross with? He had long opinionated himself about Yuga’s incessant clinging to what was supposed to be his Master, but this bit of empathetic pampering from Zant drove a nail right into his ire. Yuga was no more special than he. Even less so! What was a failed copy to a loyal blade!? How infuriating. 

“Hah! And you speak of tact,” Ghirahim exclaimed, frowning with a nasty grin. He decided there was little point in bickering in the hallway. So he marched on forward, giving Zant a stiff shove in the back to hurry him to the door. “This entire lecture could have been condensed to a simple, ‘Ghirahim-ili, let me handle this’. Not a snide comment necessary!”

Zant hardly stumbled, but easily swayed by him as ever, did exactly as he wanted. “Perhaps you are right, but I wanted to even the scales on the snark you’ve been giving me the past few months, just a little.”

“You are very lucky I can’t break through that helmet, Twili.”

“I’m thankful for it every minute.”

With the doorway now free to open, Zant opened the door with silent care and slithered inside. “Yuga, Lord of Lorule. We’ve come to free you from death row,” he announced.

When Ghirahim followed behind him, he realized instantly what Zant must have meant by a ‘sensitive state’. The atelier had been completely thrashed. Broken bottles of pigments littered the floor into a desolate rainbow amidst the toppled furniture. Strewn around the room, some crooked on the wall, were the remains of portraits, their faces burned off. There was but one painting intact enough to discern its subject – though for all of them, it could easily be gleaned. The scene unfolded just by the tall windows, covered in bars and thorns as they were, the grey skies beyond them shrouding the room in a cold, dull light.

Ghirahim felt an icy chill under the golden gaze of his late Master, piercing through him from across the atelier. The last depiction of Ganondorf he might ever see again, rendered in this loving detail, captured him in an instant, with his wild, fiery hair, his powerful build, and that stern, ambitious look that drove him to grovel every time it turned to him. So engrossed was Ghirahim, that he hadn’t noticed the figure wilting before it. 

Yuga sat at the base of the portrait, leaning into a nearby chair for support, as if he once had collapsed there and hadn’t gotten up since. He was shrouded in black, the only color on him now being from his own hair. The once so-well-kept ringlets that bounced on his shoulders had collapsed into an unruly mass of curls, and just then, shifted across his back as he blearily turned his head.

Some glint of surprise passed through his face, but Yuga did not seem to have the energy to have it linger. As he turned to them, Ghirahim’s eye landed on one particular detail. In his madness, Yuga had ripped the casing of a decorative pillow to shreds with his teeth. 

“... Zant? Ghirahim? You – Am I seeing ghosts?”

Zant stepped closer into the light, a dull white interlaced with the shadows of prison bars. “Worry not for your sanity, Yuga. We are very much alive.”

“But… The Desert… We were certain you had perished,” Yuga tried to reason.

Zant’s helmet clattered and folded in on itself. Beneath it, he smiled sympathetically. “By the skin of my teeth, I survived. I have Ghirahim to thank for it.”

Yuga turned to look at Ghirahim again, who, struggling to keep his expression straight after such a grating comment, nodded in acknowledgement. “I would be glad to see you, but, my friends, look at the state I’m in. My masterpieces. Our army. Our Master,” he prattled on, gesturing pathetically to himself. Before Ghirahim could ponder on how pitiful he looked, Yuga’s words took a bitter turn. “Why didn't you assist us?”

Excuses at the ready as usual, Zant responded quickly. “I was bedridden, still, the day Ganon fell. And if I hadn’t been, I doubt our late Master would have wanted us to come to his aid.” 

Barely suspended disbelief crossed Yuga’s squinted eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Ganondorf betrayed us. That desert was meant to be our deathbed, and we failed to comply to his wishes by refusing to be buried in it. I suspect he had been displeased with us ever since our defeat at Death Mountain, and has been attempting to get rid of us since.”

Liar. Filthy, snake-tongued liar. 

“... That – I had no idea, to think that he would…” Yuga was still for a long time, for as far as the chaos outside allowed for stillness. “Fool I was. To be so close to him, and so blind to his plans. But what does it matter now? You say you are here to free me. What, exactly, is left of me to free? I’m nothing, now. I’ve failed, I’ve been humiliated, and now, I am more powerless than I’ve ever been.”

And Yuga was buying every word of it like it was on discount. How fragile grief made the mortal mind! It was getting more and more difficult for Ghirahim to mask his disgust. But he could not simply zone out, close himself off from this exchange. These were lies that the both of them would have to hold dear, as to not betray to Yuga that they were complicit in the fall of Ganon. It would be a very, very bitter lie, for possibly centuries to come. 

Again Zant walked closer to his frail lieutenant. He stood across him now, mere steps away. “On the contrary, Yuga. You will be instrumental in my plans.”

“... Plans? Oh, Usurper. Don’t tell me,” Yuga laughed weakly.

Those final steps were crossed. Zant hunched down, taking Yuga’s hands in his and squeezing them. “But I am. Yuga, you have wit. You have magic. But more importantly, you have my trust. ”

Zant then laid his hands on his shoulders, staring him down with those wide eyes of his. “Tell me, Yuga. What is it that you wish?”

His solemn chuckling having just come to an end, Yuga’s malicious side slipped through the cracks of his composure. He shook his head, cackling to himself through gritted teeth. His next words were growled through tears. “That horrid land gone. I wish all of Hyrule to fall on its knees before me, its people begging us to forgive what they've done. Then, I want it reduced to dust.”

“Then we share similar goals, Lord of Lorule,” Zant smiled. He sensed weakness and dug his jaws in. “What of our Master? Would you not wish him back?”

Fury bulged through the veins in Yuga’s neck. “... Pay… They’ll pay for taking him from us. From ME! Of course I wish for him. It feels like I’ve lost a limb, Zant. Like a part of me has atrophied. But a childish wish like that…”

Just as Yuga faltered again, Zant held him tighter, leaning into his field of vision. “Would you believe me if I told you, that there is a way? To feel his presence, for his power to dwell in you?”

Yuga’s head fell, his voice whittling down to a whimper. “... Mercy…”

“You say you want vengeance. To reduce Hyrule to dust. Then we have that in common, Lord of Lorule!”

As fiercely as he did tenderly, Zant cupped Yuga’s face in his hands. At once forced to look straight at the other man, the first face he’s earnestly met in what may have been weeks, Yuga widened his eyes in surprise. Then, as the sad figure froze in his hands, Zant lunged down and kissed him firmly on the forehead.

Yuga yelped in surprise, his frame seizing up. Then convulsing, as a powerful pulse emitted from the both of them, strong enough to rattle the room and all its inhabitants. A grey, runed pallor spread through Yuga’s skin for just a heartbeat. As small as that glimpse of power had been, it was enough for him to burst into tears. Clinging to Zant’s breeches, he sobbed, and wailed, and pleaded. As simple as that, a new allegiance was forged. 

Ghirahim’s eye trailed from the gray hand stroking and soothing the mourning sorcerer’s shoulder, up to Zant’s face. When their eyes met, a triumphant, subtly vicious smile flashed back at him. What a dangerous ally he’d made.

Time came to free their other prisoner. By now, their forces had fought all the way up to the door to Yuga’s impromptu holding cell. A proper entourage was waiting for them at last. The last words exchanged and his tears dried, Yuga shifted in his seat. In his lap, he still held a black handkerchief, greyed, faded, and laces frayed, where listless hands had wrung the wetted fabric. 

Their lieutenant made some wantful gesture behind him. “My crutches, please, I –” He struggled for a moment, hissing against the movement of his sore legs. “My apologies, I haven’t moved from this spot in quite some time.”

One of Yuga’s crutches turned out broken, doubtlessly during the same chaos that razed through the room he was confined in. Yuga paid the rest of the room no heed as they departed, making a clear effort to aim his gaze at nothing but the exit. Unpracticed as he was with but one crutch, Ghirahim joined his vulnerable side. It was a sorely uncomfortable affair. Both of them, in mourning, regretting the death of the one who symbolized their previous Masters. Yet, Ghirahim himself was composed, while the one currently hanging on his arm was a blubbering mess. Hidden behind a black veil was he, with reddened, puffed-over eyes, his gaunt cheeks, and the flaky skin on his fingers, drenched in tear-stained eczema. His despair truly made him ugly.

Though, he supposed Yuga had stayed by his Master’s side until the very end. Abandonment, betrayal, such forces would never come to stifle whatever sadness came to rear its head in the poor wretched Lorian. 

Ghirahim knew the raw spot his companion carried on his person now all too well. In his envy of such open weeping, he felt inclined to rip it open. At the risk of a warning glare from Zant, he broke his silence.

“I have to know, Yuga. That final hour. Did he die with glory?”

Yuga swallowed, sucked in a choked breath. He stumbled for a moment. Was it truly so easy to topple his composure like this? How delightfully weak.

“Never before have I seen such power. Such raw, glorious fury, encapsulating all he stood for. He was everything, Ghirahim,” were the words he landed upon, final like the closing of a book.

Their violent chaperones huddled like a shield around the three of them, they traversed the swirling halls of the Temple. They did so in silence, mostly, with Zant too focused on tracking the Ring Spirit’s vague magical aura, and the other pair, too engrossed in their own thoughts to waste any words. The deeper they crossed into the Temple, the less disturbance they received. Snarling against their foes, the Bulblin soldiers guarding their flanks fought off the few that dared pursue them into this labyrinth. 

As though breaking free from a spell, Yuga mustered the decency to speak to the one assisting him in walking. He turned to Ghirahim with a slight smile. “You have contempt for him, don’t you, Ghirahim? He broke his promise to you.”

Ghirahim did not respond. The way he shifted his gaze to the floor could have been taken as a refusal to answer, but really, he was just considering the thought for his own curiosity. Contempt? Was he capable of feeling such things for his Masters? How would he go about picking such feelings out from between the mountain of disappointment, sadness, and guilt? This overall inadequacy?

Yuga did not let him consider for long. His smile turned wistful as he spoke. “I tried for you, you know. When he was in one of his rare, fair moods, I’d approach him, and I’d ask, ‘Master, would it really be so terrible if you took him to your next battle? That boy cares for you so, it pains me to see him so neglected’. And do you know what he said?”

Yuga’s words almost shocked him. Fond reminiscence over mutual loss of a meaningful person. Common among mortals, but unheard of for him. How quaint. He’d never had a conversation like this before. The novelty of it alone made Ghirahim set his frustrations with Yuga aside, if only to see as many sides of this exchange as possible. “No. What did he say?”

Yuga mustered a laugh, lowering his voice somewhat in imitation of their Ganondorf. “ ‘That ‘boy’ of yours,’ he said, ‘is a millennia old weapon. You’d do better not to make him go soft’. A hopeless affair, it was! Even for me!”

The realization that Yuga had vouched for him, pleaded for wishes in his stead, without his knowing or urging, weighed on a part of his mind he didn’t recognize. What a strange favor… Ghirahim looked to the man beside him, now seeing an ally… No, a friend, he hadn’t known he had. 

His own ignorance, paired with the thorough typicality of Yuga’s words, brought him a burst of laughter. Yes, that was how their Master was, exactly! “He was right, you know.”

And though Yuga joined him in his laughter, Ghirahim turned away just as his companion was distracted by nostalgic mirth, to hide sadness of his own. That simple exchange confirmed it. The truth settled heavily in his soul. Ganondorf never intended to wield him. Never had, never would. He swallowed the finality of it all and bore the thorns it drove into his throat with silence.

After a long trek through foggy corridors, Zant stopped. To their right stood a door, at first glance unremarkable, with its mundane size and simple wooden frame. Stepping closer, one would notice it completely plastered in talismans. Different colors, shapes, sizes – Ghirahim thought he could even distinguish different scripts. The Hyruleans were thorough with their wards, for even the Demon Lord felt an unpleasant sting standing near the door. Had Wizzro been kept there, these wards would certainly be keeping him firmly trapped inside. 

To the living, though, such things were mere strips of paper, and Zant began idly picking at their edges to peel them right off the door. As he did so, Ghirahim cast a bored look to where they came from, squinting against the persisting fog. He wondered if they’d be able to make it back.

With the talismans removed, the lot of them passed through to find some matter of lodging, perhaps one meant for servants or guests. Its furnishings were mostly empty, save for some boxes and trinkets scattered around the shelves. But, more importantly, there sat a plain jewelry box upon the dressing table, a big, bright red talisman sticking it shut.

Zant seemed to notice his gawking and sidled up beside him. “I do believe I have kept you bored this entire siege. If you would like to do the honors…”

Yuga now taken off his hands, Ghirahim accepted Zant’s offer. He approached the box, and though the talisman itched his fingers through his gloves, he peeled it off no problem. 

Almost immediately, the jewelry box began to shake. Cacophonous jingling of little accessories grated the ears, until a murky, groaning sound muffled all else. At once, the box shot open, a shadowy form bursting forth with clawed hands and gnashing teeth.

“A damn fool you are, to let me out of –” Wizzro roared, only to sheepishly fold into himself once he saw who stood before him. He let out an awkward chuckle. “Ah, erm, gentlemen. Hhhhi.” His mouth closed, then shifted into an eye, which darted between the three men before him. He lingered particularly on Zant, whose magic output evidently made him the biggest presence in the room. Naturally, a Spirit such as Wizzro couldn’t wrestle his attention away from such a phenomenon if he wanted to. “You’ll have to excuse me for the outburst. You see I’ve been eh, locked in that box for – How long, Yuga?”

“Beats me,” said Yuga, unenthused about being involved in the conversation.

“Yes, you get the idea. Quite a bit. Stewing in rage the whole time. You know how it is.”

Ghirahim raised a brow, having stood there deadpanned this entire exchange thusfar. “Sure.”

“Either way, so,” Wizzro said, turning away from them to hide his face. He rummaged around in the box for a bit, plucked his own ring out, and twisted it nervously around his finger. “There’s something… New, housing itself in you, isn’t there, Zant?”

Zant simply stared.

“I take it we’re under new management?”

Now, Zant smiled. “You learn fast. Yes, Wizzro. I will be requiring your services.”

“How much… Bargaining space, do you allot me, Twili? You should know, a spirit like me is in high demand.”

“I know every inch of that fickle mind of yours, Wizzro. You shall have nothing to complain about. And if you did, I would give you reason not to.”

“ Oh yeah. You haven’t changed. Good, good. Very well, then. When do we start?”

“Right away, Wizzro, my good man,” said Zant, holding out his hand as if offering to shake it. Pointedly, his right, so that Wizzro would have no choice but to join hands with his ring in the middle. Ghirahim exchanged a look with the poor sod as he floated by to accept, and found him more nervous than he’d ever seen him.

The shriek that rang throughout the room the second they shook on their pact confirmed that Wizzro had good reason to be nervous. Something told Ghirahim the conniving rat wouldn’t be giving them too much trouble from here on out. With that out of the way, the group of them, reunited at last, turned back down the hallway. There were still rats in the Temple, after all, and no King worth his salt would be caught dead with vermin in his home.

One last ally remained, and he may have been the most difficult to persuade. Frankly, Ghirahim wasn’t enthused about this one, but they were strapped for commanders. His personal opinions, therefore, meant very little. So, there they stood, at the mouth of the Northern Eldin Cave system. Naturally, as they had succeeded in doing so before, their army would greatly benefit from recruiting an entire clan of dragons. Now that Hyrule had succeeded in doing the same, they could not afford to lose their own. 

Thus Zant described it to his co-lieutenants. It was just the two of them today, leaving Yuga to rest and Wizzro to tend to administration. Ghirahim was simply tagging along as his scabbard, as he usually did, these days. To-day, he was glad for it. He wasn’t particularly enthused about the idea of holding a conversation about the dreadful bore that was Volga, Dragon Knight. And he was certain it was Volga they were meeting with. The Dragons of this world hold boundless wisdom, though very few are equipped with the ability to relay it in mortal tongue. This left the Fire Dragons of Eldin with no option but to send their representative before the Twilight King. With the occasional gigantic serpentine head peeping in from the tunnels, Volga met them in solitary attendance, held emphatically close by the entrance of the cave system.

“Sir Volga. We meet again,” announced Zant.

Volga, though clearly displeased by even the sight of his two ‘guests’, kept an impressively stiff upper lip before them. “You know very well I do not bother with formalities. State your business.”

“My conquering of the Seer’s territory surely has not slipped your notice.”

“It has not.”

“You will also expect that I am not content with this alone. Even after Ganondorf’s defeat, Hyrule remains contested ground. Your people, too, have stakes in this. This dwelling alone convinces me. Your relatives hunching through the tunnels behind you, I presume, are far too large, too numerous, to dwell in the caves of a nursery. You wish to expand.”

With a pound of his spear, Volga scoffed, though he did not smile. “Clearly you know everything. Yet you bother to come and interrogate me. Why?”

“I simply thought a little sympathy might prove my good intentions to you.”

Volga, unlike many, saw through Zant’s sweetened words remarkably quickly. That was just about the one of the few things Ghirahim appreciated about him: the man’s resolve was like steel. “Silence! I will not hear another word. Shadow Lord, you are an open book. Next, you thought to offer some grand compromise, a way to use my people as your pawns. 

I decline!“

At lack of response, Volga held his pike at the ready, fire pooling from between his teeth. “I will not repeat myself. Leave!”

Zant chuckled from behind his helmet, padding backward in resignation. But Ghirahim could see this surrender was completely false. Inside those massive sleeves, his fingers itched and twiddled. So Ghirahim steeled himself, his hands tense behind his back.

As he predicted, once Zant joined his side, he jerked his head toward him with violent anticipation. With a snap of his fingers, Ghirahim’s cloak disappeared, his chest exposed. Zant hesitated not even a second to rip his scimitar from its scabbard and bear down on the Dragon Warrior with voracity. 

Ghirahim, naturally, could not stand idly by. Volga’s fighting style was far more exciting to him than the dolt himself, and Ghirahim eagerly seized the opportunity to witness it up close. With a whirlwind-strength spin of his polearm, gashes formed across the torsos of both Volga’s opponents. Yet it deterred neither of them. Furious blows were exchanged between the embers bursting through the air, the temperature in the tunnels at once reaching a scorching heat. Had it just been him and the Dragon, Ghirahim thought, this battle would have been delightfully equally matched, and he would have been eager to tear victory from his clawed gauntlets at the very last second. As it stood, Zant was there also, weakened only by his lack of killing intent. Ghirahim had almost gotten carried away by the thrill of battle – they were there to oh-so-diplomatically convince Volga, not murder him outright. Playtime was over soon. The butt end of Volga’s spear shot towards him, and he surrendered through a refusal to dodge. As Ghirahim tumbled back onto the stone floor, he watched as Zant stood poorly guarded before the warrior now barreling towards him… And suddenly, the Twilight King disappeared.

There was a mere flash of confusion when Zant vanished from sight. Volga had but a second to check his surroundings before his adversary appeared behind him, his spell-drenched hands now enclosed over his eyes.

A sizzle. He screamed. Ghirahim could only catch a glimpse of what Zant had done between Volga’s frantic clawing at his face, but it was enough to draw the conclusion. Slowly, but surely, a metallic, black mask was spreading across his eyes and fusing to his helmet. As Volga stumbled around the corridor, swinging wildly to find either an anchor or the wicked man who did this to him, the darkness down the cave began to clear. 

Looming above the group of men was the rest of the draconic Clan, glaring at them with piercing teal eyes. Some bared their teeth in rage, tongues lashing and sulfurous drool burning holes into the floor, while others swelled their throat sacs, bright and glowing with kindling flame. 

Yet Zant stood comfortably, almost oblivious to it all. Ghirahim came to put himself between the Twili and the panicking knight, with his blade drawn to threaten the foes before them. But something told him that even without this measure of protection, Zant would have had the same poise. 

Zant spread his arms amicably. His upturned hands served as a gesture of peace, but the slight shimmer in the air betrayed it as a somatic command also, for shields to protect him from the dragons’ rage.

“You wish to have him back, no? Volga is a formidable warrior.”

Deaf and blind to his surroundings, Volga began to shift, as if cracking through the shell of his current form could save him from this blight. It did not – red scales turned to pitch black, jagged and pulsing with cyan magic. Ghirahim kicked the nuisance in the horn when he threatened to get too close.

Zant continued his oration. “Then hear me! If it is Eldin that you want, then my Kingdom shall have space for you. I merely request one favor in return: assist me in taking over Hyrule Castle. Doubtlessly, the Princess will have similar plans to my own, and I need the might of your people to overpower her.”

The teeth of his helmet clattering to expose half his face, Zant smiled. “Does that not sound so violently simple?”

The serpentine heads above them growled, their wild eyes darting between each other. Some snarled, baring their teeth, others squinted, and yet others bowed their heads in resignation. With the loss of their interpreter, the beasts had no way to communicate with this strange adversary. But, after what looked like some squabbling, of nipping at one another and snorting steaming breaths, the hostile among them hesitantly turned and retreated into the caves. The largest dragon remaining locked eyes with Zant and nodded.

Zant’s gentle smile from before turned into a wide grin. With a clap of his hands, Volga stopped struggling. At once, he shrunk in on himself, his draconian features reverting back to humanoid ones. But he was different from before. His armor remained pitch black, jagged and pointy, his eyes covered by a visor that seemed melded to his flesh. 

“I will return him to you when Hyrule Castle is secure and my usurpation is finished,” said Zant, nonchalantly under the eyes of the shocked dragons. Doubtlessly, they expected him to revert the curse. “Until then, he will follow me just like this. I’ve found he gets rather uppity when you don’t keep the reins tight… Now, farewell!”

Volga followed Zant wordlessly, like a drone, as the latter cheerfully turned to waltz right back out of the cave. Ghirahim shot one pitying look at the Dragon Warrior’s remaining clan, whose hearts collectively crumbled, and turned to follow.

With three more high-ranking officials under his belt, Zant’s life as a royal stabilized, turned almost mundane. The Temple claimed as their home base, the next phase of his conquering creaked to a slow start, gears a-turning. Piles upon piles of correspondence stacked on his desk, Zant himself laid low, having his commanders at their territory’s borders keep his little place free from violence. It seemed to be working splendidly, because their pretentious pontifex of a King was taking full liberty to have some time off. Ghirahim stood at the staff entrance of the Temple, hands in his sides, waiting for the shadows in the distance to get a little closer. 

Drawing near were Zant, riding the very same Bullbo he once carried the defeated Zelda on (he’d developed a fondness for the beast and was very pleased to discover it was still alive); and Lord Dargas, reigning Duke of Tarm. The plan seemed to be to pamper that wretched noble… Something about guaranteeing them a spot in Holodrum, in case they wanted to expand territories. Ghirahim watched the man fuss over his mustache and depend on three separate pages to get his arse down from his ludicrously sized horse and wondered if they couldn’t have picked some other vaguely rebellious province for that scheme.

Ghirahim stepped aside to let through three Bulblins pulling a cart containing the spoils of their hunt, to find Zant trailing not far behind them. Said Twili came up to him smiling brightly.

Such a smile did nothing to Ghirahim. “So. Did you have fun dodging your responsibilities with our good Duke? I don’t see what you’re stalling for.”

“To you it may seem like stalling,” Zant said, handing the massive spear he’d wielded over to a waiting squire. The weapon was so stupidly large, even an oaf like him wouldn’t miss. “But this, too, is part of politics.”

Ghirahim bumped him just a touch too casually for polite company. Said polite company pranced past them, his suit fully in order and dusted off, and the three of them exchanged a cordial greeting.

Ghirahim’s expression soured the second the Duke was out of view. “You’re trying to win simple favors, now? How very unlike you.”

“Perhaps, but I’ve put it to the test,” Zant began, placing a hand on Ghirahim’s shoulder to lead him into the garden. “For a King, there are two ways to assert his authority. The first would be appeasement; the second, tyranny, forcing obedience purely through violence. Considering your status as Demon Lord, I need not guess which of the two you are more familiar with.”

Ghirahim grinned. “And you are not?” 

“Oh, I am. Most intimately, in fact. Tyranny is how I claimed Hyrule initially, and it is how Ganondorf led his army, as well. Coincidentally, both attempts failed, resulting in our deaths.”

“So you’ve decided to play nice,” Ghirahim teased, nudging Zant’s hand so it could slip to the small of his back.

“Not exactly… Relying on appeasement alone would require resources that we lack. Those of noble blood want extravagance and their every wish fulfilled. Which is where my experience with Twilit politics will serve me well…” Zant trailed off a moment, kicking a perished rose branch into the shrubbery. “Tell me, Ghirahim-ili. What impression would it give to freshly war-torn people, to be met with a new competitor of the throne, who immediately throws luxurious parties?”

Ghirahim gave it some thought. “I’d imagine it could go either which way. Either you assert yourself as resourceful, or you might strike them as a pompous prick who doesn’t know how to handle his own wealth.” Which wouldn’t be too far off, he thought to himself.

“Precisely. That is a gamble I cannot afford at this stage. So, we show them hospitality, a willingness to listen to their demands… But, just as Hyrule does, we have a trump card.”

Zant lifted his hand, his long sleeve dropping down to flash the mark of Power.

“Connection to the divine. I have claimed the Triforce of Power, as none before me could ever achieve, and I’ve wielded its power to seize the North. Any unwillingness to cave to my demands will be quickly snuffed out under the threat of such a force.”

“A solid middle ground, then.”

“So you could say.”

“I take it, then, that our Summit is being held soon?”

“Yes. The Duke of Tarm just so happens to be the first to arrive,” Zant said, turning to the stables behind them. Just as he stood and watched, the prey he’d claimed was being wheeled in through the back door – a large boar, only marginally smaller than his mount. Both found it macabre, a bit of a cruel joke, one that made Ghirahim turn back and Zant grin all the wider. “I’ve extended invitations to just about all our former allies. Not a soul will be missing out – Unlike Ganondorf, I will not be playing favorites. Our forces need to know they can depend on us.”

Such a bold comment made Ghirahim shake off his discomfort in an instant. He sidled up closer to his monarch, nudging him through his thick robes. “Ah… So you have no favorites, none at all?”

Zant smirked, locking this boldness in place by curling his arm around Ghirahim firmly, affectionately. “Well… Perhaps, Demonkind as of late, has been landing on my good side quite often…”

Laughing, making jabs, huddled in the arms of a man who could crush him. To once again linger in the shadows of a greater ruler, but never losing prominence – like the gem-lain hilt of a blade glistening in the shade of a warrior’s cape. No longer would he have demand over the absolute spotlight, but rather, he would share it with a King, who in turn was completed by the sword he’d wield, his deadly tool of choice. A thousand years it had been, from his point of view, since Ghirahim had last lived like this. It was as nostalgic, as the lethargy of it all made his skin crawl. For now, it did little good to struggle against his overshadowing. He reminded himself that this feeling was what he’d chased ever since his revival… But his choice of pseudo-wielder was, to put it lightly, irking to a painful degree. 

The playing field had to be leveled a little bit. He reached over to deliver a harsh pinch to the delicate underside of the Twilight King’s upper arm and reveled in the pathetic shriek it evoked.

[daisybell17]

New Years with Loki hc’s:

He would be so confused on why this was such a big deal to many midgardians…its a new year…so what?

Besides his confusion, he loved new years eve parties, and with you it just makes it 100x better

His first new years eve party was hosted by Tony Stark so of course it did not disappoint

He wore a nice black suit with hints of green silks inside his coat jacket. You on the other hand wore a tight fitting dress, also having hints of green through glitter spread around the dress

Loki could not keep his eye off you

The night was filled with great conversation, food, drinks and celebration of the year that passed by and the year to come

Loki kept hearing about “resolutions” and of course when it came to Midgardian things he did not understand, he would ask you

“Why is everyone asking me my “resolutions”? From Stark to the spider boy to even the arrow guy…what is a resolution darling?”

“Well a new years resolution is something people make as a sort of change in their life, sometimes they’re big, sometimes small. It’s just something people make as the new year comes, since its like a restart of everything”

“That sounds…odd, why do people wait till new years to make a change, just do it now”

“I cant really answer that honey, everyone is different, plus I have my own resolution”

His eyebrows raised at your response “You do? Enlighten me my dear”

“Yea one of my new years resolution is to spend more time reading, hopefully finishing books i have been putting of. I guess mine is small but it is some improvement…you should make something!” You encouraged him as to bring in the new years spirit

“Me? Improvement? Make a resolution? Darling I don’t need one. I’m perfect. duh” He snickered

You laughed at his response “You know there isn’t such thing as perfection, thats what makes life beautiful, its always changing and you find the beauty in it…plus, even perfection such as yourself can always self improve somewhere”

“That defeat the whole purpose of perfect, I don’t need some resolution…i am PERFECT darling!” He kisses your cheek as he finished his stance

“Okay! Whatever you say honey”

The night goes on as normal but of course your words linger Loki’s mind…and he took a minute to do some reflection…i mean he knew he was perfect, but even perfection has room for self-improvement…hmmm..

As the final 10 minutes of the year approached, your tipsy self found Loki and fell onto him

“Woah! Darling you ok?” He says as he holds you up

“YUP JUST TIPSY! …its a-almost n-new years…i need to be sober for our kisssssss”

“Kiss? I can kiss you right now you know”

“nOOOO new years eve kiss! I need water…NOW”

Loki rushes to get you water to get you back to being sober and by the time you gathered yourself and your thoughts, there was about 3 minutes to go

“OKAY IM GOOD! so basically a new years kiss is when we kiss once the clock hits 0! so basically…an i love you kiss, happy new year! Ya get it?”

Loki nods…he would kiss you any day at any time but he knew to wait, this was special to you as he could tell

As everyone gathered and the clock counted down, you and Loki stood together side by side

“10….9…8…7!”

Loki watches as everyone was here, celebrating the past and the future, all in the present moment…

“6…5…4...3!”

As the last 3 seconds ticked by, he took one good look at you. He knew how the past year had been for you…filled with so much good, too much bad in his opinion but amazing moment you both shared…and he couldn’t wait to see what the future brought for you in your own right, but for where you both will be and the memories to be created…he couldn’t wait

“2…1! Happy New Year!” Everyone cheered, screams of happiness filled the room and hugs and love was spread all around

You looked up at Loki and awaited for him to kiss you, which he did once you gave that glance that drove him insane

As the kiss went on, Loki felt nothing but happiness…how lucky is he to be with someone like you? What a lucky god he is….

Pulling away, you hugged Loki and watched as the fireworks went of and your friends greeting one another, you and Loki also greeting back

The excitement slowly died down and many went back to partying and drinking…Loki looked at you “Darling…I have a resolution”

You looked at him happily “You do?! You wanna share or keep it to yourself?”

“No no…you should know…My new years resolution is to make us happier…build us closer to our future…and of course…love you more and more each day…”

Looking at Loki, your eyes welled up in happy tears and you kissed him once more “Oh i’m so lucky to be with you…my love, I love you so much”

“I am just as lucky as you…I love you too…happy new year” He says with a smile as he held you close

[caelwynn]

First Lines Tag Game

Thanks to both @annetastic1981a and @f0xofspades for tagging me on this one! :-D

rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fics (or whatever you got going on) and tag however many writers you want. if you've written fewer than ten, share anyway :))

No Pressure tags for @5cs-fanart-and-misc, @exoticlittlebird, @folatefangirl, @pansypinetree, and @aziminohi1992

Red = Explicit Yellow = Teen Green = Gen White = WiP

1. Changes: Transitions

“You found it,” marveled Qi. He knew they had—as if he’d pass up the opportunity to observe them at work—but he’d still expected something to prevent them from delivering it. Gloved hands carefully set the package upon his desk. “I did,” said Mateo.

2. Moonlight

The first time Jade explored a cave, Daddy held her hand. “Stick close, little star." “Okay!” Jade was too little to go with Daddy into the mines. Mr. Marlon refused to let anyone go in until they could use a sword, and he also refused to train anyone until they turned eighteen (though, Owen and Luke had moved from practicing with their plastic laser swords to sparring with wooden swords. They thought no one else knew, but little sisters are good at finding things out). But there were lots of other caves in the valley! Daddy sometimes joked they magically appeared from season to season.

3. Grease Monkey

Damn, but Callie loved watching Sterling work. The open garage door acted like a proscenium arch, framing him and the towering tractor as though the curtains had just opened on a play. Three incandescent lamps above the workbench dramatically spilled light across the concrete floor. A dozen or more moths flittered above his head, casting odd, flickering shadows reminiscent of firelight. The rototiller laid on its back atop the bench as Sterling finished replacing the broken blades. Black streaks stained his hands and forearms, drawing her gaze to them as surely as the lights above drew the moths. His nimble fingers moved swiftly, tightening a series of bolts before he finished wrenching them down. Yoba, even with how she ached from the day’s work, she’d love nothing more than to trade places with that rototiller just then.

4. Heartsong

Sunlight slipped through the curtains, gently caressing over their bodies, intertwined within the confines of their bed. It crept slowly—ever so delicately—up the quilt, the cool sheets, the bare chests, until it could finally rest upon Lance’s face, illuminating his tanned skin and making his magenta hair glint. He grimaced. Warm. Lance felt… warm? An usual experience in the heart of winter—at least while they slept.

5. Gravediggers

Yuuma had a mission. He fled the library as soon as Miss Penny released them. Shiro would be done with his appointment in a half-hour, and he had to walk all the way across town. But he had a stop to make before he met his brother.

6. Traditions

“Arrrgh! That stupid electric mouse!” growled Abigail as she tossed her controller down. “You break that controller, you’re buying its replacement,” Sebastian threatened, though he’d lost any heat behind those words five controllers ago. Abigail had never broken her habit of throwing the blasted things, but she also never failed to replace them. Sam strongly suspected she kept several ‘just in case’ in a closet somewhere.

7. Hearth and Home

“Good afternoon, Marnie,” said Marlon, unable to help a small smile upon laying his eye on her. She’d ever been a pretty lass, and the years had only made her grow more beautiful, not less.

8. Perspective

“Hi, Haley. Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Haley blinked, staring at the pretty artist. Even though she and Leah had spent more and more time together as Summer turned to Fall, she’d never randomly turned up on her doorstep before—strands of ginger hair glinting in the sunlight, blue-gray eyes sparkling merrily, lips curved in a kissable lovely smile.

9. Luck Be a Lady

Flipping over his cards for the others to see, Sterling smirked, “Full house!” Groans erupted around the table as he showed his cards. Three other men tossed their hands to the next dealer as Sterling raked in his winnings; the gorgeous gal to his left merely shook her head. He’d played just well enough to win one hand in four—enough to stay in the game but hopefully not rouse suspicions.

10. Kalliope

June swears you’re a ghost; one that’s haunted him all of his life. Without fail, you come to watch June perform, watch as his fingers elicit exquisite music from piano after piano after piano. Recitals, concerts, gigs in little basements or the hottest clubs, you never miss a performance. Always, you sit just at the farthest periphery of his vision. Whenever he turns to look straight at you, though, you vanish.

(I hadn't realized I'd put out enough one-shots to knock Choices off the list O_O)