#chapter 11 light shadows and reflection

[rashmislearningplanet]

Light, Shadows and Reflection | Class 6 : SCIENCE | CBSE / NCERT | Light, Shadows and Reflection

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 32. uno reverse

chapter tags/warnings: aftercare. mentions of cum and creampies. other sexual content. nicknames. extremely strong language. corruption. family drama.

word count: 3.9k

notes: the last chapter was 97% smut. oops. plot? literally, what plot? well, here is the plot. also, happy new year's eve and new years! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

With sweat stuck onto your forehead and spit plastered across your chin, you panted like an overheated dog. Such were the consequences of dealing with too many hands, cocks, and men.

After the sinful fiasco with your sex therapists, your body quivered from exhaustion.

Not to mention, you had been stuffed.

Holding in a potent cum concoction within your womb, you did your best to keep the fluids in, but the sheer volume forced a slow dribble to slide down your plush inner thighs.

You winced from the unwelcome cool against your warm skin, feeling flustered, frazzled, and disheveled.

Sukuna thumbed the dried tears that streaked your cheeks, Geto carded his hand through your hair, and Choso massaged the sore spots on your soft ass, all cooing about how you’ve been an angel for them and that maybe…you all should find time to do this again.

When the three dressed themselves and stepped out eventually for a cigarette, they left you looking at your window reflection, in which you noticed how makeup smudged across your cheeks and how fluids coated your neck and chest.

Never had you felt this...deranged.

Yet, absolutely nothing could be compared to the hot mess that was the Toji Fushiguro whom you straddled.

The man lolled his head back with a low groan and ran his thick fingers through his scalp. His dark strands had become drenched in perspiration and clung to his face's rugged planes. Blistering in his formal attire, he tossed his charcoal blazer aside, undid his knotted tie, and stripped off his button-down. His chest, dusted in a healthy pink shade, heaved. After his pleasure, he still looked like a Greek god in his shame.

Despite all your egregious encounters with him, you still flushed when seeing his bare-chested body. His formalwear might be different from his usual black T-shirt and white lab coat, but he hadn't really changed. He was still fit and subtly edgy with the designs that swirled around his chiseled upper body.

Amid the tattooed tapestry, your gaze once again became drawn by the inked phoenix that rose victoriously from ashes, a symbol that seemed like a parallel to Toji himself. Resilient. Indestructible. Enduring. Both confronting and overcoming challenges, standing stronger and more determined despite their struggles. Each feather branded across his torso held wordless stories about not only his triumphs but also his scars.

“Princess likes what she sees?”

Toji's sudden interjection surprised you. Fuck, he's caught me staring.

After you ogled at his body for too long, the man had naturally taken note, and—with you, of course—he simply had to tease.

"Your tattoos suit you," you had been forced to admit. Not that you lied.

In response, his green eyes held a gentle glister that contrasted with his animalistic actions mere moments ago. "That’s cute. Thank you."

He reached over your shoulder for a tissue and dabbed at your collarbone.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning you up," answered Toji promptly. With the napkin, he soaked up sins, wiping away at the unholy mixture between sweat, spit, and semen as though they never tainted your perfect body in the first place. "That's the least I can do."

He worked in silence, slightly hunched in his seat, the scattered light from the above chandelier casting sharp shadows over his angular face. Wisps of jet-black hair framed his temples as he hung his head in focus, his breathing turning steady. Toji looked so normal, like he wasn't some sex therapist or some important corporate executive or an heir to a multi-billion fortune.

In this one, singular moment, Toji was just...Toji.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked suddenly.

"Doing what?" Mistakenly, he assumed you referred to how he sought another napkin, this time to wipe at the trickle that ran like white lava down your thighs. “We made a mess."

"No, not that. Why did you become my therapist?" Of course, you did not forget your first encounter with Dr. Fushiguro, particularly how Toji ripped your new patient form to literal shreds the moment he noticed your last name. “You could've kicked me out of your office that day and left me miserable, but you didn't. Why?"

He slowed in his motions and his hot breath skimmed over your upper lip.

Then, he smiled faintly. "Can I abstain?"

This was his hint that the answer wouldn’t be something you liked.

"No." You still wanted to know. "Tell me, please."

Despite your reassurance, he seemed reluctant, his jaw working as he trapped his tongue piercing between his teeth.

"Because you were too…innocent," Toji eventually admitted. He sounded earnest, but he gave you a cautious glance like he wanted to gauge your reaction. "A pretty lady coming to see Toji Fushiguro because his little cousin Naoya Zenin couldn't please you properly? Clearly, you've never had a proper fuck. I wanted to completely ruin you, baby. I wanted to use you. And, shit, that pussy made me want to keep you for myself forever. Sure, I also had a two-timing ex, but who cares about my little cousin's mistress when I had his wife in front of me?"

Even though you braced for a brutally honest response, hearing his words firsthand stung.

Yes, you were naïve back then. However, to hear your closest confidant admit his initial, manipulative motives jabbed at your sensitive heart.

From your husband to your therapist, you were constantly a pawn on another person's chessboard. Yet, the worst part was that you didn't notice the game until much later.

"I am sorry," Toji started again. Perceptive as usual, he noticed how your mood suddenly soured. "I had all these shitty intentions because Naoya fucked me over, so I wanted to take my anger out on you. But, when I realized that you’re just an oblivious puppet in his play, I wanted him to realize that he was mistreating you, and," one long exhale, "most importantly, I truly did want to help you."

Mulling over his words carefully, you sank your face into his shoulder. "Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

“No, I am being honest," and the dark green in his eyes reflected that. "I didn't expect to ever see you again after our first session. Thought you got scared off for good until you called me to book another appointment. Honestly, at that point, people suspected you to be Naoya’s lap-bitch and spy. Hope that explains the shitty attitudes from the other therapists and my son." Toji flicked the dirty tissue into the wastebasket. "I defended you, though, if that means anything. I thought you were nice and entertaining and, as I've pointed out numerous times, that you deserved better. What I didn't think was how I would end up bringing you into," and he motioned around with his head, "all of this.”

Breathing in slowly, you took in the man's heavy bergamot scent and allowed his warmth to anchor you.

“So, how do you plan to use me now?”

Among your incessant inquiries, this question must be the most pointed.

Toji, realizing this, gazed ahead. Momentarily, you wondered where his thoughts had wandered off to this time, his focus on the ceiling sharpening for a moment before he reverted his attention back.

"There is no plan to ‘use’ you, sweetheart. Because you mean a lot to me," he still responded with great conviction. "You are cherished."

Beneath the rough edges in his features laid a softness—a softness that you started to become familiar with—as he brought his hands to your hip.

“Live a happy life without Naoya," he added eventually. "You don't need me and the other therapists anymore. Only brokenhearted and anguished people are our clients, so forgetting about us should be easy."

Was it wrong to feel even more hurt when you heard that?

Literally one moment ago, Toji was telling you how much you meant to him. Now, he was telling you to go?

"Client or not, I thought we were friends. You even told me once that I'm somebody special."

“You are," he responded matter-of-factly. "You are very special. Which is why I am not going to force you to hang around or anything. That way you don’t think anyone is ‘using’ you. You're young and capable, and I want you to live your life as you wish.” Then, his voice became uncharacteristically soft. “Because I care about you.”

As nonchalant as he tried to come off, Toji also sounded so...broken.

Plenty of people—plenty of women—came in and out of Toji's life. Megumi had said so himself, admitting that his father used to 'sleep around a bunch' after his biological mother passed.

Since then, Toji had probably gotten used to how the women he encountered only wanted him for his name, his wallet, or—yes, to put things bluntly—his dick. Tsumiki's mom would be the best and most recent example.

But, you wanted to heal Toji as much as Toji had healed you.

"There's something Megumi told me the first time I stayed over at your apartment," you began suddenly.

Toji arched a brow, the tendons by his neck taut. "Is that so?" Knowing his angsty son, he sounded curious but moreso concerned. "Like what?"

'Are you going to marry my dad?'

No, you would die from embarrassment before you could admit that.

"Megumi told me about what happened to his mom, your first wife."

"Ah." Beneath you, Toji tensed up. His tongue darted over his scar like he wanted to continue, but no words came out.

So, he stopped and waited for you to continue.

"I...am really sorry to hear about what happened to her."

In the end, Toji tilted his head, a small but obviously sad smile playing on his lips.

"That's years ago." He tried to sound like losing his first wife in a freak accident didn't haunt him anymore, but you knew that the catastrophe still did.

"Well, Megumi also told me about what your relationships with other women were like since then," you resumed. "Particularly about your second wife."

This time, you truly stumped him. "I see."

"Unlike her, I am not going anywhere," you asserted and tightened your hold around him. "No one is forcing that decision upon me, either. Since you want me to 'live my life as I wish,' my wish is for us to be friends for a long time...and for the same reasons friends want to be friends."

"Is that genuinely what you want?"

"Yes. Truly."

Whether due to your common backgrounds in the Japanese aristocracy or the juxtaposition he offered to your ex-husband, Toji had become your haven. He grounded you after your emotional tumbles and uplifted you with compliments and praise—like an anchor, an unyielding outlet with whom you could share your pains and transform your frustrations into something lesser.

Whenever you had needed him most, Toji had been there.

Always there.

Consequently, you hoped to be the same for him.

When Toji cupped your jaw with a large hand, you slowly pressed your cheek into his palm.

“You care a lot about others but forget to think about yourself,” you went on, criticizing him in a light tone. There was also a question that you had been meaning to ask. “Like, why did you agree to take on the CEO position again after experiencing the Zenin family and your past?”

His fingers flexed slightly into your skin.

“My decision is not about the people who wronged me, but rather the people who depend on me,” he clarified after a beat, his voice lowered like he confided in himself as much as in you. “I look at Mai and Maki, who’ve been treated like garbage their entire lives. I think about Megumi and Tsumiki, who deserve a world with the best opportunities. For them and for others, I want to create a future with something better. ”

Which reminds you.

For the therapists, taking on renewed roles within the Zenin Corporation would be concerning given that they have previously faced accusations of neglecting the business in favor of their own pursuits.

“What will happen to sex therapy?”

Naoya Zenin returned to his apartment lobby tossed (yes, tossed) following a blindfolded car ride home.

To some degree, he wished he hadn’t come back at all since—after retrieving his phone and searching the Internet—he discovered a new reality where media spokespeople, online netizens, and business leaders welcomed his cousin’s return to leadership while denouncing his own.

It was like the universe had been waiting to have Naoya reckon with his misconducts all at once, for he never fully understood the consequences of his sins until his face appeared over news websites, tabloid front pages, and social media feeds.

Even when he had business to attend to the following day, he could hardly push past his apartment entrance without being swarmed by meddlers who somehow had gotten intel on his address. Naturally, many people wanted to hear directly from the businessman who had fallen from grace, especially when the company he once led was one of the largest market players in the Asia-Pacific region. First came the paparazzi, the blinding white flashes from their cameras all seeking to capture his face. Then came the other onlookers, jeering with many insults his way.

‘A scumbag is what you are. A disgusting cheater!’ ‘You don't even deserve a penny of your net worth!” ‘Your company, colleagues, and family deserved better!’ 'Someone like Toji Fushiguro!'

The moment Naoya reached the backseat of his sedan, he smashed his phone in one savage blow, startling the chauffeur as the gadget's screen shattered. Didn’t matter. He had the money to replace that by noon anyway.

Meanwhile, with white-gloved hands on the wheel, the driver tried to hide his tremor.

"A-Are you o—"

"To the corporate headquarters," Naoya ordered. "Put your fucking foot on the pedal or the next thing I'll be blowing up is you."

"Yes."

Well, that shut him up.

Thanks to that, Naoya arrived at the Zenin Corporation headquarters in record-breaking time, but he encountered yet another human barrage. People shouted over one another, some even pushing microphones toward his face, as the crowd followed him like a gaggle of geese while he walked into the lobby.

He frowned when his ID badge failed at the security turnstiles, his access removed from the building's security system already. Just two days ago, he held hours-long meetings in the offices above. Now, two days later, he had been deemed an outsider without access to even the company café on the first floor.

He kicked the turnstile (as if that would change anything), and a steely voice interrupted his anger.

"Naoya Zenin, sir," a woman in a security uniform began, "you are no longer with the corporation and are causing a disturbance. Please, leave."

The blonde snapped his badge back into his palm before tucking both hands into the front pockets of his pressed pants. He sauntered forward slowly, making sure that the woman noticed the difference in their height. "No, I won't. I have an appointment."

"Please," she barged in again, unintimidated by his taller frame. Her voice this time was more stern as she glanced over at the nearby swarm. "You're creating a commotion on private property.”

Did he look like he cared? "My family's private property."

"Sir, I—"

"He’s with me." With a third voice joining the conversation, both turned around as no one other than Toji Fushiguro himself walked over. "I invited him for a private meeting. Allow me to escort him."

The antagonism that the security woman had with Naoya vanished completely as she apologized profusely to the older man, and the blonde found her switch in character fucking deplorable and insulting.

After a brief exchange, Toji looked over. “Thank you for arriving on time. I was worried you missed my text since I sent the message very early in the morning. Let me bring you upstairs.”

Despite receiving a smile, Naoya didn’t like the belittling and patronizing tone that made him feel like a child who needed a chaperone or a beggar who needed a savior.

Nonetheless, he followed in tense silence.

When he walked into the designated conference room, Naoya tried to not look surprised to also see his father and your father in the same vicinity as well (although, given that they were the Board Director and the Chief Operating Officer, respectively, that should’ve been expected).

He had to look away from their cold gazes and instead took the seat closest to the door. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

Toji, on the other hand, settled at the head of the table and crossed one leg over his knee. “This meeting is a courtesy​​. One you don’t deserve but here we are. We’ll be brief.” He leaned across the table, sliding over a sleek black folder. “Later today, the Zenin Corporation will hold a press conference to address our organizational and management changes. In this binder are terms for your settlement. We would like you to accept the proposal, leave, and never associate yourself with the Zenin name again.”

When Naoya saw the documents inside, he wanted to laugh right then and there. “This is a shitty offer that practically gives me nothing.”

What else did you expect? Toji’s unwavering expression seemed to say.

He even opened his mouth to speak, but a much coarser voice spoke first.

"Because you did that to yourself,” Naobito explained. “As of now, your actions have stripped you of everything and you’re still scoffing at someone else’s generosity? You’re a selfish manipulator who has jeopardized our stakeholders’ trust. Our family name will not tolerate your presence moving forward!"

"Listen, Father—"

"Mr. Zenin to you!"

Naoya could not believe he was related to the much older man in front of him. Except for their common features, the duo shared absolutely nothing including warmth for each other.

Which, to the blonde, was ridiculous. Because how could his parent not view the situation from his lens? No one understood the struggles that tormented him since his childhood and the reasons his anguish turned into greed.

"This isn’t fair.” Naoya’s voice rose, trembling with barely contained anger as he shoved the folder away. “I can’t understand you, Fa—Mr. Zenin. Why? Why does everything that Toji touches turn to gold in your eyes? The world welcomes him back like he’s a prodigy, and you hand him everything on a silver platter. But then, why can’t you defend your one and only son in a situation like this? Anything…anything I do, to you, is not enough.”

With his chest heaving, Naoya had to pause and catch his breath. He didn’t want to admit that he was on the verge of another outburst, only to be met with no sympathy in return.

"You and Toji have never been in the same position. Not now, not before, and not ever.” As the Chairman made himself clear, his voice cut through his son’s rant like a blade. “While no one is perfect, Toji—in the past and present—earns respect by owning his failures and proving his worth. Due to his team’s work in the last twenty-four hours, he stabilized the company, helping us avoid an immense drop in our market value and cancellations from our business partners.” In addition to his utter disregard for his son’s feelings, Naobito even mocked him with a scoff. “Meanwhile, you don’t play by the rules, boy. You exploit them to suit your needs, and when something backfires, you blame everyone but yourself. Toji didn’t come back because I handed him anything. He came back because he knows how to make amends.”

Stop.

Naoya wanted this mental torture to come to a fucking stop.

His father’s scorn was bad enough, but the comparison to Toji—always Toji—was like salt ground into an open wound. What made the situation a hundred times more humiliating was how his older cousin sat across the table with a nearly indiscernible smirk on his face.

Yet, what could he realistically do when the Chairman went on?

“In my entire life, I only requested from you one thing,” Naobito added. ‘Power and money did not interest him when compared to his daughter, so the one promise I made is that you would love her.’ “And what did you do?”

Precisely not that.

The pointed change in topic made Daisuke L/N sit forward uncomfortably.

"Be honest with us, Naoya," he said. "Aside from marrying my daughter to legitimize your position in your family and company, what other intentions did you have?"

The man stared ahead with a solemn expression because, in that moment, he wasn’t the Zenin Corporation’s Chief Operating Officer but merely a father.

A father who had been promised a dependable and loving son-in-law, not a cruel and ruthless deceiver.

Naoya shrugged.

"My original plan was to have your daughter for as long as I deemed her useful. Maybe until my old man kicked the bucket and I became the head of the Zenin household? Or, if I liked her enough, maybe longer? I don't know, not that I really cared." Naoya didn't give a shit that he sounded like a total sociopath. As a grown man, he could make his choices in speech. "But, what I did care about is how people only noticed me when I had that…that—"

At that, Toji had to cut him off. “You’ve said enough. We’re done here.”

“I’m not finished.”

“Yes, you are. As I mentioned earlier, this meeting is only a courtesy.”

Toji rose from his seat and adjusted his blazer, the other executives doing the same but with pursed frowns. When the Chairman and the COO left quickly in silent rage, Toji followed them and gestured toward the black folder again on his way out.

"Anyway, all the legal documents are in there. Can read through them, if you care. You have the next hour to inform my secretary of your decision. My advice is to accept our offer since no legitimate company in the Asia-Pacific—or anywhere else in the world—will want you now. You ensured that for yourself."

Toji walked to the exit in precise and confident strides, but just before disappearing into the halls, he paused.

"Oh, but one last request.” Except what he said next wasn’t a request, but a demand. “Never show yourself to us or anyone we care about again. Take this as a warning."

Then, the door clicked shut.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Naoya stood up.

“God fucking damnnit!” he hollered at the top of his lungs like a mad maniac. His hand shot out, sweeping the papers off the table violently, sending them scattering across the floor.

He hissed and seethed. How he hated this feeling. His current ordeal had been his wake-up call to realize that merely being born into status didn't mean he would be invincible.

If only he hadn’t let his unchecked arrogance blind him, then his life trajectory would have played out differently!

…Or maybe nothing would’ve changed at all.

Because perhaps, all these years, Naoya Zenin had been trying to grasp onto something that was never meant to be his.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: This is my final update for the year, and the next chapter will be the final chapter for this entire fic. I'll save my sentimental notes for later because I don't want to get sappy, but I wish everyone love, hugs, and good health forever and ever! Side note: I am very bad at updating the below taglist, sorry!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @sakuraryomen01 @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzuruu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[pit-stop-princess]

Click Click - Chapter Three

Ollie Bearman x Photographer!Fem!Reader

Kimi Antonelli & Antonelli!Sister!Reader

Summary: I came to F1 with my little brother Kimi to photograph his rookie season, not to fall for his best friend and Haas's golden boy. Somehow, Ollie Bearman keeps ending up in my shots!

Warnings: Angst, fluff, awkward text messages, young Kimi panicking, self-doubt, talk of perfection, picture of woman in swimsuit, light swearing

Word Count: 1694, not including text threads or social media posts

Notes: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. It's very long. I'm graduating in just two weeks, so I've been feeling very nostalgic lately, and this chapter very much reflects that. Val's face claim is Niki Victoria for the sake of consistency. All in all, please enjoy and let me know what you liked about it!

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Nine Years Ago, ages 11 & 12

The kart was still smoking faintly when I reached the edge of the track, skidding to a stop just past the barriers. Kimi had ripped off his helmet and sat slumped in the grass, tear tracks already streaking the dirt on his cheeks. His hair stuck to his forehead in damp little curls, and he looked about two seconds from a full meltdown.

“My engine died,” he said, voice breaking halfway through. “It just- it stalled and I couldn’t fix it and I DNF’d the race and-”

“Hey,” I said, crouching in front of him. “Breathe, Kimi. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he sniffled. “I practiced so hard. And I was gonna win. You said I could win.”

“You can win.” I reached out and wiped a smudge of oil off his nose. “Just not today.”

He curled his hands into fists. “It’s not fair.”

“No,” I agreed. “But you’re not done yet.”

He looked up at me through wet lashes, lip wobbling. “What if I never make it?”

I smiled, even though my throat was suddenly tight. “Kimi, I swear on the stars you will. And when you do? I’ll be there. Every race. Every lap. Camera in hand, yelling louder than your entire pit wall.”

His eyes went wide. “You promise?”

“I promise,” I said, tears pricking my own eyes, pinky out. “You race. I’ll shoot. Deal?”

He linked his pinky with mine. “Deal.”

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Present Day

speed bump = Kimi, ollie bearman = Ollie Bearman, that bitch val = Valentina (Val)

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Val was waiting for me at the airport. She's tall, all sharp cheekbones and bright blue eyes, with beautiful curls that live in a perpetual state of artful chaos. She’s got the kind of style that looks effortlessly put together, even when it’s just thrifted jeans, a cropped tee, and golden hoop earrings.

We met at fourteen, two kids who dreamed too big for their school and the nuns who ran it.

Val was the new girl from Florence with clean blue nail polish and dreams of being a model. I was the girl with a camera instead of friends, always in the back of the classroom documenting shadows and corners and silence.

We were on a class trip when I asked if I could take a picture of her for the first time. I posed her, set up my angle, and got the shot. It was my first photo I was truly happy with since leaving Kimi.

When I showed Val the shot, she gripped my arm and told me I was the only one who made her look like her.

We’ve stuck together ever since.

She speaks with her hands, her heart, and absolutely no filter. One minute she’s dramatically reenacting a conversation with the cute barista at the cafe, the next she’s waxing poetic about the symbolism in a street mural or why that particular pigeon seems to be giving her attitude. There’s always a snack in her bag, a book with a cracked spine, and at least three bandages for other people’s blisters.

I told her how I loved motorsports, but stopped when Kimi went to the academy. I showed her the pictures I had taken, a year old at that point, and then newer pictures of people, landscapes, close-ups, and everything in between.

“You always think you’re photographing people doing something. Driving. Laughing. Walking. But the ones that matter, they’re when the person forgets they’re doing anything at all. It’s the breath between words. The blink after a smile. That’s the truth.”

When we left school, we built our empires. I would photograph for her, she would model for me. Our portfolios grew in tandem. She got her first job with a boutique brand in Milan. I got published in a small arts zine out of Rome. When I landed a travel feature for a new indie magazine, Val came with me to the Amalfi coast, wearing vintage scarves and red lipstick, standing barefoot on sea-slick rocks while I got the shot.

“You make me look like someone worth looking at,” she said once, quiet and serious, as we reviewed the prints in a café booth sticky with sugar.

I laughed. “You always were.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Before you, I just felt… pretty. Now I feel seen.”

And now, here she is, picking me up from the airport, hugging me so tight I lose my breath, already talking a mile a minute about the pasta she made and the barista she may or may not have a crush on but is too stubborn to admit it.

“I missed you,” I say into her hair, which smells like bergamot and sea salt.

She squeezes me tighter. “You left for, like, two weeks.”

“I know,” I say. “Too long.”

She pulls back, squints at me, then grins. “You look pale.”

“You look chaotic.”

“Thank you,” she says proudly. “Now come on. I made pesto. And I want to hear everything.”

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“So. Kimi sent you Ollie’s number, you texted first, he responded, and then the conversation died.”

“SÌ, basically. I think he might have been busy because he said he was ‘just training’ but I don’t know if I came across as too awkward.” I said, flopping down on her couch. “We haven’t talked outside of Kimi introducing us, so maybe it was too soon?”

Val shrugged her perfectly tan shoulder. “Maybe.”

“You’re supposed to lie and assure me it wasn’t too soon.”

She blinked at me. “Okay, you came off tragically normal. That’s even worse.”

I groaned and threw my arm over my eyes. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” She said, standing up gracefully. “Now come on, you’re back home, and we’re going to the beach. I need fresh air, and you need the sun.”

“I’m not that pale!”

She threw my swimsuit at me.

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I had missed the beach.

By the time we got down to the shore, the sun was bright and the sea was throwing glitter across the surface with every wave. I kicked off my shoes and wandered to the edge of the tide, the sand already cool and damp beneath my feet.

I just stood there, let the breeze get into my hair, let the waves pull at my ankles, let the sun kiss my skin. I could hear Val rustling around behind me, probably laying out her towel like a ritual, probably already monologuing to a seagull.

I turned just in time to see her toss a sun-warmed peach into the air and catch it like she was in a commercial for perfect summer evenings.

“Come on,” she called. “You're allowed to be dramatic, but not that dramatic.”

I laughed, and it felt good, loose and warm in my chest. I jogged back up the shore, collapsing beside her and stealing one of her chips.

“Hey!”

“Friend tax.”

We spent the rest of the day sunbathing and taking pictures. As much as I loved photographing F1, I missed taking photos of Val.

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❤️ liked by kimi.antonelli, valentinavlogs, olliebearman, & others

yourusername back home for a little while with @/valentinavlogs 🐚🩵

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valentinavlogs lookin like a couple of baddies

⤷ yourusername girl what are you talking about 😭

user34 I wish this was my life

⤷ user23 don't we all??

kimi.antonelli come back ollie hasn't stopped asking about you

⤷ olliebearman shut up, kimi

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user80 will she be at the next race?

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Five Years Ago, ages 13 & 15

It was late.

Too late for the track to still be echoing in his head, but I could see it in the way he sat on the curb- hunched over, hands loose between his knees, helmet abandoned beside him like it’d said something mean. The kart was parked a few feet away, half-loaded onto the trailer, the last stragglers from the paddock already packing up and heading out.

I sat down next to him, not saying anything at first. Just breathed in the warm, dusty air, the scent of engine grease and old asphalt.

He didn’t look at me. Just said, flatly, “I was shit today.”

“You weren’t.”

“I was. I spun out. I missed the apexes. I didn’t listen.” He ran both hands through his hair, frustrated. “Everyone saw it. They always see it. Every mistake, every second too slow-”

“Kimi.”

He kept going like I hadn’t spoken. “And I can’t keep up. Not with the guys the scouts are watching. Not if I keep messing it up every time it counts. Maybe I’m not- maybe I’m not cut out for it.”

“Andrea.” I touched his arm. “Look at me.”

He did, eventually. Eyes bright and wet in the glow from the nearest overhead light, jaw tight with everything he couldn’t say out loud.

“You are not your lap time,” I said gently. “You are not your placing or your telemetry data or how many people are looking at you. You are the kid who listens. Who learns. Who takes everything people throw at him and actually gets better. That’s rare, Kimi.”

He sniffled, quietly. “Doesn’t feel like enough.”

I tilted my head, nudged my shoulder into his. “You want to be perfect. But you don’t need to be. The ones who last? They take the hits, take the lessons, and come back swinging. You already do that.”

He picked at a loose thread on his race suit. “You’re always chasing the perfect picture.”

“SÌ, I am. Everyone is chasing perfection fratellino, but all you can do is attempt to be better than your past self. Learn from your mistakes, give yourself grace, and prepare for the next round.”

He didn’t say anything, so I looked up, out, into the vast stretch of stars overhead, and said, “You know what I think about sometimes?”

He glanced at me. “…What?”

“How lucky it is. That we’re on the same planet. In the same moment in time. Under this same sky.” I gave him a small smile. “Like, out of every possible version of the universe, we ended up in this one. Where I get to know you. Be here with you.”

Kimi blinked. “That’s weirdly comforting.”

I shrugged. “We’re small. But we’re not alone.”

He leaned against me then. Just a little. Not enough to crush me with shoulder pads or helmet hair, but enough that I could feel him start to breathe normally again.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“Always,” I whispered back. “I’m not going anywhere, Kimi. And even when I’m not beside you we are still under the same sky, remember?”

He looked up, lips twitching into something soft and tired and real. “Same sky.”

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 25

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know

A.N: I'm sorry for the delay. Unfortunately life gets in the way of these things!

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 • Part 19 • Part 20 • Part 21 • Part 22 • Part 23 • Part 24

• ··········· • ············ •

The trip down to the Entresol level was far easier than the one you just did. Get on the ascensor. Get off. Welcome to Zaun.

The undercity was very similar to what you remembered in your dimension, even though you hadn’t spent a long time there. Dark, chaotic, and yet in the chaos there was beauty. People shouting back and forth, vehicles coming and going, lights reflecting on colored glass panes. 

Once upon another timeline, after Viktor became hexed and started his commune, you became a common guest in it. Helping him do things and reach higher, do better...improve…evolve. He would find ways to get you to the commune quickly and safely; most of them wouldn’t have you pass through the streets of Zaun. And if by any chance you’d need to, he’d get someone to accompany you. 

No…he wouldn’t get someone…He would make someone.

It was hard to try and distinguish what was made out of love and what was made out of fawning. He wanted you in the commune, whether because he cared or because he needed more evolved; you didn’t know. But looking back at all the gestures he did, all the little smiles and touches, it was hard to imagine him, at that time, doing it for love. It was a means to an end. Much like the hex angel he had sent after you.

A tap on your shoulder snapped you violently out of your thoughts, so much so that you had to grab your chest to keep your quickening heart from exploding.

“Gods, Viktor.” You breathed. “Scared the shit out of me.”

“We have been walking for 10 minutes.” He sounded confused. “Where were you?”

“Far.” You looked at him, and he had a concerned look on his face. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. As long as you come back.” 

“I’ll try.”

“We are here.”

You had stopped in front of a two-story building. It was thin and tall, and it looked like it had been pulled up by the roof disproportionately. The broken window on the ground floor showed the dancing shadows of an abandoned store, with half-empty shelves and dust shimmering there. The other two floors had two square windows to the street but only a faint light coming out of them. The door to the living quarters was ajar, and despite looking neglected on the outside, clothes were hanging on the windows, and on the last floor, there was a little parapet with some plants on it. 

“There.” Viktor pointed to the first-floor window. “That was my bedroom.”

You looked up where he was pointing and smiled. There was a purple curtain there, and you wondered if that was there when he was.

“And that was the living room.” He pointed to the window next to the other.

Viktor had a melancholic air to him. A sort of haziness in his eyes as he remembered those times. You kept quiet, letting him reminisce.

“You want to go up?” You said when he sighed with finality.

“No. There is probably someone living there.” He turned around to walk further down the artificially lit streets.

You silently followed him through the streets, watching the stalls and the stores start to get customers. You knew danger lurked around every shadow, especially with the chembarons running amok, but right now it seemed calm and safe…safe-ish.

One thing that surprised you, though, was the sound above the sounds. Above the cacophony of the undercity, there were whispers and buzz like a layer of frenzied talk about the frenzy. Several times you’d pause and look back when something whispered in your ear. It didn’t feel evil or angry. It was playful, like a child touching your shoulder only to hide away.

“Is everything alright?” Viktor asked, and you nodded.

“I’ll explain later. Rune related.”

He paused and looked back at the building that was once his home and then at the intersection where you were both standing. In front was a metal bridge, a path to the left towards more buildings, and a metal stairway to the right.

“It’s there.” He pointed to a small location on a metal landing on a lower level.

“More stairs!”

“Zaun’s architecture is vertical.” He spat out, limping towards the steps.

You walked beside him, keeping a close eye on him. He held to the thin railing, and between that and his crutch, you both made your way down slowly but safely.

“As you can guess...” He adjusted his aid and straightened up. “It was fun for me growing up.”

The layer of sarcasm in the sentence was as thick as the fog that rolled above.

“Between the lungs and the bones, I was a regular at the playground…if there had been any playgrounds…” 

There was resentment in his voice, but not anger. He wanted the best for the Undercity, even after it had pushed him aside. He knew, the same as you or your mother, that the betterment of Zaun would be the betterment of everyone who lived in it. Whether they were healthy or not.

“Would you ever consider coming back?” You expected a resounding and quick no since that had been the answer given to you by his cosmic twin, but once again the thoughtful silence told you how different they were.

“Yes, if that’s a decisive factor in the improvement of people's lives here, I would.” There was no doubt in his tone.

“Sounds like you’ve thought this over.”

“Heh. It is where I was born; I will always love it. No matter what it becomes.” His head nodded forward, and you saw your target location coming up.

The store window was bright with orange and yellow lights, reminding you of a lit fireplace. The black-trimmed glass panes with gentle curves made it welcoming, and the array of colorful packages and signs made it even more appealing to the eye. But what made you look at the small store was the symbol on the sign. It was the fire rune, mirrored and delicately decorated with leaves and flowers.

“My mother used to come here.” He recalled once more. “I liked the little candy they had for coughs and the muscle cream too.”

You smiled at him and walked inside, his presence close behind you. The little voices and sounds from what you thought were the arcane became a little louder as you approached the store, but they quickly became silent as the bell signaling a customer entrance rang.

The inside of the store was warm and smelled of dried leaves and soothing balms. The dark wooden shelves were filled with paper packets, glass bottles, and tin cans with various colorful labels. The decorations, the advertisements, and even the rug on the floor were old and raggedy, but it gave the place a cozy feeling.

“Hello. Welcome to Fireside Elixirs and Medicines. My name is Elysium. How can I help you?”

Elysium smiled and brightened up the room as they placed their hands on the glass counter. They were wearing a baggy cream-colored wool sweater with a flowery detail embroidered in it, under a pair of green overalls. Their sleeves were rolled up, and his arms were filled with flowery and leafy tattoos.

“Alena sent us,” Viktor announced after the door closed, and Elysium's smile got bigger.

“Oh, yes! You must be the hex-head and the heir.” 

You tried to bite back a laugh but failed when you glanced at Viktor’s confused face. His eyes blinking, eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth trying to come up with a reply.

“That’s us.” You waved, and they nodded.

“I’ve got what you asked for here.” Elysium walked to the back of the store, waiting for them to follow.

“What did you ask for?” Viktor mumbled as he followed you, the wooden floor from the apothecary creaking.

“Old records of old customers...” you whispered back as Elysium opened the door to a small storage room and office space.

The small round table in the middle was filled with cardboard boxes, and those boxes were filled with notebooks and binders with papers of different sizes and colors inside. It was literally a mess of papers and books and dust bunnies.

“It’s all I could find, and Janna knows if that’s all of it.”

“I just wanted a list of clients…” you stuttered, surprised at the number of boxes and sheets.

“Yup…those are it. 90 years worth.” Elysium patted you on the back. “If you need me, I'll be right there.”

They pointed to a small corner couch that had an open sketchbook and some pencils next to it. You nodded, still a bit shocked.

Viktor was already inside the office, looking around the boxes, grabbing the lightest ones, and placing them on the floor.

“Do you still sell the rosehip tea?” Viktor asked quietly, Why did you finally accept your fate?

Elysium nodded curiously while you looked at both of them.

“I would like to buy some.” They nodded again, moving to get him his tea. “Do you perhaps have a kettle here?”

“Not here, but I can get you some hot water.” Both of you realized at the same time what the scientist wanted to do.

“That would be appreciated. Thank you.”

The storekeeper nodded again and turned around, probably to find the tea and the water. You shifted your gaze to Viktor, who was now fishing for something out of his satchel.

“Rosehip tea?” you asked, mimicking his movements from before, picking up some of the heavier boxes.

“It is good for joints and inflammation.” He explained, taking out a small leather coin purse, a notebook, and a pen with a colorful top.

“You believe in that?”

…someone else didn’t…

“I believe in anything that might help me. If anything, the human mind is very susceptible to the placebo effect.” He sat down in a chair, starting to undo his brace, sighing in relief once it was free.

Both of you sat down at the table as you started by picking a box and trying to make heads and tails of the boxes.

Viktor was a pro, quickly grabbing everything out of one box and making piles for each size of paper sheet and note and then making another pile with the whole notebooks. You started to follow his lead, adding papers and notebooks to the piles.

Elysium would come around at certain points throughout the morning, bringing the water for the tea and two mismatched cups. It was clear the shop still had some customers, the bell ringing from time to time and Elysium’s calm voice helping them out.

By the time lunch came around, you had made your way through a couple of boxes, and both looked proud when their new acquaintance whistled, impressed.

“I’m starting to think we should pay you for this.” They joked, leaning into the doorway.

“No need. It is quite…relaxing.” Viktor quickly blurted, and you snorted in disagreement.

“Please forgive him. He’s usually knee-deep in chaos.” You grabbed your backpack.

“Well, it’s food time. If you guys want to come, I’m going to a little stall down the street.” Elysium grabbed his satchel bag and waited for your answers.

You both nodded in sync and made your way out the door.

“Alena told me you are interested in the magic symbols. Can I ask why?” Elysium asked, slurping his noodles.

“I am researching them for my studies.” Viktor quickly blurted it out before you could even open your mouth.

“For hextech?” 

“No. Personal.”

“That’s awesome!!”

“What do you know about them?” You asked, setting the spoon down and leaning over the serving shelf of the food stall.

“Urban legend. Mom warned me about the old man with magic, that he would come and take me if I got into trouble.”

Viktor nudged your knee with his own, and you looked at him. He raised his eyebrows, and you nodded, acknowledging that the shopkeeper had the same experience as Viktor.

“Did your grandparents see him too?” 

“Not my grandparents…my great uncle.” Elysium finished his food and pushed the bowl aside. “He once saw him near the lanes, just looking.”

“Did he talk to him?” Viktor asked, also pushing his food aside and grabbing a small tray with a little fried round pastry layered with sugar and cinnamon.

“But he would see him there almost every day. Gr’uncle thought he was a ghost most of the time, and he was scared of ghosts.” They gave you a sad smile. “Later in life he became…sick…mentally…he’d forget things and see things, and we couldn't tell what was real or what was his imagination.”

“Was it the mines?” Viktor asked, plopping the sugar bomb into his mouth.

“Probably…or the gray. Or both.”

The air turned solemn, the three of you contemplating the lives of the citizens of the Undercity. They had been forgotten by the council; every piece of comfort they had been given by them was performative. Sure, Councilor Kiramman funded and made the pipes that expelled the gray from the city, but in the end, there was always a blade above these people's neck. You knew this because you saw it. Caytlin only needed to turn a key, and the toxic gas was once more weaponized against them. 

Every time someone tried to do good…actual good for the people of Zaun, there were hurdles and committees and just unenthusiastic talks about why they needed actual schools for children in Zaun; meanwhile, Piltover prided itself on the education of its citizens. 

Heimerdinger had been right when he told the boys back then about security, and when they told you, you were just as outraged as they were. Now though? Now you know that Hextech indeed needs some security precautions. Against Piltover's need to stomp on their lower city mostly.

Zaun was dangerous; the shadows were sometimes death sentences, but they had been left to fend for themselves. Enforcers weren’t policing the bad guys here; they were just making sure the cages were locked.

It angered you that you had been blind to most of it. Even to the point of not giving a shit about it. Your ivory tower was way too high for you to see the people down below. Until you were dragged into it. Sure, it was by a hexed Viktor, but the experiences were all real, the people who wandered into the commune, their stories. 

And even though the means he used were flawed, he tried to help them. Only to be the one who would fatally use them.

“It was evolution, my dear friend. The betterment of ourselves only leads to the betterment of our surroundings.” Viktor's mechanical voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He was right there…in your ear.

“Are you alright?” Elysium asked, stopping the animated conversation they were having with Viktor. You're Viktor.

“Yeah…sorry! Just thinking about the boxes back at the store.” You looked at your gloved hands. “I can’t feel the tips of my fingers.”

“I think we can start to decipher the clients with what we have now, and perhaps tomorrow we could investigate those.” Viktor grabbed a paper bag with grease stains from the man in the stall. It was filled with the sugary fried pastries he had been eating. “When we exhaust all of those people, we go back for more.”

“Sounds like a game plan.” Elysium nodded as if he was the one who was going to do it.

“It does.” You looked back at the shopkeeper. “You’re going to help us with this?”

“Ah! No. That’s all you.”

You groaned as they laughed, patting your shoulder in solidarity with your exasperation.

What you had thought was going to be a day of exploration turned out to be a day of tracking people through receipts, prescriptions, and old notes made by at least two generations of Alena’s family.

Luckily, once Elysium announced the shop was closing, Viktor groaned, apparently enjoying this methodical work, and you let out a relieved moan.

Elysium handed Viktor a tin with more rosehip tea and bid you both goodbye. It wasn’t late, but the air was starting to become even more chilly.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @kitewa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies @iamfandomnerd @jazzypop-op @jojo-at-heart

[msilwrites]

Papa Bear Material Ch 10 (Captain Price Fic) - THE DATE (FINALLY!!)

Chapter 1  Chapter 1 (Shorter Version) Chapter 2  Chapter 3   Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9  Chapter 11 (Last Chapter)

@darkangel4121@teenagellamaangel@madzzz0797@callsignferal @marmaladespread02 @poohkie90 To the other’s who want me to tag you when there’s an update, just tell me at the comments) A/N: Well, look at you now—on a date with the Captain! No escape, I'm afraid! Is this going to be good? Bad? Or very good? (Spoiler alert: it's probably the latter... 😉) Find out below and brace yourself! LOL! Warning: side effects include excessive giggling, spontaneous squealing, and an undeniable urge to swoon. You've been warned! 😂

----------

John’s large hand remained firmly entwined with hers, his grip both steady and commanding. His palm was warm against her skin, and the strength in his hold left no room for argument—or escape. Despite her half-hearted attempts to resist, he led her through the crowded bar with an ease that made her feel as though she was being swept away, her protests as inconsequential as leaves in a current.

By the time they stepped into the cool night air, her cheeks were flushed, not from the temperature but from the mix of frustration and the undeniable charge in his presence. His hand tightened slightly, a silent reassurance—or a warning—that he wasn’t about to let go. The parking lot was quiet, the distant hum of passing cars the only sound breaking the stillness, but even that seemed to fade into the background as they approached his vehicle.

Her eyes landed on his 4x4, sleek and imposing in the dim light. The black paint gleamed faintly under the glow of the streetlamp, and the sturdy build seemed a perfect reflection of the man guiding her toward it.

“John,” she started, her voice laced with exasperation. “Can you at least—”

But her words were cut short as he stopped beside the passenger door and turned to face her. His broad shoulders loomed, casting a shadow over her smaller frame even in her heels, and she was suddenly reminded of just how tall and physically commanding he was. Her heart gave a little jolt as his free hand reached for the door handle.

Without releasing her hand, he pulled the door open with an easy grace. Standing between her and any possible escape, he tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes fixed on hers with that maddening mix of amusement and quiet intent.

“After you,” he said, his voice low and edged with something unspoken.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping in resignation. His unwavering determination, combined with the way he blocked any route of retreat, left her with little choice. “Fine,” she muttered, stepping into the 4x4.

The interior was as polished as she might have expected: clean, organized, and exuding an understated practicality. Her gaze swept over the dashboard, where a metallic tumbler sat snugly in the drink holder, its surface worn from frequent use. The faint glow of the touchscreen lit up as the vehicle came to life, showcasing a neatly curated playlist. A soft, earthy scent filled the interior—woody, warm, and slightly smoky, like the forest after a rainstorm mixed with the comforting heat of a fireplace. It was undeniably him, a scent that seemed to settle into the very air around her.

As she adjusted herself in the seat, the door shut with a firm click, enclosing her in his world. John rounded the front of the vehicle, his steps purposeful, and climbed into the driver’s seat with the same quiet confidence that had her pulse inexplicably racing.

He pressed the start button, and the engine rumbled to life, a steady vibration that seemed to echo through the small space between them. The low hum of the music filled the silence, and as he shifted into gear, she cast a sideways glance at him, her frustration battling with an undeniable curiosity.

The scent of him, the closeness, and the easy control with which he handled the vehicle—it was all too much, too intoxicating. He hadn’t just taken her hand back in the bar; he’d taken the lead, and now all she could do was follow.

----------

As they drove, she realized she still had no idea where John was taking her. Any attempt to ask was met with a hum, a grin, or one of his teasing comebacks that seemed designed solely to get under her skin.

She found herself staring at him, her thoughts drifting. How long had it been since she’d been intimate with anyone? A decade? Maybe more. Her gaze lingered on him—handsome, rugged, and undeniably sexy. But then, her mind turned cynical. Men like John were all the same, weren’t they? They wanted one thing, and she knew it.

Not that she minded. A man like John Price was as good a candidate as any. Sex with someone that attractive couldn’t be all bad. And with her... particular preferences, it could even be convenient. Anal, oral, fingering—it didn’t matter. She was technically still a virgin, and that was her secret to keep. A secret no one, especially John, needed to know. Maybe he’d even prefer it this way—no messy entanglements, no risk of pregnancy, no scares.

The thought crystallized in her mind, and before she could stop herself, she made the offer.

“John?”

“Mmm?” His hum was low, his attention fixed on the road, though his lips twitched in that insufferable smile.

“If I have sex with you, would you stop this silly act of courtship and dating?”

His head turned toward her, his expression shifting as his eyes darkened. The car slowed to a stop at a red light, and he leaned against the steering wheel, studying her with an intensity that sent heat rushing to her cheeks.

Her confidence wavered, but she pressed on. “We could get a room, you know?” she purred, her hand daring to slide over his thigh, testing the waters.

“Mmm.” His raspy voice was all he gave her, a sound that was neither agreement nor denial, as he turned his attention back to the road.

She leaned back, interpreting his silence as a quiet acceptance of her proposition. Yet, somewhere beneath the surface, she couldn’t shake the faint sting of disappointment. Perhaps she was right, after all. Men like John always wanted the same thing.

The drive turned quiet, save for the soft hum of the vehicle and the occasional glance John threw her way. She swallowed hard when they pulled into the drive of a boutique hotel nestled near Hampstead Heath. It was the kind of place that exuded quiet luxury, the kind she’d never have chosen herself.

Her pulse quickened. This was happening. But she had made her choice, hadn’t she? Might as well go along with it and enjoy the ride.

John stepped out of the 4x4 and rounded to her side, opening the door with that maddening confidence of his. Without a word, he reached for her hand, his warm, strong grip wrapping around hers, leaving no room for argument. He helped her down and, just as before, his large hand stayed entwined with hers as he led her forward. His other hand still clutched her bag, a silent reminder that escape wasn’t an option.

They entered the hotel, its lobby a serene blend of polished wood and ambient lighting. As they approached the reception desk, she tugged slightly at his hold. “John, hand me my bag or open it. They’ll need an ID…” she muttered, glancing toward the check-in counter.

He didn’t respond. In fact, he didn’t even slow down, his grip firm as he strode past the reception desk without so much as a glance in its direction.

Her brows knitted in confusion. What was he doing?

The answer came soon enough. John steered her toward the hotel’s restaurant, its warm glow spilling into the lobby. A host greeted them with a welcoming smile, and John’s deep voice cut through her bewilderment.

“Table reservation for Jonathan Price.”

“Ah, yes! Right this way, Mr. Price,” the host said, retrieving two leather-bound menus before motioning them to follow.

She blinked, her confusion giving way to a mix of relief and irritation as the pieces fell into place.

Upon reaching their table, John pulled out a chair for her, she sat down, her eyes sweeping across the restaurant. The space had a warm, rustic charm, with dark wooden panels lining the walls and framed artwork adding personality. Exposed beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and an ornate chandelier cast a soft, inviting glow.

Tables were set with flickering candles, creating an intimate atmosphere, while cushioned benches along the walls offered cozy seating options. In the center, a polished wooden bar stood as the focal point, its shelves stocked with an impressive array of bottles. The soft hum of quiet conversation and the clinking of glasses completed the scene, making it feel welcoming yet refined.

It was the kind of place you could easily lose yourself in—whether in good food, good company, or something more.

John took the seat adjacent to hers, murmuring a polite thank-you as the server handed them their menus. He quickly scanned his, his eyes darting over the options with practiced ease.

She narrowed her gaze at him, skepticism laced in her tone. "Weren’t you supposed to take me to bed? You know, you didn’t have to butter me up with dinner first."

John’s brow arched, and he slowly closed his menu, his piercing eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her gulp. He sighed, the sound more weighty than annoyed.

"I don’t want this to be a one-time thing, Y/N," he said firmly.

Her response came quick and sharp, laced with playful incredulity. "Oh, so you want to be ‘friends with benefits,’ then?"

John blinked, his exhale turning into a laugh despite himself. "No!" he exclaimed, shaking his head as if trying to dislodge the absurdity of her suggestion. "What is wrong with you?" His voice was lighthearted, but the exasperation was clear.

"You’ve really put me in a box, haven’t you?!" He let out another sigh, this one tinged with reluctant amusement. "No, I want to do this properly—this silly thing you call courtship and dating." His hand gestured as though he were spelling it out for her. "I don’t just want sex; I want all of you."

He looked at her, his face caught between a smirk and a frown, as if he couldn't decide whether to laugh at her or be offended by the entire exchange.

Upon hearing John’s words, Y/N froze. Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell slightly open in surprise. It wasn’t the first time someone had claimed to want her, but experience had taught her to expect disappointment soon after. Yet, there was something in the way John Price said it—calm, steady, and unflinchingly sincere—that felt undeniably different.

She bit her tongue, her lips pressing together as if to keep her thoughts from spilling out. Instead, she glanced down at her menu, finding its polished pages suddenly very interesting. She had been here before, in this liminal space of hope and uncertainty. If John’s actions didn’t match his words—if this thing they were trying didn’t work out—it would be a letdown she didn’t want to think about.

Y/N let out a soft sigh and mentally braced herself, forcing the flicker of vulnerability to the back of her mind.

John, however, didn’t miss her hesitation. His perceptive gaze softened, and he reached across the table, his large hand enveloping hers. His warmth was immediate, grounding her in a way she didn’t expect.

"Y/N?" His voice was low, a thread of concern woven into it.

"Yes, John?" she replied, her voice quieter now.

"Is there something the matter?"

"No, no... it’s nothing," she said quickly, brushing off his concern with a weak smile. She gestured toward the menu, eager to redirect the moment. "Let’s just order."

Dinner began with appetizers—crispy buttermilk fried chicken and delicate mushroom tempura. The rich flavors seemed to mirror the gradual softening of Y/N’s demeanor as John coaxed her into conversation. He started with simple, light-hearted questions: her favorite color, film, book, and other personal quirks.

By the time the main course arrived—a beautifully slow-roasted beef served with gravy and Yorkshire pudding—the ice had melted completely. Their dialogue deepened, revealing surprising commonalities: shared interests, aligned values, and even a few obscure hobbies they both enjoyed. Y/N found herself genuinely enjoying the exchange, caught off guard by how much they had in common.

When dessert was still being prepared, she surprised him further by ordering a specific whisky, neat. The amber liquid arrived in a crystal tumbler, its smoky aroma wafting gently through the air.

"You fancy whisky?" John asked, raising an intrigued brow.

Y/N grinned, swirling the drink lightly in her hand. "Ah, yes, of course! I’m a collector. I bottle samples, sell them, sometimes even trade with other enthusiasts." She took a small sip, savoring the warm, peaty burn that followed. "Want to try?" she offered, holding the glass toward him.

John blinked, clearly not expecting this from her. “A petite lass like you? A whisky connoisseur? Didn’t see that coming.” He let out a chuckle, shaking his head.

"Why not?" she teased with a playful smile.

“Maybe another time,” he replied, his tone teasing but resolute. “I’m driving, remember?”

She chuckled and nodded, amused by his restraint. “Fair enough. Another time, then.”

By the time dessert arrived, the conversation had evolved into shared laughter, punctuated by their stories and jokes. The warmth between them felt natural, as if they had known each other for far longer than a single evening.

John leaned back slightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "You look like you’re actually enjoying yourself."

She giggled, shaking her head as she wiped a stray tear of laughter from her eye. "Unfortunately, it does seem to be the case."

He leaned forward then, his expression softening as his fingers toyed absently with the edge of his napkin. “You know,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “I said I’d leave it at just one date if you weren’t enjoying yourself... but I don’t think I can let it be a one-time thing now.”

His blue eyes locked onto hers, their intensity sending an unsteady rhythm through her chest. It was as if he could see straight through her, catching the flicker of warmth she had been trying to downplay all evening.

For a moment, she was speechless, searching her thoughts and feelings for clarity. Her gaze lingered on John, who watched her patiently, the sincerity in his expression unyielding. Finally, she let out a sigh, nodding slightly. "Alright," she said, her voice steady. "We can... exclusively date."

John’s grin widened with a boyish charm, and he gently took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. The gesture was so tender it sent a flutter through her chest.

“Just so we’re clear,” she interjected, narrowing her eyes playfully, “we’re still in the dating phase. This doesn’t mean we’re in a relationship yet!”

A mischievous smile crept across his face as he held her gaze. “Oh, I know,” he replied, his tone teasing. But in his mind, the thought was resolute: She will be mine.

----------

After dinner, once the bill was settled and they left the restaurant, the shift between them was unmistakable. This time, she clung to his arm willingly, her hand looped through his, her posture relaxed. Her bag, which Price had been holding hostage all evening, was finally back in her possession—though it had taken a mix of playful convincing and shameless flirting on her part to retrieve it.

“Alright, alright,” he had relented earlier with an amused shake of his head. “Fine, take it,” he’d said with a mock sigh, handing it over. “But only because I’ve grown rather attached to it.”

“Should I be worried you’ll start carrying a handbag now?” she teased, her grin sly.

“Only if it matches my boots,” he shot back, earning a laugh from her.

As they strolled to the car, her head rested lightly on his shoulder, and her hand settled comfortably on his arm. The gesture was natural, easy, yet it sent a warmth coursing through him. John couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips, but he tried—poorly—to hide it.

When they reached the car, he opened the door with an exaggerated flourish. "Your chariot awaits, my lady," he said with a playful bow.

“Very dramatic,” she quipped, stepping in.

But when he leaned over to fasten her seatbelt, she batted his hands away with an exasperated laugh.

“John! I can manage a seatbelt, thank you!”

“Just being thorough,” he shot back, grinning cheekily before closing the door and circling to the driver’s side.

Once he settled in, he turned to her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So… are you going to tell me where you live, or am I supposed to play MI6 agent and figure it out myself? Not that I’d mind—it’s kind of in my wheelhouse.”

She rolled her eyes, a chuckle escaping her lips. “Alright, fine. I live in one of those old converted flats along the Thames.”

John drove her home, parking in the lot below her building before accompanying her upstairs. He insisted on walking her to her door, hands casually tucked into his jacket pockets, exuding his usual calm confidence.

At the threshold, she turned to him with a playful smile, leaning against the doorframe. "Care for a nightcap, Commander?" she teased, her tone flirtatious.

John grinned but shook his head. “Tempting, but no. I’m not about to be seduced into your bed.”

She rolled her eyes and swatted his arm, her laugh light and genuine. “That wasn’t my intention, Price!” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside, flicking on the lights as they entered.

The space was inviting, a perfect blend of industrial chic and rustic charm. Though medium-sized, it was carefully designed, exuding warmth and personality. The living room featured a small, cozy fireplace, plush seating, and a curated mix of textures and tones that made it feel lived-in yet stylish.

Through a large open archway, her workshop was visible—a creative haven that clearly reflected her skill and dedication as an artisan. A sturdy table held drying clay projects, different tools hanging on the wall, with a turntable on one side and a kiln neatly positioned on the other. Another area was dedicated to glass and metalworking, with tools and materials organized with meticulous care. A desk featuring a large drawing tablet and monitor highlighted her work in design, seamlessly blending traditional craftsmanship with modern techniques. Every corner of the studio showcased her artistry, demonstrating her talent and attention to detail.

“Sit,” she commanded, guiding John to the sofa. He complied, watching her disappear through another arch that led to the kitchen. She returned moments later, holding a small sample bottle of one of her prized spirits.

“Try this,” she said, handing it to him with a smirk.

John raised a brow, uncapping the bottle and giving it a curious sniff. But before he could say anything, she added with a teasing grin, “And now, you may go.”

He stood reluctantly as she tugged at his arm, though he resisted just enough to draw out her efforts. “You’re heavier than you look,” she muttered, swatting his arm again when he chuckled.

She gave him a playful tug, leading him to the door, but when it swung open, she refused to release his hand.

John paused, turning to her with a quizzical look. "What is it now?"

"Really, Price?" she said, her eyes holding a teasing intensity, as if she expected more from him.

John raised an eyebrow and smirked. "What? Did I forget something? Should I be calling a cab for myself?"

Y/N sighed, standing on her tiptoes to plant a sudden, soft kiss on his lips. John froze for a moment, surprised, before his strong arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground and pulling her closer. Her hands instinctively moved to his shoulders, deepening the kiss as her heart raced.

They broke apart at the same time, their breath coming in short bursts. Y/N swatted him lightly on the chest, and he chuckled softly. She gave him a playful shove toward the door, and with a mischievous grin, closed it with a gentle yet firm thud against his face.

John stood outside for a moment, laughing under his breath, as the soft echo of the door closing lingered in the air, leaving him with a silly grin and a heart full of warmth.

John made his way to the elevator lobby, sighing contentedly as he glanced down at the small taster bottle of whisky in his hand. The kiss still lingered on his lips, and he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. He was practically glowing, already imagining the next date, his mind already plotting how to make sure she couldn’t possibly say no.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Oh, she’ll be mine. I’ll make sure of it."

His thoughts were a blend of determination and excitement, and already, he could picture the next move in his mind. The only thing left to figure out was how to make it as irresistible as tonight.

She may have closed the door on him this time, but John was resolute—she would be his, and he’d make sure of it. Not just for another date, but for something lasting, something real. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, imagining her rolling her eyes at his persistence. But he didn’t care. One way or another, she was going to be his partner—his forever.

A/N: Talk about sweet moments! John is just so thorough, so decisive—you don’t even know what hit you! 😏 The following chapter(s)… well, as promised, things might get a little sexy, spicy, and seductive. Hold on tight, it's just the beginning… and it’s about to get very interesting… because now, my dear, you’re officially at the mercy of John Price! 😈🔥

Edit: On to the last chapter!!!!! 😈🔥 ------->

[dewdewick]

Shadows in the dust | Chapter 11

Pairing/s: Finnick Odair x fem reader

Summary: At the age of 18 you thought you’d soon be free of the hunger games, unfortunately fate has a different plan. You are picked as a tribute for district 2 and thrust into capitol life.

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Trust issues, Death, Torture, Mental illnesses, manipulation tactics, Weapons, Swearing, Canon typical violence, Mentions of psychological distress, Use of Y/N, Fem reader, descriptions of clothing reader wears, explicit descriptions of weapon use, Disassociation, exploitation of minors, underage drinking, descriptions of PTSD

A/N: HELLO ITS BEEN SO LONG!! I’ve been suffering with writers block and I’m currently posting this from an Olive Garden.

Word count: 2.7k

****************************************

Every day was the same. Get up, hair and makeup, go to a breakfast meeting, photoshoots, Lunch meetings, interviews, and either consciously or unconsciously going home with some important man. She always felt absolutely worthless in the mornings, tired and sore muscles; commonly new bruises and a sticky feeling on her body. It was day after day of the same horrifying experience, until it wasn’t.

She woke up one morning in January, sighing shakily as she felt the silk sheets stick to her skin. She was cold, whatever dignitary she had been with the night before hadn’t even had the decency to cover her with a blanket. She slid off the bed, landing in a heap on the floor with a dull thud. She slowly stood up with an exhausted groan, bracing herself on the familiar bed post. She stumbled over to the bathroom, turning on the shower and slipping in before it got a chance to warm up. She scrubbed her face with the cold water, trying her best to wake up a bit. Her eyes felt glued shut by the dried tears on her lash line.

She scrubbed her body with a sweet smelling soap, watching whatever grime and makeup that remained on her body going down the drain. The water warmed up after a moment as she washed her hair, untangling the gel and hairspray from her scalp. She hummed a comforting lullaby to herself as she washed, images of home flashed through her mind, only slightly satiating her longing and homesickness.

As she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, she heard what she assumed to be Hebe coming into the room, every day just like clockwork. She looked in the foggy mirror and sighed at her blurry reflection. Four months of nonstop working had her exhausted and with the victory tour coming up, it would only get worse. 11 districts in 15 days, then the celebration at Snow’s palace and a celebration back home. She felt energy leave her body just thinking about it. A quick knock came to the door to break her out of her staring at the mirror. Hebe cheerily opened the door and ushered her out of the bathroom.

A simple black jumpsuit laid on the bed, socks and simple white shoes on the floor. Hebe hummed a sweet melody as she finished drying her off. Her hair was dried and curled at the ends before she got dressed. Her face was moisturized and light makeup was applied. She furrowed her brows at the odd outfit and makeup, she was usually dressed to the nines.

Hebe noticed and gave a small smile, “you have a photoshoot today.” She explained “the designer wants to see you in a more natural state before he decides on your look.” She said, looking ever so proud of herself.

A small flicker of realization filled the young victors brain. She must’ve been getting popular enough to work with bigger designers. Popular enough to be shown off as a muse. She didn’t know if she felt happy about that, in all seriousness, it probably wasn’t a good thing for her. Hebe was still speaking about something, but it seemed a bit muted. She tried to focus on the feelings around her to bring herself back. The feeling of the brush on her scalp, her clothes on her body, the shoes on her feet. Hebe took her hand, helping her up and cupping both her cheeks. “Sweetheart, this is a good thing. Let’s take a breath ok?”

She took a deep breath, grounding herself as she looked at the stylist. Hebe took her hand again after a few minutes, leading her out of the hotel room just as she did every day. A few reporters snapped pictures of her just as they did every day when she got into the car. The whole time she kept holding her stylists hand.

Her stomach did a little flip when she spotted the industrial building with it’s stark white exterior and oversized windows. The morning sun caught the building's windows, turning them into mirrors that reflected her nervous face as Hebe gathered her bags out of the car. She stood in front of the large building for a moment, her stomach twisting in anxiety. They walked inside and footsteps echoed in the concrete stairwell. Each step closer to the studio sending her heart rate a little higher. She had been doing jobs like that for months, but this one felt so much more important. All that preparation felt like studying for a test in a language she barely spoke.

The studio door was propped open. Inside, she could hear multiple voices discussing lighting setups and wardrobe options. The casual confidence in their tones made her even more aware of her outsider status. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, trying to channel the poise that she saw other victors display. The space was huge, with exposed brick walls and concrete floors that somehow managed to feel both industrial and intimate. Equipment was everywhere - light stands like metal trees, reflectors catching the morning sun, cables snaking across the floor. In one corner, racks of clothing protected by clear plastic gleamed with promise. She spotted signs, with her name attached to one of them.

Her eyes were drawn to the massive white backdrop paper cascading from ceiling to floor. In a few hours, she’d be standing there, trying to embody whatever vision the designer had in mind. The thought sent another wave of butterflies through her stomach, but there was a twinge of excitement mixed with the nerves. A woman came to guide her inside, an electronic device in her hands. She was completely decked out in green, hair, makeup and clothing. The woman spoke quickly, briefing her on what the day would entail. It all seemed very standard from what she had experienced before.

The woman led her to a chair surrounded by lights, beauty supplies scattered all around it. A few men and women seemed to perk up as they walked over. She gave them a smile which seemed to only make them more enthusiastic. A chorus of voices began to complement her looks, her games, and her performance in the public eye. Hebe sat her down in the chair and the people surrounded her. A bit of dread settled in her stomach, she was enclosed by the stylists. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. It wasn’t a big deal, she didn’t need to make it a big deal. She just needed to be a big girl and get through the day like always.

The surrounding stylists began working as soon as Hebe gave them the go ahead. Her hair was brushed, pulled, curled, straightened and crimped into the style chosen. Makeup smeared on her face, according to a few diagrams hung up on the vanity. As usual she caught stray words and sentences as they worked. A few comments about her hair, skin and nails, a few about petty rivalries and squabbles amongst themselves. The ones that caught her attention were those about other victors. They speculated on the relationship between Seeder and Chaff. Friends? Dating? Possibly enemies? She wanted to roll her eyes.

Then she heard whispers of a name she hadn’t expected. She heard rumors of Finnick Odair. How he was seen coming out of hotel rooms, a total womanizer. How starstruck they had all felt to meet him. She thought back on meeting him almost 6 months prior. What she remembered more than anything was his kindness, how he made her smile before the tribute parade. How even though it wasn’t for long, he had made her feel less alone last time they had locked eyes.

Hebe brought over a garment bag as her hair was hairsprayed. Shooing the other helpers away and taking her hand while fussing about the timetable for the day. Hebe led her to a small screened off area, stripping her out of the jumpsuit and unzipping the garment bag. “The other victor is already ready, we’ve gotta get a move on.” She said as she set a pair of shiny black heels on the floor. “Other victor?” She asked, stepping into the shoes. Hebe ignored her question, pulling out a black satin dress from the garment bag. The dress looked more like a few scraps of fabric rather than a dress. It was strapless with a deep V-neckline that went down to just above her belly button.

As she slipped the dress on, Hebe tied the halter top behind her neck. She noticed the thigh high cutout slits that came just above her hip bones. It made sense then, this was a shoot where she was going to be a sex symbol. God her life was a glittering hell on earth.

She shivered at the air conditioning on her bare back. The dress stopped just above her butt, showing the little dimples at the end of her spine. She looked at herself in the mirror next to the screen blocking her off from the rest of the room. She looked good, she couldn’t dispute that. However the dress was still uncomfortably flashy. Hebe took her hand arm again. Dusting her shoulders, chest, collar bones and legs with a shimmering powder.

“Ok we’re already running behind.” Hebe advanced, herding her back out to the studio space. Her throat felt too tight to speak. Then she finally saw him. Finnick Odair. Standing in front of the white backdrop. He was sipping something blue out of a glass, his face somehow calm. Hebe led her directly over to him. Making her stand next to him and telling her to stay like a dog.

“Well if it isn’t the little princess.” Finnick said with that signature debonair smile. Somehow he seemed taller than when they had first met, even if she was in heels. “I’m surprised you’re the one they decided on, well actually with that pretty face I’m not.” He teased slightly. “Usually it’s me and Cashmere at these things. Welcome to the party.”

“Yeah… party. How often do you do these?” She asked, tugging on the fabric of her dress to try and cover herself up a bit more. “More than I’d like to. Some designers really like the look of two victors. They pay a hell of a lot of money to use us so…” He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Any good?” she asked, watching as the blue liquid passed his lips. He just silently passed her the glass, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

She took a sip, expecting something sweet due to the color. The taste was instead very bitter. A mixture of Menthol and sharp alcohol filled her taste buds. She swallowed the drink, but she had definitely made a face. Finnick laughed to himself, his dimples creasing his face as he smiled. “Not your taste?” he asked through boyish laughs. She shook her head, handing him back the dainty glass as she let out a few small coughs.

“It’s a bit strong even for me.” He grinned, patting her back. “How about we get you something sweet? Sounds good honey?” He asked, motioning for someone to come over and ordering her a drink before she could even respond. “I’m not really an alcohol person.” She tried to interject. He just handed her an already ready made drink. It was a light pink color, bubbly with a bit of a foam on top. A few sugared orange candies were on a stick next to the straw.

She took a tentative sip, wary of the taste. It was sweet, fizzy and delicious. It tasted of peaches and cream like a dessert with no hint of alcohol. She smiled, looking up at him. He was already grinning down at her, a small chuckle leaving his lips as their gaze met. “And whoever said I was gonna give you alcohol huh?” He teased gently. She let out a small huff or a laugh, “Sorry, it’s just an assumption at this point.”

A loud clap sounded as she took another sip, making her look up. “Ok Ok Ok! Let’s get this going!” A tall lanky person said as they held up a camera. She couldn’t quite determine their gender, then again that was pretty normal. “Get the drinks! Touch up the makeup! I want everyone at places in 5!” The person bellowed. She took another few sips of the drink quickly, making Finnick laugh again. It was taken away by some assistant and she frowned. Hebe came forward and touched up her makeup in tiny ways. After deeming her to look perfect, Hebe stood her next to Finnick again.

“Ok darlings! Let’s have a good shoot!” The photographer called out, a big smile on their plastic surgery marred face. “Now Finnick darling, I’d like you to pull her close. I don’t want any concrete poses, just flirt with eachother you two. Get touchy, get devious.” They grinned, she didn’t like that grin. Something dark was in that grin.

Finnick just nodded, his hand gently finding her waist as he pulled her in. She looked up at him, surprise in her gaze. She didn’t like this, not one bit. The touch, his cologne, the forced aspect of it. A shiver went up her spine and a disgusting feeling started to brew in her gut. “Hey, don’t do that, don’t go there peaches.” Finnick whispered. “I can see where your mind is going, but I’m not here to hurt you ok? I know how it is.” He murmured, gently taking her hand and bringing it up to rest on his chest.

“We can just talk, nothing weird ok?” He murmured, pulling her a bit closer. “Is it ok if we just do a few poses for the camera? I’ll make sure you’re comfortable with each one.” He asked, his head dipping down to her ear. The cameras flashed as she nodded, feeling his heartbeat under her fingers. “I saw you at a party last week. Wanted to say hello but you seemed a bit occupied.” He murmured, his head lifting up to look down at her. One of his hands left her waist to cup her cheek. “This ok peach?” He asked.

“You keep calling me that, peaches.” She murmured back, letting her face lull into his touch a bit. “You smell like ‘em, after that drink.” He smiled, making her blush a bit. “Ah” she nodded, unable to think of anything to say.

“Lovely! Just lovely!” The photographer shouted “Finnick darling, why don’t you pretend to fix her shoe?” They suggested, Finnick just nodded. “I’m gonna kneel in front of you alright? I might touch your thigh and calf.” She nodded as well, watching as he got on his knees in front of her. His hand came forward to just behind her knee, pulling her leg up a bit as he pretended to fix her heel. His other hand came just under the arch of her heel as he looked up at her. A wave of his bronze hair fell over his forehead and she reached down, placing it back in form.

“I’ll be at a party tonight, along with Mags and a few other victors.” He said as he looked up at her. His hand was gentle on her skin, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing small circles. “I’ll be there too I think.” She smiled softly, her hand falling back to her side from his hair. It was much softer than she imagined.

After a few pictures, Finnick got on his knees, a bit closer to her. His hands found her waist again, he tipped his head back to look up at her. “I don’t have any appointments tonight, the party’s supposed to last till late. Maybe we can talk?” He suggested. She brought her hand down again, cupping his cheek. “I’d like that, maybe you can order me another drink?” She asked, smiling a bit more as she heard the photographer squealing in delight at the pose.

“I’ll order you as many drinks as you want peaches. Maybe you’ll save me a dance? Seems we’re a popular pair, could be a good look for us.” He grinned. “Maybe i’ll save you a dance, but you’ll have to sweep me off my feet.” she replied teasingly.

“You’ve got a deal Peaches.” he said, squeezing her waist gently and giving her a wink and Making her heart flutter in response.

[choicesbookclub]

✨Blades of Light & Shadow III✨

Welcome to the Blades of Light & Shadow III Wide Release Book Club!

This Book Club is open to ANYONE and EVERYONE. You can participate as much or as little as you want. You do not need to have participated in the Blades I or II book club to be eligible. I welcome new users to join us! If you are playing as VIP, you are still welcome to join in, but please avoid any spoilers beyond the chapter we are currently reading.

Our playthrough of Blades 3 will follow the official wide release of the. book with one chapter a week on Wednesdays. However, late entries are more than welcome if you are unable to play on Friday. [Learn more about how to participate here]

Meet our Blades MCs:

As part of our Blades 1 Book Club we created a MC profile list. If you have a profile page for your MC, feel free to send it to me so I can add it to our directory.

Blades 3 Character Template on Canva

Reading Schedule:

Wednesdays beginning November 20th

Each week, I'll try to include questions, polls, or prompts to inspire some discussion. Feel free to send suggestions if you have something you want to see!

Weekly Prompts:

(links will be added when the prompts are posted)

Chapter 1: One Day More

Chapter 2: The Undiscovered Country

Chapter 3: Here at the End

Chapter 4: Connections and Consequences

Chapter 5: The River of Seekers

Chapter 6: The Heart of the Sea

Chapter 7: Rage and Ruin

Chapter 8: Trespasser

Chapter 9: The City of Light

Chapter 10: Into the Deep

Chapter 11: Abandon All Hope

Chapter 12: The Pit and the Pendulum

Chapter 13: All Shall Fade

Chapter 14: The Queen's Cage

Chapter 15: For One, For All

Chapter 16: Life, Death, and Beyond

End of book/series reflection polls

Participation

You can post screenshots, reactions, dialogue, sh*tposts, memes, fanfiction, drabbles, moodboards, edits, drawings, sketches, poems, songs...anything that inspires you or that you want to share during the playthrough.

Please tag @choicesbookclub and use the tags "choices book club" or "cbc blades 3"

If your post isn't shared within 48 hours, please send me a link to @lovealexhunt.

[siderealscribblings]

*Note: This chapter contains explicit material intended for adult audiences; reader discretion is advised.

99 Years, 11 Months, 27 Days

Theatricality had never been Neuvillette's strong suit, but a century of learning from one of Teyvat's greatest illusionists had taught him how to put on a good show. Thankfully Furina took ages to get ready, which meant Neuvillette had plenty of time to set the stage…with a few helping hands, of course. 

"Where do you want the cake M. Neuvillette?" A lime green melusine asked, delicately balancing a hefty slice of pillowy cake on her head. 

"Table by the window if you please, Ceres," Neuvillette said, lighting the last of the candles and setting it on a paper lily boat in the pool. Furina had spent four bloody months settling on the decor for the grand gala and he would be damned if someone didn't enjoy the ambiance. A small fleet of melusine had done what they could without ladders, turning the lower three feet of walls into a tapestry of ceramic fish and shells as Neuvillette prepared the pool. 

"Alright, that should do it," Neuvillette sighed, pulling his hair into a loose ponytail and wiping his brow. He had stripped down to a loose shirt and slacks while setting things up, deciding to change into something more suitable once everything was set up. "Thank you ladies, I shall take it from-" 

"Neuvillette?"  Furina called from behind the door to her room. "Where are you?" 

"Pool room," Neuvillette called, ushering the melusine through the door to the foyer. "Come in." 

"Come in? Is that how one announces the arrival of an Archon to a gala held in honor of her reign?" 

"You want to be announced ?" Neuvillette sighed fondly. "To whom ?" 

"My distinguished guests, of course!" 

"...I am literally the only one here." 

"And very distinguished!" 

You ridiculous woman… Neuvillette thought with a slight smile. "...announcing Lady Furina de Fontaine, Regina of All Waters, Hydro Archon and Goddess Focalors, Ruler of the Nation of Fontaine, Protector and Patroness of the Melusine…etcetera, etcetera." 

"I don't recall etcetera etcetera being part of my coat of arms!" Furina huffed, anxiously unlatching the door and stepping out into the candlelit chamber. "Oh…I see you were busy." 

"Yes, well, since I assumed you would take some time gussying yourself up, I thought I would make the place look…" Neuvillette trailed off as Furina stepped into the light. Her dress reflected every candle, a sea of shimmering interlocking scales that shifted as she walked from shadow to shadow. It hugged her chest snugly, falling just short of her kneecap and leaving her collarbone and shoulders bare. Stockings and gloves that rose to the middle of her arm complimented the ensemble, as did a familiar blue gemstone that had finally returned where it belonged. 

"...beautiful," Neuvillette finished. 

Read More

Chapter 1

The Games of Divinity (Accomplice!Neuvillette AU)

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC F/AtoW: April 13 - 19, 2025

✒️= Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨 = Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA+

BLADES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW

A Broken Canvas ✒️ | Mal Volari x F!Human!MC - @storyofmychoices

A Stolen Moment 🎨✒️ | Mal Volari x F!Human!MC - @storyofmychoices & ArtbyAinna (IG)

Home to Her ✒️ | Mal Volari x F!Human!MC - @storyofmychoices

Lady Luck ✒️ | Mal Volari x F!Human!MC - @storyofmychoices

Vali: the mother grey 🎨 | Vali - @storyofmychoices

CRIMES OF PASSION

Because Murdering Your Partner Is Bad for Business ✒️ | M!Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @storyofmychoices

THE CURSED HEART

Keychain Portraits 🎨🏳️‍🌈 | M!Kieran x M!MC - @weetlebeetle C: @zhoumeyourlove

THE FRESHMAN

The Boy Next Door (Series) ✒️ | Chris Powell x F!MC - @eadanga Part 3

The Graduate (Series) ✒️ | Chris Powell x F!MC - @eadanga Part 11

IMMORTAL DESIRES

A Late Encounter ✒️ | Lewyn Junius x F!MC - @loreofyore

IT LIVES BENEATH

Pilvi Vance🎨🏳️‍🌈 | NB!MC - @aallotarenunelma

MOTHER OF THE YEAR

The First Step ✒️ | Levi Schuler x F!MC - @storyofmychoices

NIGHTBOUND

Lemon Kiss ✒️ | Nik Ryder x F!MC - @ladylamrian

OPEN HEART

Fall of an Empire ✒️Ⓜ️ | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC, Declan Nash - @coffeeheartaddict2

Love In Every Heartbeat - Continued (Series) ✒️ | Rafael Aveiro x F!MC - @rafasgirl23415 Chapter 71: Silent Reflections Chapter 76: A Heart Divided

The Story of Us ✒️ | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @liaromancewriter

RED CARPET DIARIES / HOLLYWOOD U

Alex Spencer: HWU Student + Actress Doll 🎨 | F!MC - @theartoflovingthomashunt

Magic Hour ✒️🏳️‍🌈 | Matt Rodriguez x Seth Levine - @hazelestelle

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

High School Sweethearts (Series) ✒️ | Liam Rys x F!MC - @eadanga Part 4

The Kiss 🎨 | Liam Rys x F!OC - @pilitella C: @tessa-liam

Picture Perfect ✒️Ⓜ️ | Drake Walker x F!MC - @angelasscribbles

Royal Love (Series) ✒️ | Eleanor Rys x M!OC - @eadanga Finale

The Royal Romance (Series) ✒️ | Liam Rys x F!MC - @eadanga Chapter 11 Part 2

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Twelve: I'm Praising You SS: 8 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 2.8 K Content Warnings: Perversion, Discussions about hell, impersonating a nun, a priest abusing his power (DOES NOT REFLECT MY VIEWS ON RELIGION), discussion of an inappropriate student & professor relationship Previous Next Masterlist

It’s just past 11 p.m., and the church feels like something out of a nightmare. The dim lighting casts long, ghostly shadows that stretch across the worn stone walls, while the scent of incense lingers in the air—thick, almost suffocating. Hayun, Jisung, Felix, Jeongin, and Minho are tucked away at the back of the church, huddled in a tight circle, their hushed voices barely audible over the creaking wood and distant rustling of robes from the main chapel.

The tension is palpable, the air heavy with anticipation as they make last-minute adjustments to their plan. It's a plan born out of desperation, with every risk imaginable. They know it’s reckless, but it’s their best shot at getting answers.

Hayun, dressed in what can only be called a parody of a nun costume, fidgets uncomfortably, tugging at the hem of the tiny black dress. It’s more nightclub than church attire—barely covering her thighs and doing little to hide her figure. White knee-high socks with black crosses running up the front stretch up her legs, and a headband-style nun’s habit rests awkwardly atop her head. Around her neck dangles a crucifix that seems more decorative than holy, resting just above her cleavage, which the low neckline does nothing to conceal.

“Jisung,” Hayun mutters, casting a glare at him as she adjusts the neckline again, “no one is going to believe I’m a nun in this.”

Jisung grins, clearly pleased with his costume choice for her. “You’re not supposed to look like a real nun. You’re supposed to be a sexy nun.” His voice drips with the kind of sleazy confidence only Jisung can pull off.

Felix raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he surveys the outfit with skepticism. “Isn’t that, like, the complete opposite of what a nun’s supposed to be?”

Jisung waves off Felix’s concerns, his grin widening. “Exactly. The priest is a creep. He’s not gonna see a nun. He’s gonna see a young, beautiful, ‘corruptible’ woman. He’ll take the bait.”

Hayun rolls her eyes, crossing her arms as she shifts her weight, clearly exasperated. “And then what? We sit around and pray for his soul?”

Jisung leans in closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “No, we’ll be in the confession booth. The second he tries anything, we’ll jump in. We’re not about to let Creepy McPriestman violate our sweet, sexy nun’s holy virginity.”

Felix chokes on a laugh, shaking his head. “You do know Hayun’s not a virgin, right?”

Jisung gasps, clutching his chest dramatically as if he’s been stabbed. “She is in this role, Felix! It’s called acting. A vision.”

Minho stands nearby, quieter than usual, his sharp eyes flicking over Hayun more often than they should. He tries to keep his focus on the mission, but it’s hard when she’s standing there in that barely-there outfit, her confidence cracking just enough to show her discomfort. He’s trying to keep his cool, but it’s a challenge. The others are too wrapped up in the plan to notice his subtle glances.

Jeongin, ever the perfectionist, steps forward, adjusting the neckline of Hayun’s dress with a critical eye. He steps back, nodding in approval as the crucifix settles perfectly between her breasts. “There. That’ll catch his attention.”

Hayun sighs, feeling the weight of the ridiculous situation. “This feels... sacrilegious.”

Felix snickers, shaking his head. “All you have to do is seduce him and get it on record. We need proof he’s involved in the cover-up.”

“Seducing and blackmailing a priest,” Hayun mutters, rubbing her temple. “That’s gotta guarantee me a one-way ticket to hell, right?”

Jisung pats her on the shoulder, entirely unbothered. “Sweetie, you were going there anyway.” He slips a small recorder between her breasts, making sure it’s hidden just enough but still able to pick up sound. “There. Now we’ll have everything on tape.”

Jeongin hands her a tiny earpiece, sliding it into place. “We’ll be able to hear everything. You just need to get him talking.”

Hayun exhales, the weight of the plan pressing down on her. “You know, he might not actually be a creep.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow, his usual grin still plastered on his face. “Well, do you want to take that chance? ‘Cause I don’t.”

With everything set, the guys sneak off toward the confession booth, leaving Hayun to play her part. She heads toward the altar, the clicking of her heels echoing faintly off the stone floor. The dimly lit church feels oppressive, the flickering candles casting ominous shadows along the walls. She kneels down at the altar, doing her best to look devout, but it feels impossible in this absurd outfit.

From the booth, Jisung’s voice hisses through the earpiece. “Pray or something. You gotta look like you belong there.”

Hayun shoots an annoyed glance toward the confession booth, muttering under her breath. “What the fuck do I say?”

“Make it up!” Jisung whispers back, clearly no help at all.

Rolling her eyes, Hayun clasps her hands together, lowering her head as she tries to mumble something vaguely prayer-like. She’s halfway through a made-up prayer when the heavy door of the side chapel creaks open, and her heart skips a beat.

The priest steps inside, his figure barely visible in the dim light. He’s older, his hair thinning, and his heavy-set frame moves slowly as he walks down the aisle toward her. His steps are deliberate, echoing in the quiet church. Hayun can feel his gaze sweeping over her, lingering on her body in a way that sends a chill down her spine. His eyes are sharp and unsettling, and as he approaches, she feels the weight of his presence.

She straightens up, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have been struggling with... temptations of the flesh. With both men and women.” She pauses, glancing nervously toward the confession booth where the others are hidden, praying they’re ready.

The priest’s gaze darkens, a gleam of something predatory flashing across his face. His voice is low and smooth, far too intimate for the setting. “Such temptations should not be confessed in public, my child. Come with me to my office. We should discuss this... privately.”

Hayun’s stomach twists in knots as the priest reaches out, gripping her arm tightly. She winces at the pressure, her mind racing as he begins to lead her toward the side door. She glances back at the confession booth, her eyes locking with Minho’s through the tiny slit. 

Minho’s jaw tightens, his entire body tensing as he watches her being pulled away. He glances at Jisung, his voice barely a whisper. “We’re not letting her go alone with him.”

Jisung’s playful demeanour vanishes, his face hardening with determination. “No way in hell. Let’s move.”

Felix, ever the cautious one, grabs Jisung’s arm before he can bolt out. “We can’t just storm in. We need him to incriminate himself first. If we blow this, we lose everything.”

Jeongin’s eyes dart between his friends, his voice low and urgent. “He’s right. We need to get more on tape. If we mess this up, we’ve got nothing.”

Minho clenches his fists, the anger boiling beneath the surface. Every instinct in him is screaming to rip the priest apart, but Jeongin’s logic keeps him rooted in place. “The second he does anything, we move.”

They slip out of the confession booth, creeping down the hallway at a distance. The priest’s office looms ahead, the wooden door creaking as he pushes it open for Hayun. She hesitates, glancing back one last time, her eyes wide with fear. Minho feels his pulse quicken, the tension in his chest almost unbearable as he watches her disappear inside.

The office is dark and musty, lit only by a single dim lamp. Hayun’s heart races as she sits down in the stiff chair, her knees trembling as the priest closes the door behind him. The room smells of incense and damp wood, the air thick and suffocating. She tries to steady her breathing, her mind racing with panic.

The priest stands behind her, his hands landing on her shoulders, firm but unsettlingly gentle. Her entire body stiffens under his touch, every muscle in her body screaming for her to get out.

“My dear,” the priest’s voice is a low whisper, sending a shiver down her spine. “You are lost in sin. Only through... special attention can you be cleansed of these impure thoughts.”

Hayun swallows hard, her throat dry. She doesn’t respond, unsure of what to say. The priest’s fingers dig into her shoulders, his grip tightening slightly as he looms over her.

“Kneel before me,” he instructs, his voice calm but laced with something dark.

Hayun’s stomach turns, but she does as he says, sinking down onto her knees on the cold floor. Her mind races, searching for an escape, for a way out of this disgusting situation. But before she can think of anything, the priest reaches down, grabbing her face with his calloused hand, forcing her to look up at him.

The priest’s thumb brushes against Hayun’s cheek, his voice low and sickeningly gentle. "The things you must do may seem impure, but they will help cleanse you, my dear. They will save you."

Hayun’s entire body is screaming in protest, her heart pounding so hard she thinks it might burst. She feels his grip tighten on her jaw, the weight of the moment suffocating her, trapping her in place. She forces herself to breathe, trying to stay calm, trying to think of an escape. Panic is crawling up her throat, making it harder to focus.

Just as the priest leans closer, the door to the office slams open with a deafening bang.

Jisung, Felix, Minho, and Jeongin burst in, the tension snapping like a rubber band stretched too far. All four of them have their phones out, cameras pointed at the priest, capturing everything. Jeongin steps forward first, his voice sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

"Got you, you slimy bastard."

The priest freezes, his face going pale, his hand jerking away from Hayun as if her skin has suddenly burned him. His eyes go wide, darting between the intruders, realizing too late that he’s been caught.

Felix steps up beside Jeongin, his usually easygoing demeanour replaced by a hard, cold edge. "Now, we’ve got some questions for you, Father," Felix says, his voice dripping with disgust, "unless, of course, you’d prefer this little interaction to go viral."

The priest’s mouth opens, but no words come out. His hands tremble as the full weight of what’s happening hits him. He’s trapped, and he knows it.

Jisung, his expression dark with anger, strides forward and reaches down to Hayun’s chest, pulling the small recording device from between her breasts. He holds it up, smirking as he waves it in the priest’s face. "We got it all on tape, too. Congratulations, Father. You’re a star now."

Minho is at Hayun’s side in an instant, his hand steady and firm as he pulls her up from the floor. His arm wraps protectively around her shoulders, keeping her close as her legs shake beneath her. The warmth of his body grounds her, and for the first time since this nightmare started, she feels a sliver of safety. Her breathing is still shallow, her heart still racing, but she leans into Minho’s side, grateful for his presence.

The priest stumbles back, his face drained of colour, his hands shaking as they rise in some futile attempt to explain. But the words die on his lips. He’s been caught, and he knows it.

Jeongin doesn’t give him a second to recover. He steps forward, his phone still in hand, flipping through photos as he approaches the priest. "Shin Yuna," Jeongin says, his voice ice cold. "You met with her often, didn’t you? At this very church." He pauses, holding the phone up so the priest can see. "Look at these pictures and tell us which man she was meeting."

Felix steps beside Jeongin, his fingers flying across his own phone as he swipes through more images. The tension in the room is thick, the air heavy with the priest’s palpable fear. He glances between the group, his gaze darting toward the door, clearly panicking.

"I— I don’t know—" the priest stammers, his voice shaking.

Jisung’s eyes flash with fury. He takes a step forward, his voice low and menacing. "Don’t bullshit us. You know exactly who we’re talking about. Point him out."

Felix continues swiping through the photos, and then something happens—the priest’s eyes widen. His hand, still trembling, lifts shakily and points at the screen. "Him," the priest whispers, his voice barely audible, but the fear is clear.

Felix freezes, his eyes locked on the image. His expression hardens, and his entire body goes rigid. "No fucking way..." he breathes.

Minho, still holding Hayun close, steps forward, his voice sharp and taut. "What?" He looks down at the phone, and his face darkens instantly, his muscles tensing as he processes what he’s seeing. Felix slowly turns the phone around, showing the image to the rest of the group.

It’s a picture of Jisung’s father.

For a second, the room seems to freeze. The shock hits all of them at once, the weight of the revelation crashing down like a tidal wave. Jisung’s face twists in disbelief, his mouth dropping open as he stumbles back, nearly knocking into the desk behind him.

"No..." Jisung whispers, his voice thick with shock and confusion. His hands ball into fists at his sides, trembling with the force of his emotions. "No fucking way. That’s... that’s my dad."

Felix, still staring at the image, shakes his head slowly, his own mind struggling to catch up. "Ji... what the fuck? This can’t be real."

Jeongin, usually so composed, looks stunned. He stares at the phone in disbelief, his eyes wide as he tries to make sense of the situation. "This... this doesn’t make sense."

Minho’s grip tightens on Hayun, his eyes burning with fury as he turns to the priest. His voice is low, dangerous. "Are you sure?" The question hangs in the air, thick with threat.

The priest nods frantically, his eyes darting around the room, desperate to escape. "Yes! He... he came here often. Met with the girl. They were... close."

Jisung takes another step back, his face pale as the shock ripples through him. He looks like he’s about to be sick. "I can’t... I can’t fucking believe this." His voice breaks, his anger rising as the truth crashes down on him. "My dad—" He stops, choking on the words, unable to even say it out loud. The weight of it presses down on him like a physical force, crushing him from the inside.

Felix moves toward him, his voice low and uncertain. "Jisung... we need to figure this out. I know this is a lot, but we’ll get through it."

Jisung’s head snaps up, his eyes wild with anger and betrayal. "My dad was involved with Yuna? What the fuck is going on, Felix? What the fuck?"

Hayun stays close to Minho, her heart still pounding as she watches Jisung’s world collapse in front of her. She can feel the tension in Minho’s body, the barely restrained rage simmering beneath the surface. Her own thoughts are a whirlwind of confusion and fear, but all she can focus on right now is the devastation in Jisung’s eyes.

"Jisung..." she says softly, trying to reach out to him, but her voice falters, and she doesn’t know what to say. What can she say? Nothing will make this better.

Minho steps forward, his voice steady but seething with anger. "We came here for answers about Yuna, and now we know who she was meeting." He turns back to the priest, his eyes narrowing. "What else do you know?"

The priest stammers, his eyes wide with fear. "That’s all... that’s all I know, I swear."

Jeongin steps in, his voice sharp. "If you’re lying, we’ll make sure this entire video goes public. Every dirty secret you’ve ever kept will come out."

The priest’s face pales even further, his hands shaking uncontrollably. "I’m not lying! Please, you have to believe me. I don’t know anything else!"

The room is silent for a moment, the tension so thick it’s suffocating. Jisung’s breathing is heavy, his fists still clenched as he stares at the priest, his mind a hurricane of emotions.

Finally, Felix breaks the silence. "We need to go," he says quietly, looking between the group. "We’ve got what we need."

Jisung doesn’t move at first, still reeling from the shock. But then, slowly, he nods, his expression hardening as the reality sinks in. "Yeah. Let’s get the fuck out of here."

Minho nods, keeping his arm around Hayun as they head for the door. The priest stumbles back, his face twisted with fear and shame, watching helplessly as the group leaves, taking with them the secrets he had so desperately tried to keep hidden.

As they step out into the cold night air, the reality of what just happened settles over them like a dark cloud. They had come looking for answers about Yuna, but they had uncovered something far worse. The truth is messier than they could have imagined, and now Jisung is left with the horrifying knowledge that his father was involved with Yuna in a way none of them could have ever predicted.

Taglist: @hityoulikebahng @drewsandsebastianswife @fackeraccount @lily-loves-kpop @stilldontknowhoiam

@ziggy1221 @justaspoonofjam @tr-mha-fan

[thetravelingtyper]

On the same page...Pt 12 (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Author! Reader Bookshop Au!)

Moments after hearing the truth, panic ensues in your heart and you make a run for it... (1.3k Words)

Part 11, Part 13, Masterlist

Warnings: angst, anxiety, disassociation

AN! I AM BACK. the library has helped to heal me somewhat and I am finally back into writing! This chapter has been waiting so I'll leave it as it was but continue with 13 in a fresh perspective.

There is silence in the room, a shock settles in the quiet as you all process what happened. Fresh tears sting your eyes as you feel you’ve finally had enough. It was all suffocating. All of this, everything felt like a game. You look up to Simon and find him staring at the door tensely, but he looks down to you when you gently push out of his arms. His hands naturally reach out to you but you shake your head, turning to head upstairs.

Sam reaches an arm to Simon when he turns to follow you. 

“Give her a moment Simon, it is all we can do right now.”

Hazel eyes watch as you disappear up the stairs, hands clenched. 

Your mind is muddled as you move. You drop the bouquet on the table before scooping up your engagement rings as you pocket them mindlessly. You bump past the couch in a daze before going into your room and changing for the day. You grab your backpack and laptop, clenching the sleek metal harder when you catch your reflection. Your phone buzzes but you ignore it, muting it, slipping on your headphones, and pressing play before heading out the door. 

The posters blur as you move, drinks forgotten and hunger ignored as you pull open the stair door.

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh

You always ran, didn't you? The light of the day darkens in the bookstore as Sam has disappeared. You don't care you find, not at the moment as the past buzzes in your mind. They always left, didn’t they? It happened before didn’t it- there is a wall in front of you.

 We were at the table by the window with the view

Casting shadows, the sun was pushing through

Spoke a lot of words, I don't know if I spoke the truth

He doesn't reach to touch you but blocks your exit and your eyes roll up to him. Simon is already ready to leave, isn’t he? The beast in your mind prowls your heart, a snarl on its face, teeth gleaming. You look at him dully and you move to push past, unhearing of his excuse, and he lets you by and it breaks your heart. You don't bother to brace for the cold before pushing out into it.

Got so much to lose

Got so much to prove

God, don't let me lose my mind

You make it to the car, slipping through passers in the crowd. Tears in your eyes burn in the cold as you want to hide, but some anxious instinct sends you away and you move to open the car door before you are engulfed by a big body. You move to struggle but as a tattooed arm spins you into Simon’s jacket chest you collapse into his arms and cry. Music engulfs your mind you can’t hear his words but the look in his eyes makes you want to panic.

Trouble on my left, trouble on my right

I've been facing trouble almost all my life

My sweet love, won't you pull me through?

Everywhere I look, I catch a glimpse of you

I said it was love and I did it for life

I didn't do it for you

There is a swirling heat, soft and warm as he regards you, he pulls your backpack off tenderly as you shake in the cold, stinging tears streaming down your face when you quiver. He isn't speaking you realize then, but he pulls away and sets your backpack in the car before gently taking the keys from you. He then leans down and your heart pounds when tucks his head into your neck. He does not attempt to grab you, careful not to make you panic but he murmurs against your neck. The words are lost on you before he is then gone, pulling back with a straightened face but soulful eyes. 

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh

You could run then. You realize with your heart dropping, was this it? Something gone before it even started? You pull the engagement rings out of your pocket, the silver chain warming in your hand. You look up to Simon with tears. Is this everything, how it was always meant to be? Your eyes catch the glimmer of jewels in the dawning light, you look up to Simon in question but he only watches. More tears well as Trouble moves on.

Will it come to pass, or will I pass the test?

You know what they say, yeah, the wicked get no rest

You can have my heart, any place, any time

Your heart breaks then, the constriction of an old anxiety clawing at your chest as you choke out a sob. You move then, dropping the rings and launching yourself into Simon's arms.

Got so much to lose

Got so much to prove

God, don't let me lose my mind

He is everything you think then, in some reasonable part of your mind tucked behind the pain and loss. He smells of bourbon and honey as his arms coil around you and you feel a heavy breath leave his chest. You realize it then, he would have let you go, tears streaming down your face as music pools into your ears. 

Trouble on my left, trouble on my right

I've been facing trouble almost all my life

My sweet love, won't you pull me through?

Everywhere I look, I catch a glimpse of you

I said it was love and I did it for life

I didn't do it for you

But, a hand pries your face from his chest, and an arm coils, hand splaying along your jaw and neck. He kisses you in a hurried panic. 

Trouble on my left, trouble on my right

I've been facing trouble almost all my life

My sweet love, won't you pull me through?

Everywhere I look, I catch a glimpse of you

I said it was love and I did it for life

I didn't do it for you

You lose your breath in his panic, embers sparked in a bruised blaze, he thought you would leave, forcing himself not to stop you. Simon's lips clash with yours as you step back against the car. His hand moves into your hair and he parts for a rapid breath, his eyes dilated in shock and panic. You follow his breath with a quiet noise, heart aching but soul tied to the ghost in front of you. Your hands find his jaw as you gently thumb a scar.

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Your next realization comes in the same shock, and your hands clench a little harder. He was scared of losing you. You exhale, back hitting the side of the car as the cold barrels in, Simon frowns, following you and stepping ever forward to block you from the cold. You feel a rumble pass through him when his foot knocks against the rings but you only pull him to your lips again. 

Got so much to lose

Got so much to prove

God, don't let me lose my mind

The next moment is a scramble as you rip the headphones off and Simon takes the moment to trail soft kisses down your neck. The sound of the outside world comes rushing in when you finally hear his words.

“Though you would leave, dove.”

His voice is rough, raw you realize, as your hand threads into his hair. Memories come rushing in. 

Your first love with your heart broken, running away.

Your voice comes out firm,

“No, Si, not again.”

He pulls up from your neck as his arms tug you close, a protective glint in his eyes, 

“That's my girl.”

That has your lips quirking up, 

“Yours?”

Simon chuckles,

“You better fuckin’ believe it.”

His eyes burn into yours, a satisfied sense of pride sauntering itself into his chest when you tuck your head into him. He would have let you leave if that's what you wanted, but he would have followed. 

Fin : )

Taglist (Welcome Back!)

@ghostlythots, @tapioca-milktea1978, @cmbghost, @nexthyperfix, @feedthefandoms995

@blubearxy

[amayaonly1]

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 9

About: Genji finds some free time now that the album is finally in production. She decides to take a mini-vacation before returning to Japan for the New Year, only to receive a request for an interview from a girl named Hailie Jade. Hailie requests to do an interview for a school project and asks to meet with Genji, sparking curiosity in the rapper about the project and the girl's sincerity.

"Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey" Chapter List: Verse 1 | Verse 2 | Verse 3 | Verse 4 | Verse 5 | Verse 6 | Verse 7 | Verse 8 | Verse 9 | Verse 10 | Verse 11 | Verse 12 | Verse 13 | Verse 14 | Verse 15 | Verse 16 | Verse 17 | Verse 18 | Verse 19 | Verse 20 | Verse 21 | Verse 22 | Verse 23 | Verse 24 | Verse 25 | Verse 26 | Verse 27

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

Winter in California arrived quietly, carrying on a cool breeze that whispered through the trees shedding their last leaves. Inside her home studio, the world felt hushed, cocooned in the warmth of glowing monitors and the hum of audio equipment. Dim lights cast a soft glow over her desk cluttered with notebooks and scattered pens, their subdued radiance stretching long shadows across the room, where muted beats rolled from the speakers like a steady pulse.

The album was finally done and in production, leaving her with a rare pocket of free time. Genji decided to take a mini-vacation before returning to Japan for the New Year. Dressed in a wool sweater and jeans, she returned to her desk, cradling a steaming cup of coffee. The faint aroma mingled with the chill of the early winter evening.

As she reached to set her cup on the desk, her laptop screen lit up with a notification. She sank into the swivel chair, her gaze flickered to the inbox, where a new email stood out with a subject line that caught her eye.

Subject: Request for an Interview – School Project

The sender's name was unfamiliar, but she clicked it open, curiosity pulling her in.

Dear Genji, My name is Hailie, and I'm a middle school senior. I'm currently working on a school project about how cultural heritage and personal identity intersect in music. I plan to explore the stories behind songs and how they reflect individuality and cultural heritage. Your name comes to my mind as one of the artists who embody this. I think your music has been a huge inspiration, especially the way you blend traditional Japanese influences with modern hip-hop. It's so authentic and thought-provoking, and it really speaks to how music can tell a story about someone's roots. If you're available, I'd love to interview you about your experiences and insights. I live in Detroit, and there's a diner here called Louie's Ham & Corned Beef that's quiet and perfect for a meeting. I completely understand if you're too busy, but it would mean the world to me if we could meet and talk. Thank you for reading my email. I really appreciate your time. Best regards, Hailie Jade

Genji leaned back in her chair, her fingers resting lightly on the keyboard as she mulled over the request. Detroit? That was unexpected, though she did plan to briefly stop there before returning to Japan. After all, Eminem (ever the champion of his hometown) had suggested she check it out. She'd always been cautious about meeting strangers, but there was something about the email's sincerity that resonated with her. It reminded her of her younger self, full of questions and admiration for the artists who had shaped her path.

Her lips curved into a small smile as she started typing:

Subject: Re: Request for an Interview – School Project Hi Hailie, Thank you for reaching out to me and for your kind words about my work. It's inspiring to hear how people connect with my music. I'll actually be passing through Detroit soon, so I'd be happy to meet you at Louie's Ham & Corned Beef to discuss your project. Let's plan for next week. What day and time works best for you? Looking forward to hearing from you soon. Best regards, Genji

The diner was quiet, the kind of place where time seemed to slow down. Snow fell softly outside, blanketing the streets of Detroit in a serene white. Genji sat near the window, her oversized hoodie and scarf shielding her from the December chill. Her notebook lay open on the table, a pen in her hand as it moved swiftly across the page as she scribbled down lyrics, deeply engrossed. The quiet hum of the diner faded into the background as her thoughts flowed into the rhythm of her writing.

Suddenly, she heard the soft click of the door opening, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching her table. She glanced up, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face as a young girl stood at her side, hesitation evident in her bright blue eyes. The girl looked about fourteen or fifteen, with long, sandy-blonde hair tucked into a simple knit beanie. Her oversized coat hung slightly loose on her small frame, and her sneakers left faint wet prints on the wooden floor. The girl's breath visibly quickened, and her nervousness became apparent in how she clutched her backpack straps.

"Excuse me," she finally began, her voice slightly shaky. "You're Genji, right?"

The said woman raised an eyebrow before a small, curious smile crept onto her face. "Yes, that's me. Can I help you with something?"

The girl shifted her weight from foot to foot, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. "Yeah, actually," she said, taking a deep breath. "I'm Hailie. I emailed you about a school project...?"

Genji tilted her head, studying her more closely. There was a sincerity in the girl's eyes that struck a chord. She seemed earnest but also determined, reminding her of herself at that age when she was hungry to spread hip-hop in her community.

She set her pen down slowly and gestured to the chair across from her. "Oh, yes," she said with a thoughtful nod. "I remember. Come on, have a seat."

Hailie's face lit up with immediate relief, a smile spreading across her face as she pulled the chair out and sat down. "Thanks!" she exclaimed, her nervous energy turning into gratitude. "We need to interview someone for this project, and I immediately thought of you. I know it's really sudden, but I really appreciate it."

Genji leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued. "That's actually an interesting topic," she commented. "I'm curious, though. Why me? Not that I'm having second-guesses, but I'm sure America has quite a range of cultures that might help with what you need."

Hailie shifted slightly in her seat, her cheeks flushing just a little. "Well, I wanted a fresh perspective. I read that you're one of the pioneers of hip-hop culture in Japan, especially when the industry was more about pop idols and rock. I thought you'd have a unique take on this."

Genji couldn't help but smile. "I see that you've done your research," she praised. "Aight, let's figure out how to approach this."

Hailie, now enthusiastic, reached into her bag and pulled out a cassette recorder, carefully placing it on the table.

Genji raised an eyebrow, eyeing the vintage device. "That's a bit old-school," she remarked with a small grin. "I haven't seen it in a while."

The girl nodded, her excitement barely contained. "Yeah, it's what I had lying around at home," she said. "But I was thinking... what if we did this as a video interview, like something you'd see on 60 Minutes? I know my teacher didn't mention anything about this, but I thought it'd be more interesting."

Genji's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "It definitely is," she agreed, sitting up straighter. "You got a camera with you?"

Hailie beamed. "Yep." She pulled out a small video recorder and set it up on the table, her hands steady despite the excitement buzzing in her chest. She then adjusted the angle, making sure it captured both of them.

Genji leaned back in her chair as she watched Hailie work with a mix of amusement and respect. The girl undoubtedly had energy and was serious about her craft. She finally looked up at Genji, whose calm yet commanding presence seemed to fill the small diner corner they occupied. The rapper sat comfortably, her fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, her sharp eyes both intimidating and inviting.

With the camera now rolling, Hailie glanced up, ready to begin. "Thank you for meeting me," she began, her voice carrying the mix of politeness and eagerness of a young girl deeply invested in her project. "I've been thinking a lot about how cultural heritage and personal identity intersect in music, and your career is... well, it's incredible."

Genji smiled, a small but genuine curve of her lips. She gave her a curt nod, saying, "Thank you."

Hailie sat up straighter, her notebook open, pen poised. "How did your cultural heritage influence your journey in hip-hop?"

The woman leaned back, her eyes briefly distant, as if sifting through decades of memories. "When I started in the late '80s, hip-hop wasn't a global phenomenon like today," she answered, her tone soft but deliberate. "In Japan, we were just beginning to understand it not just as music, but as a culture or movement. It taught us that we could speak our truth, even if we didn't have the same struggles as, let's say, the Bronx or Compton. I grew up in a traditional Japanese household so respect, duty, and conformity were the values drilled into me. But hip-hop was about individuality, rebellion, and telling your own story. So I had to find a way to bridge those two worlds."

Hailie nodded, enthralled. "How did you do that?"

"It started with language. At first, I tried rapping in English, copying what I heard on the imported records. But there were two problems: one, I was terrible at English at that time; and two, it wasn't me. When I switched to Japanese, everything clicked. That's when I felt like I was creating something. And then I thought, why not use the tools of my own culture? I started including things like haiku rhythms, rakugo storytelling, and even koto samples. It turned into something that was still hip-hop, but uniquely Japanese."

The girl scribbled furiously in her notebook. "Can you give an example of a song where that really comes through?"

Genji’s smile deepened. "There's a track called Tsuru no Ongaeshi. It's based on a Japanese folktale about a crane repaying a debt. I used the crane to symbolise loyalty and sacrifice, which are themes deeply rooted in our culture. At the same time, it was personal. The song was about how my dad didn't understand my choices at first but eventually came to support me. It was a mix of tradition and my own story."

"That's beautiful," Hailie murmured, almost to herself. Then she looked up, her eyes bright. "Do you think that's why your music connects with people, even outside of Japan?"

"Maybe," the rapper said thoughtfully. "Emotion transcends language. When I first heard Public Enemy and Ice Cube, I didn't understand every word. But I felt their stories. That's what I aim for. If my songs can make someone feel something, then I guess I've done my job."

Hailie tapped her pen against her notebook, a question forming on her lips. "Do you think today's hip-hop in Japan still carries that connection to cultural heritage?"

Genji's expression shifted, a mix of pride and concern. "It's evolved," she said. "You hear influences from everywhere now: trap beats, drill, even traditional instruments like the shamisen. It's exciting to see how far hip-hop in Japan has come, but it comes with the challenge of staying authentic. Hip-hop is about your own truth, right? So if artists lose their connection to their roots, then I think they'll risk losing what makes them unique."

Hailie absorbed the words, her mind racing. Finally, she asked, "What advice would you give someone trying to explore their identity through music?"

Genji leaned forward, her gaze piercing but kind. "I'd say ask yourself the hard questions. Like, what do you value? What defines you? Throughout my career, I learned that our roots aren't limitations; they're a foundation. So it's up to us how we want to build on them. And don't rush the process. Finding your voice takes time. Music is a journey, just like figuring out who you are."

Hailie smiled brightly. "Thank you so much. This has been incredible!"

Genji picked up her coffee, her expression softening as she took a sip. There was a quiet satisfaction in her chest, a feeling she hadn't realised she'd been missing. She glanced at the girl, who was still clutching the notebook tightly to her chest.

"You've got a good start here," she said, her voice warm. "Keep working on it. And if you need more help, just reach out. I'll leave my email before you go." She paused, considering the timing. "But just so you know, I'll be heading back to California in three days before going back to California. So if you want to work face-to-face on anything, we should set that up soon."

Hailie beamed and nodded eagerly. "Thank you so much," she said, her voice earnest. "This means more to me than you know."

Genji smiled, the sincerity in Hailie's tone warming her. But before the girl left, Hailie hesitated and looked back at her. "Could we maybe meet here again tomorrow? Like, around the same time? I'd love to show you what I've worked on with the interview footage."

The rapper leaned forward slightly, giving her a thoughtful look. "That sounds good," she replied, then added with a small grin. "But do you know how to edit videos?"

Hailie's eyes widened slightly. "I've never really done much with video editing," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I mean, I know the basics from school, but I've never really tried editing something like this."

Genji's smile grew a little wider. "No worries," she said. "I'll show you how to get started. We'll work through the footage, maybe brainstorm some more ideas for your project."

The girl's expression brightened. "That would be amazing," she said, her excitement evident in the way she sat up straighter. "I could use some help, for sure. And, um… thanks again for everything."

With that, she left the diner, stepping into the chilly air and disappearing into the snowy streets. Genji watched her go with a thoughtful expression on her face. She hadn't expected her quiet afternoon to take such a turn, but there was something about the way their conversation had unfolded that felt like the beginning of something important. For both of them.

[umbracirrus]

2024 Wrap Up 💛

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2024. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Tagged by @thequeenofthewinter! Thank you 😊

I've seen quite a few friends and mutuals do this overnight so I'm not quite sure who has and hasn't done this already so will leave this as an open tag for anyone who wants to do a wrap up for 2024! Please do tag me if you want <3

Is quite obviously The Perfect Storm! My beloved main longfic, the slowest of burns, with my idiots Elyse and Balgruuf still not together and pining stronger than ever and suffering through drama after drama >:3 I started 2024 by posting chapter 15, and as of the point of posting this, one year later, I am now up to chapter 25, with 26 and beyond in progress... 11 chapters in 1 year!

I also started on my Oblivion main fic, With light comes shadow, featuring my Heroes of Kvatch Drissa and Florian.... I've only got the one chapter posted so far, but I got it posted! And that's something! I want to replay Oblivion to try and work on it some more, I feel that the second chapter is likely partway to completion...?

Number 3 was surprisingly hard, as this was the last of these which I did (I did this in the order 1, 4, 5, 2, 3?? for some reason?), but I settled on "Do you surrender?" simply because it is a smutty oneshot of my idiots Elyse and Balgruuf which took many months for me to write (for context, I wanted to have it finished for my birthday in early March, and it got posted in October! Over 7 months later!), and is technically the first smut I've posted in years and I am incredibly happy with how it turned out!

Has to be this piece of art which I made for a later chapter of The Perfect Storm, in the moments leading up to my idiots having their first kiss on the balcony atop Dragonsreach.... 😍 I can't wait to finally reach that point in my fic.

5. And last but not least, my main cross stitch project from this year! All of the hold symbols from Skyrim! I'm hoping to do some more cross stitching in 2025... I just don't know what yet.

Honorary mention for Tempest, my Vilkas/OC (Thorne) fic which fits in the same verse as The Perfect Storm, which almost ended up in number 3!

[lunarwench]

For the Baldur's Gate 3 bloodweave crowd. Haven't shared this in multiple chapter updates. I'm on chapter 11 of my post-game slowburn longfic, and things are heating up. Do you like soft boys? Do you like longing and pining? Do you like characters falling in love with each other as their deepest most authentic selves? Do you like HAND HOLDING? HUGGING? SMOOCHING? AND MORE???? Then have I got the fic for you. Stay Though My Arms Shake (69179 words) by Lunarwench Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Astarion/Gale (Baldur's Gate) Characters: Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Gale (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Post-Canon, Post-Game: Baldur's Gate 3, Blood Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Domestic, oh my god they were roommates, Mentions of Canonical Abuse, Mentions of canonical trauma, Bloodweave, Resolved Sexual Tension, Making Out, Domestic Fluff, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Astarion's Past Abuse (Baldur's Gate), Soft Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Soft Gale (Baldur's Gate), Hopeless Romantics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Dissociation, Self-Esteem Issues, Minor Mention of Suicidal Tendencies, Cuddling & Snuggling, Slow Burn means SLOW BURN, the love is requited, they're just idiots Series: Part 2 of Stumble and Fall Summary:

The vampire's eyes are wide and round, full of amazement. They dart wildly around the sights below, as if trying to see everything at once. The lights of the city reflect upon his face, soft shadows dancing across his elegant features. The very tips of his fangs are visible from his parted lips.

The radiance of the city pales in comparison.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧

Two months after the brain falls, Baldur's Gate has picked up most of the pieces. The band of heroes that saved Faerûn has been there through most of it, helping the city back on its feet. But now it's time to move on. Old lives to get back to, families to return to. Gale is going back to his tower, back to Tara and the blessed quiet. Alone. Or, at least, that was the plan.

This is a story about falling in love.

(Now has fanart! End of chapter 6 and end of chapter 8)

[witchofhimring]

From Green to Blue masterlist (Rewrite)

Summary:

All rewritten chapter will be on this new account. The old chapters will be on my og account.

When you look into his eyes, all you see is indifference. But when he looks at her, all you see is love.

After your long term boyfriend leaves you for your best friend Hannah, you are taken on a painful lifechanging journey. In the mean time you break off old relationships, and build new ones.

Warnings: depression, childbirth, parental abuse, mental health issues, smut

Chapter One: Dull Green Eyes

Eren leaves you for your best friend. As you wander the cold streets of Shiganshina, you wonder were everything went wrong.

Chapter 2: She has his heart

A a new day dawns and you walk along an empty path. As you erase yourself from Eren's life you are reminded yet again that it is Hannah who has Eren's heart.

Chapter 3: Hannah's story

Hannah's side of the story.

Chapter 4: What you have

Armin and Biannca team up to help you.

Chapter 5: Memories

You reminisce with Armin about your relationships. And Biannca confronts Hannah and Eren.

Chapter 6: Prelude to confrontation

After seeing Biannca, you decide to confront Eren and Hannah.

Chapter 7: Confrontation

You suddenly feel nothing. Any feelings you had for even are muted, a blanket of apathy starting to make its way over you.

Chapter 8: Darkness before the light

The death of a love.

Chapter 9: Darkness

You think of white walls, the suffocating remembrance of your childhood. You finally say goodbye to Eren.

Chapter 10: Indifference

Slowly Hannah sees the light go out of Eren's eyes. And wherever she goes, pieces of Y/n's remains.

Chapter 11: Kind of dizzy

You leave behind the golden sunset and mountains. It is back to the grey city for you. The white walls close in on you. And that is when your world collapses.

A new revaluation changes everything.

Chapter 12: Reminiscence

After realizing nothing will be the same again, Eren reminiscences about the past.

Chapter 13: Hell

You prepare for your confrontation with Eren and Hannah.

Chapter 14: Breaking point

Everything falls apart for Hannah.

Chapter 15: Into the cage

Eren makes an offer that your just might take.

Chapter 16: Fear

You move in with Eren.

Chapter 17: Blurred and buried

Being back in the apartment makes you relapse, with the bit of progress you made evaporating. You start to lose yourself. The memories you hold are blurred and burned.

Chapter 18: Reopening old wounds

You think back on how your intimacy with Eren is forever sullied. Meanwhile, Eren feels old feelings reawaken.

Chapter 19: Compelled

Summary: The thoughts of Eren with another woman compel you to act, or rather, self-destruct.

Chapter 20: Time passes

Hannah reflects.

Chapter 21: A mother's shadow

You had never felt more lonely. Even after doing what you think is right, everything feels wrong. Armin then drops by and the two of you have an important conversation.

Chapter 22: Moving On

The reader decides to finally take control of her own life.

[huffle-dork]

Long Live the King

Chapter 11: Returning Home

Read Fantasy Masks | Read Swapboys | Read the first FM adventure | Other Multiverse Adventures | Read on AO3

When the sun comes up the next day- it seems after doing their duties that everyone had fallen asleep at one point. For long enough for everyone to be awaken by the sound of something ruffling through their bags. That area is shrouded in shadows- so its hard to make out what the thing is. It looks like it could be humanoid... it turns as it hears people rising up and its pupils are reflective, slightly glowing in the dim light of the forest like some kind of animal.

Jackie wakes up first. He sees the creature and gasps, grabbing his swords which are nearby even when he sleeps. "Hey!" 

The shout wakes everyone else up. 

Marvin bolts upright and pulls some light from his amulet, shining it on the humanoid figure.

The creature jumps and scrambles back at the shout - then seems to hiss as the light hits it. 

Bro scrambles to sit up and grabs his sword, looking around frantically. 

Jackieboy grabs his knife- then sees who the light is hitting and snorts, going to roll over sleepily. "Ah itsjus' Alt-" 

It is Alt. He's been caught red-handed. He's holding a bit of food in his good hand, his mouth filled with half chewed food. He looks like a raccoon that got caught raiding a trash can. He swallows quickly, his face red, "...S-sorry i was really hungry- didn't wanna wake you-" 

"ALT!!" Henny yells in excitement and hurries over to hug him, "Oh you are awake and alright!! I am so relieved!" 

"Ahhh! Henny! ow- careful!" Alt squirms then weakly glitches out of the hug. He looks a bit faint after doing that but he does smile sheepishly at the others. 

Jackie relaxes. "Elders and Sisters, Alt, you scared us. Since when do your eyes glow like that?" 

"They're not really glowing, they're reflecting light," Marvin says. "Like a cat. Or some other nocturnal animal. I'm sure they did it before, we just didn't notice."

Alt grumbles as he finishes the last thing he stole, "They've done this since Mag turned me into a tiger for a month-" 

"It scares me at home too sometimes," Bro laughs. 

Alt pouts then he slowly laughs too, "Sometimes i look in the mirror and scare myself.”

Chase laughs. "We're glad that you're okay, Alt. So glad. But... really, you could have woken us up." 

Alt fidgets with his clothes- really missing his masks. He hadn't, being with the King but now- the eyes on him are a bit much. "...you all were sleeping so peacefully and after yesterday... i didn't expect you to wake up so soon..." 

"I'm a light sleeper," Jackie says. "It's the warrior training. You have to be ready for whenever." 

"And Jackie is loud enough to wake anyone up," Henrik adds jokingly. 

You need food for your recovery, don't you? Jameson asks. That would explain... this. He indicates the whole situation with the food bag. 

Alt looks to Jameson and smiles, "Uh yeah that- and also .... I was just really really hungry..." 

"How are you feeling?" Henrik asks. 

Alt looks back at Henrik and laughs, "still not the best but... at least I'm awake. It'll probably take a bit for my magic to get back up... and you know- my arm and chest still hurt." He then panics slightly and looks around, "Wait where are-?!" Alt spots a furry face pop up from where the King is still tied up and Mag glares at Alt and hisses- even if he can't hear it. Alt's eyes widen in surprise. "...holy shit.... i... i actually managed to do that???" 

The others follow Alt's gaze to Magnificent and Aneirin. "Y-yea... you don't remember?" Marvin asks. "I suppose you were really low on energy, after all... You said it was temporary." 

Alt shudders as he meets the King's eye and quickly looks away. He laughs, shaking his head, "Honestly? A-After seeing Jack I... kinda thought everything afterwards was a dream..." He grips at his bad arm gently and swallows. 

Henny sees the slight distress on Alt's face and goes to sit by him, lightly touching his knee. "Hey stürmisch... you did that for a good reason. You are not like him." 

Alt closes his eyes shut tightly for a second, but quickly opens them back up and nods. "Y-Yeah..." 

"The other me is right, Alt," Henrik whispers. "You are different."

Alt blinks at Henrik's whispers and then his face softens. He smiles, "... thanks. ...I need to hear that sometimes."

Aneirin opens one eye--he was sleeping just as soundly as the others--and glares at Alt. 

"Don't worry about him... too much," Chase says. "Marvin silenced him so he can't use commands. And I think it's hard to cast spells when you're tied up." 

Alt glances back at the King and can't help but shudder more. "... what can we do about the King...? The second we let him go h-he'll..." 

"We, um..." Jackie coughs. "I know this isn't really the honorable thing to do, but... we sort of decided to just leave him here." 

"... no no that's... that's good. Fuck him." Alt mutters, glaring at the King. "... He can stand to rot here for a bit." 

He'll get out eventually, Jameson says. So don't worry about J-A-C-K. He spells out the name. Clearly, he's not familiar enough with the true King to give him a name sign. 

"I think the Wyldwood is too afraid of him to do anything, honestly," Marvin mutters. 

"We'll be back for him," Chase says quietly. He looks uncertain about this course of action, but doesn't protest it. 

"Alt, how is your memory?" Dr. J asks quietly.

"Oh- it's back." Alt says simply. 

Jackieboy stops pretending to sleep and sits up, his hair all fluffed up wildly, "WHAT?! Just like that??" 

The fantasy guys laugh at how blunt Alt is.

Alt laughs then shrugs, "I dunno how- All I know that when I was with Jack... I wasn't confused about our world anymore." He hums in thought and looks up, "Maybe it's cuz I went through the King's mind- who already knew mine. And being there just... fixed the gaps. Or- maybe the Elders helped more than I thought, it just came slower." He shrugs again, "All I know is- I'm back. No more confusion- no more weird-ass knight talk."

"No, that would make sense, actually," Chase says. "In one of my dream conversations with Jack, he said that he learned how to use his enchanter powers to help people who are going through tough times. Like... help ease their heightened emotions, a-and treat the mind like how doctors treat the body. Sort of like what JJ does, actually, now that I think about it." He nods at JJ. 

JJ looks beyond flattered. He holds onto his watch- seeming to be comtemplating something. Henny brings him into a side hug.

"So while you were in there, Jack was able to finish what the Elders started, I suppose," Jackie sums up.

Alt smiles, "Yeah... that sounds about right. A joint effort." He looks at Aneirin with a neutral expression before turning to the others, "...He's gonna be a great King someday."

"I think so too," Chase agrees. 

Aneirin's expression twists into something ugly and he looks away from the others. Magnificent bares his fangs at the others.

"I suppose we have to bring Magnificent with us, if we're going to move," Marvin says.

Alt makes a face. "I mean... I'm sure I got some kind of spell to... I dunno- make a cage for him?" 

"Like we're bringing him to the vet?" Bro laughs. Alt laughs too. 

"Are we going to move?" Marvin asks the others.

"Well not right away," Chase says. "It's still fairly dark." 

"And yet, we're awake," Jackie points out. 

If we're all awake we might as well eat, Jameson says.

Henny brightens up and claps his hands together, "Yes! Let us eat! We can finally all enjoy a meal together like we wanted!!"

Jackie grins. "Alright, everyone gets their own food, then. Try not to touch the fruit unless you have to. And I don't think Alt should have any, given he had two in such a short time frame." 

Alt pouts at being told he can't have the fruit but then sighs, "Yeah- that's fair. Though... I'm okay, I think." 

"You know, it's strange, these fruits that the others cut into haven't wilted around the cuts at all," Chase mutters. "That's not normal." 

"We're in the Wyldwood, nothing is normal," Marvin says. "And Alt? If you don't have a spell like that, I do." 

"Why do you have a spell to carry cats in bags?" Henrik asks. 

Marvin picks up Draco. "Because when I first got a familiar I thought it would be helpful to carry him everywhere. Didn't realize that he would follow me wherever unless I ordered him not to. But that could be his fault, since he wanders around so much."

Alt grins and laughs, nodding to Marvin, "Brilliant. Maybe I should learn something like that for Glitches-" 

"She already gets in your backpack just fine, though-" Bro comments, getting to his feet. 

"...touché-" Alt giggles then slowly blushes, looking down at the food, "...I hope I left enough... I didn't try to eat too much."

"IIIII don't think you need to worry about that," Jackie says, pulling out two fruits--five fruits--ten fruits. 

When did you grab that much?! Jameson asks, surprised. 

Jackie shrugs. "I thought they would come in handy." 

Jackieboy bursts into laughter. "That was a smart move! Toss me one?" Henny and Dr. J giggle too. Bro shakes his head with a smile. 

Jackie grins and tosses Jackieboy one of the fruits. "I advise not eating it down to the pit, apparently that will make you feverish. And it looks like the fruit won't rot quickly so we don't have to worry about that."

Jackieboy grins and goes to spit his fruit in half, giving the other half to Bro. Henny soon does the same and shares some with Dr. J. 

"Is your Ghlishes alright, Alt?" Marvin asks. "You didn't leave her suddenly like last time, did you?"

Alt blinks at Marvin and then smiles. "She's okay. We prepared this time. She's being watched by some of our friends- same with Henny's dog." 

"Don't lie Alt! You can say that your booooyfriend is watching them!" Jackieboy shouts. 

Alt turns bright red, and then yells back at him. "I'm not lying! Jack was also helping! And Stacy too! Why don't you tease Chase about that huh?!" 

"Cuz he doesn't get as embarrassed as you!" Jackieboy grins.

Henrik rolls his eyes at Jackieboy's teasing. "That teasing attitude goes beyond worlds, it seems," he mutters. "Alt, they were all acting the same way about me and my partner Vsevna on our way here." 

"Oh yeaaaaa, Alt never met Vsevna!" Jackie gasps. "He never saw how red your face gets around him!" 

"See?" Henrik says. 

"Vsevna should have come with us," Chase says. "His expertise might've come in handy... and he would've cheered Henrik up right away." 

"See?" Henrik rolls his eyes.

Alt blinks and then brightens up, "Oh! I remember- they were teasing us both so much last time! you got together with your crush too?" He seems genuinely happy to hear Henrik say he has a partner. "If we can, I would love to meet him. And I won't tease ya- promise." He grins.

Henrik chuckles. "I think he would like you. He would at least be very interested in your ghlishing. But for now, we have to continue into the Wyldwood." 

"Alt doesn't know about that, I think," Jackie says. 

"Oh. Right." Chase nods. "We came into the Wyldwood to find you, but we also came here on a... quest, I guess. The Horned Elder One has guided us here. Apparently there's something that could help with..." He glances at Aneirin, still tied up. "I don't want to be too detailed right now, but it will help with the possession if we see it."

Alt tilts his head and then looks back at the King too. He frowns, then lowers his voice to a whisper, "... don't you think he'll try to stop you? You're right- he won't stay trapped there forever if we leave him. But... I think he'd also hunt you all down through the woods to find this place. If he knows this could lead to his downfall- he'll be hot on your trial the second he can be." He then thinks, "I mean... if the Horned Elder is helping... then maybe but... I don't know. Don't you guys think its too risky to go looking for this while the King is still in the Wyldwood? The only other way I can see that working is if we can somehow get him back to Suilthair but... I-I know how far away that is now..."

"It's very far," Marvin confirms. "Most magic doorways couldn't reach there. In fact, no doorways are supposed to, but we have seen the King summon large doorways across vast distances." 

Chase hesitates. "I... you have a point... But what? Are we supposed to drag him to our camp?" 

"I don't think the camp would be prepared for him," Jackie mutters. "We weren't expecting to keep prisoners there, much less prisoners who can influence people's minds." 

His range extends to all of Suilthair, if he gets even near the camp he would be able to change people's attitudes and such, Jameson says, making sure the King can't see his hands. 

"Ugh. It's difficult," Jackie says. "There are..." Henrik hesitates. "You can adjust the recipes for pain relief tonics to make tonics that will keep people asleep, or unable to move. But I do not have supplies for that with me. We would have to take him back to camp for that." 

Aneirin tilts his head, keeping his face still. He can't quite hear what they're saying with how they're all mumbling, but they're clearly discussing him. Hmm…

"No you're right we can't take him back to camp," Bro says gravelly, "We'd risk him getting the other phantoms..." 

Alt shudders at this thought. "Ugh- I should have tried to turn that fucker into a cat too-" Alt growls. "There's gotta be some kind of spell I can use... but I'm still kinda drained." 

"I know this sounds messed up but- what if we just like- break his legs?" Jackieboy suggests. 

"Jackie!" Dr. J gasps, horrified. 

"What?? Then he couldn't chase after you! He's still human... ish. Spirit piloting a human but- still human. Like Mag- if we broke his legs then-" 

"Dude, even if he's evil that's not cool-" Bro says, shaking his head. "Feel like that goes against- a hero oath or something. Plus- that's still someone's body. Jack would have to deal with that."

Marvin raises his eyebrows, looking like he's considering Jackieboy's suggestion. Chase leans over and punches him in the arm. "Ow! What the fuck?!" 

"Bro is right, we can't do that to Jack," Chase says. "It feels like... like we're getting close to that vision coming true. Which means that the spirit might be pushed out soon. And then Jack would be left with that." 

Not to mention that the King was physically fine in my vision, Jameson says. Changing that might prevent it from coming true. And I haven't seen any other way of defeating him. 

"We should not try to alter the future that way," Henny says with a nod to Jameson. "And... kindness gets repaid back. Even if that awful spirit does not deserve it... it is kind to Jack. Who needs that kindness." 

"yeah yeah-" Jackieboy grumbles. 

"So we're really just going to leave him," Jackie mutters. "Well. If there's anything we can do to delay him, we should do it." 

"What? Is leaving him tied to a tree and without any weapons not enough to delay him?" Henrik drawls. 

"I dunno... he's scarily powerful," Alt mutters, gripping his arm. "I have no doubt he can just- lightning himself free or something. I dunno why he hasn't yet in all honesty." 

"Oh!" Marvin suddenly perks up. "I forgot to mention this last night. But I searched the King's belongings while he was knocked out and I was tying him up. And look at this." He reaches into his bag and pulls out... a white mask in the shape of a cat's face. But not just any cat. One with stripes.

The other swaps gasp in delight at seeing the mask but it takes Alt a second to look. But, when he does his eyes widen and he goes to gently take the mask from Marvin. He feels tears in his eyes and he laughs, "...I... I thought he left it back in Suilthair...! I... I never thought I'd see it again..."

Marvin smiles a bit. "I'm surprised he took it with him as well. I can only guess that he wanted to be sure it wouldn't somehow find its way back to you." 

He loves to be in control, Jameson says. I agree, the only way he could have felt sure that you wouldn't see it was to keep it on him, out of sight. He chuckles silently. Of course, that was deflected to him. 

"As all his plans will be eventually," Henrik agrees. 

Alt runs his thumbs over the mask, smiling wetly. "Yeah I guess... It would have given me my memories back..." 

"As for why he hasn't, uh, 'lightning himself' free yet," Marvin continues. "Even his power, strange as it is, needs to recharge. He must be running low." 

Aneirin glares at Marvin as he says this--not willing to admit how right his guess is.

Alt pauses, feeling the weight of all the days stuck under their control fall on him again. He shuts his eyes and curls up, hugging the mask to his chest. 

"...Alt? Are you okay?" Dr. J asks. 

Alt nods, "Y-Yeah m'fine... just... n-need a minute..." 

Bro watches this and can already guess what his brother is feeling. He walks over then plops down next to Alt, opening his arm behind him. Alt is still for a moment before falling slightly against Bro- and the older brother wraps him up in a one armed hug.

The fantasy guys stay quiet, for their part. This feels like a private moment. Jameson is the first to speak. 

It's... difficult, he says. I know. But you have your friends, Alt. 

Jackie nods. "And us, if you need us."

Alt looks up with red-rimmed eyes and nods, "I know... it just... sucks. I lost days just... being the little thing they pushed around." He laughs bitterly, "...I was so excited to come back here and just... got dealt this shit..." 

Bro feels for Alt and leans his head against his, "... we had hoped things would be better when we got here... but it wasn't. And we didn't think Mag would know..." He looks angry as he glares at the King and Mag, "... but it wasn't fair what they did to you." 

"They will both get what they deserve, Alt," Henny says quietly. 

"We won't let our bastard get away with anything for much longer," Jackie promises. "And your bastard--well, he's a cat for now. Even if it's temporary, that's something he deserves." 

Alt laughs, "Yeah. It is." He glares at Mag, "I'd keep him trapped for a whole month if I could. Maybe longer." 

People like them never win in the end, Jameson says. I know it's hard to remember that. But it's true. And it's not your fault that you got pushed around like that. It's hard enough to resist the King on his own, much less combined with someone else. Trust me, I know. 

Marvin puts a hand on Jameson's shoulder supportively. With his other, he nudges Draco towards Alt. The cat looks at him, comically annoyed, but walks over as he suggested. Clearly, Marvin's picked up that fluffy cats are good for comfort. 

Alt listens to Jameson and looks at him sympathetically. He smiles sadly. "... it's the same way with Mag. A-At least... for me." He pulls up his sleeve to hide his purple marks on his wrist. Bro hugs Alt tighter. 

Speaking of Mag though- while everyone is distracted with Alt, Mag has pushed himself up and is studying the rope tying up Aneirin. He reaches up and tries to see if he can cut through. But, it's way too thick- and it seems like Mag gets scared of pulling out his claws. His tail flicks in annoyance as he curses Alt over and over in his head, angrily stomping around and then tearing at the ground to get out his anger.

Aneirin watches Mag try, curious. He nods, acknowledging his effort. Not thanking him. Totally not thanking him. He doesn't thank people. Not genuinely like this would be.

Mag snorts and watches the King for a second before nodding himself then plopping back to the ground, tail flicking in anger. Not much else he can do.

Alt blinks as Draco approaches him then smiles and offers him his hand to sniff. 

Draco sniffs Alt's hand, then curls up against him. 

"If you ask me... I think that Magnificent is a little afraid of you, Alt," Marvin says, keeping his voice too quiet for the temporarily-feline magician to hear. "I mean, look at what you can do when you set your mind to it. That thunderbird form of yours is powerful, and your normal form isn't too far behind, from my perspective. He wants to control you so that you won't turn against him. And he seems the type to turn fear into anger." 

Alt blinks in surprise and then chuckles, “…I always wondered if that might be the case…” 

Dr. J nods, “He is the type to act out in anger, especially when afraid. I think it might be one of the only emotions he can still feel.” 

Henrik raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure about all this, Marvin?" 

"No. But I am him, in some way, aren't I?" Marvin pauses, not wanting to share too much. "I don't think Magnificent would admit it to himself. But if I was him, that's how I would be feeling." 

“Even if he was Marvin once, you are not Magnificent.” Jackieboy says firmly to Marvin. “You’re nothing like him. Just like Alt is nothing like that fucking bastard King. And I would know.” He does smile a bit, though it is somewhat sad. “…you remind me of what he once was. When he was good.” 

Marvin blinks. “Hah. Thank you.” He smiles a little. “Glad to hear someone thinks I’m good.” 

Jackie glances at him. “Just because you were a bastard for a while doesn’t mean I never thought you weren’t good.” 

“You sure?” Henrik mutters. 

“This isn’t the time, Schneep.” 

“Alt was a bit of a bastard too- but he’s a good guy- even if he doesn’t believe it sometimes.” Jackie says with a smile. 

Alt flushes and looks away, hiding his face behind his mask without putting it on.

"Even if that's not true about Magnificent, I think you could be stronger than him, Alt," Chase says. "With practice, you know?"

Alt’s eyes burn with determination, gripping his hands into fists. “One day, I will be stronger than him. I’m gonna make sure I am.”

I believe in you, Alt, Jameson says, smiling. You’re very strong and determined.

Alt smiles, “…thanks.” 

Bro sighs and looks around at everyone, “So what’s the plan? We gotta find a way to make sure that bastard doesn’t follow you.” 

Alt thinks on this and then perks up and looks around for his bag. He pulls out a couple orange berries. “…the King told me these sap your energy… do you think we might be able to use them somehow…?” 

“…maybe?” Marvin says slowly. 

“That sounds good in idea, but I don’t think it’ll be easy,” Jackie adds. “He’s likely to bite our fingers off if we try feeding him.” 

Aneirin is glaring at them in a way that suggests he absolutely would.

“I don’t wanna get bitten by a mad king- pretty sure that’s how like- werewolves are made,” Jackieboy half jokes. “Nobody wants to become a were-bastard.” 

“Right-“ Alt chuckles, “Guess it wouldn’t be easy to make like- a sleep potion from unknown magic fruit-“ 

“We’ll try,” Chase says. “That sounds better than just waiting for him to follow.” 

“If we are going to do something like that, we should take care of Magnificent first,” Henrik says. “He seems protective of the King. Have you ever seen a cat honestly try to fight a person? Scratches everywhere.”

The swaps all glance at Magnificent, who’s staring at them with furious eyes and a lashing tail. 

“Oh! I think I can help!” Henny says, grabbing his recovered pocket watch, “Now that he is smaller- I think it will be easier for me to pause him! That way you can do the spell to get him trapped!”

Marvin grins. "If you think you can, you can try whenever you want." He grabs his amulet, its glow increasing. "I'll react as soon as you do." 

Henny grins and then gets to his feet. He heads over to Mag and then smirks, his eyes glowing teal. "Do not worry, Magnificent! This will not hurt a bit~" He then waves a hand over Mag. Mag tries to react but the spell catches him in mid rage, his mouth open in an almost comical yowl.

Marvin reacts quickly, flinging his magic at the frozen Magnificent. Light wraps around him, forming an outline of a box. It then solidifies into something that looks a lot like a modern cat carrier, just made of different materials. White canvas covers a wireframe box, with mesh windows on the sides and top to see inside. The bottom is solid wood with soft fabric on the inside, and there are two cloth handles. Marvin lets out a breath. “Glad I could remember the spell,” he says. 

Henny flips up his hand to un-pause Mag. Mag looks around the makeshift box and then starts yowling in anger, battering against the box. Once Henny sees that he starts to spell up again. "Mein gott- calm yourself, katzchen!" 

"Meanwhile... Maybe I could try something," Henrik says slowly. "Here, give me those fruit and berries. It will not change the problem of giving it to Aneirin, but at the very least, if we distill it, it might help. Water would be easier to give him than solid food."

Alt blinks and then grins, handing the berries to Henrik. "Here- lemme see if I got any spells saved that can help." He pats down his pockets and curses, "Right- fucking prick stole my things. Marvin, where's the King's shit? I think he has my phone-" 

“What was it, Alt? Oh yes.” Marvin moves back over to his bag and starts pulling stuff out. The King’s circlet, the seax, and a small bag on a string. “Here, check in there.” Marvin tosses the bag to Alt. If he checks inside, he’ll see a handful of coins and colorful stones, a square of white cloth, a signet ring—and his phone and the TRVLR. 

Alt catches the bag and grins, "Thanks dude." He looks inside and tilts his head at the white cloth. Wonder what that is? 

Jackie also leans close and looks into the King’s bag. “Oh, a royal signet ring. A lot of money. And a handkerchief—oh. I think that’s used for wiping blades.”

"Ah that makes sense," Alt mumbles to Jackie as he explains. He's gotta focus on the task at hand though. He brightens as he sees his phone. And then exclaims as he sees the TRVLR, holding it out. "Oh yes!! I was wondering where they fucking kept this!" 

Dr. J blinks, "Oh! The TRVLR!" 

"Yes! I was worried fucking Mag did something else to it!" Alt grins. He holds both devices out and powers them up. The phone takes a second but is able to turn on, even if its like at 30%. He can't do much with it here anyways- but, he saved a bunch of his spell pages on his camera roll which he quickly looks through, searching for a spell.

Marvin picks up the cat box and brings it over to the rest of the group. Draco looks at Mag inside and paws at the mesh. It’s almost like he’s teasing him. 

“Ooo, your devices!” Henrik says, leaning forward in interest. “That is your alphabet, yes? How strange. It is all so… regular. I hear that they are making devices for regular writing like that back in Alterde. Called, ah… pr-presses? Because they press in the letters?” 

"Oh! Like a printing press!" Henny says excitedly, "I know of those!"

"Oh right- guess a lot of materials are still handwritten here." Dr. J muses.

Alt grins, "Yeah- we actually have machines now that write for us. In a sense- They make everything all even looking." 

Indeed, everything is written still, Jameson says. It would be helpful to have something that could write for you. I would certainly love that. 

Marvin chuckles. "Yes, that would make everything easy, wouldn't it, Jair?" 

"Not to mention how expensive books are because of how long they take to make," Chase mutters. "I'd like to actually have one, one day." 

"Oh- If only we could find a book written in your language. I would gladly bring you one," Dr. J says with a smile, "Books are quite affordable in our world." 

"If only that memory spell made me and Alt fluent in Glasish," Bro snickers.

"I don't think your brain has room for all of that-" Jackieboy teases. Bro pushes him over and they both laugh. 

After a bit Alt finds what he's looking for and grins, getting to his feet. "Okay- I dunno how well this will work on the King. But, considering Mag is a cat- we can at least stop him from freaking out." He kneels down by the box and then meets Mag's eyes. He waves a hand over the box and whispers "Codail". 

Particles of blue-green magic fall into the box and after a quick sign for Henny to release the pause spell again, Mag falls over into a little ball, fast asleep. 

"ah- thank you Alt, I was getting sore." Henny says. 

"Sore?" Jackieboy raises an eyebrow. 

"Yes! Using magic for a long period is... sore on the mind?" Henny makes a thinking face. "I do not know how else to phrase it."

The guys look impressed as Alt makes Mag fall asleep. 

"That would be very helpful," Marvin says. "I wonder if I could learn a spell like that. And yes, Henny, I agree. Sore on the mind. Like holding up a weight for too long." 

Alt grins, "I don't see why not! It's just a simple word spell for me- but I dunno, s'probably different here."

Jackie is looking at the King thoughtfully. "You know... we know that he can sleep, since Chase sees Jack in dreams," he says slowly. "So I don't know if the spirit will be affected, but maybe the body will be..." Aneirin's eyes widen slightly but he tries to keep his worry hidden.

At Jackie's thought, Alt looks back the King with an unreadable expression. "... He did need to sleep." His expression darkens as he starts to stride over to the King. He knew Mag would be too strong to be affected by a spell like this normally- but... Jack's body was human. "...Marvin- you might need to drop the silence spell."

Marvin looks at Alt, expression serious. "Alright. You should work fast, then, because he's going to try to command you as soon as he can." Aneirin sits up straight, eyes sharp.

Alt nods and in a blink, he's glitched right in front of the King. He acts fast, putting a hand over the King's mouth as magic blooms bright on the other. He looks to Marvin and nods.

Jackie notices what Alt and Marvin are doing. He stiffens, grabbing his sword just in case. 

Marvin nods back. Glowing bits of white light flicker into vision in the area affected by the silence spell--and then as they disappear, sound rushes back. 

Aneirin is immediately trying to speak, his voice muffled by Alt. There's a faint hint of enchantment but without understanding the words it can't do much.

Alt's eyes glow bright blue as he pushes the King's head back and then does the sleep spell again, growling out, "Codail." Probably with more malice then he should use but- just being near the King made his blood boil.

Aneirin's eyes flash with hatred--and then they close and he slumps against the tree. For a split second, Alt swears he hears a whispered {good luck} before the King falls asleep entirely. 

The group pauses for a moment, tense, as Alt does this. And then when the King fall asleep they all breathe a collective sigh of relief and return to the conversation. Alt steps back from the King, breathing heavily for a second before he snorts and glitches back over to the others.

"Next time we see each other the visitors should plan to bring books," Henrik says. "I know there are lesson books for reading. I used them when learning Glasish back in home." 

"Oh that would be brilliant!" Dr. J says, clapping his hands together. 

”We could teach you English too!" Henny beams. 

"I would love to learn your language," Henrik gushes. "I think I am very good at learning them." 

Me too! Jameson says, grinning. Clearly I cannot speak it but I'd love to read it.

"English is complicated but! I think all of us would be good teachers!" Henny grins. 

Dr. J smiles kindly, "We could also teach you our version of handspeak- me and Henrik use it often." 

Henny nods, "The others learned for us too!" 

"I remember when Bro appeared he tried to speak in hands to us, but we didn't understand it," Jackie says, chuckling. "It looked very strange." 

"I thought it could be universal-" Bro says with slightly flushed cheeks. "Then again- hard to find anyone who knows it in our own world. Schools should really teach it more." 

“I agree, more people should learn handspeak," Chase continues. "I learned it because Amabel wasn't learning to talk quickly so I thought that maybe physical speaking would help. She still uses it sometimes even though she can be very talkative now." 

Dr. J smiles knowingly, "Ah... I was like that as a child. Maybe not in the same way- but I was non-verbal often. That's how I learned." 

"All of that sounds fun," Chase says, smiling. "Learning doesn't usually seem fun to me, maybe being from different worlds makes it more interesting."

Jackieboy grins at Chase, "Dude- same. Never thought I'd have as much fun learning here as I did. S'probably cuz its just so different!" 

Chase laughs. "Exactly. I didn't have nearly as much fun learning to read--no offense, Henrik." 

"None taken." Henrik shrugs.  

Alt seems almost- sad. Listening to the others talk about returning. ...he's not sure they can. Not if Mag would be doing everything he can to follow them. He can't risk something like this happening again... He gathers up the TRVLR and tries to check on its damages. 

The TRVLR's screen flickers oddly for a second, a couple purple pixels at first, then a handful of red ones. But then it clears up. 

WARNING 

Latency Detected 

This unit is having difficulty connecting to the universal database. This is for one or more of the following reasons: 

-A Ripple is happening 

-Current location is too far from unit's home universe -Current location does not have the technical capabilities of helping connection 

Please take this into account when jumping. 

It's the same latency warning from last time. Better be careful when tapping the universe you want to jump to. 

Alt's eyebrows knit together in worry at seeing the screen flickering a bit then sighs as it seems to clear up. He nods. At least now they know their own universe code now. He carefully scrolls to find their favorites. "...we should probably leave soon."

"...so- guess we're about to split up again then..." Bro says, trying to school his expression but his voice gives himself away. 

"Alt missed out on so many things though!" Henny says. 

Dr. J sighs, "Yes but... we have delayed our friends long enough. We can't be selfish... they need to get on this quest. They have a kingdom to save after all." 

"...I dunno how long the spell will last but... hopefully it'll give you guys some time." Alt mumbles.

"Thank you, Alt," Marvin says, smiling. "We really appreciate it." 

"It 'sucks' that you missed out on so much," Chase says. "I'm so sorry that you got stuck with those bastards." He gives a glance to the sleeping King. 

We'll find a way to come visit you! Jameson says. Or you can come back whenever you want. 

"I think that time goes faster in our world than yours," Henrik says. "So maybe by the time you want to return, we will have everything already sorted." 

Alt smiles sadly at them and nods, "Y-Yeah..." He looks down and lets his expression fall for a second. 

But, Bro notices. Bro comes over and pats Alt on the shoulder, "Hey... if the time thing is true- even if Mag tries to follow us again- this spirit will be gone! He'll be out of his depths again. I'm sure we can take him- or figure out a way to stop him entirely. We got time, baby bro... We can ask Blaise for some safe guards or- I dunno something. Magic can do lots of things, right?" 

Alt blinks at Bro and then slowly smiles. "...Yeah. You're right." He turns back to the others and smiles, "I gotta come back to meet this Vsenva guy anyways, right?" 

"Maybe next time we could bring Oliver!" Jackieboy grins. 

Alt blushes. 

"Vsevna would love to meet you, Alt," Henrik says. "And I would love to meet your partner as well. He sounds like a nice guy." 

"Make sure you all have your old clothes packed in your bags," Jackie says. "Is there anything else you want to bring?" 

"Oh! I'm wondering something, actually." Marvin hands them one of the fruits. "There's a seed in that. Maybe you can plant it and grow magic fruit in your world? Or maybe not. It's possible that it won't work outside of the Wyldwood." 

"If you try, you should probably keep it in a pot or something so that it doesn't grow out of control," Chase says. "Amabel has told me that people planting strange plants and letting them run wild can really affect the, uh... circle of life, I think it's called. The environment." 

Dr. J takes the fruit and then beams, "Oh! That will be a very fun experiment. Maybe we can take it to Alt's mentor- she might know how to help it grow!" 

"I'm sure it'll be helpful to have magical healing fruit if you can make it grow," Marvin says, grinning. "But do be careful. No overindulgence."

"Oh Oh! May we keep our masks??" Henny asks, holding his hedgehog one to his chest. "I do not want to take if you need them but! It is soooo cute!"

Jackie laughs. "Of course you guys can take the masks! Alt took his last time. Think of them as keepsakes." 

"Yay!" Henny says, hugging his mask. "When I look at it, I will think of all the great friends we made here!" 

"So... you're all going to leave now, then?" Chase asks. 

Don't forget the cat, Jameson adds.

"...we should..." Alt says, standing up. "You guys have a lot on your plate. And honestly... I'm tired." Alt laughs, "I'm not sure how much more adventuring I could take..." 

"We should really get you seen by a doctor, Alt," Dr. J says, "You're still very injured." 

"Yeah yeah..." Alt mutters, clearly not excited about that. 

Jackieboy stretches and gets to his feet. "Yeahhh we do have lives to get back to... and despite the peril- not a bad time." He smiles. "We'll all see each other again." 

Bro grins, "Definitely." He grabs the box with Mag and lugs it onto one of his shoulders. "We'll be back to see the kingdom how its supposed to be!" He gestures to the others- "Grab your bags, lads." 

The others do so and then stand in a semi circle, adjusting and double checking they have everything. 

"Motherfucker- bastards have my jacket-" Alt mutters, closing up his bag. 

"Eh- you have like 3 of those now, Alt," Bro laughs.

Alt makes a face. "That one was the softest though..." 

"I'm sure the others will get soft again with enough wearing in, Alt." Dr. J chuckles. 

"If we find your jacket, Alt, we'll keep it safe for you," Chase promises.

Alt chuckles, "Thanks, man." 

Henny looks back at the fantasy boys, "... can we all get a hug before we leave??" He asks, his expression pleading.

The guys all smile. "Of course!" Jackie laughs, and immediately goes in for the hug. Chase follows, then Jameson, then Henrik. Marvin lingers back for a moment before joining in. "I'm not much for hugs, but this is a special occasion," he says, grinning. 

Henny excitedly pulls as many of them in as he can. Jackieboy follows, then Dr. J. Alt also hesitates but then, Bro puts the box down long enough to scoop Alt and give everyone a big super hug. 

Everyone laughs. 

The swaps all step back and form their circle again. Bro picking up the box and the others all linking hands. Alt double checks the TRVLR, making sure its not lagging and on the right universe. He smiles and then looks back at the others. "Until next time, then. Good luck." 

The others all shout out goodbyes and cyas as Alt hits the jump button.

"Until next time!" Jackie shouts, waving. 

"We'll see you then!" Chase adds. 

Good luck to you too! Jameson says. 

"We will miss you!" Henrik adds. 

"Farewell." Marvin smiles. 

And then the visitors all disappear at once. 

The guys stare at the spot where they were for a moment, taking in their sudden absence. Until Draco starts pawing at Marvin's leg. 

"I think he wants us to move on," Chase says, noticing that. 

"Yea, I hear you, boy, don't be so impatient," Marvin says, looking down at him. 

We do need to move fast, though, Jameson says. Alt's magic cannot last for long if he's left this world. He looks pointedly at the King. 

"Yea." Jackie nods. "I guess we go on now." 

"To return to our own quest, then," Henrik says, nodding as well. 

Chase looks at the King. "We'll find a way," he says quietly. 

And with that, they continue on their trek through the Wyldwood, determined to find some way to save their kingdom.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

The fall between worlds lingers for a little longer than usual. Alt feels the TRVLR in his hand get a little bit warmer, as the green stars in the Space In-Between flicker for a bit. And they all... jolt slightly. Like they're floating in a still water pond that suddenly ripples. And then, suddenly, they are back in their own world. Right where they left.

Alt's eyes widen as the change happens- Bro tightens his grip on him. But, then they're home. Right in the middle of the Brodys' living room. 

Alt gasps like he just broke the surface after being underwater. He looks down anxiously at the TRVLR, knitting his eyebrows together. 

Bro sighs and flops down onto their couch. "Ah! Home!!" 

"Don't get too comfy, Chase," Dr. J shakes his head, "After we all clean up and get dressed- we're taking Alt to the hospital." 

"Whattt! C'mon Jay!" Bro protests. 

"You said he broke his arm and his ribs! That needs proper treatment!" 

"It was partially healed by magic fruit!" 

"It should still be checked!!" 

Jackieboy rolls his eyes and looks around for a charger. "I'mma charge my phone and check in with everyone. You all start without me." 

Henny notices Alt stock still, still clutching the TRVLR. He walks over and places a hand on his shoulder. "Alt? Are you alright?" 

Alt startles slightly and then turns to smile at Henny, "Y-Yeah... Yeah. Fine." He pockets the device then grabs the box with Mag. "Immmm gonna get this dumped into the warehouse district before the spell breaks and Mag kills us!" 

Dr. J turns to him, "Alt! You better come back straight away because we'r-" 

"OKAYGOTTAGOBYE-" Alt says as he disappears into glitches. 

Dr. J watches him go and then sighs, rubbing his forehead. "You all are a handful..." 

"But ya love usss~" Jackieboy grins. 

JJ smiles and chuckles, "Unfortunately, Yes. I do." 

Alt deposits the box outside where he last knew Mag's warehouse to be. He almost wants to stop by to see the panthers but... not a good idea. He takes the time to take the TRVLR back out and study it.

 ... the transition was really really weird. He's never seen that before... he hopes its okay. As dangerous as these trips can be... he doesn't want to give up on them yet. But for now... Jay was right. He had a lot to recover from. He looks down at the sleeping form of his foe- kicks the box for good measure and flips it off as he heads back to his friends.