#to make up for taking a while with the new chapter

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Pairing: Mafia Ateez OT8x Reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, poly ateez, violence and weapons, mafia ateez, organized crime, parental death and grieving process, bullying, possessive and controlling behavior,

Summary: When Y/n Ricci is forced to marry Kim Hongjoong—leader of the notorious ATEEZ organization and one of eight men who cruelly abandoned her seven years ago—she finds herself trapped in their heavily guarded compound with the ghosts of her past. As she navigates the dangerous world of mafia politics and her own wounded heart, Y/n discovers that all eight powerful, irresistible men still harbor deep feelings for her, suggesting an unconventional solution to their shared dilemma. But before she can consider forgiving them, let alone loving them again, she must uncover the dark secret that tore them apart—a truth that could either heal their fractured bonds or destroy them all completely.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

18+ only- Minors do not enter

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Masterlist

Chapter 2: The Wolves' Den

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed nine as you returned to the drawing room with Hongjoong. The conversation between the men paused, all eyes turning to assess your expressions, searching for signs of reconciliation or further hostility.

You kept your face carefully blank, taking your seat once more. If they were hoping for a miraculous change of heart during your garden chat, they were about to be sorely disappointed.

"Have you two reached an understanding?" your father asked, his tone suggesting he expected the answer to be yes.

"We understand each other perfectly," you replied coolly, not looking at Hongjoong. "We always have."

Mr. Kim cleared his throat. "Excellent. Then perhaps we can finalize the remaining details."

Your father nodded. "As we discussed, the wedding will take place at the Kim estate. Traditional ceremony, followed by a reception for our closest associates."

"And the honeymoon?" Mr. Kim inquired.

"Two weeks in Sicily," your father replied. "At the family villa."

You bit back a bitter laugh. Of course they'd already planned your honeymoon. Why not your entire future while they were at it?

"And in the meantime," your father continued, his eyes shifting to you, "Y/n will be staying at the Kim estate to become better acquainted with her future husband and his... organization."

The words hit you like a physical blow. "I beg your pardon?"

Your father's expression hardened slightly. "It's been decided, Y/n. You'll be moving to the Kim estate tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" You leaned forward, dropping all pretense of composure. "You're shipping me off to live with strangers for three months?"

"They're hardly strangers," your father countered. "You've known Hongjoong and his associates since childhood."

"Known and been abandoned by," you corrected sharply. "And you expect me to just... what? Pack up and move in with them? Like some sort of trial run before the main event?"

"It's a common practice for arranged marriages in our circles," Seonghwa interjected smoothly. "It allows the bride to acclimate to her new family and household before the wedding."

You turned your glare on him. "Thank you for the cultural lesson, Mr. Park. I'm well aware of our 'traditions.' I'm simply questioning why this particular one is necessary in my case."

"Because," your father said firmly, "the Ricci estate is no longer secure."

That stopped you cold. "What do you mean?"

A look passed between your father and Mr. Kim—a silent communication that sent a chill down your spine.

"The Russo family has been making moves," your father said finally. "We've intercepted information suggesting they may target you to get to me."

"So instead of increasing security here, you're sending me away?" you asked incredulously.

"The ATEEZ compound is the most secure location in the city," Hongjoong said, speaking up for the first time since you'd returned from the garden. "No one gets in or out without our knowledge."

You turned to him slowly. "ATEEZ?"

"Our organization," he replied, a hint of pride coloring his tone. "Separate from our family businesses, though allied. The eight of us formed it five years ago."

"How entrepreneurial of you," you said sarcastically. "And this compound—who exactly will be there?"

Hongjoong met your gaze steadily. "Myself. Seonghwa. Yunho. Yeosang. San. Mingi. Wooyoung. And Jongho."

You couldn't help the sound that escaped you—something between a laugh and a growl. "All eight of you. Together. How convenient."

"Each has their role," Hongjoong continued, undeterred by your reaction. "We've built something... significant."

"I'm sure you have," you said, your voice dripping venom. "One big happy family. And now you want to add me to your collection."

"Y/n," your father warned.

But you were beyond caring about decorum. "So I'm to be a prisoner in a house full of men who couldn't even be bothered to say goodbye seven years ago? Is that it?"

The words hung in the air, and for a split second, you caught something flash across Hongjoong's face—guilt, perhaps, or regret. Seonghwa's expression remained carefully neutral, but you noticed his hand tighten imperceptibly on the arm of his chair.

"You'll be a guest," Seonghwa corrected. "Protected and respected."

"Forgive me if I don't find that particularly reassuring coming from you," you said, Seonghwa's parting words from seven years ago echoing in your mind: "Find some nice civilian boy to marry, Y/n. Someone more... your speed."

"Enough," your father said sharply. "This isn't a negotiation, Y/n. It's been decided. You'll go with Hongjoong tomorrow and stay at the ATEEZ compound until the wedding. End of discussion."

The finality in his tone left no room for argument. You sat back in your chair, fury building inside you like a gathering storm. Trapped. You were going to be trapped with all eight of them, with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the memories and the pain they represented.

"If that's settled," Mr. Kim said, rising to his feet, "we should be going. We have much to prepare for Y/n's arrival."

Your father stood as well, extending his hand. "We'll speak tomorrow before she leaves."

As the men exchanged handshakes and platitudes, you remained seated, your mind racing. Three months in the lions' den—no, the wolves' den. Because that's what they were, weren't they? A pack of wolves who had once welcomed you as one of their own, only to turn on you when it suited them.

"Y/n," your father's voice broke through your thoughts. "Say goodbye to our guests."

You rose mechanically, your smile tight and false. "Mr. Kim, it was a pleasure. Mr. Park, always illuminating. Hongjoong... until tomorrow, I suppose."

Hongjoong inclined his head slightly. "I'll send a car at noon."

"How thoughtful," you replied. "I'll be sure to pack light. Wouldn't want to impose."

His eyes narrowed slightly at your tone, but he said nothing more. As they turned to leave, you caught Seonghwa watching you with an unreadable expression. For a moment, you thought you saw something like regret in his gaze, but it was gone so quickly you might have imagined it.

Once the door closed behind them, you rounded on your father. "How could you do this to me?"

"I'm protecting you," he said firmly. "The ATEEZ compound is a fortress. You'll be safer there than anywhere else."

"With the same men who abandoned me without a word? Who left me wondering for years what I'd done wrong? That's your idea of protection?"

"We felt sorry for you because your mom was sick, but she's gone now. Maybe it's time you learned to be alone." Wooyoung's last words to you floated through your mind, making your chest tighten with renewed pain.

Your father sighed heavily, suddenly looking older than his years. "There are things you don't understand, Y/n."

"Then explain them to me!" you demanded. "Tell me why my best friends disappeared from my life overnight. Tell me why you're suddenly so eager to marry me off to one of them."

A flicker of something—guilt? discomfort?—passed across your father's face before he carefully composed his features again.

He moved to the bar, pouring himself another drink. "Some secrets aren't mine to tell."

"Convenient excuse," you spat. "Everyone has secrets they can't share, decisions they can't explain. Am I the only one expected to accept everything blindly?"

Your father turned to face you, his expression grave. "In our world, ignorance can be a form of protection. Sometimes, not knowing is the safest position to be in."

"I stopped being safe the day I was born a Ricci," you countered. "At least give me the dignity of knowing what I'm walking into."

For a moment, something like indecision flickered across your father's face. Then he downed his drink in one swift motion. "Pack your things, Y/n. The decision is made."

You stared at him in disbelief, then turned on your heel and stormed out of the room. Your heels echoed against the marble floor as you climbed the stairs to your bedroom, each step fueled by rage and frustration.

Once inside, you slammed the door behind you with enough force to rattle the paintings on the walls. For a moment, you stood there, breathing heavily, fighting the urge to scream or break something—or everything.

Instead, you moved to your closet and yanked out a suitcase, throwing it onto the bed with unnecessary force. The thought of living under the same roof as all eight of them—eating breakfast across from Yunho's too-bright smile after he'd once told you to "Stop crying, it's embarrassing," passing San in the hallway who had called you a "lost puppy," hearing Wooyoung's distinctive laugh echoing through the rooms after he'd said you were "exhausting and needy"—it sent a confusing mix of emotions coursing through you. Anger, yes. Resentment, absolutely. But beneath that, something else—a dangerous flutter of anticipation that you refused to acknowledge.

You began throwing clothes into the suitcase haphazardly, muttering curses under your breath. "Stupid, arrogant, presumptuous men, thinking they can just—"

A knock at your door interrupted your tirade. "What?" you snapped.

Paolo's voice came through the door. "Miss Y/n, your father asked me to tell you that security protocols have been updated in light of tomorrow's move. No one leaves the house tonight without an escort."

"Fine," you called back. "Is that all?"

A pause. "He also said to remind you that the ATEEZ organization has a... reputation. They're not the boys you once knew."

You stilled, a silk blouse dangling from your fingers. "What kind of reputation?"

"They're effective," Paolo said simply. "Ruthless when necessary. But fair, by our standards."

Our standards. The standards of a world built on violence and power, where loyalty was currency and betrayal was punishable by death. A world where childhood friends could tell you that you were "not special" and that they'd been "just being polite all these years," then disappear without a trace.

"Thank you, Paolo," you said quietly. "Good night."

"Good night, Miss Y/n."

As his footsteps faded away, you sank onto the edge of your bed, the blouse forgotten in your lap. ATEEZ. You'd heard whispers of the name over the years—a new player in the city's underworld, methodical and disciplined in a way most organizations weren't. You'd never connected it to them, never imagined that the boys who had once sneaked you ice cream past your bedtime were now the men others in your world spoke of with wary respect.

You looked around your bedroom—the space that had been your sanctuary for years, the one place where you could pretend to be normal, where the weight of the Ricci name sometimes felt a little lighter. Tomorrow, you would leave it behind for a house full of ghosts from your past.

With renewed determination, you returned to your packing, this time with more care. If you were walking into the wolves' den, you'd be damned if you'd go unprepared.

As you folded a black evening dress—the kind that could double as armor in the right circumstances—you made yourself a promise. You wouldn't be the victim in this story. Not again. If they thought you were still that same trusting girl they'd left behind, they were about to learn how wrong they were.

The words that had haunted you for seven years—"You talk too much," "It's pathetic," "We've outgrown this phase of our lives," "Find your own life"—you would force them to eat every single one.

Hongjoong Kim might have agreed to marry you, and your father might have agreed to send you away, but that didn't mean you had to make it easy for any of them.

The game had changed, and this time, you would be the one setting the rules.

***

The morning arrived too quickly, sunlight streaming through windows you'd forgotten to close. You'd slept fitfully, dreams filled with shadows and fragments of memories—eight faces, eight voices, eight different kinds of betrayal.

By eleven, your bags were packed and waiting by the door. You'd chosen your outfit with deliberate care—black high-waisted trousers, a crimson silk blouse, and heels that added three dangerous inches to your height. Battle armor of a different kind.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts.

"Come in," you called, expecting your father with one final lecture about behavior and duty.

Instead, Paolo entered, carrying a small wooden box. His weathered face was solemn as he approached, setting the box on your dressing table.

"Your father is on a call," he said. "He asked me to see you off."

You nodded, unsurprised but still disappointed. "Of course he did."

Paolo's gaze softened. "Before you go, I have something for you." He gestured to the box. "It was your mother's."

Curious, you approached the box, running your fingers over the polished wood before lifting the lid. Inside, nestled in dark velvet, lay a pearl-handled pistol and an ornate dagger with an engraved hilt. Your breath caught in your throat.

"My mother's..." you whispered.

Paolo nodded. "The Beretta was a gift from your father on their wedding day. The knife was her grandfather's—Sicilian, from the old country." He reached in, lifting the pistol with careful hands. "She called this her insurance policy. Said a woman in our world should never be without options."

You took the weapon, feeling its weight—surprisingly light, perfectly balanced. Despite its delicate appearance, you knew it was as deadly as any of the more modern firearms in your father's collection.

"It's loaded," Paolo said quietly. "And the knife is sharp enough to slice through silk."

You looked up at him, understanding the message beneath his words. "Thank you, Paolo."

He inclined his head. "Your mother was fierce. You remind me of her more each day." His eyes met yours. "The ATEEZ boys—they're dangerous men now. But they were good boys once. I remember."

"People change," you said, carefully replacing the pistol in the box and closing the lid. Mingi's words echoed in your mind: "We're not the same people we were as kids, and honestly? Neither are you."

"Yes," Paolo agreed. "But not always completely." He lifted the box, handing it to you. "Hide these well. And remember—"

"A woman in our world should never be without options," you finished for him, tucking the box into your handbag.

A sad smile crossed his face. "May God go with you, little one."

You reached up, pressing a kiss to his weathered cheek. "Thank you for everything, Paolo."

He nodded once more, then turned to leave. At the door, he paused. "Your father loves you, Y/n. In his way."

"I know," you said softly. "In his way."

After he was gone, you stood alone in your bedroom for the last time, mentally saying goodbye to the sanctuary it had been. Then, squaring your shoulders, you picked up your handbag—now considerably heavier with your mother's "insurance policy"—and headed downstairs to meet the car that would take you to your new life.

* * *

The ATEEZ estate loomed before you like something from a gothic novel—a sprawling modern mansion of stone and glass, set behind imposing gates and surrounded by meticulously landscaped grounds. Security cameras tracked your arrival, and armed guards stood at strategic points along the perimeter.

As the car pulled up the circular driveway, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. Your mother's pistol and knife, now hidden in strategic places on your person, gave you a small measure of comfort.

The driver—a stoic man who hadn't spoken a word during the thirty-minute drive—opened your door. "Miss Ricci," he said with a slight bow. "Welcome to the ATEEZ compound."

You stepped out, surveying the fortress that would be your home for the next three months. "Charming," you murmured. "Does it come with a dungeon, or is that extra?"

The driver's expression didn't change as he retrieved your luggage from the trunk. "Mr. Kim and the others are waiting for you inside."

Before you could respond, the massive front doors swung open, and there they were—all eight of them, lined up in the entrance hall like a receiving line from your nightmares.

For a moment, you couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think. Seven years collapsed into nothing as you took in their faces—so familiar yet so changed. Boys no longer, but men with edges hardened by whatever lives they'd led since leaving yours.

Hongjoong stood at the center, impeccably dressed in all black, his posture rigid. His last words to you hung in the air between you: "Did you really think this was real, Y/n? We have real futures to build now, and frankly... you don't fit into them."

Beside him, Seonghwa watched you with that same unreadable expression from the night before, the man who once told you to "find some nice civilian boy to marry."

Yunho, taller than you remembered, shifted his weight nervously, the same man who had once said, "Stop crying, Y/n. It's embarrassing."

Yeosang's face remained impassive, but his eyes never left yours—the quiet one who had cruelly told you that you "talk too much" and that they "used to draw straws to see who had to listen to you ramble."

San's lips curved in a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes, the charmer who had dismissed you as "pathetic" and compared you to a "lost puppy."

Mingi stood slightly apart, his gaze so intense it was almost physical—the gentle soul who had become harsh enough to call you "clingy" and "desperate."

Wooyoung fidgeted, barely containing whatever energy coursed through him, the one whose words had cut deepest when he called you "exhausting and needy" and said they only tolerated you because they "felt sorry for you."

And Jongho, the youngest but somehow looking the most formidable, stood with arms crossed—the protector who had told you that you were "embarrassing yourself and your family" and to "have some dignity."

Eight men. Eight ghosts. Eight pieces of your past, standing before you in the flesh.

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words and buried memories.

Then, like a dam breaking, Wooyoung bounded forward with a cry of "Y/n!" before anyone could stop him. He swept you into a crushing hug, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around just as he had countless times when you were younger.

"You're finally here! I've been counting down the minutes! You look amazing—that red is totally your color—and your hair! I love what you've done with it!" His words tumbled out in a rush, his embrace warm and familiar, smelling of expensive cologne and something uniquely Wooyoung.

For one treacherous moment, you melted into the hug, your body remembering the comfort his arms had once provided. This was Wooyoung, your Wooyoung, who had once held you through the night after your mother's funeral, who had made you laugh even on your darkest days.

Then, just as quickly, another memory surfaced—Wooyoung's face, cold and distant, telling you that you were "exhausting" and that they "used to joke about how suffocating you were." The memory sent a chill through you, hardening your resolve.

You stiffened, planting your hands on his chest and shoving him away with enough force to make him stumble. "Touch me again without permission," you said icily, reaching into your jacket where the knife was hidden, "and I'll shoot you where you stand."

Rather than looking hurt or offended, Wooyoung's face split into a delighted grin. "There she is! Our fierce Y/n!" He turned to the others. "Didn't I tell you guys? Still the same spitfire!"

"Wooyoung," Hongjoong's voice cut through the air, sharp with warning. "Give her space."

Wooyoung pouted but stepped back, still grinning at you like you'd just shared an inside joke instead of threatening his life.

Your eyes swept over the rest of them, cataloging their reactions. Seonghwa's lips had thinned in disapproval—at Wooyoung's behavior or yours, you couldn't tell. Yunho looked caught between amusement and concern. Yeosang's expression hadn't changed, but something in his eyes had softened. San was openly smirking now. Jongho had unfolded his arms, his stance slightly more relaxed.

And Mingi... Mingi was looking at you with such naked longing that it felt like a physical blow. His eyes traced your face as if memorizing every detail, his expression so full of yearning and regret that for a moment, you felt your resolve waver. How could the same man who had called you "clingy" and "desperate" now look at you with such undisguised need?

You tore your gaze away, focusing instead on Hongjoong. "So, my dearly devoted fiancé," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm, "please show me to my cell. And I'd also make sure either the guns or bullets are hidden because if I find both, it will be a long night."

A muscle twitched in Hongjoong's jaw, but his expression remained controlled. "Your room is upstairs. Follow me."

You moved toward the staircase, deliberately brushing past the others without acknowledgment. As you passed Mingi, you felt him inhale sharply, as if capturing your scent.

"I'll have your bags brought up," Seonghwa said, his voice perfectly composed.

"How hospitable," you replied without looking back.

As you ascended the stairs beside Hongjoong, you could hear the murmur of voices below.

"Holy shit," San's voice drifted up. "She's even more beautiful than before."

"And deadlier," came Yeosang's quiet observation.

"That mouth on her though," Yunho added with a low whistle. "She's got more spirit than I remember."

"More sad," Mingi's solemn voice cut through the others. "Didn't you see her eyes? She's carrying ghosts."

There was a pause, then Wooyoung's distinctive laugh. "If she keeps being that mean to me, I might fall in love all over again."

"All of you, shut up," Jongho's deep voice commanded. "She can probably hear you."

You allowed yourself a small, bitter smile as you continued climbing. Let them talk. Let them wonder. Let them feel a fraction of the confusion and pain they'd inflicted on you.

Hongjoong remained silent beside you, leading you down a long hallway lined with modern art and subtle security cameras. Finally, he stopped before a door at the end of the corridor, producing a key.

"This will be your room," he said, unlocking the door and pushing it open. "You have your own bathroom and a small sitting area. The balcony overlooks the garden."

You stepped inside, taking in the spacious room with its elegant furnishings and muted color palette. It was beautiful, tasteful, and completely impersonal—like an upscale hotel suite.

"The key," you said, holding out your hand.

Hongjoong hesitated. "We don't typically lock doors here. The compound itself is secure."

"The key, Hongjoong," you insisted, remembering how he'd once told you that you were just "convenient when we were bored."

After a moment, he placed it in your palm. "Dinner is at seven in the main dining room. Seonghwa will show you the way."

"How thoughtful," you said flatly, closing your fingers around the key. "Anything else I should know about my incarceration?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "This isn't a prison, Y/n."

"No? Then I'm free to leave whenever I choose?"

"You know that's not possible," he said quietly. "Not with the Russo threat."

You laughed without humor. "Of course. Always some convenient reason why I have to do exactly as I'm told." You turned away from him, moving to the window. "You can go now."

You could feel him watching you, could almost hear the words he wasn't saying. Finally, he spoke.

"For what it's worth," he said softly, "this isn't how I imagined seeing you again."

You didn't turn around. "I'm sure it isn't. Your plans probably involved me being much more compliant and much less armed."

"Y/n—"

"Seven o'clock," you cut him off. "I'll be there. Now please leave."

The door closed quietly behind him. Only then did you allow your shoulders to sag, the weight of seeing all of them—of being seen by all of them—suddenly overwhelming.

You moved to the bed, sinking down onto its edge and pulling your mother's pistol from its hiding place. The pearl handle caught the light as you turned it in your hands, cool and solid and real when everything else felt like it was slipping away.

"Insurance policy," you whispered to yourself, echoing Paolo's words. Whatever game they were playing, whatever secrets they were keeping, you wouldn't be defenseless.

You thought of all the cruel words they had hurled at you seven years ago, words that had cut deeper than any knife could reach. Words like "pathetic," "embarrassing," "clingy," "exhausting," words that had made you question your worth, your place, your very self.

But now, sitting in the heart of their domain with your mother's pistol in your hand, you made yourself a new promise: they would never hurt you like that again.

Not this time.

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[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 27

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 26 | Series Masterlist | Part 28

Chapter Word Count: Almost 4k

Chapter Summary: An idea comes to you regarding part of your future and Bucky has a few choice words for your parents.

Chapter Warnings: Confrontation, bonding of sorts, inner turmoil, world building, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: I don't know what happened to the original post. Let's try this again! More Hold You Tight, and thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought it would feel strange with Curtis hanging out in the kitchen while you baked the brownies, but it wasn’t as bad as you thought, and it was something you’d have to get used to since he would be around you going forward. He didn’t try to fill the silence with small talk unless you asked him a question, likely trying to remain in the “shadows”. You did wonder what was on his mind since he mentioned being trapped, but it wasn’t any of your business. He was your bodyguard and that didn’t mean he’d be your friend. 

“Smells delicious,” he said, standing when you took them out of the oven. 

“Don’t worry. I won't burn myself,” you said, nodding for him to sit back down. “And thanks. I hope you like them.”

“I'm sure I will.”

Ray walked into the kitchen the moment you set the brownies out to cool off and looked between you and Curtis who settled back in his chair. “A treat for breakfast?” he guessed.

“A treat for Curtis,” you said, making your bodyguard smile a little.

Ray blinked hard and slow. “I see,” he said, pushing his glasses up. Did that upset him? 

“Well, that batch is for Curtis. You have first dibs on the other batch,” you clarified. 

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” The blonde raised an eyebrow. “And what about the boss?” 

“He’s third. He knows what he did,” you said unapologetically. They were your brownies. You could do what you wanted with them.

Curtis hid a smile before Ray asked, “And how are you feeling?”

You put your hands on the counter and shrugged. “Hard to say since I’m seeing my parents today and still dealing with…”

“Everything,” Ray finished for you. 

You nodded. “I appreciate you asking.” It felt like you hadn’t talked to him in days and you admittedly missed it. Like Curtis, keeping you safe wasn’t a bore or chore in his eyes. He believed you were brave and part of you was starting to believe it, too. 

“We’re all glad you're safe now,” he softly said.

“Careful there. You might be showing emotion,” Curtis said, earning him a glare from his colleague. 

“Where’s Bucky?” you asked. 

“He sulked for a minute when you kicked him out of the kitchen,” he said, making Curtis snort. Again, Bucky knew what he did. “But he’s in his office. Called Steve and Natalia. He also got an update on Lois.”

“How is she?” you asked, hoping that things were still looking up.

“She’s recovering well,” he assured you. You were glad to hear that. “From what we know, she’s stubborn and strong and it’ll take time, but she’ll be fine.”

You let out a breath. “I really need to see her, and I need to talk to Natasha,” you said. A woman you could hopefully help heal and move forward and a woman who was going to help you in some capacity. Both receiving and paying it forward. As that thought settled in your mind, an idea washed over you, making you stand up straighter and look at Ray again. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“I have a thought,” you answered, trying not to get too excited. “I need to talk to Bucky.”

Curtis jumped from his chair when you walked out without another word, his footsteps behind you nearly silent. He really was going to be a good bodyguard for you. Ray followed, too, likely curious about why you rushed out so quickly.

Bucky looked up from his desk when you walked into the office, a smile on his face when he stood up. “Brownies ready?” he asked, holding his hand up to keep Curtis and Ray from walking in. 

“Yeah, but that’s not what I came in here for,” you said, taking a seat on the sofa. Bucky immediately went to join you. “I have a bit of a crazy idea and I wanted to get your opinion on it.” 

“You want my opinion?” The subtle shift in his posture showed he was touched. “And I’m the crazy one, Kotyonok, so nothing you could say would ever sound crazy to me.”

You didn’t dispute that he was crazy. “So, you know how one of the things that attracted you to me was helping your mom and my generally kind nature?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“And you helped Natasha however long ago so she could give the women who work at her hotel a better life, right?” you continued. You remembered Natasha telling you if it wasn't for Bucky she wouldn't be where she was. 

“Yes, I did,” he confirmed, not elaborating on how or why.

“What if I do something kind of like that? What if I try to help other women who have…” You swallowed and tried to find the right words, suddenly nervous to ask for his opinion. “Been through stuff, like Lois or me.”

He tilted his head. “You want to help women who have been hurt in some capacity?”

“Yeah. Assault. Abuse. Trauma,” you said. You thought of your own situation, not just Clark's attack, but Bucky systemically making his way into your life. He wasn't out to harm you, but some stalkers did try to harm their victims. “And it's not like I’d have to quit being a florist. I just… I don't know. I want to do something.”

It could've been a means to take back some more control of your life. Being by Bucky’s side, you didn’t want to lose who you were in your core and wanted to continue putting good back into the world. Perhaps you wanted to pay it forward even more since others didn't have the kind of money and protection you now had. 

“It’s stupid, isn't it?” you asked when he stayed quiet. 

You were a florist. Yes, you volunteered when you could and wanted to help people, but it wasn’t your area of expertise. An endeavor like that was out of your depth, wasn't it? 

Bucky framed your face, his eyes flashing with a mixture of pride and fury. “Don't you ever say an idea of yours is stupid. I won't stand for that,” he said, his gaze softening considerably. “Especially since that’s a great idea.”

You studied him, looking for any sign that he was joking. He wasn’t. “Really?” you asked in a small voice.

He kissed the tip of your nose with a smile. “Really. Money won’t be an issue. We can sketch out a plan and figure out what exactly you want to focus on, start local and small. Or you can sketch out the plan and I’ll give input if you seek it out,” he said, a hint of his businessman tone coming out. “If this is really something you want, we’ll make it happen.”

“So, just like that?” you asked. He was really supporting this?

“Of course. It’s admirable that you continue to look out for others and I’m going to support whatever you want to do,” he said. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. You didn’t want to admit how nice it felt that he was backing this up, especially when you had no set plan yet. 

“It also means a lot that you asked for my opinion.”

“Well, we have to talk through these things. It’s what couples do,” you said. 

His smile was brighter than the light in the room. “So, you really see us as a couple now.”

“I guess so,” you said. What choice did you have?

He sighed before he kissed your lips, featherlight and full of promise. “You won’t regret it,” he whispered, suddenly standing and helping you to your feet, too. “You’re still in your robe.”

“I’ve been in the kitchen this whole time,” you reminded him, your mind going back to Curtis and wondering more about his past. 

Bucky checked his watch. “Why don’t you get ready for lunch? I think Curtis and Ray have seen you in your robe enough for one day,” he tried to tease and checked his watch. 

“And what about the day I’m walking around in nothing but my underwear?” you blurted out without meaning to.

Darkness crossed Bucky’s eyes, but it was more lust than rage when he put his hands on your hips. “I’d hate to have to hurt my own men, but I do love the thought of you walking around our home so… freely.”

“I’ll bet you do,” you whispered, knowing he’d probably chase you around or drag you to bed if he had the chance. “But for now, yes, I should get dressed.”

“Don’t want to keep your parents waiting,” he said, letting you pull away to get ready. “I hope I make a lasting impression.”

You shivered, wondering just what kind of impression he wanted to make. “I’m sure you will.”

Curtis leaned against the wall outside of the office while Ray stood on the other side. “You want to help others, huh?” your bodyguard asked.

You stopped to face him. “Yeah, I do.”

Curtis didn’t say anything else, but he looked impressed. So did Ray. You didn’t have time to dwell on that. You had to get ready for a lunch that you didn’t want to go to. 

But your whole life as of late had been a series of events you had to participate in without much of a choice, so what was one more?

Bucky held your hand the entire drive to the restaurant and didn’t force you to talk, which you appreciated since your stomach was in knots. You found yourself playing with the diamond necklace, which he had put around your neck before you left. Your mom would no doubt stare at it or make a comment since you had never had such a nice piece of jewelry. Was this going to be a disaster or were you overthinking it?

“We’ll get through this quickly,” Bucky told you once the car stopped, his lips brushing the top of your hand. “Long enough for me to meet them and send them on their way.”

The knot in your stomach tightened more. How exactly was he going to send them on their way? “And after that?”

“Whatever you want,” he promised, helping you out of the car.

You didn’t pay much attention as you were escorted to the private table, but you knew Ray and Curtis weren’t far behind. The place was bright and airy, but sophisticated. It would've been a nice place to go on a date. Would this lunch sour that idea?

“I’m here,” Bucky whispered, pulling out your chair for you.

Considering the way he burst into your life you never expected to lean on him for anything. You had since your attack and now this, looking to him for support without meaning to. You even asked for his opinion on your idea to help other women, which you did seek out. Who were you becoming?

“Why do I care so much about what they think?” you asked when he sat down beside you.

“Because they’re your parents and it’s natural,” he replied, taking your hand under the table. “But you don’t need them.”

You were about to argue that you did need them before you caught them in your line of sight, your back rigid as they moved closer. They didn’t look overjoyed to see you, which broke your heart a bit. Bucky squeezed your hand before you realized you had squeezed his hand first. This was going to be a long lunch.

“It’s good to see you,” your dad said when Bucky released your hand only to pull your chair back to help you stand. “And you must be-”

“Bucky, her boyfriend. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, shaking his hand and smirking when your dad winced and turning a critical eye on your mom. Neither of them hugged you before they took their seats and you quickly sat back down to hide your embarrassment. “You two raised quite the woman,” he added, daring them to say something.

“Thank you,” your mom said, looking over the menu. 

“Since the menu seems to be more important than greeting your daughter, please, pick whatever you want,” Bucky smiled like a wolf getting ready to strike while you gaped at him. “I spare no expense when it comes to her and her… loved ones. Just look at her necklace. I purchased it for our first date.”

Your mom’s mouth fell open and you felt a bit of satisfaction when your dad squirmed in his seat. Did that make you a bad person? “I’m sorry. I meant nothing by it.” Your mom cleared her throat. “We’re thrilled to see you. It’s just with our accounts being frozen…”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” you filled in the blanks. You were used to it.

“Yes, I’m sorry about your accounts,” Bucky said without sounding sorry at all and pretended to look over his menu. “Interesting how you always think of others first even when you have a lot on your mind, Kotyonok,” he said loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Makes me wonder what that came from.”

Your mom’s mouth didn’t drop again, but you heard her sharp inhale on her next breath and your dad squirmed again. They weren’t used to subtle insults like that, especially for someone who had just met them. But as Bucky took your hand, you very much felt like his queen and he was defending you as such.

“Aren’t you going to compliment her necklace?” Bucky asked, turning his head to smile at you. “It’s as beautiful as she is.”

Your face felt hot when your parents stared and admired the diamonds. “They don’t have to say anything,” you mumbled.

“But I don’t understand. What kind of parents don’t compliment their child, especially when they haven’t seen them in some time?” he asked. Once again, it was loud enough for them to hear. He was digging the knife in and twisting it in the most passive aggressive way.

“It’s beautiful,” your mom said enviously, avoiding looking at Bucky. 

“Thanks,” he said, flagging the server down and putting a hand to his chest. “Like I said, whatever you want. It’s on me.”

You picked a light meal, knowing there was a high chance you couldn’t stomach something heavy. Your mom chose the highest priced meal, which Bucky merely smiled expectantly. Your dad had the good sense to not do the same. It would’ve been nice if they asked how you were or gave some sort of indication that they cared.

“How did you two meet?” your dad asked to break the tension, which only made you nervous all over again.

“My club, and I very much fell for her first,” Bucky answered easily and leaned over to kiss your temple. “I knew she was the one the moment I laid eyes on her.”

“Club?” your mom questioned. “Since when do you go to clubs?”

“It was for Addison’s bachelorette party,” your boyfriend answered for you, smiling again. “You know Addison, don’t you? I would hope so. She’s practically family to her.”

You took a sip of your water and said nothing as your parents looked more uncomfortable with each passing second. The air was awkward to say the least.  Bucky, on the other hand, looked over the moon one second and was ready to kill the next. It had to be giving your parents whiplash.

“She’s a good friend,” your mom said, her smile shaky. “How’s the shop?” she asked, changing the subject.

“The shop’s great,” you said and found yourself smiling since you did love the place and your job. “Mrs. Crandle is still a great boss and-”

“And you’re still just a florist,” she cut you off dismissively with a shake of her head, wiping your smile away. “You could’ve been so much more.”

Your eyes glossed over, but you held your head high. “There’s nothing wrong with me being a florist, and I am more.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“Ease up,” your dad whispered to your mom, shocking you both. Since when was he not on her side? Or was it because Bucky glared at them?

“Just a florist.” The man beside you chuckled, a dark and empty sound. “Tell them about the idea you told me about earlier today.”

The knot filled your stomach so much that you feared you’d get sick. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you said, not wanting to hear what they had to say since they never backed you up on anything.

“But it’s a great idea,” he assured you, giving your parents a smile. “Wait until you hear it.”

Your dad leaned forward and appeared interested. Was it for show? “What is it?” 

Bucky nodded, encouraging you to speak up. “I went through something recently,” you said carefully, not wanting to blurt it out. “And it made me realize I want to help others and build a support system for women who have been through things.”

Your parents looked at each other as you held your breath. “That sounds ambitious,” your dad said just as carefully as you. “I realize you have good intentions, but…”

“You can’t just up and decide you want to run a charity,” your mom said, laughing and tapping her finger on the table when Bucky gripped his water glass. “You need more than just good intentions. You need experience and funding, which you have none of.”

You sighed. It was exactly what you expected. They wanted you to be more, but offered no encouragement when you tried. 

“Aren’t you even going to ask what I went through?” you asked, your voice thick with emotion. For the first time, your mom looked worried. “Someone-”

“They don’t deserve to know.” Bucky took a sip before he gently set the glass down, making you eye him warily. He looked like he was ready to explode. “She isn’t just deciding, by the way. She has volunteer experience and she’s going to formulate a plan. And what she may lack in other ‘experiences’, she has passion, heart, and drive. It’s a shame you're too blind to see that.”

Your mom shrank back in her seat, looking as small as you felt. “I didn’t mean-”

“And as far as funding, I’ll be helping her with that since I don't expect either of you to lend her a thing. She has her own money, too. You just didn't know it,” he explained, bitterly laughing again at their shocked expressions. “Jesus Christ. You’re her parents. You should be proud of her. She’s loved by everyone she meets and she has thrived without your support.” He let that hang in the air before he continued. “She has more character in her finger than you two have in your entire body and I will back her up on anything and everything she needs because I believe in her.”

You placed a hand on Bucky’s thigh to ground him, your eyes welling with tears again. You were torn between not wanting him to cause a scene and for him to keep speaking because it just felt nice to hear. It felt pathetic and empowering, a strange combination. 

“I just wanted you to support and love me,” you whispered, your chest aching at finally saying the words. “Why didn't you?”

Why did it hurt so much that you didn't have the love you needed?

Your dad leaned back like you slapped him while your mom didn't move. “We did and do love you,” he swore, looking to his wife for help when Bucky scoffed in disbelief. “Tell her.”

He shouldn't have to tell her that.

“We just wanted you to have direction,” your mom said, flinching when Bucky leaned forward with one elbow on the table. She couldn't even say she loved you. 

“She has always had direction. You just never bothered to look where she was going,” he said, his voice soft and dangerous. “Though I guess your lack of support helped build her into the woman I love, so I almost wonder if I should thank you for not being who she needed.”

“I’m not going to sit here and let you continue to insult us,” your dad said since your mom was rendered speechless for once. 

You almost warned your dad that Bucky wasn't the kind of man to mouth off to, but didn't. 

“You know, I think I know now why you wanted to become a florist,” Bucky said as if he didn’t hear him. “You’re surrounded by warmth and brightness and you get to watch things bloom and grow and thrive because you never had that.”

You blinked away your tears. Bucky saw what they didn’t. You didn’t have to point it out.

“We do love our daughter, even if we didn't show it in the best way,” your dad argued, trying to take your hand across the table, but Bucky pulled you back. It was another brick added to the wall to keep people he didn’t want near you out.

“You didn’t love her enough and you never will.” He took his wallet out and threw some money on the table, more than enough to cover the meals that hadn’t yet arrived at the table. “Thank God I love her enough for all of us and I always will.”

Your mom sniffled. You hardly ever saw her cry. “I…” She trailed off when your boyfriend tossed more money on the table. 

“That should cover the rest of your time here in the city. Take it. Or don’t. But I’m not going to sit here and play nice with people who make my future wife feel low about herself.” He pushed himself up and let your parents see just how large and imposing he was. “Just leave her alone the way you always have.”

They were good at leaving you alone. 

“Please,” your dad begged, making you pause. “We’re sorry.”

“Empty apologies mean nothing,” Bucky said, his eyes narrowed. “Oh, and as it stands, I don’t want you at our wedding, but maybe your loving daughter will change my mind.”

“Wedding?!” your mom exclaimed. 

“Yes, she’s going to be my wife and have a wonderful lifetime with me.” He smiled when you didn't disagree. “Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

Bucky helped you up from the table and led you away, not even letting you look back when you heard your mom choke on a sob. They didn’t chase after you. They never would.

Your steps felt heavy. Your head spun. It was a relief that they knew how you felt in some capacity, but you didn't feel much better. Why not?

“They’re the past and I’m your present and future,” your boyfriend whispered, slipping an arm around you when you bit your lip. “I’m the family you need.”

“Thank you for sticking up for me,” you said, making him preen. 

“I’ll always defend and stick up for you,” he promised, his grip possessive. “And I'm proud of you.”

What was there to be proud of? No, you wouldn't think like that. You were a good person, and a survivor. Your parents and their lack of support and care wouldn't take that from you.

“But I didn’t even get to tell them what happened.” What if they had wanted to help? They weren’t loving, but you were still their daughter and your mom had looked worried for a second.

“You don’t need them. Not when you have me,” he said, leaving no room to argue when he nodded to Ray and Curtis who hovered nearby. “And I won't let them hurt you ever again.”

You should’ve known lunch with your parents meant Bucky would close the door. You would have no choice but to move forward. And you didn't know what that meant except that you were now one step closer to being entirely his. 

This chapter took a lot out of me! As a mom who wants to show nothing but love and support to my babies (and protect them), I want to wrap Kotyonok in a huge hug. Where do we think they'll go from here? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sowerpatch]

terms of play [chapter 5 - backcourt violation]

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Summary: Azzi Fudd built the Golden Valkyries on a dare, but drafting Paige Bueckers was all strategy. Fresh off an NCAA title, Paige is everything the team needs—and everything Azzi shouldn’t want.

Officially, it’s all business. Unofficially, it’s glances that linger too long and touches that mean too much.

Author's note: this is an AU where Azzi owns the Golden State Valkyries and drafts Paige. Azzi's family are all original characters. Also, Azzi is three years older than Paige.

*CHAPTER LIST HERE*

Chapter Summary: Azzi keeping things professional is proving harder than expected. She keeps pulling back, but Paige’s persistence is relentless—showing up with takeout, stealing glances, and testing every boundary.

It’s a quiet tug-of-war, and Azzi’s defense is starting to crack. Word count: 4,430

A luxurious rooftop bar, Manhattan. April 2025. 

“You own the team?!” 

Azzi looked at her, lips parted slightly like she might say something. But she didn’t. She just gave a single nod, smooth and unbothered.    Paige scrubbed a hand down her face, eyes narrowed like she was betrayed. 

“You my boss lady?” 

Azzi didn’t flinch. She adjusted her glass on the ledge, back to the city lights. 

Paige dropped her voice, mock-serious. “Do you, like… sign checks? Make cuts? Have secret rich-people meetings?” 

Azzi gave the faintest smile. “Yes.” 

Paige stepped closer, her disbelief loud. “You let me say all that stuff back at the suite. You let me flirt with you. While being my future boss.” 

“You didn’t seem like someone who needed permission.” 

“Oh I didn’t,” Paige said, hand on her chest like she was scandalized. “But damn, I was out here throwing my best lines. I asked if you wanted nuggets and affection. You just sat there looking like money.” 

Azzi shifted her gaze to her, unreadable. “Is that your usual pitch?” 

“It’s undefeated,” Paige said. “Except apparently when the girl is secretly the owner of a WNBA team and I find out during the afterparty like some clueless walk-on.” 

"Your intentions were loud, even without words." Azzi said, tone even. 

“I had no idea I was seducing upper management,” Paige said. “You looked like you stepped out of a Forbes cover story just to ruin someone’s life.” 

“And you looked like you wanted yours ruined.” 

Heat spiked up Paige’s neck. She coughed once, failed at hiding her grin. 

“So what now?” she asked. “Is this where you say I’m being inappropriate and escort me back to the buffet table?” 

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She lifted her gaze back to the skyline, face unreadable. 

“This is where I remind you,” she said, “that the draft is over. You're under contract. And I expect professionalism.” 

Paige leaned against the railing beside her, shoulder brushing close. 

“Professionalism. Got it,” she said. “But if I ever happen to flirt again—hypothetically—it’s because I respect my boss deeply.”    "You’re insufferable.”    “No, I’m just realizing I shot my shot at the one person who can cut my career short before it even starts.” 

“I’d never do that,” Azzi said, voice low and measured. “I’d let you suffer slowly.” 

“Comforting.” 

Azzi turned back to the skyline. “Are you going to keep spiraling, or are you going to enjoy your party?” 

Paige stepped closer. “That depends. You gonna keep looking like that?” 

- 

Valkyries HQ, San Francisco. April 2025.   

The soundstage echoed with flashes and instructions. Rookies moved in and out of frame, holding poses with branded balls, showing off their new gear. Purple backdrops. Gold lighting.  

A camera operator gestured for a little more chin tilt. Someone from PR handed over a sweat towel between takes. 

Azzi stood off to the side, poised near the monitors. She’d been invited by the media director to observe. Just a short check-in. No remarks. Her role, technically, didn’t require her presence. But her name carried enough weight that everyone straightened when they noticed her watching. 

She kept her expression still. 

Across the set, Paige Bueckers stepped in front of the lens. 

She wore the fresh Valkyries kit like it belonged on her. Jersey tucked. The lighting flattered her angles in ways that weren’t exactly accidental. 

Paige caught her watching. That grin showed up instantly. 

Azzi’s jaw flexed once. 

The photographer signaled for Paige to turn. She did—with a wink aimed directly across the room. 

Azzi exhaled through her nose, subtle and sharp. She didn’t react. Her arms folded tighter. Her heels shifted half a step, just enough to re-center her stance. 

The assistant next to her leaned in. “She’s a natural,” he said, nodding toward Paige. 

Azzi didn’t answer. 

Because she already knew that. 

-    Azzi’s office in the Valkyries HQ, San Francisco. April 2025. 

The only light in the room came from her screen. 

Azzi sat in her high-backed chair, one hand resting lightly on her mouse, eyes fixed on a folder full of media day selects. Hundreds of images lined the display—rookies posing with basketballs, arms crossed under bright lighting, gear freshly unboxed and pressed for show. 

She clicked through them with practiced indifference. A few she flagged for approval, others she passed without a second glance. 

Then she paused. 

One frame held her attention longer than she meant to let it. 

Paige, mid-laugh, half-turned toward the camera. Jersey sharp, hair pulled back, the kind of confidence that couldn’t be coached. Something about her grin felt uncontained, a little unruly. 

Azzi didn’t notice she’d clicked back until it happened twice. She closed the folder abruptly. 

Her head throbbed faintly. Too much screen time. Too many decisions. 

The knock on the door came before she could stand. 

She turned, expecting Ines or maybe someone from security. 

Instead, the door opened to Paige Bueckers holding a brown paper bag and two bottles of water. 

“Hope you’re not the type to pull a fire alarm over Chinese takeout,” Paige said, stepping in. 

Azzi didn’t speak, but the surprise look on her face was subtle. 

“I figured you haven’t eaten. You’ve got that CEO glow. You know, the kind that screams underfed and overscheduled.” 

Paige crossed the room without waiting for permission, dropping the bag on Azzi’s coffee table. She didn’t touch anything else. 

Azzi kept her expression still. “This isn’t a locker room.” 

“Yeah, and you don’t look like someone who’s ever been in one. Still, I figured saving your life with spring rolls might earn me ten minutes of your time.” 

Azzi stood, slowly, smoothing the front of her blazer. Her heels made a sharp sound against the floor. 

Paige smiled. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

“You’re assuming I accept.” 

“You didn’t kick me out yet.” Paige pulled out a takeout container, already unwrapping it. “I’ll take that as a win.” 

The smell curled through the air—ginger, garlic, roasted heat. Azzi’s stomach twisted, caught between protest and surrender. 

Azzi looked down at the takeout, lips pressed in a thin line. She wasn’t sure when she’d last eaten. Maybe a salad between meetings, maybe not even that.  

The scent rising from the bag was warm and grounding, annoyingly tempting. 

Her gaze flicked to Paige, still standing there like she belonged in her office, too casual, too confident. 

Azzi exhaled. 

“Sit,” she said, gesturing toward the couch. “You brought it. You might as well eat.” 

Paige didn’t hesitate. “You sure? I don’t want HR on my ass eating with my boss.” 

Azzi gave her a look. “You’re not charming enough to cause a scandal.” 

“I’m working on it,” Paige grinned, dropping onto the couch and unboxing the food like it was a date. “But I’ll warn you, if you fall in love over chow mein, I take zero responsibility.” 

Azzi sat beside her, a careful distance away. “I don’t fall in love.” 

Paige didn’t miss a beat. She smirked, dragging her eyes down and up again with unbothered confidence. “Then I guess I’ve got work to do.” 

The joke landed with ease, but Azzi didn’t laugh. 

It was supposed to be harmless. A flirt. But it slipped past the armor. She could feel the tension curling behind her ribs, thick and uninvited.  

Paige made everything look easy. Like Azzi wasn’t the one with something to lose. 

She reached for her chopsticks, needing something to do with her hands. 

“Eat your food, Rookie.” 

- 

Fudd Children’s Hospital, San Francisco. May 2025. 

The children’s hospital lobby gleamed under soft lighting, rebranded banners hung beside old family crests. The Fudd name was stitched into the walls, into the hospital wings named after her late grandparents, into the polished marble floor that stretched beneath Azzi’s heels.  

She stood near the welcome desk, navy suit tailored so precisely it looked like it had been sewn onto her frame that morning.  

Cameras clicked in slow rhythm around her, the press orbiting politely but closely, waiting for her to smile. She hadn’t yet. 

A rustle of laughter echoed from the end of the hall. 

Paige stood near the arts table, crouched beside a boy holding up a finger-painted Valkyries logo. The hem of her untucked white button-up brushed the waistband of her pants. The sleeves were rolled like she'd helped clean up glue moments ago, and she had paint on her wrist. 

She looked up, grinning. 

“Hello there Ms. Fudd,” Paige greeted, her voice warm and low. 

Azzi’s eyes flicked to the cameras, then back to her. “You’re early.” 

“I’m punctual for anything that involves finger paints and royalty,” Paige said, straightening. 

Azzi lifted one brow. “Try not to stain the walls.” 

Paige took a few steps forward, eyes skimming the curve of Azzi’s collar. “Can’t promise anything. I get distracted when boss ladies wear navy like it’s a weapon.” 

The photographer waved them together for a photo. Paige didn’t wait for approval. She stepped beside her, shoulder brushing lightly, too casual for strangers. 

“Smile like you like me,” Paige whispered. 

Azzi’s gaze stayed ahead, lips curving just enough for the cameras. “I’m tolerating you. There’s a difference.” 

Click. 

Paige leaned a little closer, whispering under her breath. “You’re so hot when you lie.” 

Azzi inhaled once, sharp and shallow, then stepped away just as the camera lowered. Her expression didn’t change, but Paige caught the way her fingers flexed. 

A nurse gestured toward the playroom.  

They were meant to make an appearance, wave at families, let the city see the Valkyries care. 

Paige followed her in. She didn’t have to. No one was giving orders. She simply kept step like she had always belonged at her side. 

Azzi spared her a glance. “Your shirt is uneven.” 

Paige tugged it lower. “Didn’t think you’d be checking.” 

“You are in public,” Azzi said. 

Paige smirked. “You keep telling yourself that’s the only reason.” 

Azzi turned toward the doorway, jaw set.    This was madness disguised as Paige Bueckers. 

-    Paige’s apartment, Oakland. April 2025.  

By morning, the photo had already made the rounds. 

It wasn’t just in the press release from Fudd Children’s Hospital or the feature write-ups from local outlets. It had flooded social media—reshared by fans, picked up by sports accounts, and quietly passed around in group chats.  

A cropped version had even gone viral: Paige Bueckers mid-laugh, a kid’s drawing in one hand, Azzi Fudd beside her in navy silk, profile half-turned, expression unreadable. They weren’t even looking at each other. But somehow, the space between them did all the work. 

The top comment under one repost: 

“Whatever they’re cooking, I’m ordering seconds.” 

Another: 

“This energy is insane. WHO is writing this script?” 

Screenshots scattered across platforms.  

Someone dubbed them PR soulmates. 

Another edited hearts in the background.  

A few fan edits turned up on TikTok, complete with slow zooms and love songs that felt entirely too on the nose. 

Paige watched the storm unfold from her hotel bed, barefoot and still in yesterday’s sweats.  

One photo in particular had her attention.  

It was taken just as she leaned in to whisper something to Azzi during a painting demo. Her smile was cocky. Azzi’s jaw was sharp. Their elbows brushed. 

Paige cropped it and opened Instagram. 

She hovered for a moment, then dropped it in Azzi’s DMs. 

Tell me this doesn’t look like a power couple soft-launch. 

She hit send. 

Then, just below it: 

We might need a joint statement... or dinner. 

Seen. 

- 

Embassy Suites, South Bend. May 2025. 

The hotel room lights were dimmed low, just the soft glow of the city pushing through the window. Paige sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, sneakers already laced. Her jersey hung over the back of the chair. She hadn’t touched it yet. 

On the nightstand, her phone buzzed. 

She answered without looking. “Yo.” 

KK’s voice came through, smooth and familiar. “You ready?” 

Paige leaned back against the headboard, exhaling. “I think so.” 

“You sound like you’re about to walk into a deposition.” 

“I’m excited,” Paige said, then paused. “But I’m also nervous. Like, weirdly nervous.” 

“Weirdly? Girl, it’s preseason. You’ve played in front of ten thousand before.” 

“Yeah, but this is different.” Paige rolled her head toward the window. “First pro game. Whole new league. I don’t want to mess it up.” 

“You won’t,” KK said. “You’ve been ready. You’re overthinking again.” 

“Of course I’m overthinking. My name’s on the damn posters.” 

“You’re nervous because you care,” KK added. “That’s good. But you’re not out there to prove anything. You’re there to do what you always do.” 

Paige closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words settle. Her fingers stilled.  

“Okay, but if I airball the first shot, I’m blaming you personally.” 

KK smirked. “Fair. But only if you give me credit when you drop 30.” 

Paige laughed, the nerves loosening just enough.  

She tilted the phone slightly and looked at herself in the reflection. Her hair still needed fixing.  

Then KK’s voice dropped a little, playful. “How’s Dallas treating you off court?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Y'know exactly what it means. New city. New fans. New girls.” 

Paige smirked. “You think I’ve got time to be out here running game?” 

“I think you can’t help yourself.” 

Paige sighed into the speaker, one arm flung over her face. Her thoughts weren’t exactly empty on that subject.  

They kept circling back to someone. Someone with a navy pantsuit, a careful smile, and a way of standing still like the room moved around her. 

“Been busy,” Paige said finally. 

KK narrowed her eyes. “Busy, huh. Like, weight room busy or someone’s-bed busy?” 

“I’ve been behaving.” 

KK blinked. “Okay. Who is she?” 

“What?” 

“You’re dodging. You never dodge unless someone’s got you in your feelings. Spill.” 

Paige sat up, ran both hands through her hair, and stared out at the window. 

“I don’t know yet,” she muttered. 

KK’s voice softened. “So it’s real?” 

The corner of Paige’s mouth curved like she wasn’t ready to talk about it. Like she wanted to hold it a little longer before letting the world in.    -    Joyce Center, Notre Dame. May 2025.    The media room pulsed with camera clicks and artificial light. Paige sat at the table in front of the Valkyries backdrop, arms folded loose, hair slicked back, warmup jacket unzipped just enough to make her look like she belonged here without trying.   

Her first preseason game was hours away, but the press was already circling, eager.  

A reporter leaned in. “New city, new start. What’s keeping you balanced outside basketball?”  

Paige let out a breath through her nose, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Early morning lifts. Film. The usual chaos. Sometimes I sleep. Sometimes I flirt with the idea of sleep.”  

Laughter rumbled across the room.  

Another voice cut in. “Anyone special helping you adjust to San Francisco?”  

The grin hit her face before she could stop it.  

“Define special,” she said, chin tilted.  

Flashes popped.   

Lisa Leslie shifted behind the cameras, her posture like a warning shot.  

Paige leaned closer to the mic. “There’s been generous hospitality,” she added, dragging the word just long enough to draw raised brows.  

“You mean the management?” someone clarified.  

She held their gaze, eyes flashing like she knew exactly what she was doing. “Let’s just say I’ve had a very warm welcome.”  

Beside her, Kiki nudged her under the table.  

“Next question,” the moderator called, barely hiding the urgency.  

Paige sat back, smile lingering. In the back of her mind, something electric buzzed. 

- 

Valkyries HQ, San Francisco. May 2025.       The Valkyries’ scrimmage ran long. The echo of sneakers and the thud of the ball filled the private gym like heartbeat and breath, fast and relentless.  

Coaches shouted from the sidelines, staff scribbled on tablets, but none of it reached the upper level where Azzi stood—hidden behind the tinted glass of the executive viewing box. She hadn’t announced her arrival. She rarely did. 

She watched. 

The team moved with precision and chaos in equal parts. Paige was in the middle of it all, white jersey clinging to her shoulder blades, hair damp with sweat, jaw set like she was hunting something just out of reach.  

Azzi’s gaze lingered there longer than she intended. The staff beside her said nothing. They knew better than to ask why she came. 

When practice ended, Paige disappeared into the lockers with the rest of the team. Azzi turned and left without a word. 

Downstairs, the hallway outside the locker room was cooler, washed in soft overhead lights.  

Paige stepped out still in her compression shirt and shorts, towel slung around her neck. Her face lifted when she saw Azzi leaning against the far wall, a bottle of water already waiting in one hand like she had been standing there for hours. 

“Well, damn,” Paige said with a grin. “Did I just hallucinate the boss lady in the wild?” 

Azzi offered the bottle without comment. Paige took it, brushing her fingers lightly against Azzi’s. 

“I knew I felt judged mid-practice,�� Paige added, twisting the cap. “You were up there watching, weren’t you?” 

Azzi ignored her question. 

“When was the last time you actually slept?” 

The question knocked the air out of Paige’s rhythm. She paused mid-sip, water hanging between her lips and a half-formed thought. Her eyes flicked toward Azzi, searching her face for any sign of humor. 

She didn’t find any. 

“I mean… I sleep,” Paige said finally, voice caught somewhere between honesty and deflection. “Just maybe not the doctor-recommended kind.” 

Azzi said nothing. Her gaze didn’t waver.  

Paige scratched at the back of her neck. 

“That your way of asking if I’m okay?” she added, trying for a smirk. “Coz that’s kinda hot.” 

“What happened to being professional?”    Paige scoffed, crumpling the empty water bottle in her hand. “Oh, come on! You’re the one who showed up like a ghost and waited outside with hydration. That’s at least a little unprofessional.” 

Azzi’s brow lifted. Paige leaned in slightly, grin blooming. 

“You ambushed me with emotional support,” she said. “Feels kinda against team policy.” 

“This is just payback,” she explained, eyes on Paige. “You brought me takeout. I brought you water. We’re even.” 

Paige leaned against the wall, smirk already forming. “If we’re evening the score, I’d prefer my payback come in the form of dinner.” 

Something flickered behind Azzi's expression, too quick to read.     “That’s definitely not the meaning of staying professional.” 

She didn’t wait for Paige’s comeback. The look she gave was unreadable, somewhere between restraint and calculation, before she turned and walked away without another word. 

Paige stayed where she was, lips parted, the smirk tugging slower this time. 

- 

Pan Pacific, London. May 2025.    The rain traced slow patterns down the tall windows of her hotel suite, London cast in a dim silver light beneath her.   

Azzi stood with a hand braced on the glass, her reflection barely visible against the skyline. She had been reviewing acquisition notes for Fudd Holdings all afternoon for a British client, her inbox stacked with flagged threads and negotiations waiting on her word.  

The television droned in the background, still on from when she'd asked for local news.  

A sports segment rolled in unexpectedly, the Valkyries logo blinking to life across the screen. 

Azzi didn’t turn around right away.  

It was Paige’s voice that made her look.  

Interview lighting flattered her poorly. Paige sat on the press bench in her team gear, eyes rimmed in fatigue, answering questions about the upcoming pre-season matchup against the Atlanta Dream.   

She made a joke about guarding Brittney Griner that earned a few laughs, but it came too late to hide the way her shoulders drooped. Her voice cracked halfway through a sentence. 

Azzi narrowed her eyes.  

There was something dull beneath her usual brightness. The spark remained, but it flickered. That kind of wear didn’t happen in one night.  

She turned from the window and walked to the armchair, remote slipping from her hand to the cushion beside her.  

She opened her phone and navigated to Instagram on muscle memory.  

The screen loaded her DMs.  

They were all still there.  

Paige had sent a handful over the last week. One had just been a picture of her new team shoes, captioned with a “look who’s finally sponsored.”   

Another was a short clip of Azzi at the hospital event, caught in the background of a reel Paige reposted with a fire emoji.  

Azzi had left every message unread.  

Until now.  

She tapped into the last one, then switched to the interview clip. A beat passed.  

Then she typed.  

Your interview hijacked my news feed. You look like you’ve been fighting sleep for a week. Do yourself a favor and sleep.  

She stared at it, thumb hovering. Then hit send.  

It delivered instantly.  

Three seconds later, a red heart appeared.  

Then a reply.  

Yes ma’am. 🫡 Can I get a Good Night tho?   

Azzi though about it. 

Why not? She thought Paige deserved it. If it makes her sleep better. 

Good night, Rookie. 

- 

Paige’s apartment, Oakland. May 2025.    Paige lay sprawled on her couch, limbs heavy from the beating her body took the night before. Her muscles throbbed in slow pulses, each one a reminder that preseason didn’t mean easy.  

The Dallas Wings had played like they wanted her out by the first quarter. Double teams from tip-off, arms in her face before she could call a screen.  

The bruises were already blooming along her ribs, but the worst of it was the exhaustion crawling under her skin. 

Still, a win was a win. 

The best part? No flights.  

They’d played at Chase. Home court. All she had to do was limp to her car and drive fifteen minutes to her apartment and collapse. 

She hadn’t bothered changing. Her hoodie still smelled like Gatorade and sweat, and the ice pack on her ankle had long since turned lukewarm.  

She kept flipping the same channel, brain too fried to care what was on. Restless. Bored. 

Her phone buzzed once on the coffee table. 

Then again. 

She grabbed it, thumb sliding over the screen without much thought. 

Arike. 

Buckets! We hitting the club tonight. Last night in the bay. Come on, rook. 

Sorry bout the block btw. Welcome to the W, I guess. 

Paige blinked down at the message. The attached photo was a screen grab of her getting stuffed at the rim, face twisted midair.  

She groaned and let her head fall back against the cushion. 

Her body wanted bed. 

But her ego? 

Might’ve needed tequila. 

Ur buying the first round. U owe me emotional damages. 

Sent. 

-  The Grand Night Club, San Francisco. May 2025.

The bass throbbed through Paige’s chest as she sank further into the velvet booth, the air humid with sweat, perfume, and late-night tension.  

Her body still ached from the game. Muscles sore beneath her oversized white button-down. She hadn’t meant to stay long, but now she wasn’t sure she’d leave at all. 

That was before she saw her. 

She stood across the room, framed in low red lighting like a challenge waiting to be accepted. Her hair was pulled back, sleek and deliberate. Her skin glowed where the shadows kissed it, like something sculpted and soft.  

She didn’t need to dance. Her stillness did more damage than movement ever could. A drink swirled in her hand, untouched. Her expression said she could resurrect someone to life for the sport of it. 

Paige was already moving. 

She leaned on the bar beside her, just close enough that their arms brushed. 

“You keep looking like that and someone’s gonna get ideas.” 

She turned toward Paige with a slow drag of her gaze, the kind of look that felt like fingers pressed beneath fabric. Her lipstick clung to the rim of her glass, her expression unreadable, but her body didn’t shift away.  

She stayed exactly where she was—poised, languid, dangerous. 

“Is that your opener?” 

Paige’s grin sharpened. “Just me being polite. I could’ve started with what I’m actually thinking.” 

Their proximity hummed. A throb under the music. The air between them buzzed with something more than curiosity. 

“Mm,” the girl said, tone velvet and teeth. She sipped again, throat bare in the dim club light. “I’m guessing it’s less polite.” 

“Downright indecent,” Paige said, her voice dropping as she leaned in. Her fingers brushed the girl’s glass. “But only if you ask nicely.” 

The girl’s eyes just traced Paige’s mouth, slow and careful, as if she’d already imagined it somewhere else. 

“I don’t beg,” she said. 

Paige bit back a groan and smiled like a dare. “Good. I’m more into mutual destruction anyway.” 

A pause. A shift. The girl’s lip caught between her teeth, then released. 

Turning just enough to let her shoulder graze Paige’s chest. “Do you think you'll survive the night?” 

Paige’s hand circled the girl’s wrist, her grip easy but certain, pulling her through the pulse of the bar. The crowd parted just enough to let them disappear into the darker corner near the back. Music thudded low around them, bass heavy, the kind of rhythm meant to blur lines and judgment. 

She backed the girl against the wall with a slow step in. Their bodies barely touched, breath caught in the narrowing space. Paige’s mouth hovered by her ear, warm and deliberate. 

“Relax,” she murmured. “It’s only a warm-up.” 

The girl let out a quiet sound—half laugh, half dare—and then moved.  

She pushed Paige back with a steady hand, flipping the script with practiced ease. Her palm settled against Paige’s chest, pinning her. Confident, unhurried. She leaned in, pressing a kiss below Paige’s jaw, then another along the line of her neck. 

Paige groaned softly, one hand gripping the girl’s waist, the other curling around her wrist. 

The kiss deepened—messy, greedy. She let her body surrender to the rhythm of it, to the alcohol, to the thrill of teeth scraping lips and breath shared through parted mouths. 

Then the girl dipped lower, lips finding the angle beneath her jaw. Heat bloomed there as her tongue traced along the vein. Paige exhaled, head tipping back against the wall, eyelids fluttering half shut. 

And when they opened— 

Everything stalled. 

Straight through the chaos, through the crowd and the girl, cold eyes locked with hers. 

It felt like being snapped into focus. Paige’s chest tightened. The hands on her waist suddenly felt wrong. The lips at her neck too distant. 

Across the room, untouched by the haze and heat, Azzi stood.  

Watching.

[madschiavelique]

﹒ ✦ 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐊 : 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖 — 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

✦﹒ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : you finally get to see jayce and viktor's apartment, learning new things through this visit and getting your heart to beat like crazy.

✦﹒ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : covering up bruises, and mostly being really, really close.

✦﹒ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 14,6k

✦﹒ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : checks my imaginary watch "would you look at that, exams are over! i wonder how long it's been since i updat- jfc two months ago uhhh let's fix that". that's what went through my brain as on the 16th of june i finished the chapter at 7:13 in the morning. sorry it's been so long but god was it an awful end of semester, i'm so glad it's over. on other news i might open writing and art commissions for the summer! if you're interested in me doing that, don't hesitate to tell me so that i can make posts with my tariffs. for art stuff i redirect you guys to my art account aka @mads-arts ! anywho, i hope y'all will like this chapter hihi

✦﹒ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐘 : the pretty boy @oneoftheextras

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓．．𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 ．．𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓．．𝐌𝐘 𝐊𝐎-𝐅𝐈

When you arrived at the café, exhausted from the day's events, it didn't take them long to understand your situation. Your cheek had already turned a darker shade where you had been hit, and they had no trouble acknowledging from your posture that it wasn't the only part of your body that had been treated that way.

When you got home, Sky greeted you with concern about your state. You simply explained that you had had problems in Zaun, that you had let your mouth get in the way where it shouldn't have, and that you had gotten into trouble because of your attitude.

You had placed your small bag of medicine on the dining table, sitting on the edge of your bed and simply pulling up your T-shirt to reveal only your back. From Sky's exclamation of surprise, you deduced that it didn't look very nice.

You slowly lay down on your bed, your stomach pressed against the mattress, while Sky sat down next to you. She took the bag of medicine with her, plunging her almost trembling hands into the brown paper to retrieve a jar of balm.

After checking with you to see if it was okay to apply it, she very gently pressed a small amount of it against your back, and you immediately tensed up from the chilled pain it caused. Your back arched as a small cry of surprise echoed in your mouth.

Your fingers clenched in your blankets as you let Sky apply the balm all over your skin. You assured her that you could take care of your stomach and cheek, simply telling her to boil water for those bitter infusions that you would have to drink until you had no more.

She had prepared dinner, and you had lightly discussed what had happened whilst you ate before drifting onto the subject of classes and other various topics. You couldn't tell her everything, at the risk of getting her into trouble too. You didn't particularly like the idea of lying to her, but you tried to comfort yourself with the idea that in this case it was for the best.

A little after nine, you managed to get up from your chair with determination for the incoming relief of your muscles which the shower had in store for you.

At first, your teeth dug into the skin of your hand as the heat of the water ran down your back and the few cuts that dotted it, stifling grunts as pain gave way to relaxation.

You thought back over the whole scene, how quickly it had all happened, the possibility that Stex's accomplice also bore a scar similar to yours on his arm. Your fingers traced the skin of your left shoulder, its uneven smoothness leaving a chilling impression on your mind.

Every movement caused you discomfort, everything felt heavy and painful, forcing you to move slowly as you rubbed soap on your body and rinsed it off.  Wrapping yourself in your towel after this ordeal seemed like hell, drying yourself quickly to put on your pajamas and collapse into bed, still on your stomach. You had managed, patiently, to take care of the rest of your cuts and reapply the balm as best you could.

Sleep came quickly, and although you might have expected another nightmare after today's events, for the first time you dreamt of something else entirely.

You were lost in long red corridors where, despite the soft lamps with crimson shades, you couldn't see much. The walls had windows, of course, but it was pitch black outside.

You were escaping from something, you could feel it rumbling in your veins, and you passed through the rooms of this life, from corridors to hallways, from armchairs to sofas. After finding a large room where the fire licked the walls of its hearth with calm and patience, you closed the doors of it behind you. You would be safe here, no doubt.

"Miss?"

You turned towards the rest of the room. Most of it was bathed in the orange glow of the fireplace, whose honey-coloured light spread over silhouettes with no distinct beginning or end. And then, sitting opposite this gaping mouth with its vibrating tongue, hungry for the stone and wood that surrounded it, sat the source of so many envies.

Viktor.

Slumped in a brown leather armchair, his chin slightly forward as his eyes were fixed on the hearth, he seemed to be waiting for the scarves dancing against each other to reveal something to him.

As you took your first step forward, you felt the soft fabric sliding along the skin of your leg, and the distinct memory of it was enough for you to realise what you were wearing — the evening gown from the masquerade ball.

You took a second step, and it seemed to you that the dress was heavier than you remembered, more suffocating, keeping you warmer. Was it the fire that was causing this effect, or its master facing it?

"What are you doing here?" you asked, moving step by step towards him.

His cane was resting on the side of the armchair, just as it had been when you first saw him in the entrance hall of the dormitory building.

He looked away from the fire, and for a moment it seemed to you that the sparks from the crackling logs still lingered in his gaze. He had lit the wood with his eyes, thrown the lighter of his glance to set ablaze an entire hearth that warmed the heart of a house with no beginning and no end.

"When am I not here?" he asked in return.

The fabric of your outfit allowed the blue of its pearls to turn a charcoal black that a spark could ignite, a lake of ink waiting for the touch of a match.

You stood before him, your silhouette covering him in darkness as he looked up at you from below.

"When are you leaving?" The question reverberated in your mouth like an echo in a cave.

He watched you for a moment, contemplating you in silence as the flickering fire filled the room in its cracks.

He grabbed your wrist and, in one swift movement, pulled you towards him. One of your knees found the side of his, the second planting itself in the gap between his legs as your hand landed on the leather of the armchair.

Your head was next to his, and you could feel him pressing his cool cheek against your burning one as the softness of his lips tickled your ear; his free hand grabbed your waist to sit you on his thigh.

"Never."

You felt his lips stretch into a smile, and you seemed to hold your breath under his butterfly kisses running across your cheekbone.

His fingers traced the seams and sequins of your dress along your back until they found the zip.

You felt his fingers pull the zipper down, gradually revealing your back to the hearth, baring your skin to allow the warm rays of the fireplace to spread across your entire back. His fingertips traced rays of sunlight across the skin of your spine as he ran his hands over it at will.

"This is only the beginning."

It was pain that woke you up, your back pressed against the wall, no doubt from your movements in your sleep.

You felt all warm, your lower abdomen seeming to be filled with a hot cloud, like in a bathroom filled with steam.

You turned, trying to find a position that wasn't too uncomfortable, hoping to get back to sleep, but it was no use. How could you possibly fall back asleep after such a dream?

It was better than a nightmare, and much better than a dream, that was for sure, but what were you to do with this physical frustration? With a groan, you got out of bed as quietly as possible, grabbed the bag full of medication that Eris had given you and your mug before slipping into the bathroom.

You didn't want to wake your friend by making more noise than necessary, so you sat on the edge of the bathtub and turned on the tap, turning it to the hottest setting. You couldn't use the hob to boil anything, so you found yourself dangling your finger under the stream of water, waiting boredly for it to heat up.

The painkillers might knock you out, let you sleep a little longer, at least enough to be well rested and make it to your friends' flat.

Your stomach tightened, swallowing silently at the prospect of seeing Viktor after such a dream. What if you did something that betrayed you? Made you look foolish? What if your eyes found something they shouldn't?

The water had finally reached a pleasant temperature to brew your tea, and you placed your tea bag in your mug as you slowly filled it. You set it aside, waiting for it to steep, and you knew what to do while you waited.

Feeling your way back to the dimly lit room, you let a thin beam of light illuminate your path as you grabbed your deck of cards and went back to isolate yourself. You sat on the toilet, your nose wrinkling in pain as the hard surface did nothing to help your situation, although its coolness had the virtue of grounding you.

You shuffled the cards, yawning as you did so, and turned the deck over. The three of pentacles faced you, offering a brief description of keywords from the booklet: The principle of creativity. Working together to create things. Ingenuity.

You raised your eyebrows. Was it about your presentation with Viktor? You hurried to read its description.

Three figures stand in a triangular formation of three pentacles inside a cathedral. They represent collaboration with others and the combination of talents and natural gifts. The figure on the left wears a craftsman's apron, holds craftsman's tools and stands on a craftsman's bench. This suggests the construction of something important. Three is the number of creativity, and pentacles reflect the material world. Therefore, this card reflects creativity and the expansion of everything you can see, smell, touch, hear and taste.

After yesterday's Three of Wands, you were faced with a Three of Pentacles that seemed to bring more collaboration than attack, perhaps the establishment of a plan. Would Renata's letter arrive soon?

Reading this card left you more in the dark than in the light. You didn't know exactly what to expect, and since all the cards often lined up in unexpected ways, you didn't know what to make of it.

Bitterly, you drank your herbal tea, the taste making you want to spit it out as soon as it touched your tongue, but you forced yourself to swallow every last drop. Defeated, you took your little pot of balm in your hand, removing the lid with sluggish movements before taking a small amount and applying it once again as best you could.

You couldn't see your back, of course, but you knew where it hurt just by touch, massaging the skin and stifling sighs of discomfort. Both of your hands joined in the task, wrapping around your waist to find the places one hand couldn't reach.

The memory, so distant and ghostly yet so recent, of Viktor's hand on your waist and the other pressing against the skin of your back came back to you, and you hurried to finish applying the cream so as not to fall into that abyss of desire whose end you did not know.

You put away what you had taken out, turned off the bathroom light and waited a few seconds for your eyes to readjust to the dimmer light in the room before walking over to your bed and letting yourself fall onto it.

Like a stone thrown into the rushing water of a stream, leaving behind thousands of ripples, like the endless cycle of the hours, his words set all the mills of your heart turning. It seems you couldn't resist your longing for him, your body and your thoughts returning to the charge to drink it all in.

You struggled to get back to sleep, and when you did, it was without the gift of dreams or nightmares. What woke you this time was Sky making coffee. She had found a little side job at a florist's shop and was starting her second day of work after yesterday being her first.

She had an interest in flowers, plants, nature and what they could bring, and you were sure you would recommend her to Pearl as soon as you had the opportunity to mention it to her.

She greeted you as you emerged from your sleep, asking about your well-being and your symptoms. You were already feeling a little better, the balm and the herbal tea combining to ease your pain enough that you didn't find it too difficult to get up and join her for breakfast.

When she asked you what you were going to do with your day, you didn't lie to her completely as you had done until now, telling her that you had run into Viktor the day before on your way back to the café to tell him you couldn't work for the rest of the weekend, and that he had taken advantage of this window of opportunity to invite you out. Not entirely a lie, not entirely the truth, a confusing in-between that you hoped one day to be able to untangle without causing her any concern.

She nodded, got ready to leave, and you wished her good luck for this second day, from which she would surely return smelling of fresh petals and green water.

So when she left, you enjoyed the morning a little, the sun shining through the thick panes of your half-open window and the pleasant sound of the city waking up outside.

It was so serene and peaceful that it was sometimes hard to imagine anything calmer. But now, since you had seen the green plains of Demacia, you felt like you wanted to experience every kind of calm there was, hold them close to your ear, and remember their music when you needed to be lulled to sleep.

You finished your coffee, the hour advancing despite yourself, life not waiting for you. You got ready, putting on simple clothes that would make you look like any other citizen of Piltover while still keeping you comfortable.

When you returned to the mirror in your bathroom, you were greeted by a dark expanse stretching from your jaw to your cheekbone, as if a large fistful of blueberries and raspberries had been crushed on your cheek. Stex hadn't missed you, and you had to stifle everything to prevent Jayce from getting any ideas.

Luckily, the passage of time and constant use of Eris' products had allowed the swelling to go down and the bruise to appear less dark. So once again, you took some of the make-up that Selene had given you a long time ago and that you had used at the masquerade, hoping that it would be enough to cover it up.

After an unsatisfactory first application, you panicked a little when you realised that it was still slightly visible. You breathed heavily, preventing yourself from giving in to anxiety as you grabbed some compact powder to set it, hoping that it would soften the effect a little.

There was still a little blue under your eye, but you could probably just pretend that you had spilled ink while rewriting your notes and that, in a sudden panic, you had smeared it on your cheek and the stain remained, hence the foundation to cover up the mess.

You could come up with excuses, and you just hoped Viktor would play along. You glanced at the time, not far from ten o'clock. You could afford to be a little late for once. Viktor might not be awake yet, and Jayce was probably out jogging or doing whatever perfect people like him do in the morning when they get up.

So, you gathered just the essentials in your bag in case you spent the whole day there – which was highly likely – and finally stepped out the door. You passed a few students in the corridors, others in the common room, and strangely, your heart sank.

Gone were the days when you used to sit on those same armchairs and sofas, discussing cards with Jayce, Eris and Viktor. Yet it seemed like only yesterday that you had brought bread to Jayce and that you all knocked on each other's doors when you needed anything – even if Sky acted as ambassador when Viktor was the one in need.

The air was mild outside, the weather proving to be truly clement this weekend as coats and jackets were put away in favour of light jumpers and shirts. You made your way to the flat, the sun caressing your face.

You knew the way, and knew the apartment itself, for that matter. Jayce had invited you there once or twice in the past to study together or catch up on classes.

You wondered how it had changed now that Viktor was living there too, if the renovations and the organisation required to accommodate a second person had completely transformed the place.

You made a little detour to Emeline's bakery on the way, picking up some pastries and sweets as small gifts for your two friends, adding to the small presents from your friend whom you never seemed to be able to thank enough.

After a fifteen-minute walk, you reached the student district where the wealthiest scholars lived, or those who were financially supported by patrons who saw enough potential in them to provide them with lodging and accommodation.

You could probably have enjoyed this life, if you had asked Selene, but you didn't need to end up with more pretentious people than necessary. The very idea of possibly ending up in an apartment not far from Tyler made you want to scream.

However, the idea of being able to live just a few doors away from Viktor filled your heart with warmth, and you tried to fan away the mist of love that emanated from it.

Knowing the code, you entered it to access the building's lobby. Two walls of mailboxes formed a small corridor leading to a stairwell winding around a slightly outdated lift.

Afraid of getting stuck there because of its condition, you took the stairs. Jayce was on the top floor, but you preferred to endure the climb rather than find yourself trapped in a box. You went slowly, trying not to get dizzy from spinning upwards.

Once you reached their floor, you caught your breath a little, walking slowly towards the door at the far end on your left. When you got there, you hesitated for a moment. You didn't have a mirror to make sure your hair didn't look weird, or that your make-up was on properly, or that your outfit was correctly adjusted.

Out of habit, you didn't have the reflexes to make sure your appearance was immaculate, and you blamed part of that on the fact that you were in a slightly more affluent neighbourhood of Piltover, and the other part on the fact that you hoped you wouldn't look foolish in front of Viktor – even if it wouldn't have been the first time.

You brought your hand to the surface of the door, joining your index and middle fingers to knock on it. Your heart shouldn't have been beating the way it was, and you consoled yourself with the idea that it was mainly because of the climb up the stairs and not because you were waiting to see Viktor.

You heard a bit of commotion on the other side of the door, and for a moment you amused yourself by imagining Jayce rearranging a few things to lessen the effect of the mess.

It was he who opened the door, wearing a white short-sleeved polo shirt and neat brown trousers, all smiles.

"Hey!" he greeted you, stepping aside and gesturing for you to come inside. "Please, make yourself at home."

So you followed his instructions, entering the flat, which welcomed you with the smell of chemical clay from the new paint covering most of the walls. To your left was a hallway with a few doors and partially unpacked boxes scattered along the walls. Before looking any further, however, you walked towards the main room, which had shrunk since the last time you saw it.

You immediately noticed the change in layout. Opposite the entire wall he used for his equations – which, incidentally, seemed to be filled with new and more complex ones that were unfamiliar to you – was a crimson sofa on which lay a few scattered papers, covered from top to bottom with numbers and various notes.

Your eyes scanned the rest of the room, partially drunk cups of coffee sat near the coffee maker, and the work surface to the side was rather tidy compared to the state you had seen it in before.

"Vik?" he called from the hallway, "you comin'?"

You heard the distinct click of a cane coming from the other end of the hallway, and you tried to act as if nothing was happening, to look away and not let on that you were waiting more impatiently than necessary for Viktor to come around the corner.

"What's this?" you asked, pointing at the board with your chin as you set your bag down, holding the packets of sweets in your hands as you stepped forward to face the board. "Doesn't look like any of the homework we were asked to do. S.P.I.T.S?"

S.P.I.T.S was the clever abbreviation for Steam Powered Intra-Thermal Systems. You had already taken that option last year, but you had fallen back on S.E, Stabilisation of Energies.

"Not exactly," Jayce muttered, coming up beside you to look at all the chalk marks and various writings, placing his hands on his hips. "Something we wanted to talk to you about, actually."

You turned to him, frowning. "Really?"

"We both need to get this off our chests."

You turned to his voice, as if answering a call, as if even trying to stop yourself had become pointless.

Viktor was there, wearing a dark brown T-shirt with rolled-up sleeves over black city trousers that fell over his socks. His hair was slightly tousled; he couldn't have been awake for long.

And yet he carried himself with a grace that seemed to require no effort, a dark and poignant nonchalance that never loosened its grip on your heart. He looked at you, and you averted your eyes away a few seconds later for fear of losing yourself in his gaze.

"What's this?" Jayce asked, pointing to the craft paper.

"Uh," you felt as if you had been forcibly brought back to reality, realising once again the weight in your hands. "Just some sweets you both like."

Jayce couldn't help but step forward to spread the paper apart with his curious fingers, his eyes lighting up at the contents he was dealing with.

“You’re sent by some gods now, I’m sure of it,” he chuckled. “Let me getsome plates for them,” he took the packages in his hands, already walking away, “Vik, mind showing her around?”

“An apartment she’s already been in?” the latter asked.

"Well, some things changed!" he replied as he disappeared into what appeared to be the kitchen.

"Afraid of losing yourself, Moravec?" you said teasingly, and he turned directly to you with a frown at the nickname. "I'm sure with such a busy and long corridor, you must have had some trouble finding your way around."

One corner of his mouth turned up as he let his head hang towards the floor, chewing the inside of his cheek as if trying to prevent any smile from emerging. When he raised his head, he looked at the board before returning your gaze, his head tilted to one side.

"I had to get used to all this by echolocation," he demonstrated, tapping the wall closest to him with the tip of his cane, "a puzzle that even the greatest academics dare not approach."

You smiled softly, erasing the frown from your nose by stretching your split lip, rolling it in until it was completely under your teeth, and moistening it as you released it. He noticed the gesture, a thin veil of concern settling over his features.

His tone grew lower, surely making sure Jayce couldn't hear anything. "Are you okay?"

You sighed heavily, the memories of the pain you had felt in the shower and when you went to bed coming back to your mind – but quickly being overshadowed by the dream that had followed, and you didn't dare meet his gaze as your eyes fell on the knuckles of your hands.

"Known worse, known better," you explained simply, his eyebrows furrowed and you deduced that he was going to emphasise the “worse”, you cut him off. "Are you going to show me around or do I have to root here?"

He sighed, his eyes silently scolding you as if to say, ‘I'm not over this subject’. He motioned for you to go ahead of him, pointing his head towards the corridor. "Not that I mind having you as a green plant here, but if you insist."

So you walked ahead of him, moving down the corridor as he had indicated. You felt like you were being watched, as if Viktor's amber eyes were piercing through the back of your neck, and for a moment you felt the same warmth on your back as you had felt from the fireplace in your dream.

The first door you passed was the kitchen, where Jayce was closing a cupboard and placing two plates on the counter. It was a long room with a sink right next to a hob that didn't seem to have the same gas problems you encountered at home.

Multiple brand-new cupboards ran the height of the walls, pressed against a fridge the size of Jayce, which you envied slightly. A small table against the opposite wall with a chair was probably used as a dining table, although the second one seemed to have already been brought back into the main room.

"This is obviously the bathroom," Viktor said as he came up beside you.

You chuckled, bringing both hands under your elbows. "You wash in the sink, I suppose?"

"A bit cramped, but it does the job," he nodded, continuing his joke, "Jayce has a harder time getting in there, though."

"Right," Jayce replied, carefully opening the packets to try and grab the sweets, "very funny."

You laughed softly, continuing on your way as the slow, steady tapping of Viktor's cane echoed behind you, closer than you thought.

The next room was the actual bathroom, similar in size to the kitchen, with two sinks, a toilet and a large bathtub.

"Could this be..." you feigned confusion, "the living room?"

"Spot on," Viktor agreed.

"I really like what you did with the armchair, nice touch," you pointed out, gesturing towards the toilet. "It wasn't placed here before."

"The apartment's explosion destroyed some of the plumbing, so we had the liberty to change the number of rooms and their placement," he nodded, "especially because the plumbing changes forced us to rethink the layout of the apartment."

"Ah..." you acknowledged before moving on to the next room, which turned out to be Jayce's new bedroom.

It wasn't particularly tidy, with bits of paper scattered here and there from his desk to the corner of his bed, his academy uniform hastily folded over the back of his desk chair, and an atmosphere of personal organisation that was not to be disturbed.

"This, I know," you pointed out, "hasn't changed much."

“Ximena had to make sure everything would be okay, and the Kirammans took care of replacing the furniture that had been broken,” Viktor sighed.

You hummed to yourself, and finally realised that if they weren’t sharing a room, it was because the next room was Viktor’s.

Tentatively, you took another step, beginning your slow walk towards his bedroom door. You could still feel Viktor's gaze on the back of your neck and your back, and you swallowed as you reached the doorframe.

You would have thought that his room would be impersonal, that its walls would be covered with nothing but fresh paint, that the lack of accessories and decorations would come as no surprise, since you didn't necessarily imagine Viktor as a materialistic person.

Instead, you found a cosy room with purple walls, where sheets of paper of various sizes were pinned here and there, and you could even make out some receipts. You noticed that it was already tidier than Jayce's, that his desk was more neatly organised and that the bed was made with thick blankets, that no clothes were sticking out of his wardrobe in the corner of the room, and that his bookshelves were arranged straight without many volumes leaning to one side.

His window was open, there was no wind, just a cool breeze from outside that made a few papers on his desk flutter. The chair was pulled back; he must have been working before he was called.

You slowly stepped into the room, your eyes scanning the walls, lingering on a few papers. There were notes full of calculations, pencil sketches of various and sundry parts, exhibition flyers among which you recognised prints from Demacian museums you had visited. You could still feel Viktor's cane clinging to your waist before replacing that sensation with his own hand.

Your eyes scanned the rest of the notes to escape this alluring memory, and found a piece of paper you recognised. It was a receipt from The Brown Bitt for an order of an espresso, a long black, a mocha and a jasmine tea scone, and it seemed like yesterday when you recommended either bleach or hydrochloric acid to your friend. You smiled to yourself, wondering why you had kept such a thing.

Your eyes drifted to the next note, and again you recognised it from the first line.

A simple thank you could've done it.

It was the note you had exchanged during those few minutes of detention. Only, you remembered four lines in total, and now there were five.

Me? Thanking you? That's a largeness of spirit I don't have.

You remembered the bitterness, the frustration of just sharing a room with him, and the feeling seemed so foreign to you.

Are you still thinking about me? Is that why you're so unfocused?

If only he knew the irony of that sentence.

In your dreams.

And in yours, apparently.

But the last sentence had, to your knowledge, never reached your eyes, as Selene had interrupted in the meantime.

I came here because no one has ever done what you did for me.

The pain in your cheek came back to you after Tyler's blow, the weight of Viktor's cane in your hands whistling through the air as you struck the young man in response to his condescending malice.

You turned to Viktor. He hadn't moved from the doorway except to press his shoulder against it as he watched you. You seemed to discern a kind of expectation in his gaze, not as if he were seeking approval, but rather an answer.

"No one?" you asked, nodding slightly towards the note while your eyes never left his.

"No one," he confirmed, his temple pressing against the doorframe.

You nodded silently, biting the inside of your cheek as you looked away to the rest of the room. Your eyes fell on the tarot deck on his bedside table, and as you were about to ask him about his possible readings, Jayce's silhouette appeared next to him.

"How do you like the changes?" he asked, surveying the room from its four corners.

"I'm no apartment expert, but this is a good one," you agreed, stepping towards them. "Tidy, I'd say.”

"You should have seen us yesterday,” Jayce remarked, "as soon as Viktor came home and announced that you were coming, the tidying mission began immediately-"

He squinted his eyes for a moment, his gaze fixating on your cheek, and you felt a flow of questions coming.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked. “Your cheek has little dark spots.”

You exchanged a very quick glance with Viktor, seeming intrigued by how you were going to get out of all this.

“I fell asleep on a copy last night, the ink wasn't dry enough so you can imagine what a nice surprise it was when I woke up.”

He didn't seem very startled by this news, no doubt you thought, because he was no stranger to this sort of thing and you suspected that he'd had to clean up a lot of copies as a result.

“I see,” he took in, “and your lip, it's split.”

“Eris's cat has its own way of saying hello,” you sneered.

“Didn't know she had a cat,” he mused aloud as he started walking towards the end of the corridor, you and Viktor exchanging a glance, the latter letting you pass outside the room before following you.

“How come you're free to come here today anyway?” he questioned, the plates of pastries in his hands as the three of you made your way towards the main room.

“I'm not working during the entire weekend,” you sighed, “had some business in Zaun.”

“No way!” exclaimed the golden boy as he set the plates down on a coffee table near the sofa, “Viktor went there yesterday too.”

Viktor hadn't mentioned that you'd bumped into each other yesterday, having probably explained to Jayce that he'd invited you here during the week and not as part of a little stroll you'd both been on. 

So you turned to him. “Really?” you asked, feigning ignorance.

“Mhm,” he nodded, his dark, mischievous eyes gleaming before he decided to take a seat in one of the corners of the sofa.

Jayce had taken the second corner, leaving you only the middle, where you sat down with some nervousness. The last time you'd found yourself on a sofa shared with Viktor, your heart had not stopped racing.

“What were you doing in Zaun?” inquired Jayce as he reached for a pastry with his hand.

“Well um,” you took one in turn, “in this situation you're not allowed to ask that question.”

He frowned. “Really? Why?”

You shrugged. “I just had to oxygenate my sponges.”

He raised his eyebrows, his eyelids half-closed in exasperation. “In Zaun?”

“Think I don't have the right to keep things to myself when you guys literally hid this from me?” you remarked as you pointed to the board full of equations you were trying to decipher, the numbers and letters leading to mix with what you theorised were runes.

“That's different, this-” he pressed his fist to his mouth as his jaw muscles worked to chew his mouthful, “this is top secret.”

You arched an eyebrow. “What makes you think my reasons are not top secret either?”

“I-” he began, but huffed and shook his head. “Forget it.”

You weren't really lying about anything you said either, you were being kept in the dark about the whole thing. 

There was a brief silence, during which Viktor helped himself to a pastry, one that you'd chosen expressly for him, taking into account his tastes from the few times he'd come to the café.

“What's the thing you wanted to talk about anyway?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed and still looking at the blackboard.

Jayce and Viktor glanced at each other from either end, your head alternating between the two as Jayce sucked his sugar-laden fingers one by one before get up.

“Let's back up a bit.”

***

“So let me get this straight. You managed to create magic, Jayce almost got expelled, you smashed up Heimerdinger's lab, and you're now working for the council on...?”

“Hex Tech,” Jayce smiled proudly, “we named it Hex Tech.”

It had already been a few hours since Jayce begun his explanation, and you'd had to gather a considerable amount of information.

The morning pastries had soon enough been replaced by homemade sandwiches, Jayce had left his sofa spot to stand and recount the story that had unfolded from last summer to today, in part, and you had remained seated on the sofa next to Viktor, who occasionally provided additional information.

From the explosion in Jayce's flat of a more or less solved origin, followed by his meeting with Viktor, Jayce's trial in front of the council and his voluntary transgression that very evening after many, many calculations in Heimerdinger's laboratory to test his theory and finally arrive at a conclusive result.

He went on to explain how this incident had led to his association with Mel Medarda, who, one thing leading to another, had raised him in the social ranks and financed his projects.

“Right, Hex Tech,” you sighed, still baffled by all the information that had remained so confidential.

Jayce got up to go into the kitchen, picking up the coffee pot that had been refilled in the meantime not only for the pleasure of drinking it but also, and above all, because you needed it to keep you going through all this.

“If you have any question, we're here to answer them as best as we can,” confirmed Viktor.

“And as much as we're allowed to say,” Jayce added immediately.

The gears of your mind, though exhausted, were curious enough to overcome the feeling of fatigue and turn to Viktor;

“So when you stopped being Heimerdinger's assistant,” you began, thinking back to one of the most fundamental and transformative conversations of your friendship after you'd been so ill, “you didn't leave this post because you didn't have any interest in it anymore but because of…” you described vague movements in the air to point at the board, “this?”

“You could say that,” the latter confirmed as he sat down to face you on the sofa, his good leg bent cross-legged towards him as he leanded down to take his cup of coffee that you had made in the meantime and that Jayce had just poured for him.

He brought the steaming mug to his lips, blowing gently on it before taking a sip. You couldn't help but feel your heart grow light as, after his sip, Viktor flashed a smile that seemed to be all his own before taking another sip and straightening up.

“After this unexpected demonstration, Heimerdinger encouraged me not to continue being his assistant, no matter how advantageous it was, and…” his thumb gently caressed the side of the cup where his lips had previously rested, “I suppose that he was more scientifically curious about our discoveries than to waste some potential.”

“But then,” you continued, clutching your own cup in your hands, “why are you guys still studying? You both are accomplished, Viktor has the top of the grades of the Academy-”

“I thought you had that?” questioned Viktor.

You turned to him, arching an eyebrow. “Do you want me to retract my previous statement?”

Viktor seemed a little surprised. You, who for so long had wanted to retain your number one position in the Academy results, now found yourself consciously giving him such a title? 

He said nothing, simply taking another sip instead without taking his eyes off you.

“So,” you continued, “you both clearly don't need to continue studying at the Academy, so why still stay here?”

“Withdrawing, at least on my part, would be seen as strange in the eyes of the teachers,” Jayce explained, “and because Heimerdinger was keen for both of us to finish our year. The deal is simple - we maintain good grades this year, and as soon as it's over, we officially get our own lab at the Academy and are free to go ahead with our projects under the watchful eyes of the council.”

“How do you do your research without a laboratory in these cases?”

“We have permission from Heimerdinger to use his lab while ours is being set up,” explained Viktor, “it's about time we had one anyway, considering what happened last time.”

“Last time?”

Viktor sketched a smile, pressing the backs of his curved fingers against his temple in support of his head.

“Do you remember the power cut?” he questioned until you nodded. “Well, it may be that we tried a new combination in our work, not to reveal anything, and... that the energy had been a little too strong and was the trigger for the blackout.”

It all made sense, and remembering that the blackout had apparently affected part of the neighbourhood made you feel strange.

“Yeah, I figured cooking on your radiator wasn't the brightest idea coming from two of the smartest students I know.”

“Hey,” Jayce began, “we all come to desperate measures.”

“Of course,” you agreed with a tired chuckle, looking back at your own ‘ink’ explanation for your cheek, shaking your head slightly at the realisation. “So that's how you knew about Tyler being linked to Hoskell.”

“Being closer to the council does open a few doors,” remarked the Golden Boy, “strange in fact that Selene didn't mention it to you.”

“She doesn't deal with Hoskell,” you sighed as you slumped back on the sofa, feeling Viktor's gaze settle on you, “he doesn't believe in those ‘superstitions’, and she can't stand him.”

You remembered the few times when, on her way back to her living room, Selene would light herself a cigarette rolled with lavender and other herbs in a violet-flavoured paper and stand on her balcony. She never got angry or raised her voice; the only instances of frustration she let show were in those cigarettes. An old Zaun habit, you thought.

Everyone in Zaun who smoked was giving themselves a lux by doing so. Why did they do that? Well, living in such polluted air would discourage many from taking up smoking. That's why the biggest, wealthiest people who could afford such destruction when their air was a little cleaner than the others, were rich. Selene had apparently once been one of them, but she had never really told anyone how or why she had left that life, not even you.

Reflecting on this luxury, another question came to mind, making you turn back to Jayce. “That's why you gave me so much money for the masquerade with such ease,” you pointed at them both, your index finger tracing them in a metronome motion, “you got a load of money.”

“Partly yes,” Jayce nodded with a shrug before his eyebrows jumped in turn, “I almost forgot!”

He got up to leave the room in your confusion, turning to Viktor with a frown.

“This is about to get good,” sighed the latter as he poured himself some more coffee.

Jayce came back into the room, carrying what you thought were two invitation cards and in his other hand some cash. He arrived in front of you, breathing heavily.

“I've got two invitations to another gala evening.”

“Did you get invited again?” you remarked in a choked up voice.

“I don't really have a choice,” he remarked, his eyebrows tilting back as his upper lip rose in embarrassment, “we've finalised an experiment that could massively change things and the council have decided to throw a celebration to mark the occasion.”

You watched his two hands, outstretched towards you, the invitations made of thick paper and gold ink.

“Is the second one for you?” you asked, turning to Viktor.

“No,” replied Viktor, “I've already got mine.”

“So who is it for?”

“For the person of your choice,” informed Jayce, “just give me the name now and I can write it down in the right ink.”

“Um…” you wondered, your eyes searching for something in the scenery that would eventually lead you to the right answer, but there was only one that came to mind. “Eris.”

“Eris?” Jayce remarked with a small smile. “Cool! How do you write her full name?”

He went off towards part of their work surface, searching through the few drawers and shelves that belonged there. You got up from the sofa to join him and watch what he was doing.

He finally found a small jar, the glass of which showed through to a slightly dark, golden ink that was still wafting around the sides of the pot as he unscrewed it, placing it gently on the side before picking up a quill and checking the needle to make sure it was clean.

“How is it spelled?” he enquired as he dipped the tip and adjusted one of the invitations under his fingers into a bell shape to hold it in place.

“E-r-i-s…” you spelled out as he carefully tilted the quill, scraping the grain of the paper.

He had a neat cursive handwriting which, to your surprise, was graceful and resembled the beautiful slanted handwriting of ancient writers.

Viktor came to join you, you could feel him looking over your shoulder, and you hoped that the shiver that had run up your spine in a flash would soon subside.

You glanced at him from the side, meeting his gaze for a moment, which he punctuated with the corner of his lips rising before turning his attention to the way Jayce was writing. It only took a few seconds for his eyebrows to furrow.

“Are you sure you've done a legible E? Because I think it could be mistaken for an F.”

You looked back at its golden features. “You write smaller than I thought.”

“Both of you stop,” the latter asked in a tone strained by concentration, his eyes not taking their focus off the invitation. 

“We're just teasing you,” you smiled.

Viktor pointed to a letter, the movement bringing him a little closer to you. “Is that a P or a Q I see there?”

With a sigh, Jayce laid his quill to one side and pressed a hand on each of your shoulders, pushing you both out of the room and leaving you in the corridor, closing the door leading to the main room.

"Jayce, be nice," Viktor chuckled. "There's nothing to criticise about the hallway."

"Except that door, which is super ugly," you confirmed, looking at the door he'd closed on you, the latter not even properly painted all the way through.

“I'll leave you to criticise this door in peace while I finish the invitations!” he replied from beyond the thickness of the door.

You both smiled, the silence falling a little again as you waited in the hallway. You wondered if, out of politeness, you should make a remark about one of the features of the hallway, or ask if he'd enjoyed the pastries, or.... 

“I'm sorry we've had to hide this from you all this time,” Viktor began, not turning to you until you made the first move. “We were waiting for the best time to tell you, and then,” his head cocked to the side as he looked up at the ceiling for a moment, “there were some legal restrictions that forced us to-”

“Viktor?” you interrupted, however, the latter regaining your gaze. “I don't blame you.”

He drew in a long breath, one of his jaw muscles tightening. You nodded to yourself, your gaze drifting to the door handle. When would you yourself find the faith to open up about your hidden subjects?

“I know what it's like to feel remorse for not being able to say everything,” you assured him before turning to face him again, “thank you for telling me all this.”

You wondered for a moment if he had considered that he should share something with you because of the statement you had made the day before regarding some of the information you had given him about the aftermath of the whole situation.

He nodded silently, a flash of realisation passing his pressed eyes under his furrowed brows. He returned your gaze, and you could feel the mischief permeating his.

“I don't think Jayce was such a fool to bring us into this hallway,” he informed, resting his cane against the side of the wall, grabbing a jacket from the coat rack to search its pockets. “There's something I'd like to show you.”

You couldn't hide your surprise. “Is there more to see?”

“Always.”

The door opened, Jayce bringing the two invitations into your line of sight.

“Ah, Jayce,” greeted Viktor, placing his foot in his shoe and using his cane as a sort of shoehorn, “you've come at the perfect time to say your goodbyes to Miss.”

“Leaving already?” asked Jayce, his disappointment almost childish.

You half-opened your mouth but Viktor was quicker than you. “I'm taking her to the lab.”

“You're going to show her...?” asked Jayce, leaving the end of his sentence in a blur as he raised his eyebrows.

“Absolutely,” the latter confirmed, simply placing the bunch of keys in his pocket as he opened the door. “Shall we?”

You held your hands up, trying to find your way around. “Holdon, you're taking me to Heimerdinger's lab?”

Viktor nodded. “Yes.”

You shook your head as if to bring yourself back to the surface of reality. ‘Really?

“The Professor hasn't been using his lab lately,” Jayce informed you, “it's been a while since he's been inventing anything or checking equations, so he's allowed us to occupy it to keep it from gathering dust.” He sighed, bringing his hand to the back of his neck. “Chances are this one's got a few bits under repair too, thanks to us.”

“Let's hope what I'm showing you doesn't do any more of that,” Viktor pointed out as he walked out the door.

You thanked Jayce for taking you in, assuring him that when you got home you'd send Eris the invitation in a letter and that she'd probably be delighted to come. You promised her that you'd be back at the flat soon, and that you could always bring in an expertise on their calculations if they needed it, even if they didn't seem to need the help.

Once the door was closed, Viktor started walking up the lift cage.

“So, you're the two great scientists backed by the Council who are about to change the fate of this world,” you summarised.

“A very long title,” breathed Viktor, pressing the button on the lift which was already upstairs and opening for you, “two scientists will simply suffice.”

“Don't you want some of that recognition?” you asked anyway as you followed him down the lift shaft.

He shrugged as the doors closed. “Fame is of little importance to me,” he turned to you, “it's not why I'm doing my research.”

You nodded. It was true that, from the outset, Viktor had never shown any greed for attention or sought out golden ivy crowning him simply for its colour. No, Viktor had always strived for excellence out of pure sincerity for progress.

“I didn't know I was hanging around with perfection itself,” you chuckled softly, hoping that your playful tone would manage to disguise the gentleness with which you meant this truth.

“Everyone has faults, including you,” he raised his eyebrows, his eyes dropping to you.

You parted your mouth in mock shock as you met his gaze.

“Let's prove that. What's your worst fault?” he asked.

“You first,” you replied.

“I'm persistent. Your turn.”

You looked away. “I can be very uncooperative at times.”

“Really,” he tilted his head to the side, falsely surprised. “Can you give me an example?”

“My answer is obviously no.”

You couldn't see him directly, but you could feel him smiling sideways, a little chuckle escaping his nose as the gilded doors of this modern cage opened onto the corridor and he stepped out. It sometimes seemed that the only time you'd open up to someone would be during your autopsy, but maybe he'd manage to dissect you before death got a hold of you.

He moved towards the doors of the hall, opening one of them and holding it for you. You thanked him silently as you stepped outside and the warmth of the sun washed over you.

Viktor indicated the stop not far from another shuttle than the one you were used to taking, walking at his own pace.

“I still can't believe you're using Heimerdinger's lab,” you said under your breath.

“We would have had our own,” he sighed, “were it not for the suspicions.”

Arriving at the stop, no one was there but you. At this time of day, people were busier finishing their meals or having a nap than taking shuttle buses around the city.

“Is it that revolutionary?” you asked as the shuttle reached the end of the street. “Enough that you have to take so many precautions?”

“Eh,” his eyebrows raised, “Yes. Our research in bad hands would be detrimental.”

The doors opened, validating your tickets before moving on. The only ears that might pay attention to your conversation were those of the driver. He took a seat with his back to one of the window panels, and you stood holding onto a bar.

Perhaps it was an internal fear of the possibility that your knees might touch again, and that in a space so open and without the pretext of pressing up against anyone in rush hour, your despair would be seen as embarrassingly obvious and impossible to hide, to conceal in the depths of your body.

The engine vibrated from the ground to your legs, purring a little as the shuttle began to move forward.

You couldn't keep your eyes from meeting his. They seemed to harbour an unshakeable good mood, a pride that he wasn't going to boast about, but which he was going to keep meticulously inside him.

“What?” he asked.

You must have been watching him continuously and forgotten that he could do the same.

“Nothing,” you cleared your throat so that it wouldn't be any more treacherous than your eyes had been. “I just... didn't expect this.”

“Which was the goal,” he confirmed.

You rolled your eyes. He was obviously right.

“Why choose me, of all, to know?”

He shrugged. “You're top of the Academy-”

“Wouldn't this fact stop you guys from allowing me to see this then?” you argued. “A top of the Academy could very well steal your work and…” your hand gestured uncertainly in the air, “do evil stuff with it.”

He wore a smile stretching the corner of his lip which slightly darkened his eyes. ‘But you wouldn't.’

You hoped he'd never touch the bar your hand held, because you were pretty sure that if he did, he'd feel the frantic rhythm of your heart hitting the metal, ready to bend the bar of that cage and slide out of your chest.

“I could,” even the possibility sounded ridiculous from your mouth.

He chuckled. “But you still wouldn't.”

You sighed, there was no point in fighting a battle you knew you couldn't win.

“Besides,” he continued as the silence returned, “you would have figured out one day or the other, and I trust you enough to show you this.”

I trust you.

Your ears had isolated these three words from the rest of the sentence. Somewhere inside you, you were aware of this, even if it seemed hard to accept. But the fact that these words were in the air, that they were offered to you and you alone, made you feel all tender in the heart.

You felt guilty, though, at the idea that he might think you didn't trust him. Your nature of being on your guard all the time, of never giving in to give him so much as a glance in a crack that you hadn't camouflaged well with your edifice of hardness, seemed to you to be a stoicism that was antipathetically opposed to what Viktor was saying.

And you were ashamed of being like that.

But you found hope in the fact that it wouldn't last forever, promising yourself as you had promised him that the day would come when he would know the end of the story. Just not today. You'd let them make their revelations, show off their pride, and soon you'd reveal everything.

The shuttle reached the Academy stop, and you both got off. You had passed through the doors of this establishment for years already, had walked through many of its rooms, but never had you had access to Heimerdinger's laboratory.

You climbed the small steps leading inside, Viktor greeting the receptionist as you made your way to the lift.

"Wanna race to the top?" he teased as he pressed his thumb against the polished button.

You giggled softly. "I don't even know the placement of the lab."

He smiled, apparently amused that you might have agreed if you knew the route you were to take.

The lift came, you entered it, and your heart began to race. Not that the confined space in his company was particularly conducive to this excitement, but reaching Heimerdinger's laboratory had been part of your dreams for a long time.

He seemed to notice. “Nervous?”

You exhaled a long breath. “A little.”

He smiled, his voice softening slightly. “It's just a room.”

“Not any room,” you countered hastily.

You reached the floor in question, Viktor going out first, taking his keyring in his hands at the same time.

You observed the high walls of the corridors with their few simple, elegant embellishments, skirting a few walls before Viktor stopped at a large door with three locks.

He raised the key ring to his shoulder level. “Want to open it?”

Your shoulders and arms felt hot for half a second as your eyes fell on the keys.

“No, go ahead,” you replied, though, trying to swallow your nervousness.

You were afraid of making a fool of yourself out of anxiety, or holding the keys wrong, or dropping them, or saying stupid things.

He nodded, using three keys as he was accustomed to doing from now on under your watchful eyes. When the door opened, you inhaled heavily as he turned to you.

“If you would be so kind,” he smiled as he pointed inside the laboratory.

He wasn't being particularly mocking or condescending, just teasing, as he'd always been with you.

You peeked your head inside, letting the smell of old paper and something more electric fill the air. In the centre of the room was a long octagonal table at the bottom of the floor, no doubt originally intended to be Heimerdinger's size, and having not yet been fitted out in any other way for lack of time. That didn't stop the room having a ceiling where you could easily stack more than half a dozen Professors before reaching it.

The floor was scattered with a variety of books, no doubt taken from the large walls of library shelves that occupied the entire height of the room's walls. On your right, a taller, rounded table was placed not far from a U-shaped staircase that went up half a floor and led to a large bay window with an unobstructed view of Piltover.

The air was permeated with the dry, warm smell of paper mingling with the iodine of ink and what felt like salt dough.

You caught yourself with your nose in the air, observing every little detail of the room, drinking it in with your eyes and finding satiation for your curiosity.

“Don't mind the mess,” Viktor muttered lightly under his breath as he moved through the room out of habit.

For Viktor, it was probably just a piece of experimentation, and one that didn't belong to him. But for you, the weight of progress permeated the atmosphere of this room, holding you in place.

“With Academy work, the apartment, and our own research ... We haven't had the time to clean it up since the incident.”

“They did get the time to get the window done though,” you remarked. “Maybe they could have swept it up.”

“Would you like us to go through your things and disturb the very precise order you've established?” he questioned. “What's more, with our calculations and details, it's preferable that as few people as possible see all this and don't touch it, to avoid further explosions.”

It was true that, given the circumstances, the slight mess in the organisation of the room didn't seem so bad to you. Still, you couldn't help thinking about the power cut, the flimsy excuse Jayce had given you, and that in a building full of oblivious students they had conducted powerful energy experiments in a few small square metres.

Yes, a laboratory with more space but a bit more clutter didn't seem so horrible all of a sudden.

Faced with your silence, and your continued contemplation, Viktor walked around the rounded table on which sat a very special device. The prototype was crude, a sort of six-pointed copper cage criss-crossing geometrically above a base on which cables were clustered like tentacles extending from the sides. In the centre of this small platform, between thin copper clamps, was a round, cracked stone that glowed strangely.

“We haven't had a chance to fine-tune the prototype yet,” said Viktor as he pressed the button on a remote control, the large bay window beginning to be covered by a metal shutter, plunging the room into darkness. “We're moving a bit slowly with the classes on the side, and Jayce's occasional trysts with Mel…”

It almost seemed to you that he was trying to make excuses, as if what he was about to show you was mediocre, as if he was taking every conceivable precaution in case you were disappointed, as if it didn't matter after all if it didn't impress you or convince you of the fact that he was doing incredible things.

And for a moment, you were taken aback: Viktor was trying to impress you, to gain recognition, not out of pride or pretence at having produced something that would undoubtedly go beyond anything you could have created, but because he perhaps expected your admiration.

Under the silence of your amazement, you almost thought you saw him nervous. Even though the room was plunged into darkness, with the exception of the emergency exit icon above the large door, the glow of the stone cast a light on your faces that covered you like a bluish balm.

In this soft glow and half-light, the Prince of the Night seemed more apparent than ever, his features serene as he watched the sphere cough up little sapphire sparks and throw little flashes of lightning into the air. Cracked as it was, you were afraid it would break, but you believed in Viktor's confidence and the certainty of his work.

“You're not afraid of heights, are you?” Viktor asked, turning to you, the blue glint in his eyes shifty.

“What?” your eyebrows knitted together.

“Nothing,” his attention immediately returned to the stone.

He pressed a large button, and the coppery arcs began to rotate on themselves, accelerating as the gem seemed to wake up and scatter hairs of lightning in the air. 

The rhythm of the turns stabilised fairly quickly, the stone glistening and floating on itself tenderly without a cloud of particles resembling stardust enveloping it.

This magical behaviour was fascinating - magic was fascinating. A subject as taboo as magic used in technology and in an environment that had for so long observed it with disdain and ridicule led by fear, it was surprising. All the more surprising that Viktor and Jayce were the initiators. 

You could feel Viktor glancing at your peripheral vision as you watched the movements of the stone that seemed to be as much the heart as the body of this crude yet complex plot, its glow reflected on round plates pierced with runes.

“Wow,” you breathed into the silence, Viktor chuckling softly to the side and regaining your attention with this gesture.

“This might surprise you a little,” he remarked.

Under your confusion, which he did not clear up, he placed his long fingers to encircle the gears of the button he had previously activated. With a gentle push to the side, you gasped as the stone seemed to awaken as it rose.

The speed of the prototype stirred the air until Viktor's hair began to waltz in the wind.

Another rotation of the gears and the stone would continue to rise through the floors of this hut.

“Are you sure this is safe?” you asked, above the beating of your heart and the hissing of the stone mingling with the echo of the thin metal being tossed about in the wind. You felt as if everything could collapse at any moment.

He offered you a wry smile as he met your gaze, but said nothing. He'd probably done this many times before, and didn't have the same fears as you, but you were new to these risks. 

You just had to trust him. And that's what you did.

Another turn, and the plates lit up. The stone came to rest and a boom sounded as a column of light rose into the air and wreaths of blue light stretched above you. You covered your eyes, dazzled by the light, and the whole room seemed to want to pull every corner back towards the stone as if to compress the sheets of the world into a tight snowball.

And suddenly the tension exploded, and you could feel your feet separating from the floor.

When you opened your eyes, the room was bathed in a clear blue light, particles flying here and there in the air as if you'd dived headfirst into a star cloud.

But what surprised you most of all was the fact that you were floating.

You rose up into the room, no longer feeling the weight of your body on your heels or your knees, and you thanked yourself inwardly for not having worn a skirt today.

Your eyes found Viktor, who was also floating in the air not far from you.

You were relieved when he swam slightly through the air to join you, realising that with this change in gravity, his leg shouldn't be hurting. With all his weight lifted, he could just sway there in the air, remaining serene and carefree.

“Doesn't this feel safe?” he smiled, his hair floating like in water as he turned his face towards you.

You wondered, for a moment, if he'd ever come into this very room and activated the change in gravity so that he no longer felt any discomfort, letting himself be lulled into this stagnation. And you wondered about the times when, through pain, he had never been able to reach even his corridor and relieve himself of the weight of this sick body.

“It's…” you began, looking around you in wonder as tiny particles of light waltzed between your fingers, “beautiful.”

Higher up, in the air, a small irregular sphere floated like a bubble, sprinkled with a fine luminous veil of dust bringing its brightness to the whole room. Its pale core was irregular and reminded you of the very heart of the stone. The latter had not moved when you lowered your eyes towards the prototype, the stone floating above its base and sending a small trickle into the air, seeming to supply the sphere.

“This could change the world,” nodded Viktor, his eyes fixed on the sphere as if he were seeing it for the first time. “Commerce, travelling, progress in all fields…”

Alleviate the differences between Piltover and Zaun.

He didn't say it, but you could feel it, hanging on the end of his sentence heavily.

“And you made it.”

Viktor looked away from the sphere and back at you, seeming slightly surprised.

“Well,” he began to try and correct, “it was Jayce's original idea.”

“But he couldn't have done it without you.”

He frowned for a moment, perhaps slightly surprised by the praise you were heaping on him. But he deserved to hear it, after all.

“I suppose,” he finally said, as if it was no big deal.

This little sphere, barely bigger than your head, had the exceptional potential to transform the world you lived in for the better. That the inequalities of Zaun, which had too often been neglected by Piltover, could be meliorated, that the filth and pollution they poured into the air and water could be erased.

“You know,” he continued, clearing his throat, his eyes seeming to meet yours only with effort, “since there is a new masquerade to come, maybe we could... try something that I won't be able to provide there.”

It was a strange formulation, a suggestion that remained deeply unclear, and one that made you undeniably curious.

“Which is?”

His gaze met yours at last, breathing heavily. Was he really nervous? You didn't think you'd ever seen him like this, searching for words, avoiding your gaze...

He extended his hand towards you. “May I have this dance?”

Your lips parted in amazement, closing only seconds later as it seemed your tongue would fly out of your mouth in excitement.

A dance? With Viktor?

Everything raced through your mind, every thought bickering over what to do, what to say, how to react, how to digest this information that he wanted to dance with you?

“You may,” a tiny smile spread across your lips, and you thanked yourself for having waited a few seconds, without which your voice would have been far too loud and excited for the moment.

A smile appeared on his lips, slowly but surely spreading as his dark eyes watched you. You reached out for him, but you were too far apart without having to stir the air ridiculously to reach him.

You didn't even have to do that, as Viktor shifted his grip on his cane from the handle to the tip. Just as you thought he was holding it out for you to grab, he didn't aim it at your hand, but underneath it, continuing on its way until it hooked your back and pulled you towards him.

You stifled a small gasp of surprise as you were thrown against him, the movement pushing him back slightly as your hands landed on his chest.

It's funny, a heart. It's only made up of three layers of tissue, the epicardium, the myocardium and the endocardium, and yet it was always there to remind us that we could only experience this kind of moment through its activity when emotions were running high.

Your cheeks heated as you moved slightly away from Viktor, his cane still tucked into the small of your back, keeping you near him.

You were so close, your eyes inevitably meeting, and under their intensity, you couldn't help drifting your gaze, resting it on your hand pressed against his chest. 

You gave a nervous little laugh, glancing up at him from time to time, who didn't seem to be letting go of his constant observation. 

“I don't know how to dance,” you said after a long breath, giving you enough courage to face his gaze.

“Have we finally found something you're not great at?” he teased, your eyes rolling in amusement. “At least up here I'm sure you won't step on my foot.”

You couldn't help smiling and laughing slightly at his remark. He gave you an amused look back, the bluish light of that magic flooding the room and running through his eyes like a comet.

“First,” he said again as he released his grip on his cane and let it float away into the air before your eyes, “hand placement.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You know how to dance?”

He chuckled. “Not exactly,” his now free hand joined his twin to rest on yours, the length of his fingers engulfing yours. “For a while, Jayce was practising the waltz all the time. You wouldn't believe how much I learned about it just by watching him bang his head against the corners of the bed once the music took him away…”

You could easily imagine the scene. Jayce, hands clutching a pillow as a dance partner, muttering under his breath ‘one, two, three’ to mark his rhythm, occasionally punctuating the tune with a few wisps of conversation like ‘the champagne is quite divine’ or whatever nonsense he could think of.

“So,” he continued, “the cavalier's or rider's hands rest on the shoulder and in the hand of the leader.”

As he made his explanation, he guided one of your hands not far from where shoulder and neck met, the other he came to gently place in his own hand and pressing his thumb on the back of it as if to keep it in place.

“Oh, because you're the cavalier now?” you remarked, tilting your head to one side.

He mimicked your gesture, almost in mockery. “Which one of us knows more about dancing here.”

Well, he had a point, you had to admit.

“The cavalier's hands,” he continued, “holds the hand of his or her partner and places his or her second hand on their back.”

His hand gently came to rest on your waist, his warm palm sliding down your side to your back, and you hoped to the sky that your immediate goosebump-inducing shivers wouldn't be felt through your fabric.

Your cheeks flushed as memories of that night's dream came flooding back, the thought making you nervous and a little feverish. Your mind couldn't help but return ineluctably to the sensation of his lips against your ear, of his fingers pulling your zip down towards the small of your back...

You pulled yourself together, taking a long breath and hoping that it was truly impossible for anyone to read minds and that Viktor would never obtain this ability or use it against you.

“Does that feel okay?” he questioned.

For a moment, you were confused by the question, like it was supposed to be asked about an indiscreet subject of which you were unaware in the codes of dancing. But your mind linked these knots eventually – he was asking if his hand on your wounded back was uncomfortable.

“No, not at all,” you confirmed, shaking your head.

He nodded his. “Good, first-”

“Why are you teaching me all this?” you asked nervously.

He shrugged. “Might come handy for the masquerade.”

“You want to dance there?” You tried not to move your hand too much on his shoulder and hoped your palm wouldn't get clammy.

“It's not for me,” her eyebrows furrowed, “it's for you.”

“Who says I'll want to dance with anybody there?”

His eyes softened, as if tinged with disappointment. "We could stop."

"I don't want to stop," you replied a little too quickly, a slight panic betraying you in the wall of stoicism you had maintained for so long.

His eyes lowered for a moment to your hand, the one resting on his shoulder, and you noticed with astonishment that your grip on it had tightened. Your eyes fell in panic on the other hand clasping his, and just from the sensation you could feel that you had instinctively clung to him.

You wanted to tear your hand away from his shoulder and strangle yourself with it. You must have looked like a lunatic, your senses and reflexes taking over without you being able to do anything about it.

You pulled your hand away from his shoulder, pushing against his chest to distance yourself from him, but his hand on your back kept you close to him, preventing you from moving away.

Your eyes met his, as if out of distress. You had often, if not almost always, managed to find a way out of his presence. And now there was no escape.

You breathed slowly, trying to pull yourself together, but the proximity and the sensation of his hand on your back didn't particularly help your situation. Why did you have to stay so close?

You suddenly felt very conscious of everything about yourself. Was your breath okay? Were you going to sweat and would your sweat smell bad? What if your expression was completely stupid and in the next few seconds he finally decided to let you go?

"I thought you didn't want to dance with anyone here," he remarked, not letting you go at all.

You felt his thumb pressing gently on the back of your hand, like he had done during the Seven Minutes In Heaven. His finger made very slow circular motions on your skin, and if the gesture was meant to calm you down, it only partially worked to slow your heart rate.

"You're not just anyone," you emphasised.

His thumb softened and stopped, his hand static at the small of your back.

If you really wanted to keep your feelings from getting the better of you, you were going to have to do better than that, but if you did decide to fully embrace them, you were going to have to relax a little.

"But I don't mind practising," you finally suggested, clearing your throat. "Show me how you do it."

He seemed taken aback for a moment, then gave way to an air of satisfaction.

"Right," he continued, correctly replacing the position of his hand with yours. "First, for a waltz, you take a step to the side."

It was quite strange to lower your head to look at your feet and see them floating in mid-air as you attempted to press the tip of your shoe onto a non-existent surface, with Viktor following your movement.

"Very good," he commented when you managed to partially complete a step to the side, "now you have to bring your other foot close to the step you just took," he waited for you to move, "and as soon as you press it to the floor, the other one rises, and once it hits the ground, we start again on the other side, taking another step as we turn."

You tried to follow his steps, your eyes fixed on your feet and forgetting the distance between you and the floor. You laughed nervously, feeling utterly ridiculous with every movement, and the lack of solid ground didn't help matters.

But after a while, you gave up on the idea of waltzing, letting yourselves spin in the air like dancers in a music box.

You were close, and you felt caught up in the game of chic masquerade, returning to a point that had left you curious.

"I saw that you had the Tarot deck on your desk," you remarked, by way of conversation. "Any conclusive answer?"

He inhaled, his expression shifting from serenity to confusion. "I suppose I got my aura read this morning," he began, his eyes drifting elsewhere in the air. "It said someone close to me was starting to discover their..." He frowned further before his eyes returned to yours. "Desire, or something of the kind."

Your heart seemed to overflow from your ribs at the thought that, for some reason you couldn't understand, he had realised that you were that person. "Really?"

"Mhm," he confirmed, running his thumb over your knuckles as if to relax them, and you found yourself mortified once again at the thought of having gripped his skin a little too tightly. "The card was the page of wands," you felt his hand press a little harder into your back. I think it was something about wands representing Fire, of which Desire symbolically shares the qualities since it warms us, it's luminous and-’

"Are you sure the card wasn't meant for you?" you couldn't help asking.

His eyes narrowed briefly, and for a moment you wondered if he was going to challenge you on why you asked that question.

"I doubt it," he replied instead, raising his chin as his eyes looked down at you. "I know what I want."

Your whole chest was filled with warmth at a prospect that had just dawned on you, a hope you had long dismissed.

The possibility that Viktor felt the same way you did.

You refused to admit it or even imagine it, mostly because you didn't want to feel the pain of an emotional fall if you were just imagining things. You had said it yourself to Viktor a long time ago, after all, ‘I guess once you hit the ground really hard, you never really want to jump from that cliff again.’

"Why consult a Tarot if you know what you want?" you asked anyway, trying to convince yourself that maybe he had brought you here, just you and him, to show you the most important thing in his life that only a handful of people knew about, and to invite you to dance with him, just as friends.

"Because it's such an interesting thing, isn't it?" he smiled.

"Tell me about it," you sighed, pushing away the Knight of Pentacles, who was coming back to the charge, the Two of Cups, and the Emperor and Empress out of your mind.

"I never thought you would have been interested in this," he remarked.

"I never thought so either," you confirmed.

Silence fell between you again, and you felt as if every sound was amplified like never before. You felt his fingers digging into the small of your back again, pulling you closer to him.

Your eyes met his, and you realised how close you were, your gaze occasionally falling on his beauty spots.

"How far am I from truly knowing you, Miss?"

The nickname, which you had heard so many times before, made your heart skip a beat, and you hoped that Viktor wouldn't feel your pulse through the fingers he held in his hand.

"Closer than anyone has ever been," you replied, your voice reduced to a whisper.

His amber eyes never left you, the sensation of his two warm hands against your skin like suns kissing your skin.

"Truly."

Your eyes rested briefly on his lips. 

It seemed to you that you had never desired anything else in a single second, that the way he called you Miss being pressed onto the skin of your neck and laid in the shell of your ear by their graze would drive you mad, and that their brush onto your own would make yourself his.

But the realisation of the gesture struck you soon enough, bringing your eyes back to his.

Dark. That's how they looked.

Your heart raced as your noses were about to barely brushing each other.

The light in the room provided by the blue sphere began to flicker, your bodies slowly descending to the floor as your surprise pulled you out of the situation. You blinked rapidly as your feet touched the ground and you almost fell, your knees strangely weak as Viktor held you steady.

The stone descended into its plinth, and the room was once again illuminated only by its faint glow.

Your eyes fell on your two joined hands, and you extricated yourself from his embrace with a reluctant step back, your heart racing. His warmth, though now extinguished from contact, remained awake and lit beneath your skin.

He seemed to regain his senses in turn, clearing his throat as he looked at his cane on the floor.

"We are still trying to figure out a way to stabilise it," he explained as he took a small, difficult step towards it.

You beat him to it, bending down to pick it up and offering it to him, prompting him to whisper a quiet ‘thank you’ as his hand took hold of the pommel.

“Progress is only limited by time,” he remarked.

“And in a relatively short time, you have managed to do what no one else has ever done,” you confirmed.

He grabbed the remote control to open the shutters and pressed the button to raise the blinds. "I suppose so, in any case it allowed the council to congratulate us on our progress and our construction plans."

“Thus the masquerade?” you asked as the light came up in the room.

“Thus the masquerade," he confirmed.

“I see…” you managed to say.

You had to get yourself out of this situation, your heart pounding furiously in your chest as the electricity of what you thought had almost happened spread through your veins.

"Speaking of which," you continued, taking a step to the side, "I have to send Eris her invitation, and..." you scratched the back of your neck, "take my painkillers if I want to be able to come to class properly tomorrow.

"You didn't... I mean, I didn't...?" He made vague gestures with his free hand as his eyes dropped to your midsection.

"No!" came out a little too quickly and hastily from your mouth. "No," followed more calmly with a sigh.

He nodded. "Let me record the results of the experiment and we can get back," Viktor said as he walked towards the table where the prototype was waiting.

"I can get back on my own, don't worry," you hurried to counter.

He frowned, observing you. "Are you sure?"

"Mhm!" you nodded vigorously, perhaps a little too excited about it as you walked backwards towards the exit. "I'll see you in class tomorrow?"

He seemed confused by your behaviour, his eyebrows furrowed. "Sure you're okay?"

"Perfectly fine," you reassured him, pressing your lips tightly together, stopping the movement as soon as you had started it, remembering what could have happened. "I just need some rest."

He nodded slowly. "Alright then," he finally concluded, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, exactly, see you tomorrow. I think I won't lose myself on the way back," you laughed nervously.

Stupid remark. It was the Academy, of course you wouldn't get lost.

Viktor looked at you with a deeply puzzled expression, not seeming to buy your lame explanations.

"See you tomorrow!" you repeated before slipping away and avoiding further questions from him.

Once out of the laboratory, you walked quickly towards the lift, your emotions rumbling in your heart like an engine fuelling thoughts you weren't proud of.

You had to get away from him as quickly as possible.

I need his face really near mine.

Now that you had gotten what you wanted, you were afraid of how much you had enjoyed being with him like that.

You pressed the lift button so hard that you were afraid you would break it and get stuck, leaning against one of the lift walls as the doors closed behind you.

You pressed both hands against your eyes, burying your face in them.

And to think that just a few moments ago, Viktor had touched them.

You're pathetic for clinging to the idea that he wants you, pull yourself together, you told yourself.

And yet, he had drawn you to him little by little.

And now he had seen the way your eyes had rested on his lips, and perhaps your shame was now exposed for all to see.

In any case, you felt that you were not ready to let this moment slip from your mind and sensed that it would return when the trumpets of insomnia began to sound again.

Your head fell back on the wall of the lift.

You and Viktor had been close to kissing.

✦﹒ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

✦﹒ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr @potatointhedirt @atrocioushaircut @ren-ni @schrodingersraven @urmommt @enoojnij @stilinskisensation @emlovesya @soupsaurus @luvreadingfics @the-valars-sapphire @solbringer @adorabluesposts @pxszels @nerolovesseongjiyuk @cyberwears @cryptidcut @seohaepeachyun @danielsbackupglasses @2hiigh2cry @16novvs @cicadastoner @patchs-curiosity-corneriosity-corner @w41k3r-94290 @minniiv @roku907 @lumilarity @peachy-writings @disturbyn @ddandelionfluff @holymotherfxrkingshirtballs @notyuralycat @glenn-slayer @k07ume @hexb0nes @ravngers @fushirika @glenn-slayer @watergirl13girl @graveyardtrain @theuclid @catspook @mildly-discouraging-future @nataliea @frogbuggy

[teshadraws]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 72]

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AO3 Link

-

The dig for Yveltal continues, and the members of Team Scarlet learn about a village tradition.

-

The next day dawns much the same as the one before, save for a newly-healed Samir joining their crew. Fidel sees them off with a sleepy wave and a bid to be safe.

Junie, perched on Nia’s shoulder, snorts on their way out the door. “He shouldn’t worry so much. The scariest thing we’ll see today is Soren.”

“C’mon, I don’t think Soren’s that bad,” Nia says.

Junie gives her a dry look. “No offense, Nia, but you’d think an axe murderer was redeemable.”

Tobias and Samir huff a quiet laugh.

“H-Hey! I’m not that bad, either!”

“That’s the problem,” Junie says. “You’re too good. I’m sure you saw something in Soren's aura that makes him all sympathetic or whatever, but that doesn’t mean much to the rest of us.”

She…has a point. Good intentions don’t mean much without the behavior to match. Nia pouts but doesn’t argue, pulling the straps of their new backpack down around her shoulders.

“If I had to stop being such a jerk to people before they’d give me a shot, so does he,” Tobias says casually, stretching his arms as he leads them down the icy cobblestone oath to Nico’s restaurant. Eira had told them that they could swing by the delibird's place to pick up lunch for later.

“Who says you ever stopped being a jerk?” Junie teases, fluttering onto Tobias’ shoulder.

The charmander blows a ring of smoke into her face, making her shout about him proving her point before flying back to the safety of Samir’s back. Samir gives the rookidee an amused look.

The air is frigid as ever today, and clouds have covered the sky in a thin blanket of gray. Flurries of snow drift by as their group moves through the sleepy village.

When they reach the restaurant, Nia is surprised to see a small line formed outside, leading up to a serving window near the front door. A pretty white fox Pokemon with curly, icy-blue fur atop her head is leaning out of it, laughing with one of the townspeople. She uses a paw to push a small, woven sack lunch across the counter to them.

“Thanks, Rora!" The Pokemon says. "Say hi to your mama for me."

He grabs the meal and heads off with a wave.

Oh, neat! Carnelian had explained that the Matriarch was covering their meals while they stayed here, but he didn’t mention that they have a takeout situation set up. That’s perfect.

They join the back of the line, eyeing the menu as Nia and Junie talk about fast food in the human world—

“You didn’t have Döner?!” Junie exclaims.

“No, I lived in the U.S.! I was a Wendy’s fan.”

“Oh, that’s just criminal.”

—until it’s their turn.

The fox, Rora, perks up when she sees them, standing up on what must be a stool to lean over the counter with sparkling blue eyes. “Well hellooo there, strangers! I’ve been dying to meet you.”

Nia blinks. “You have?”

“Well, yeah! I’ve lived on this mountain my entire life, and a girl gets tired of snow, snow, and more snow, y’know? Like, everyone’s nice, but I want to see an actual city! Go to the ocean! And you’re Seekers, right? So you must’ve seen it all!”

“Rora! You’re working, remember?” A voice calls from within the restaurant.

Rora rolls her eyes, and Nia realizes suddenly that this must be a younger ‘mon. A teenager, most likely, probably only a year or two behind Nia and Tobias. Probably somewhere around Junie’s age.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rora sighs. But she smiles at them. “What can we get y’all?”

“O-Oh,” Nia says. “Um. I’ll take the, uh, bannock? With berries.” Anything topped with berries seems like a safe bet.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” Rora says, giving Nia a wink that makes her flush under her fur. The fox reaches to the side to scoop a small, purple marble out of a little bucket. “And you?”

“Veggie gratin, please!” Junie chirps.

Rora nods with a hum and adds a green marble to Nia’s purple. “And you two? Wow, you’re all cute, huh?”

Tobias, who had opened his mouth to order, goes bright red. “Uh.”

Samir isn’t much better, looking like a deer in headlights.

Wow, a super-effective hit on all of them. Rora’s dangerous.

The ice type laughs. “Sorry, sorry. Mama always says I’m too forward.”

Junie grins. “No, I like it!”

“‘S fine,” Tobias mutters, looking adorably flustered as he ducks his chin into his scarf. “Uh. We’ll take the roasted root salad and the pumkin curry."

Ooh, all of those sound good. Maybe they can share their meals so they get to try a bit of each!

Rora nods, sweeping brown and orange marbles to join the others before pushing all of them off the counter to drop into a little chute. Nia hears them roll away from the window.

“It’ll be just a few minutes,” Rora says, before looking at them again with wagging tails and bright eyes. “In the meantime, can you tell me about some of the cool places you’ve been? I’m making a list of where I should visit first when I finally save up enough to go traveling!”

Nia ignores the heart-wrenching thought that if they don’t succeed in saving the world, this girl will never get the chance. Instead, Nia just smiles and says, “Sure! We actually just came back from this really cool little place called Kaleido Bay…”

No one is behind them in line, so they chat with Rora while they wait for their food, telling the young Pokemon about all the places they’ve been: Kaleido Bay, the Haven, Ghatha, Fort Asra, Shivergleam, the fields they went to for the bug swarm’s migration…

Nia’s life has really been an adventure since she woke up as a Pokemon, hasn't it? She can’t blame Rora for wanting to see more of the world for herself.

When their food is ready, packed up in a tall basket that’s nearly too large to tuck into their bag, they wave goodbye to the cheery Rora and head to the tunnel to meet up with Carnelian and Nouf.

Nia is a little surprised to see Soren there as well. While they ended the day yesterday on much better terms than they started it, she would’ve thought the lucario would've convinced his father to let him stay back today. He seems like the type that needs to stay busy.

“Good morning!” Nia calls as they approach.

“G-Good morning,” Carnelian replies with a nervous smile.

Nouf grunts, and Soren gives them a nod. While the lucario doesn’t look excited by their arrival by any means, he at least feels much less hostile. Maybe they won him over a bit yesterday.

With everyone ready to go, Carnelian guides them once more into the tunnels and the heart of the mountain. They’re quickly enveloped by darkness and the rich scent of freshly-dug soil, with Tobias’ tail flame, Nouf’s lantern, and the faint red-purple glow of the crystals in the walls as their only sources of light.

It feels like no time at all before they’re back at the end of Carnelian and Nouf’s tunnel, a wall of crystal-laden rock in front of them. The sableye stretches, cracking his knuckles before getting to work, and Nouf wastes no time joining him.

And once more, the rest of them take a seat against the wall of the tunnel to wait and keep an eye on things. Nia sits close to Tobias’ side, leeching his warmth in the cold air, and Junie flutters into Nia’s lap to nest. Soren opts to stand against the wall across from them, arms crossed.

Samir is the only one left standing, looking a little lost.

“We weren’t joking when we said you didn’t miss much,” Tobias says, a wry note in his voice. “Just sit down and keep an ear out for any sign of cave-ins.”

Samir hesitates, but does eventually fold their legs beneath themself to settle on Tobias’ other side.

“Welcome to the thrilling world of cave guarding!” Junie says.

And thrilling it is. Nia is bored out of her mind in minutes, meaning she turns to her usual method of entertaining herself in these kinds of situations: her aura.

Although…

Nia checks her aura, and is happy to see it pretty much entirely back to normal after its previous state of exhaustion.

“Hey,” Nia says, catching the others’ attention. “Do you mind if I train my aura with yours while we’re down here?"

Tobias gives her an amused look. “You want to test some of the things Soren talked about yesterday, don’t you?”

Nia gives him a sheepish shrug.

“Sure!” Junie says.

“That’s fine,” Tobias agrees, reclining back against the cave wall and closing his eyes.

“I can avoid looking at yours, Samir,” Nia assures.

Samir looks at her for a long moment, then shakes their head. They whistle a quiet, Okay.

Nia’s brows raise. “You’re…okay with me reading your aura?”

Samir looks away, as if embarrassed, but nods.

Oh. That’s a level of trust Nia hadn’t thought they’d reached yet.

Nia smiles, touched. “Thank you. Don’t worry, I won’t pry.”

Samir shrugs, still not looking at her, so Nia gets to work and scooches away from Tobias a few feet, missing his warmth immediately. But it won’t be much of a practice with distance if she’s literally touching her targets.

Junie must understand that, because she flutters out of Nia’s lap without complaint and into Tobias’ instead, making herself cozy in his warmth with a happy sigh.

Across from them, Soren watches with an unreadable expression. He doesn’t offer his own aura as a test subject, but he doesn’t scorn her exercise, either. She’ll take that as a win.

Nia settles herself, taking a few breaths to relax and closing her eyes. She thinks about what Soren talked about yesterday, and all the uses her aura could have. She’s tried most of the techniques before, but she wants to try connecting to Pokemon at a farther distance.

Nia tries to replicate what she did at the Lexym Guild, sending a bit of her aura into the threads of the world around them. She was right yesterday when she said that the pathways here are…smaller. Dried up and barely visible. Her aura goes off track almost immediately, dissipating like a puff of steam on a hot playground slide.

Nia frowns.

This is definitely going to be harder than it was at the Lexym Guild. She supposes that makes sense, though—the Lexym Guild is literally built into a giant tree. Their surroundings were teeming with life energy there, the rivers of aura lush and their currents easy to float atop.

This mountain, as expected from somewhere so barren, is like…a dried-up creek, by comparison. The pathways are still there, and life isn’t choked out completely, but the water is shallow and the current is next to nonexistent. It takes a lot more effort for Nia to traverse it. In the guild, it was like sailing down a rapid river, whereas here she’s gonna have to painstakingly paddle her way upstream.

Oh well. That’ll make her practice more difficult, but she kind of welcomes the challenge. It’ll beef her skills up faster, after all, like punching above her weight class.

So, focusing herself and trying to tune out the sounds of Carnelian’s digging and Junie and Tobias’ quiet conversation, Nia tries again.

Slowly this time, she gathers a bit of her aura and sends it down the nearest branch, navigating towards where she knows Tobias is sitting. Sure enough, in a moment, she brushes against his familiar maroon aura. It recoils for a moment, surprised, before relaxing into her touch and reaching back.

Nia smiles, twining around him for a few seconds before finding Junie’s bright orange aura and tapping it, as if to say, Tag! You’re it.

Junie’s aura flares with excitement, then playfully chases back. The two of them tussle and roll for a few moments, before Nia moves away again.

Finally, Nia brushes by Samir, their aura lighting up behind her eyes. The skiddo is…silver. As strong as steel, scuffed up from heavy hits but still unbent. Reflective like a pool of water, calm and serene.

Nia doesn’t dig deeper than that for now, instead just trying to convey a sense of fond, safe, friend to reassure Samir since they aren’t used to this. She peeks open an eye to see Samir’s posture relax ever-so-slightly.

Nia cuts off her connection and takes a breath as her aura calms.

“You found them,” Soren says, surprising Nia.

She nods, proud.

“Now find the diggers.”

Nia blinks at him.

Soren stares back. His face is impassive, but his voice is neutral. He tilts his head in the direction of Carnelian and Nouf, already out of sight as they make a sharp turn in their tunneling.

While it’s phrased as a command, Nia gets the feeling Soren is trying to help, in his own blunt way. Or he's at least curious about how much she can do.

So Nia closes her eyes and tries to do as he suggested. Once more, she gathers her aura, then feeds it into the nearest thread, moving vaguely in Carnelian and Nouf’s direction.

Nia isn’t sure if it’s because they’re farther away, or because she can’t actually see them, but she has a much harder time of it. She takes a few too many wrong turns, then backtracks, until she feels her aura straining to maintain itself.

She lets it dissipate, huffing with frustration.

“Don't just mindlessly aim for the direction you think you should go,” Soren says. “That would get you nowhere during a search. Send out feelers first to pinpoint where your target is.”

“Um…feelers?”

Soren closes his eyes. For a moment Nia thinks he’s ignoring her, fed up with her questions already, until she feels his aura brush by hers to get her attention.

Soren’s deeper blue aura circles hers, then moves down one of the threads of the world around them. Nia closes her eyes and hesitantly follows, watching as Soren’s aura…splits. Razor-thin threads of his energy spread down a hundred different pathways, as thin as gossamer, barely there. Then, a moment later, they cut themselves off and vanish, save for one. Soren pours his energy into that one, and Nia trails at his proverbial heels, surprised when they suddenly skirt past two new auras, one a soft pink and the other a stalwart brick red.

…Carnelian and Nouf?

Nia opens her eyes with a gasp. “You found them so quickly! How did you do that?”

“Sending all of your energy in one direction without knowing where you’re going means you waste both time and aura if you are wrong. Instead, split your aura to cast a…net, of sorts. Once something catches your attention, you can follow it to its origin point.”

Huh. That reminds Nia of what she learned from Xander about tracking a scent with her nose. Breathing in deep until you catch a scent, finding its trail, and following it to its source.

“Doesn’t that tire you out, though?” Nia asks. “Spreading your aura so wide?”

“Less so than blindly searching and having to backtrack,” Soren says. He watches her expectantly.

Right. Her turn.

Nia takes a deep, grounding breath, then closes her eyes. She can sense Soren’s aura still hovering nearby, watching.

Nia tries to do as he showed her, not pouring all of her aura out in one big burst, but instead sending a trickle down multiple threads. Almost immediately, she loses track of which one is where, her confusion tangling the threads and making her lose concentration until her aura peters out.

Nia huffs.

“Don't think about it so much,” Soren says. Ugh, those words sound familiar. She had a problem with overthinking while battle training too, didn’t she? “You should not be directing your aura. You’re simply sending it down the pathways and covering ground until something catches your attention."

So it's kind of like…moving her hands through murky water. She shouldn’t be purposefully trying to seek out any objects hidden underneath with her eyes, but just…feeling, until she bumps into something. Like a spider feeling the vibrations of a struggling fly in its web and following those back to its catch.

“Okay,” Nia breathes.

She tries again, sending her aura out in thin threads. Some of them wash over Soren, Tobias, Junie, and Samir, but she ignores them this time around. She continues to cast her aura thin and wide, further and further, pushing her control to the limits until—

Faintly, she senses the unfamiliar auras from before. As if hearing a voice in the distance and knowing vaguely which direction it’s coming from. 

With that in mind, Nia cuts off all the other threads, then sends a larger burst of aura down the pathway where she sensed the disturbance, homing in on it.

There! She brushes by Carnelian and Nouf, and their auras light up behind her eyes.

“I found them!” Nia says, triumphant, as she cuts off her aura and opens her eyes. She’s panting, and her heart is beating fast, but she did it!

Soren meets her excitement with a satisfied nod. “You did.”

“No idea what you did, but good job!” Junie says.

Nia laughs. “I’m learning to find people and connect to their aura from a distance!”

Tobias’ brows raise, visibly impressed. “How far can you go?”

Nia hesitates, then looks at Soren.

“Practice will increase your range over time,” Soren says. “Theoretically, there is no limit. You could connect with someone on the other side of the planet, though that would require much more aura than you or I will ever have.”

“Wow,” Nia breathes. “And that’s how you communicate with your pack, right? Across the village?”

Soren hesitates for only a moment, then nods. “If you are close with someone, or at least familiar with their aura, it is easier to connect to them, even from a distance. Familiarity creates a sort of…magnetism between souls.”

“So if you practiced enough and had enough energy, you could like…talk to Maggie from way up here?” Tobias asks, bewildered.

“Like a cell phone!” Junie chirps.

Nia hums. “I think it’d be less like a conversation on a phone and probably more like…exchanging feelings, right? When I last practiced with Val and Avery, it was more like I was hearing the intent and emotions in someone's aura rather than actual words. And I think it’d be even harder to be specific from a distance.”

Soren nods. “Psychic types tend to speak in words, but our aura is based in emotion. Intent.“

Intent. Right. It’s like how Nia decides whether to make her aura intangible or physical, and whether to make it into a club or shield. Aura is pure energy, and Nia is in charge of what it does.

“So if intent decides how aura forms,” Nia muses. “How would I transfer energy like you mentioned earlier?”

“A healing move would be helpful with how often you guys get beat up,” Junie teases.

Tobias and Samir snort in unison. They're really on the same wavelength today.

“Riolu cannot channel energy for healing,” Soren says.

“Like how I couldn’t do aura readings?” Nia asks, her voice light but challenging.

To Nia’s surprise, Soren doesn’t bristle in response, simply shaking his head. “Riolu cannot typically achieve an aura reading without years of training, but it is possible. Healing moves, however, are impossible until evolution. Your biology isn’t built to convert energy in such a way.”

Nia frowns, glancing at Tobias and Samir as if to verify the lucario’s words. Tobias shrugs in response. “But…why wouldn’t I be able to do it now if I should be able to do it after evolving?”

“Perhaps as a defensive measure. When evolution was still possible, riolu typically evolved during childhood, since our evolution depends on an affection bond rather than battle experience or exposure to a particular item. However, getting carried away with healing as a child can deplete such a small Pokémon’s limited energy reserves. Sometimes to a dangerous degree.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that before,” Tobias says thoughtfully. “Maggie mentioned it happening to one of her patients once. I think it was a cleffa that kept healing her friends while they were battling, and she pushed herself too much and fainted. Her parents were pretty worried, but she just needed to rest to recover.”

Soren nods. “Aura exhaustion. Common for young healers.”

Nia frowns, looking down at her paw. “Healing powers would be awfully convenient, though. Are you sure I can’t do it?”

For a long moment, Soren looks at her. “You can try, but don’t be disappointed when it does not work.”

“I bet you ten poké Nia somehow pulls it off,” Junie whispers to Samir.

Soren pointedly ignores her. “Use my aura as your test subject. I don’t want to risk you harming anyone else.”

Nia snaps her head up to look at the lucario, alarmed. “W-What?! Harm?”

“You are trying to inject aura directly into another Pokémon’s life force,” Soren says drily. “While intent to heal should keep you from causing any harm, surely you can see why I am being cautious.”

Nia’s face isn’t sure whether it wants to heat with embarrassment or pale with unease. When he puts it like that…

Soren sighs. “You will not hurt me because I will not allow you to do so. I can see you will insist on exploring this avenue if you do not explore it now, so go on.”

Junie snorts and whispers, “Okay, he got you there.”

Nia feels much less certain about the exercise now, but she also knows Soren is right and her curiosity will make her want to try eventually. So she closes her eyes and conjures her aura, tentatively approaching Soren’s soul.

“What do I do to heal?” Nia whispers.

Soren doesn’t respond, but his aura reaches out to brush over hers. She feels him leave energy behind to soak into her own, adding to her aura in a way that feels strange. Like…eating an oran berry and feeling her energy replenish. Or maybe like a burst of caffeine entering her system after chugging some coffee. Nia hasn’t been injured today, to her knowledge, but maybe even the regular wear and tear of just living can be mended by healing moves.

Okay, Nia, focus. Healing time.

Nia tries to do the same thing Soren did, sending a bit of her energy at his with the intent to add it to his own. Hers, however, just sort of…slides off before dissipating. Like oil and water trying to mix. Nia frowns and tries again, to no avail.

“In using a healing move, you are converting your energy to a more…universal state that can be accepted by anyone,” Soren says. “Riolu bodies are not accustomed to such a task.”

Nia wants to argue and say that she can do it if she just tries, but after giving the process a few more goes, she has to stop, releasing her aura to find herself panting hard, her heart pounding in her chest.

She couldn’t do it. She feels a bit embarrassed by Tobias, Samir, and Junie’s eyes on her.

Soren, however, just grunts. “There is no reason to be ashamed. All Pokemon are built differently. Charmander can breathe flames. Skiddo can use the vines and leaves that grow on their bodies. Rookidee are built small and light to achieve agile flight. Riolu are simply not built for healing. It's just how you are made.”

Oh. That brings up another question, though, one that has haunted Nia since she first showed up in this world. She didn’t think about it until now, but she has the perfect Pokemon to ask right in front of her.

Even if it is sort of embarrassing to bring up right after failing something else.

“Okay, I get why I can’t do healing moves,” Nia says, making herself look up at Soren, “Sort of. But, uh. Do you have any idea why I wouldn’t be able to use other types of move energy?”

There’s a long stretch of silence as everyone’s eyes go to the lucario. Soren stares back at Nia, his brow slowly furrowing.

“…You cannot use other types of move energy?”

Nia cringes. “Um. No?”

“Only normal type moves,” Tobias clarifies. “I’ve never seen her use a fighting type move. Val couldn’t figure it out, either.”

Soren continues looking at Nia like she is a particularly strange insect that has crawled into his home. She fidgets under his gaze.

“So...no guesses?” Nia asks.

Soren sighs. “As far as I can tell, you are physically a normal riolu, despite your abnormal aura control. You should possess the ability to use fighting type moves at the very least, so it likely comes back around to intent.”

Intent? But how can that be the case if Nia's intent is to use a fighting type move?

“Didn’t you say something about not wanting to be a fighting type ‘mon when you first showed up in this world?” Tobias asks, squinting at Nia. “Because you ‘don’t like fighting’ or something?”

Nia blinks. “Did I? But surely that didn’t like…change my biology or something.”

“No, but it likely explains what is happening,” Soren says, catching their attention again. “You are holding yourself back.”

Nia stares. “What?”

“If you see fighting type energy as particularly…dangerous, or violent, then you could be restraining yourself from accessing that type energy, even subconsciously.”

“I dunno if she’s restraining herself from violence,” Junie says, humor in her voice. “I’ve seen her punch a seviper in the face.”

Samir nods sagely.

Soren tilts his head. "In self-defense?”

Nia frowns. “Pretty much all of my fighting is because I’m either sparring or defending myself or someone else. I never just…attack someone because I want to or anything.”

“Then it is likely a mental block,” Soren confirms. “Some part of you sees fighting type energy as too dangerous to use on someone else, so you withhold it.”

“Even when I don’t want to?” Nia whines.

Soren shrugs, as if to say, You tell me. “I cannot unlock the chains you have placed onto yourself, Riolu."

Helpful. But at least Nia has an idea of why she can’t use other kinds of move energy now, even if the answer feels kind of silly since she’s apparently the one to blame.

Nia sighs. “So I still can’t use fighting type energy and I can’t use healing moves. I guess it’s not all that useful for me to learn how to transfer energy then, huh?”

Soren tilts his head. “l…wouldn’t say that. While you likely cannot use an energy transfer move that you see as violent, such as drain punch, you still need to practice your aura control to be able to navigate pathways and make connections from a distance, if you do desire such a skill.”

Nia perks up. Having the equivalent of an emotional cell phone to connect to the aura of others sounds pretty useful, even if Soren says that she won’t be able to go too far with her own small pool of life energy.

“I do!”

“Then I see no reason why you should not continue to practice.”

So Nia does. Over the next few hours, while Carnelian and Nouf continue to dig and Tobias and Junie talk, Nia pours her time and energy into following Soren’s intermittent coaching. She sends her aura out in webs to find Nouf and Carnelian, over and over, and eventually even gets up to go back the way they came so she can find her own team’s auras from a distance. She brushes by them with a gentle touch before rounding back and doing it again. Like laps, or repetitions in a workout.

Nia is exhausted by the end of the day and has to stumble her way out of the mountain leaning on a worried Tobias, but she feels accomplished, too.

—————————————————————————————

Fidel is nearly back to full health by the next morning, but between Eira’s cautious attitude and Nia and the others assuring the zoroark that he’s really not missing much down in the tunnels, Fidel reluctantly allows himself one more day of rest at the guest lodgings, leaving digger guard duty to Team Scarlet once again.

They stop by Nico's restaurant again on the way out to grab lunch, joining the small line that has formed there. Ahead of them, a large blue seal Pokemon with long white whiskers is comfortably settled into the snow. Atop her head, a gorgeous, giant white moth with crystalline wings is perched. The two women are talking happily with each other, and the energy in the seal's voice catches Nia’s attention.

“Eirwen said she’s finally ready to perform that new song she’s been working on!”

The moth Pokemon hums, sounding pleased. “It has been a while since we’ve had a new melody to dance to. I’m sure it’ll be lovely.”

“Mhm. The festivals wouldn’t be the same without her spicing them up every now and then!”

“A festival?” Nia can’t help asking.

The two ‘mon look behind them, surprised, and for a moment Nia is worried they’ll snub her question since she's an outsider. An eavesdropping outsider at that. But to her delight, the seal Pokémon’s face lights up.

“Oh, you’re the travelers!” The seal says, her whiskers twitching. “We heard that you helped out Lumi with her sled yesterday. Thank you. Her boy’s had a cold for a few days now, and we’re always saying that she needs to ask for help when she’s on her own but she’s so stubborn for someone so shy and—"

The moth Pokemon taps the seal’s head with a tiny foot that was previously hidden in her fluff.

“Oh, sorry!” The seal laughs. “Anyways, thank you. I know we aren’t always the most welcoming bunch to strangers, but Rora talked about how sweet all of you are.”

Nia blinks, her ears burning as she glances past the two Pokemon to where Rora is finishing up the order of the Pokemon in front of them: a penguin with an…ice cube for a head?

“O-Oh. Um, it’s no problem!” Nia says, smiling. “We’re happy to help.”

“What were you saying about a festival?” Junie asks.

“It’s not exactly a festival, per se,” the moth Pokemon says, her voice as delicate as her gossamer wings. Still, her tone is friendly enough. “More of a…small gathering for the village.”

“Yup!” The seal Pokemon says. “We do celebrate the usual holidays—winter births and all that—but this is just our monthly celebration."

“A celebration for what?” Tobias asks, brow furrowed.

“The Matriarch started the tradition a few years ago,” the moth Pokemon says, looking thoughtfully towards the head of the village. “I believe it’s to keep morale high during these troubled times. It gives us all something to look forward to, and a chance to bond and forget our problems for a night.”

“I think the Matriarch just wanted an excuse to throw a party every month,” the seal says jovially, giving them a wink. “But it’s all the same to me, as long as I get to dance.”

“So there’s music?” Nia asks.

“Yes!” The seal Pokemon says, doing an excited little flop that jostles the moth atop her head. “A few ‘mon perform for the village. We all dance around the bonfire and chat and enjoy a big meal together. You should come!”

Nia exchanges a surprised look with Tobias and Samir.

“We’re invited?” Tobias asks doubtfully.

The seal Pokemon laughs. “I think Rora would throw a fit if you weren’t there, and you’ve been nothing but polite since you’ve been here. Why not? I’m sure Eira and Carnelian would want you to come, too.”

“When is this shindig?” Junie asks eagerly.

“Tonight,” the moth Pokemon says.

“So don’t wear yourselves out too much today, all right?” The seal says playfully.

Before Nia or the others can respond, the muted thump of a little paw smacking on wood catches their attention.

“C’mon, ladies, I don’t have all day!” Rora calls playfully.

The seal barks a laugh and scoots up to the counter. “I know for a fact that you do, little flurry!”

While the two ‘mon in front of them order, Junie leans forward from her place on Nia’s shoulder to catch her attention. “So we’re totally going to that party tonight, yeah?”

“You mean the ‘small gathering,’” Tobias drawls.

Junie waves him off. “Psh. A party’s a party, and I wanna check it out! C’mon, we’ve been invited, so why not?”

Tobias and Samir exchange a reluctant look. Nia isn’t always a person who enjoys big parties herself, but she thinks they could use a bit of fun and festivity to balance out all the doom and gloom they’ve had to deal with recently. And Junie’s excitement is bringing to mind something from her human life: vague memories of her best friend Toni dragging her out to socialize. It makes Nia feel oddly nostalgic—and Nia did usually have fun once she went...

Mind made up, Nia turns to Tobias and Samir with puppy dog eyes to match Junie’s own.

“You two can go,” Tobias says. “Just don’t stay out too late so you’re ready to go tomorrow morning.”

Nia’s ears droop, disappointment hitting her harder than she expects. “You aren’t gonna come?”

“Yeah, c’mon! You need to loosen up more than anyone!” Junie crows.

“I’m not exactly a party Pokemon,” Tobias snarks, crossing his arms. At his side, Samir nods in agreement.

“They said there would be music, right?” Nia says hopefully. “Aren’t you curious to see how the music here is different from what you’re used to?”

Nia sees Tobias’ interest pique at that, though he’s clearly not sold.

“Could you just come for a little while?” Nia presses. “You can go back to the lodge as soon as you’re tired of it, and Junie and I won’t stop you.”

Tobias sighs. “Why does it matter so much if I’m there or not? You’ll have each other, right?"

“Yeah, but…” Nia trails off.

She pictures herself at the celebration with Junie and the villagers, dancing and having fun. She loves Junie, but the thought of being there without Tobias still makes her feel a little…lonely. She’s just happier when Tobias is with her, experiencing the world at her side. Even if it’s just for a little while.

“It wouldn’t be the same without you,” Nia says. Then, her face heats and she hurries to add to Samir, “Both of you. It’s more fun when we’re all together, right?”

Tobias and Samir look at each other again, their resolve faltering.

Finally, Tobias sighs. “Fine. I’ll come for a little while.”

Nia’s tail wags as Junie gives a little cheer. As one, they look at Samir.

The skiddo leans away, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. But after a long moment, they sigh and tilt their head at Tobias, as if to say, Same.

Nia joins Junie’s cheer this time, thrilled that she’ll have all of her friends with her tonight to experience the festivities.

“Ooh, what’s got you all so excited?”

Nia grins as she turns to Rora. They’ve reached the front of the line, and the vulpix is nearly hanging out the window, ears pricked and tails wagging.

“We’re excited about the party tonight!”

Rora’s blue eyes shine. “You’re going?! Oh, awesome! I’ll show you all of the best dances.”

The lightness in Nia’s chest buoys her all the way to the cave entrance, where they meet up again with Soren, Nouf, and Carnelian. She’s practically skipping across the snow, and she has to explain why she and Junie are so hyped when Soren gives them an irritated look, probably annoyed by the excitable energy their auras are putting off.

Carnelian, however, seems just as pleased as Rora that they’d been invited to join the festivities. Maybe he didn’t feel comfortable extending an invitation himself since he’s only been here for a few weeks? Eira, too, likely didn’t want to vouch for a whole group of strangers right after bringing Carnelian in.

Nia and Junie finally calm down by time they make it back to the dig site.

With this now being their third day down in the tunnels with little to do, Tobias has apparently reached the end of his rope with just sitting in the dark. It only takes a few minutes for him to get up and declare that he’s going to train too since he might as well do something down here, and Samir quickly joins him.

The two of them jog up and down the length of the tunnel, doing push-ups and other exercises between each lap. Eventually, the two ‘mon even start sparring, keeping their attacks to regular hits so they don’t cause damage to the tunnel structure with any moves.

Soren, notably, moves to watch them, trying look uninterested despite the way he physically has to relocate to get a closer look.

Guess even he gets bored eventually.

Nia follows their lead and continues to use her aura to navigate the pathways around them. She’s getting better at connecting to others from afar, locating Tobias and Samir farther down the tunnel and watching with interest as their auras flare and dim with bursts of exertion.

Junie sits on Nia’s lap and occasionally calls out to heckle Tobias and Samir when they pass by during their laps, teasing them about their speed or telling them to pick up their feet like a cranky gym teacher. When Tobias calls her out for criticizing them when she’s doing absolutely nothing, Junie hops down half the length of the tunnel on her tiny legs before giving up and returning to collapse into Nia’s lap.

Nia, who needed a break of her own anyways, releases her aura and smiles down at the little bird. “You good?”

“No,” Junie groans. She rolls over onto her back, splaying her wings wide. “I feel like such a wimp compared to all of you.”

Nia pokes her adorable little bird foot. “Well, you do literally have chicken legs.”

It’s the funny phrase that makes Nia remember.

“Oh!” she straightens up. “Junie, can you try something with me real quick?”

“As long as I don’t have to move,” Junie mumbles.

“You don’t. You remember when we first met the Matriarch, and she and Soren started talking in another language? You couldn’t understand them either, right?”

Junie rolls her head to look up at Nia. “No, I couldn’t. Why?”

“That made me think about what we realized in Ghatha! That we were speaking two different languages—well, three counting Ordirune—but still understanding each other just fine. Right?”

Junie frowns, but nods. “Yeah? I’m speaking German, but you said you’re speaking English, right?”

Nia nods. “Mhm! Tobias said that we’re both speaking Ordirune, though, so he thinks that Mew changed our brains so that we sort of…automatically translate our own languages into Ordirune when we speak, and hear others in our language even though they're speaking Ordirune. But not being able to understand Soren and the Matriarch made me wonder if we can still speak our own languages, too.”

“Huh.” Junie blinks. “You mean…avoiding that automatic translation thing so that other Pokemon would hear a foreign language?”

Nia nods. “Right! Want to try it with me?”

“I mean…sure? But I’ve been speaking German, and it still comes out Ordirune. So how do we fix that?”

Good question. Although, if it’s anything like aura…

“Maybe it’s a matter of…intent,” Nia says slowly. “Like, rather than just thinking, ‘I'm hungry,’ and saying it, you really focus on forming the words themselves.”

“Huh. Well, go on. Give it a go.”

Nia nods, opening and closing her mouth a few times as she tries to figure out where to start.

Nia had taken some Spanish classes in high school, and this sort of feels like how it felt to learn another language then. Consciously thinking of the correct words and sentence structure and molding her mouth to the syllables as she works through them.

Slowly, she tries it. “I…am hungry.”

Junie’s eyes light up. “Okay, my English is a bit shaky, but that was definitely different than Ordirune. Let me try.”

The little bird sits up, her face scrunching with concentration. Then slowly, stumbling, she says, “Ich...habe Hunger.”

Nia beams. “I didn’t understand a word you just said!”

“Klasse!” Junie laughs, hopping up.

“Success!” Nia cheers in the same tone, pumping her fists. “So that must mean it’s not really an automatic translator, then. More like...the knowledge of Ordirune was so strongly implanted into our minds that it feels more natural to default to that language than to our own native tongues. That is fascinating.”

“Okay, nerd.”

“What? You can’t say this isn’t interesting!”

“It’s kinda cool.”

“It’s very cool!”

“What’s cool?” Tobias asks, coming over to them.

He’s breathing hard after his latest spar with Samir, and immediately crouches to rummage through their pack. Probably looking for some hydration berries to refresh.

“We can still speak in our human languages!” Nia says excitedly. “It just takes a bit more focus than before.”

“Huh.” To Nia’s surprise, Tobias pulls out their water flask. Though she understands when he pulls out a bowl and pours some water into it, setting it down next to Samir.

Samir settles heavily on the cold ground, hesitating briefly before bending their head to lap at the water. Nia tries to look natural as she averts her eyes. Samir always seems weirdly embarrassed to drink in front of them. Maybe they used to use their vines to hold a flask like Nia and Tobias? It would feel weirdly humiliating to have to drink from a bowl after drinking with her hands her whole life.

Junie, on the other hand, has no shame despite her human roots. She hops to the skiddo’s side and dunks her beak to grab quick mouthfuls of water, like a songbird at a bird bath. She splashes Samir in the process, and the skiddo gives her an annoyed look.

Tobias sits too, handing the flask over to Nia to take a sip as he pops a hydration berry into his own mouth. “Say something in, uh…in your language, then.”

“Oh!” Junie pulls her wet face away from the bowl. “Hey, Tobias, you know what you are? Eine liebestolle echse.”

Tobias frowns, looking at Nia. “What did she say?”

Nia laughs and shrugs. “I have no idea. I don’t speak German. But I’m sure it wasn’t flattering.”

Junie smirks before going back to her water.

“You didn’t even do that much,” Tobias grumbles. “Stop drinking so much water.”

“Hey, that’s a long way to run for such little legs,” Nia says in English, her words still awkward and slow.

Junie laughs. “You’ve got that right!”

Tobias blinks at Nia. “Whoa. That is kind of cool.”

“Isn’t it?!”

This routine continues for hours, with their training interrupted only by lunch, short breaks to catch their breath, and moments every half hour or so where they have to get up and move forward to keep up with Carnelian and Nouf’s digging.

Nia asks Soren about the festivities planned for tonight during one of her breaks, and to her surprise the lucario doesn’t immediately brush her off. Instead, he confirms that many of his pack members will likely attend.

“Wait, you’re saying you guys actually have fun sometimes?” Junie says, only half-teasing.

Soren pinches at the skin between his eyes. “My pack does have friends in the village they like to spend time with, Rookidee. And it’s…good. For them to relax every once in a while.”

“Including you?” Nia asks, genuinely curious.

To her surprise, Soren almost seems…embarrassed. He looks away. “...The music is composed well. And the food is excellent.”

Junie whistles. “Wow, so you do know how to enjoy things!”

Nia gently clamps the little bird’s beak shut with her fingers. Soren’s being vulnerable here—she doesn’t want to immediately push him back into his shell!

“I’m excited to check it out!” Nia says brightly. “I know Tobias is excited about the music, too. What kind of instruments do they—"

Nia is interrupted as the sound of digging further down the tunnel suddenly grows loud, rocks clattering as something in the cave collapses.

Nia’s heart drops, her head whipping around as if she could see what just happened around the corner. What was that? A cave-in?

Soren is already pushing off the wall and running towards the diggers, and Nia hurries to follow, Junie fluttering to her shoulder while Nia gets her stiff legs under her.

“Tobias! Samir!” Nia yells over her shoulder. “Get down here!”

She runs for the end of the tunnel, expecting to see a pile of rubble and Soren rushing to dig Carnelian and Nouf out.

Instead, she staggers to a stop once she rounds the bend, surprised but relieved to see the sableye and piloswine are safe and sound. Soren is already at their side, his shoulders tense.

Behind them, the cave wall where Carnelian and Nouf had been digging hasn’t caved in, but instead opened up into a pre-existing tunnel. Through the narrow opening, the previously faint purple-red glow of the crystals intensifies, glowing as if lit by neon lights. It’s almost enough to hurt Nia’s eyes after the previous dimness of the tunnels.

However, Nia doesn’t think that’s why Soren is staring at the entrance like a maw full of teeth as the fur prickles on her arms and neck. No, there's something deeply wrong in the air suddenly. In the aura around them. Whereas the pathways of the world had been narrow and dried up before, the tunnel ahead feels…completely empty. Like a void.

“What’s wrong?” Tobias pants as he and Samir come running up behind Nia. The two of them stop as they too catch sight of the opening, glowing like a warning sign.

“Is that..?” Tobias whispers.

Nia nods. It has to be.

“Yveltal’s resting place,” Soren confirms, his voice hushed.

Nouf is silent as usual, but Carnelian looks unnerved by the tension in the air, wringing his claws and looking between all of them.

“W-What now?” The sableye asks.

“We have to confirm that Yveltal is inside,” Soren says. He moves to take the lead. “I can check. Stay here.”

“You are not going in there on your own,” Nia says, still staring at the gap. It feels like if she looks away, it’ll lunge and swallow her whole. “We came down here as a group for a reason.”

Soren glares at her. “I cannot guarantee your safety if you follow me.”

Tobias steps up to Nia’s side. “Duh. We’re Seekers. We signed up for danger.”

Soren makes an unhappy sound in his throat, but doesn’t argue further. Instead, he turns to Carnelian and Nouf next.

“You stay here. We’ll confirm.”

Nouf snuffles what Nia assumes to be an affirmative.

Carnelian, however, hesitates before shaking his head. “I-I…I want to see it. Him.”

That’s a surprise. Nia wonders if the little ghost actually wants to see Yveltal, or just the crystal runoff surrounding him.

Soren’s mouth twists, but he doesn’t bother arguing with Carnelian, either. The lucario’s eyes keep flicking back to the tunnel, as if he feels just as uncomfortable with the black hole of aura as Nia does.

“Stay close,” is all Soren says, before squeezing through the gap and into the glowing tunnel.

Nia exchanges a tense look with the others, then gestures Carnelian in next. She doesn’t know exactly what lies ahead, but if they were in a dungeon they’d take a formation like this. It’s important to keep their escort safely sandwiched between capable fighters.

The sableye slips in after Soren, followed by Nia and Junie, then Samir, then Tobias.

Inside, Nia blinks to adjust to the purple-red glow surrounding them. The crystals completely cover the walls here, and Nia has to step over some clusters on the ground as they start to venture forward. It would be beautiful if the air didn’t feel so…wrong.

Junie tucks herself closer to Nia’s neck, and the group moves forward in tense silence. The ceiling of the tunnel is just high enough for Soren to walk without crouching, but Nia can’t tell if it’s the cramped nature of the tunnel or just the sheer lack of aura that makes her heart pound and fear brush at the back of her neck. Normally, Nia doesn’t consciously notice the aura around her unless she’s looking for it, but the sudden lack of it is…unsettling. Like walking through the forest and realizing that there isn’t a single sound—no trees rustling, no birdsong or bugs.

Lifeless.

The feeling only grows as they move forward, and the roaring of Nia’s pulse in her ears is only accompanied by the quiet footsteps of the others.

“O-Okay, is anyone else super freaked out right now?” Junie whispers in a rush, her voice shaking. Oh, wait, all of her is shaking.

“I am,” Nia murmurs, reaching up to cup her hand over her friend and stroke her thumb over the feathers on her back. “There’s no aura here.”

Like it’s been drained away, sucked into the nothingness ahead of them.

No one else responds, and Nia doesn’t blame them. They’re likely feeling the same way. Even whispering feels like she’s breaking some rule, like talking in church when she shouldn’t, waiting to be shushed by an adult.

It feels endless, their trek forward. Especially when Nia feels like she’s being hunted every step of the way. She keeps her eyes on Carnelian in front of her, and the awe in his gemstone eyes as he looks around at the glowing crystals is a small comfort. Ahead of them, they’re lead by Soren’s steady, unflinching form.

Finally, they round a bend in the tunnel, and the air around them opens up.

A soft purple-red glow fills the room, crystals outlining an absolutely massive, cavernous space. The ceiling has to be at least a mile up, the glow of crystals there like distant stars.

But Nia’s eyes are drawn to the one dark spot amidst the light: a massive gray…stone? It sits amidst a burst of crystals in the center of the room, like an egg in a nest. It looks almost like a meteor, the size of it larger than a bus.

However, it’s the thing’s aura that makes Nia’s breath catch as she realizes what she’s looking at. Nia thought that since their surroundings were lacking life energy, Yveltal somehow would be, too. However, this is…something else entirely.

Yveltal’s aura is immense. Dense, like carbon pressed so tightly it has become a diamond. A galaxy packed within a single star.

Will and Fidel said that Yveltal consumes life energy when he wakes, right? And that when he sleeps, he goes somewhere barren to siphon that energy off into the environment. Since it's so lifeless here, maybe that means that energy disperses far away, draining outward to nourish more fruitful areas?

Either way, if this is Yveltal after sleeping for who knows how long...then this isn’t even Yveltal at his strongest. And yet the sheer amount of energy present makes Nia tremble.

The others stand around Nia with the same air of awestruck fear, gazing silently upon Yveltal’s cocoon.

“Well,” Tobias finally breathes. “He’s here.”

“That he is,” Soren says, quiet. Nia can’t tell how he feels about the statement. “We shouldn’t linger. If he is roused early, he may go on a rampage. And with the border as weak as it is and without Xerneas to calm him, we would simply be hurrying along the end of the world ourselves.”

Nia shivers, glancing up at Soren. “I-Is it that easy to wake him up?”

Soren frowns. “I don’t believe we would wake him with our mere presence, no. It would likely take a purposeful attack or disturbance. Still, I want to be cautious.”

Understandable. “Time to report to the Matriarch, then?”

Soren nods.

The lucario leads them back to the tunnel they entered from, ushering them through first. Tobias takes the lead this time, followed closely by Samir.

Nia glances back once more at the cocoon before she follows. It’s terrifying, of course, feeling that power and imagining what sort of destruction it could wreak if awoken, but it’s also sort of—

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Carnelian whispers. Nia jumps, but turns to meet the sableye’s glittering eyes. He grins at her, clearly more delighted than fearful. Nia supposes his love of crystals overrides the sheer intimidating presence of Yveltal. Plus, aren’t sableye dark types? Maybe this is like…meeting his own personal god.

“Scary,” Nia laughs under her breath. “But…yes. Beautiful too.”

Carnelian snickers. “Agreed!”

Junie, on Nia’s shoulder, is still silent. Nia strokes her back again as they walk. “You okay, Junie?”

“Y-Yeah,” Junie breathes. “Just…a little overwhelmed, I guess.”

Nia hums her agreement. She can’t stop thinking about the sheer amount of aura she’d felt in that cocoon. Is that the power of a legendary in this world?

Does that mean Giratina is that strong, too? No, Nia supposes he isn't, considering he can’t even bring them to his realm anymore. Maybe when he was at full power?

Although…if Yveltal is still that powerful even after draining some of his energy, does that mean Giratina’s speculation was right? That he and Xerneas have managed to avoid the weakening and dormancy that the other legends have fallen to?

Hope balloons in Nia’s chest. She’d been so awestruck she hadn’t even realized what Yveltal’s presence means for their plan to save the world. Now that they’ve confirmed his location, then that means Xerneas must be sleeping nearby, right? Will and Fidel said that they usually sleep within sight of one another, so that when one wakes, then the other is ready to balance them out.

Which means they have a shot. If they can just find Xerneas, wake her, and convince her to strengthen the border, maybe they really can save this world!

And after that, Nia can finally go home, too.

The thought is bittersweet, but surely if the border is stabilized and everything is all right again, Will and Giratina can focus on figuring out how to send them back.

"But souls do not simply wander."

Nia frowns as Soren’s words from yesterday echo in her head. Sure, he might be right, but that doesn’t mean anything, really. Maybe this world…called out to the human one for help, and certain people fit the bill for whatever reason.

Nia tries not to think about it too much because it makes her uncomfortable, but her body must be sleeping in the human world. Like…in a coma or something. Or maybe there are some time shenanigans going on and she’ll wake up there as if no time has passed, like this was all just a crazy dream. She wishes she could remember what she was doing in the human world before she woke up here, but her memory is still spotty.

Nia takes a deep breath and shakes her head, as if to slough off her anxious thoughts and mixed emotions. She tries not to think about her family too often nowadays, since she has enough worries to deal with in this world, and her friends are usually a great distraction from that.

But when she does think of her family in the human world, she feels that old ache reopen in her chest, fresh as the day she woke up here.

She misses baking together with her mom and hearing her laughter when Nia inevitably gets flour in her hair somehow. She misses her brother, dousing her with a water gun under the hot summer sun and dragging her with a shriek into the lake. She misses her best friend Toni, and late nights spent driving around their little hometown with the windows rolled down and music blaring. She misses the excitement of preparing for college, the nervous anticipation of going away from home for the first time and seeing the world, of finding who and what she wanted to be.

But…

Nia swallows hard as her gaze flicks down to her shoulder, where Junie is a puddle of blue and black feathers under her hand. Then she looks ahead to Samir, the skiddo’s head held high and their ears pricked, alert as always. Then further, to Tobias.

Her partner. Her best friend in this world.

Grief stabs Nia in the heart, harder than she expects and nearly taking her breath away. She wants to go home, she does, but…some part of her wants to stay here, too. Wants to continue going on adventures with Tobias, and learning more about him, and strengthening their teamwork with Samir, and laughing and teasing with Junie.

Nia thinks about waking up in the human world and knowing that she’ll never see Tobias’ little smirks or soft blue eyes again. Never feel Samir’s reassuring presence, or hear Junie’s loud laughter.

Tears prick hot at her eyes. Nia swallows hard against the lump in her throat. No more Maggie, or Fen, or Xander and his team, or even Andyn, despite how poor their relationship is right now. No Fliss, or Will, or Fidel, or…

Nia sniffs, bringing up her other hand to swipe at her eyes.

Junie, of course, notices, and pushes Nia off with a wing to look up at her with wide, panicked eyes. “Whoa! Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

That, unfortunately, catches everyone else’s attention too, and their procession through the tunnel stops as Tobias and Samir turn around immediately.

“Nia?” Tobias asks, looking ready to push past Samir to reach her side. His gaze flickers past her and Carnelian to focus on Soren for a moment before returning. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Nia laughs, embarrassed and a little watery. “Sorry. Was just...thinking about some stuff. I’m okay.”

Tobias seems uncertain. He glances at the others, as if wishing the two of them were alone so he could press for answers. “You sure?”

Nia gives him a smile, warmed by his concern. “I'm sure. Sorry. You can keep going.”

Tobias doesn’t look convinced, but after another moment of hesitation he turns around and starts leading them forward again, casting a worried look over his shoulder after a few seconds. Samir does the same before following.

“You sure you’re okay?” Junie murmurs.

“Yeah,” Nia says with a smile, shoving thoughts of her family out of her head like she does most days. “I'm fine.”

—————————————————————————————

They make it back to Nouf and then out of the mountain entirely without any further incident, and head right away to the Matriarch’s residence to inform her of their findings. Nouf peels off at some point to go about her business, and Nia can’t help feeling amused by that. The piloswine really did show up to do her job, found a god, and then clocked out as soon as she wasn’t needed. What a power move.

Finally, they find the Matriarch back in the same cozy little room they’d first met her. The weavile is sitting in her chair again, ice cane laid across her lap and a clawed paw at her chin. She doesn’t seem surprised by their findings.

“So Yveltal does indeed sleep beneath our mountain.” The Matriarch looks up at them. “Not that that changes much for us, but that is the news you were hoping for, yes?”

Nia nods. Recovered from her earlier near-breakdown, she’s feeling hopeful again. “Right. Since Yveltal is here, that means Xerneas should be somewhere close by. Within eyesight of the mountains, hopefully.”

“Somewhere lush,” Tobias adds, crossing his arms with a frown. “Though that could describe a lot of different places.”

“If we can only narrow it down to ‘places that aren’t totally dead,’ we’re gonna be searching for a while,” Junie says. She flutters over to land on Samir’s horns. “There are all kinds of places like that surrounding these mountains, right?”

Samir huffs and whistles a Yes, their brow furrowed as they try to glare up at the rookidee using them as a perch.

Soren speaks up. “Much like how Yveltal’s surroundings are entirely void of aura, Xerneas’ resting place would be overflowing with it. Nature as a result would likely not only be thriving, but would show abnormal levels of growth.”

Abnormal levels of growth? That immediately brings one place to mind for Nia. After all, they live in an abnormally large tree.

...Surely that can’t be it.

Still, the idea won’t leave her. The Lexym Tree is the tallest tree in the forest, after all, many times over. Nia had wondered at its size before, but never really questioned how it grew to such a massive state. And while she hasn’t been to all of the places within eyesight of the mountains, the Lexym Guild is the only location she can remember really standing out from their various flights.

But surely that couldn’t be Xerneas’ resting place, right? Someone would have to know about it if that was the case. Know that a literal god has been sleeping under their feet the whole time. August, at the very least, but he sent them on this mission to find Xerneas. Plus, they literally have tunnels under the guild, and those only go out to the forest, so—

Wait. A past conversation is tickling at Nia’s brain, from their mission digging out the cave-in under the guild with Abana and Conifer.

“There are more tunnels, deeper down, but they are not easily reached, wrapped in the Tree’s roots as they are. They’re surrounded by a wall too thick to dig through without risk of damaging the Tree itself.”

“I asked one of the older diggers about it once, and he said they used to be storage bunkers before they became too inconvenient to access. They haven’t been used in decades, at least.”

Nia screws up her face, trying to talk herself out of the thought. It just sounds so unbelievable, that they could’ve been sitting right on top of something so important for so long, but…

“Nia?”

Nia jumps at Tobias’ voice, looking up. Everyone is watching her expectantly, and her ears heat.

“Y-Yeah?”

“You’ve been awful quiet over there,” Junie says, tilting her head. “Whatcha thinking?”

Nia swallows, glancing nervously between all of their expectant gazes. “Well…it’s probably a silly thought.” Especially if no one else has thought of it yet.

“Sometimes ‘silly’ is correct,” The Matriarch says. “Speak your mind, girl.”

“I was just thinking of places that stand out as having abnormal growth, and, uh…what about the guild?”

For a long moment, everyone stares at Nia, and she fights off a cringe. Guess that was a stupid idea after all.

Soren is the first to speak, his brow furrowed. “The Lexym Tree is exceptionally large.”

“But there are tunnels under the guild, right?” Junie asks. “Wouldn’t they know if there was a giant Pokemon sleeping down there by now?”

“No,” Tobias says, his eyes widening with realization. He locks eyes with Nia. “Abana and Conifer said something about storage deeper down, didn’t they? That there were roots blocking the space so no one had been down there for decades.”

“If not longer,” Nia agrees. “And there are crystals down in the tunnels.”

“Carnelian, when you were at the guild, did you go down into the tunnels at all?” Tobias asks, turning to the sableye.

Carnelian jumps. “N-No, I didn’t. I stayed the night in the guest quarters, and then hurried here the next morning.”

The Matriarch laughs and slaps her knee with a paw, startling them. “Oh, that’s rich. She’s been sleeping right under our noses this whole time! I knew the gods had a sense of humor.”

Nia blinks at her. “You think we’re right? Xerneas could really be sleeping under the guild?”

The weavile is grinning. “I’ve lived in these mountains for decades, and I can’t think of anywhere else that better matches what you’re lookin’ for ‘round here.”

Nia looks back at her team. “What do you think? Do we propose the idea to August?”

“Might as well,” Junie says with a shrug.

Samir gives Nia a nod.

“I think it’s worth checking out, at the very least,” Tobias says, giving Nia a smile. “Good thinking.”

Nia smiles back, tail wagging at the praise.

“I’m guessing you’ll be wanting to leave sooner rather than later, then?” The Matriarch asks. “If so, I’ll arrange a sleigh to take you all down the mountainside tomorrow morning. There’s a flight station near the base that can take you back to the guild.”

“That would be great,” Tobias sighs.

“Thank you,” Nia adds.

“And since we’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, that means we can still go to the party tonight!” Junie says happily.

The Matriarch laughs. “I was more hoping to give you time to rest and time for us to prepare to travel, but you’re more than welcome to join the festivities tonight.“ She winks. “Just don’t stay out too late.”

Nia laughs at Tobias and Samir’s expressions. “I don’t think that'll be a problem.”

The rest of their meeting with the Matriarch wraps up quickly. The only other business to attend to is Soren telling the weavile that he plans to station sentries from the pack at Yveltal’s resting place starting tomorrow morning. When Nia and the others give him a startled look, he assures them it’s just a precautionary measure to make sure no one disturbs the legendary. Which she supposes is fair—the path there is pretty accessible if you know where to look.

Soon enough, they’re back in their lodgings, resting up for the festivities later that night.

Fidel’s eyes are round as he listens intently to their description of Yveltal’s cocoon, and Nia is reminded that the zoroark had known the most about the legendary back at the settlement due to being a dark type himself. Maybe he also worships Yveltal, to some extent.

“It sounds incredible,” Fidel says when they finish. He seems entirely healed up from his injuries, well enough to walk around on his own and agree to Junie’s request that he too join the party tonight. “I wish I could’ve seen it for myself!”

“Well, it’s not too hard to find,” Nia says idly from where she’s lying on their blankets, kicking her feet with a book open on the ground in front of her. “And Soren isn’t posting sentries until tomorrow, so you could probably still check it out tonight if you’re feeling all right.”

“Is that a good idea?” Tobias asks doubtfully.

“We’ve been going back and forth down the same path for days,” Junie says. “With his nose, I don’t think he’d get lost.”

Tobias rolls his eyes. “I meant that we don’t want to accidentally wake an angry god and break the world.”

“Fidel’s light on his feet,” Nia says, turning a page. “I doubt he would accidentally wake Yveltal. Still, one of us can go with you if you want to check it out, Fidel!”

“As long as it’s before the party,” Junie adds.

Tobias sighs. “I still don’t get why you two are so excited about this thing.”

At his side, Samir nods their agreement. They’re only half paying attention, skimming through their own book.

“You’re not looking forward to it?” Fidel asks Tobias, amused.

“I’m only going ‘cause these two will be insufferable if I don’t.”

“Dang right I will be!” Junie says.

Nia laughs, her heart light despite the enormity of their discovery today. They have a location to look for Xerneas, a promised ride down the mountainside tomorrow morning, and a party to look forward to tonight.

She can’t wait.

[sweetshuga]

「 𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑪𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒚 ✧ 𝑪.𝑺 」

«series masterlist»

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Mentions of death and I think that’s it ’cause this is more of an intro (lore drop) than a real chapter.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟏.𝟖 𝒌

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: I dunno how well this’ll do, but even if it flops I will continue it ’cause the concept is way too good to js let go. Also, this chapter is pre-written! I’m still on a writing break (meaning I won’t write much, only when I feel like it).

𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝑰𝒏 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒅: English is not my first language!

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Your hatred for your sister grew tremendously during middle school. Until you finally found the heart to forgive her when you transferred to a new school. Only for her to get with the guy you like and break your trust all over again.

Chapter zero: Twins forever...?

You and your twin sister were inseparable, always by each other’s side- No, let’s not sugarcoat it.

She was the second born and even though you were identical twins, she was the golden child, the popular one, the prettier one, the smarter one.

You were a naïve kid, a people pleaser from a young age. You let everyone treat you like the innocent girl you were.

But your sister was the exact opposite.

She was a little genius, playing with people as if they were her own personal dolls. She’d bat her eyelashes, play the innocent card and blame you for whatever trouble she caused.

And the worst part? Everyone believed her.

You took all the blame like an idiot, but you used to adore your sister so you never spoke up. You truly believed when she said you and her had a special bond and should never lie to each other or snitch on one another—or the bond would break.

A little mastermind, wasn’t she?

You didn’t even take a second to question when she began wanting everything you had.

"She’s my twin so it isn’t odd for her to want the same things as me." Is what you always told yourself.

But you realized all too late how bad it had become.

It was around mid may during the second year of middle school, the weather was warm and inviting, and you had finally decided to confess to the boy you had been crushing on for a while.

You arrived at the back of the school, where you told him to meet you at, and instead of seeing the guy standing there alone and waiting for you, you saw something that had you blinking in confusion.

You saw your sister beside him, both of them leaning against the wall of the school, talking and laughing, too close to each other for it to be a casual, friendly chat.

That’s when you heard something that made your heart drop.

"I like you, do you wanna go out with me?" Your sister asked, followed by the blonde boy’s overly enthusiastic response.

"Really? I mean- Yeah, I’d love to."

You felt betrayed. Utterly fucking betrayed.

You had told her about the boy you liked and she even encouraged you to confess that exact day. Hell, she was the one that told you to tell him to meet you at the back of the school building, so you wouldn’t have to worry about unwanted attention from passerbys.

You thought she was being considerate, helping her sister out, wanting you to be happy. But you could not have been more wrong.

She knew you were watching.

And she wanted to see how far it could go. How much she could take before you broke.

That’s how she became obsessed with taking the spotlight from you, wanting everything you had, and more.

And it wasn’t long before you finally saw her true intentions. You couldn’t believe how blind you had been.

Sure, you knew she wasn’t as innocent as she made herself out to be, but you’d never have thought things would go this far.

You began to distance yourself from her. Bit by bit.

Every time you’d buy something you wanted for yourself, you’d hide it, make sure she’d never get to know about it. And you started to keep your crushes a secret, not wanting her to know, in fear of her dating them.

You were so so careful for years.

Until grade 10. That’s when Chris came along.

Due to some complications with the house you lived in, your family had to move, and after some searching, your parents found a cozy home in Somerville, Massachusetts.

It was a given that you’d move schools and that terrified you.

You were never one to be out and social, always behind your sister—in her shadows—when you were younger. Maybe that was why you relied on her so much despite how she treated you.

"Are you nervous, Candy?" Your sister asked, fixing her hair in her pink little pocket mirror, as your father drove you both to your new school.

"Yeah... You’re not?" You asked back, wiping your clammy hands on your skirt nervously.

She turned her head towards you, pausing her movements, and just stared at you for a moment, studying you almost. Then, as sudden as her silence was, came the sweet giggle.

"Of course not. It’s fun." She said, smiling as she looked back in the mirror in her hand, her expression completely different from the strange one she gave you. "You’ll get to meet new people and make new friends. Right, dad?"

Your father briefly looked in the rear-view mirror at you two and smiled fondly, speaking in that gruff but soft tone, the one that never failed to make you feel safe and loved. "Of course, sweetheart. You’ll make so many new friends. I’m sure my girls will be just fine."

His reassurance made some of the tension in your shoulders ease, but the anxiousness was still present.

When you arrived at the new school, your sister linked arms with you and pulled you towards the entrance enthusiastically.

As much as you told yourself you despised her, you couldn’t help but feel slightly lighter thanks to her contagious enthusiasm.

With the help of a teacher, you two found the classroom you’re supposed to be in and knocked on the door.

A homely looking woman opened the classroom door and her face broke into a warm smile, ushering you two into the classroom before closing the door behind you two.

She walked to the middle of the white board, followed by you and your sister, and cleared her throat loudly, catching the majority of the students’ attention.

"So, as you all know, there are two new students transferring to our class. Remember to treat them kindly." She said, in a gentle tone with enough firmness to hold authority.

The teacher then turned towards you and your sister with that same kind smile. "Well, why don’t you introduce yourselves?"

Your sister began before you could, her bright smile and sparkling eyes immediately catching the attention of the students.

"My name is Cherry and I have a twin sister," she turned her head towards you and smiled, pulling you closer by the arm, before turning back towards the class, "her name is Candy."

"We have a lot of hobbies and I think it’ll take too long to name them all so I won’t, but I hope we all can get along!" Her cheerfulness contrasted starkly with your shy smile and quiet nature.

The teacher assigned you seats. Your sister sat in the front with a bubbly blonde girl while you sat beside a brunette boy, his attention fully on his phone—which he hid under his desk whenever the teacher passed by.

During a lull in the lesson, you accidentally brushed your arm against the boy’s. Goosebumps immediately broke out on your arm at the contact and you scooted away from him, almost sitting at the edge of your chair.

The boy seemed to notice your reaction, a small smirk creeping up his lips.

"You don’t have to look so startled, you know?" He tried to hide his amusement but the teasing tone in his voice was painfully noticeable.

You looked up at him, finally making eye contact and only now noticing how good looking he was.

"I... I’m sorry...?" Even you didn’t know what you were apologizing for.

The guy laughed heartily, receiving a warning glare from the teacher, making him quiet down to small giggles.

"Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh at you..." He softened his grin, genuinely apologetic. "It’s just, you don’t have to apologize. I was just teasing you... Let’s get along, okay?"

You nodded slowly and muttered. "Okay."

His smile had your heart feeling like it was melting and doing somersaults at once.

Maybe your sister was right.

Transferring wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

You were stupid. Too stupid to remember your sister’s antics and told her about your crush on Chris during lunch.

"You know Chris?" You asked, taking a bite out of your sandwich.

"Yeah, of course I do. He’s the boy that’s been hanging around you like a puppy." She teased, sipping from her box of apple juice.

"Cherry!" You laughed. "He doesn’t hang around me like a puppy."

"Candy, he does. Maybe you’re just too blind to see it." She grinned, her eyes softening ever so slightly as she watched you laugh before schooling her expression back to the teasing one.

"I think... I mean, I know I do." You stammered, face heating up as you took a sip from your water bottle, hoping it’ll do something to help the sudden pang of nervousness.

"You know what?" She cocked an eyebrow, a teasing smirk on her lips that she didn’t try to hide.

You took a slow breath and mumbled quickly. "I have a crush on Chris-" "I know."

You paused, blinking at your sister, and she simply grinned at you.

"It’s painstakingly obvious you like him. You have your heart on your sleeves, Candy. It’s a surprise Chris doesn’t know you like him... Or maybe he does~" She giggled loudly when she saw your eyes widen.

"Don’t joke about that," you mumbled, taking another bite out of your sandwich.

Cherry just laughed, leaving a few teasing remarks before stopping.

A few days went by after that conversation and you began to notice how much closer your sister was to Chris than before.

Chris was, of course, kind to your sister as well, hanging out with you both. His brothers sometimes joined when you went to his house.

Everything was going well. You even decided not to hold any bad feelings towards your sister, forgiving her and simply living your high school life like you wanted to.

It was obvious to everyone that Chris treated you a little differently than he did to his other friends. Like you were something precious. And you held that to your heart.

You were his best friend. Were.

Slowly, but surely, your sister took your place as his best friend. And Chris let her.

Before you knew it, they had begun dating.

The news made your stomach churn. But what could you even do?

There was nothing you could do.

And that killed you.

Seeing the guy you loved with her, laughing and looking genuinely happy—as if he really, truly, loved her—broke you.

Then, on the night of your graduation day, your sister was unfortunately hit by a car while she was on her way to Chris’s house.

Unfortunate indeed.

Although your twin sister passed away, you didn’t feel sad. Not one bit. You didn’t cry. Didn’t even shed a single tear.

Her funeral was on an awfully sunny day. As if reflecting how much of a bright person she was.

You felt sick to your stomach and not because she was dead but because it felt like you were in a nightmare, looking at your own corpse being lowered six feet underground.

She was your twin sister after all. Identical twins to be exact.

But she’s gone now.

You can finally live the way you want without fearing she’ll steal the things you value the most. You can finally have what was yours first.

You can finally have him.

End of chapter zero

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒂

[ahhhwomen]

Hiii I ADORE your Vampire Empire series. I first found it through your spin off fills on ao3! I love the sweetness & gentleness of Nat / Wanda/reader & how subtly protective & caring they are with girlie. I LOVED the length & detail of “Sweet” & how it felt like a standalone story. & was wondering if you were accepting new prompts? If so: what about one where homegirl needs to visit the doctor / have her teeth cleaned / something that’s maybe new or has been sad & scary to her in the past? & how WandaNat would talk her through it, take care of her & make her feel protected?

if not: thank you for your service to the Wanda/Natasha/Reader community. Keep up the good work!!!!!

A/n: You are so sweet! Though I fear this isn’t quite as long or detailed as “Sweet”, it is even more nauseously loving (with angst to begin with because I am me after all). I hate writing comfort, but I figured I would butter y’all up a little before I rip your hearts out and leave them to dry with the next chapter of Vampire Empire. Omg, who said that? :)

Contains slight spoilers for unreleased chapters of Vampire Empire

Warning: Reference to unethical medical practices

His hands are cold, like the plummet of water just offshore, sweeping you inside its waves.

Your eyelids stick together, barely letting a sliver of light through the gates of tiredness as you lie there. The metal table is unforgiving; it pushes against your weak ribs with every heaving breath that forces its way from your gaping mouth.

There is pain, blossoming as his palms brand bruises wherever his touch sears, but you can hardly feel it. His hands are rough, but his choice of weapon is far crueler as needles of countless sizes litter your spine.

It was a trickle of pressure, pulling you this way and that, repeating in endless succession. Skin breaking with a tiny crack as countless syringes emptied inside your bloodstream.

The world fades and appears in spotty memories—one second, his touch glided against your cheek, the next, below your feet. His face blurs, just as your surroundings shift and stretch.

You can’t feel your body.

You’re just…

Cold.

Not the type of cold that leaves chills down your spine or renders you useless with sniffles.

No, as hands press and pry, forcing you closer to the biting surface of the metal table, the sensation remains secondhand. Almost as if it’s not you feeling it, but another creature, vaguely connected to the husk of flesh you never called home.

On the rare occasion you are lucid enough to think, you wonder what’s inside the multitude of drugs he pumps into your system.

The doctor doesn’t visit often; more times than not, his echoing footsteps represent the hollow wails of death as pet after pet leave in body bags after his visits.

Today may be the day you get to leave, too.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

A huff settles in the tense silence of the living room.

The treat inside Wanda's hand has turned sticky with the warmth of her fingertips. It slathers, greasy and disturbing, with a scent of beef she will never be able to wash off properly.

“Your dramatics are adorable, baby, but we are already ten minutes late. So, would you please get out? Natasha is waiting in the car.” The silence continues without a single acknowledgment on your end.

You had been ignoring her for well over an hour at this point, yet Wanda never left her station, determined to get you to leave on your own terms, even if dragging you out herself would be far less frustrating.

The shit she does for you.

“He isn’t going to kill you, you know.” She grumbles beneath her breath like an afterthought as she continues to dangle beef jerky in front of your upturned nose.

You almost scoff aloud at that but think better of it and settle for a half-hearted eye roll. It was quite literally the reason you were upset to begin with. If they were going to force you to endure this torture, they might as well let him kill you while they were at it.

So, no. You were not leaving your post under the plushy inanimate object that you considered your safe haven, also known as a couch. It had become a favorite spot of yours when you knew something was amiss. Natasha had started calling it your “free sone”, and made some reference to a silly sounding game called “tag”, whatever that was.

Wanda didn’t know whether she wanted to coo or reprimand you as your eyes heaved at her comment. She settled for an indulgent chuckle; your time at the Maximoff household had left you with a bit of an attitude.

Fine, if this was how it was going to be.

Time for the ultimate triumph card.

“I will let you have some chocolate when we get back.” Your ears perked up at that. The redhead knew it was less about the chocolate and more about sharing it through kisses that caught your attention.

The three of you were packed in the car and on the road in less than five minutes after that.

Which is how you find yourself now-

A chill running down your spine as a man with comically large glasses grips your arm, intending to check the bend of your joints. You weren’t a big fan of men, especially not the kind with large hands and fake smiles, which this man was chock-full of. However, it hadn’t taken long before you realized how gentle he was.

His touch was strictly professional, but not unkind. And you found yourself getting more tense with each second that ticked by.

There was comfort in pain, an acknowledgment of existence without the shame of onlookers. The way it burrowed beneath your skin like a second layer of protection burned brighter than any somber light you had spent your life surrounded by.

It was guidance above all.

A path drawn in blood was better than walking blind.

So, this, this in between of suspense where neither pain nor comfort existed, was like being pulled out of the ocean after you finally grew gills.

It gasped inside your chest with each touch and clipped word, heaving for breath where there was none to catch- As if you were choking on the gentleness of it all. Panic pulsed in tandem with your heartbeat as he moved on to your jaw, the rush inside your ears growing louder until it was all you could hear.

The edge of your vision blurred.

Your palms grew clammy.

Your mouth dry.

Then there was a pinch.

Not harsh, but there.

It stung a little.

And suddenly the water returned. You weren’t drowning in an ocean, per se, more like floating in a swimming pool. But it helped, enough to let a breath, then another, rush into your gills and fill you with the existential dread you called calm.

A press of warmth followed the pinch, Natasha gluing herself to your side to draw your attention to her fingers gripping the flesh atop your thigh instead of the grip clutching your jaw.

Relief, not easily felt, replaced the taste of blood that clung to your tongue as you slumped slightly into her.

The emotion that followed was strange. The doctor was stubborn, pulling you this way and that, leaving you dizzy with the movement. It seems he was determined to check every bend, twist, and sound that your body could make. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was scared for his life with the way he didn’t miss a single detail.

Which he was, of course. Wanda was standing just outside of your view, staring at the man she had paid far too much money for, like he was one wrong move away from becoming dinner, but you didn’t know that.

After the third time of spinning you around, he was pissing you off a little. An emotion you had never considered yourself capable of.

Your hands press into the cold table, knuckles whitening as you tighten your fits in defiance. Half-moon indents form while your nails prick like needles. The pain helps, a little. Yet, anger still lingers, building beneath your skin like a storm brewing on the horizon, displeasure growling inside your mind like thunder.

As quickly as it builds, it dissipates; a warm chuckle quickly washing away your annoyance as Wanda throws her head back with a snicker poorly hidden behind her hand. You turn toward her as sterile lights catch on her golden rings, leaving you mesmerized for a moment. The grumble you hadn’t realized was very much loud and clear inside the small office dies down, and an embarrassed flush tints the tips of your ears.

She was laughing at you.

With a groan, you bury your face into Natasha’s stomach, the doctor forgotten for a moment, her heat helps to alleviate some of the goosebumps that litter your skin. Your shame doubles as the younger redhead chuckles at the whole display. Her stomach vibrates with her silent joy, heaving you up and down as you press closer and whine louder.

It’s strange, even as embarrassment threatens to eat you alive, you can’t remember a time you were this carefree—the man with the silly glasses- nothing but an afterthought in your bubble of resilient joy.

It’s… nice.

Little did you know, Wanda had also made a dentist appointment for you tomorrow… what a bitch.

[darknight3904]

Every Breath You Take

Chapter Twenty- Letting Go

Tommy Miller x Reader, Slowburn!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Jackson isn't all it's cracked out to be as you dodge Tommy and try to convince Joel to hold onto Ellie

Warnings for this part: Language

Word Count: 2.5k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / The Last of Us Masterlist

Late November 2023, Jackson 

You wake up the next morning with Joel still wrapped around you. His hair tickles your nose as you turn to the doorframe where the floorboards creak. Ellie stands there, her hands fidgeting as she stares at you and Joel. 

“Did you wanna go get breakfast? Maria said that we could go down anytime, but I didn’t wanna go alone so…” 

“Yeah, give me a second, I’ll get dressed, Lemme get Joel up too.” 

“No, uh, just you.” Ellie says, her next words are a little forced, “Girl time or some shit, y’know.” 

“Oh, uh, alright.” 

Joel doesn’t stir as you slip out from under him. You push a pillow under his head and fix the blankets around him before turning to pull your clothes on from last night. Ellie waits for you out on the porch, her new purple coat zipped up to her chin. 

The snow crunches as you walk with her. She’s quiet today, if anything, you expected her to be chatty and talking about your new surroundings. You sit across from her in the community hall, steaming bowls of oatmeal in front of you while a delicious-smelling cup of coffee washes yours down. 

“Did you ever want kids?” Ellie asks when she’s done with her meal 

You’re swallowing the last sip of coffee as you stare at her. 

“I dunno. World went to shit before I even had my first real boyfriend. I guess when I was really small I used to play with a baby doll and proclaim that I’d have my own baby one day. Of course, I was four then and probably just wanted something alive to push around in a stroller.” 

She slowly nods, picking at her nails, “And Joel? Did he always know he wanted kids? Did he want Sarah?” 

Sarah. A variable Ellie didn’t know twenty-four hours ago. Maria or Tommy must’ve let that one slip. 

“I don’t know if Joel always wanted kids. He already had Sarah when we met.” You say, “He was a great dad, though.” 

“Did he want her, though?” 

You look at Ellie, trying to discern this line of questioning about Joel’s wants. She was acting weird, had something happened last night after you’d gone to bed? Joel had been sad and quiet last night, but you had just figured he was stuck in an old memory, something common for him. 

You reach across the table, taking Ellie’s hands in your own as you stop her from picking at her hangnails. 

“I don’t know if anyone ever really wants kids, especially in this world.” 

Ellie nods, her hands shifting away from yours. You stop her, though, gently squeezing her soft skin with your fingers to keep her at the table. 

“Kids, though, they give us a chance to be better. Sometimes the world will bring you what you need even if you don’t want it. It meets us where we are and makes us better.”

The scraping of a chair has you and Ellie breaking apart from each other. 

“Damn, when you’d turn into Shakespear?”

Tommy has pulled up a chair to your serene breakfast. He looks criminally good. Dark hair neatly trimmed, facial hair that has just started greying, looks at you as you take in the deep red button down he wears. 

“When you fucked off for your suicide mission.” You scoff 

Tommy’s smile falters, probably not expecting you to address it so soon. Ellie clears her throat. She knows all about you and Tommy; you’d spilled the beans one night after drinking too much of a whiskey Joel had found stashed in the floorboards of an old home a few weeks back. 

“I uh. I’m gonna go see Shimmer again. Is that cool?” Ellie stands up 

You want to grab her and force her to sit her ass back down. 

“Yeah, of course. Harry is workin’ today, let him know I said it’s fine and he’ll probably even let ya’ sit in the stable with her.” Tommy says 

“Sweet.” Ellie grins, walking off towards the exit 

You pick at the tablecloth, thinking about how you should’ve just stayed in bed with Joel. 

“So, uh, can we talk?” Tommy asks hopefully 

You look at him, pretending to really think it over for a second, give him some false hope, let him feel some of the shitty feelings you felt for so many years. 

“No.”

The cold air is refreshing as you scurry down main street. The walk would actually be semi peaceful if it weren’t for the man trailing after you. 

Men. They always ruined everything. Tommy was the worst of them all, even back in Texas you remember the time he spilled his beer on Joel’s new couch while the two of them and your dad were watching the Super Bowl back in 02’. If you close your eyes you can still hear Joel’s enraged voice as he yelled and grabbed a roll of paper towels and cleaner before shoving them into Tommy’s chest. 

“Would you quit, runnin’ from me?” Tommy asks 

“Fuck off, Tommy. Don’t you have shit to do?” 

“Yeah, I do but this is more important.” 

You whirl around to face him, “Annoying the shit outta me is more important?” 

“Look, I just wanna talk. Can we go inside? It’s freezing out here.” 

You push the front door open. Joel must still be asleep. Tommy makes himself comfortable on the couch in the living room you haven’t checked out yet. You perch on the armchair across from him, thinking of how you can escape this. 

Even in Wyoming, he manages to look Texan. Cowboy boots sit on his feet, a big belt buckle on his waist. All he’s missing is a damn hat and you’d think you were back in Austin. 

“Can you make this quick?” You ask wishing he'd just leave

“Your social skills are shit. Didn’t know traveling with Joel also meant becoming him.” Tommy comments

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t make me talk to him if I don’t wanna.” You roll your eyes 

You fidget in your chair, maybe you can telepathically communicate with Joel and get him up, have him distract his brother so you can run off into the woods and bury your head in the snow. 

“Look. I wanted to say I’m sorry. What happened between us, how I left ya’, it was a shitty thing to do.” Tommy says 

“At least he’s self-aware.” You sneer 

He grimaces, you hope he's feeling guilty as he sits on that comfortable-looking couch.

“I’m sure it was hard, but you’re here still. That counts for something.” Tommy says, his lips pressed together in a firm line

“Oh my god. Are you seriously mansplaining how hard my life has been when you weren’t even there for it?” You ask, glaring at him 

“What? No. That’s not what I meant, I just-” 

“Jesus, save it. You don’t belong telling me shit, not when you weren't there.” 

“Darlin’ I-” 

 You point at him, glaring at him accusingly, “Don’t Darlin’ me. You lost those privileges when you fucked off to save the world and left me in Boston to starve and sell myself for cards.” 

“You what?” 

Fuck. You slap your hand over your mouth. Too much info. You sit back, it’s out now, no taking it back. 

“Leave.” You mumble 

“No, I'm not leavin’, repeat what you just said to me.” Tommy grunts, leaning forward.

“I said, get out.” You quietly say, you don’t want to discuss this with anyone, least of all him.  

“And I said no.” Tommy says, “Tell me what happened in Boston. All of it.” 

You run a hand through your hair nervously, your voice rises as anger swirls in your stomach, standing up you move to exit the living room “Get the fuck out, Tommy.” 

Tommy crosses the room quickly, his large frame blocking you from moving further. You take a step back, appalled at the fact that he thought he could keep you here. 

“Talk to me.” He pleads

“Just get out, Tommy.” You groan, “Don’t you think if I wanted to talk to you, I would? I don’t want you fucking pity party so just get the fuck out of my way.” 

Tommy’s eyes stare at you, they look sad, but you can’t bring yourself to care. He steps to the side, his deep voice filling your ears, 

“Alright. I’ll find you before Ellie and I leave for Salt Lake, maybe you’ll wanna talk to me then.” 

The sound of the front door slamming shut rings through the house. You can’t find yourself to care as your legs carry you up the steps. You burst into the master bedroom, expecting to find Joel still asleep. Instead, you find him in the bathroom, staring at his reflection as he trims his beard. 

“You gave Ellie away.” You say, it’s a question that comes out like a statement 

“She ain’t a damn puppy.” Joel says, “It’s better for her like this. Safer. Tommy will get her there, he’s sharper than I am, stronger, knows this area better.” 

“You’re full of shit.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I mean it. You’re full of shit, Joel. Pawning her off on your brother cuz’ you think you’re too old.” You say, grabbing the towel away from him before he can wipe his hands on it, “Do you know what she was asking about this morning?” 

Joel stares at you, waiting for you to continue. 

“She asked about Sarah and if you wanted her.” 

“She has no damn business asking shit like that.” Joel scowls, “Sarah isn’t any of her business.” 

“You don’t get it, Joel.” You roll your eyes

“Actually I do. I get that if I try to get to Salt Lake, she might die. I might die. I’m not as invincible as you fuckin’ think. What you don’t get, what she doesn’t get, is that I’m not her dad. You ain’t her mom, she’s not our kid, she’s cargo, something we were transportin’ for a payout.” Joel stares down at you, a frown etched on his face as he grabs the towel from your hands. 

He brushes past you and into the bedroom. You turn on your heel, watching as he tosses the towel on the bed before beginning to rummage through the clothes in the closet. You watch as his shoulders slump, like he carries the weight of the world on them. 

“Sarah once told me it was easy to make you cry.” You say, “I didn’t believe her until you stayed up with us one night, watched the Titanic with us and started crying when Jack died.” 

“Get to the damn point.” Joel huffs 

“My point is that you’re a human, Joel. Humans age, we cry, we laugh, most of all though, we form emotional attachments.” 

Joel doesn’t look back at you, but you can practically see right through him. Giving Ellie to Tommy with the excuse he’s too old to get her to the Fireflies, a load of bullshit. You walk towards him, hand brushing his back as you get him to face you again. 

“I get it, Ellie, she reminds you of Sarah, of the pain you can’t face.” 

“Stop it.” Joel mumbles, gaze fixed on the wall behind you, his jaw clenched 

“The grief you feel for her, Joel, it’s alright to feel that.” 

Joel sighs and moves to sit down on the bed, and the shirt he’d been holding slips to the ground. You follow him, sitting beside him.

“I know that.” He softly says, “I just…can’t have that gettin’ Ellie killed. Sarah, she…I miss her.” 

Joel’s voice is so quiet, you probably would’ve missed his words if you weren’t right next to him. 

You rest your head on his shoulder, a soft hum leaving your lips, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Joel had never been one to talk about Sarah. You knew he thought about her, though, always staring at his broken watch when he did. 

“No…I just wanna sit here, with you if that’s okay?” He asks 

You nod, it’s more than okay. 

You sit beside him in silence, listening to his breaths, feeling his body move as he fidgets with his sleeves. 

“Tommy was here. I heard you two arguin’.” Joel says after a few minutes go by

“He pissed me off.” You say blandly

“Thought I was gonna have to intervene,” Joel admits 

“I don’t think Tommy would ever hurt me.” You honestly say, sure he pissed you off but you didn’t think Tommy would ever raise a hand to you. 

“Tommy wouldn’t hurt ya’. Was talkin’ about you hurtin' him.” Joel grunts 

“How would I hurt Tommy?” You ask 

“Remember that time you threw a can of green beans at his head and gave him a bruise the size of an egg?” Joel asks, “I snt him to the shitty QZ doctor’s to make sure he wasn’t concussed.” 

“He started that.” You remind the older Miller brother 

“He made a joke.” Joel chides 

“He asked me if I was on the rag and then proceeded to tell me I was being a bitch.” You scoff 

“That’s not what he told me.” Joel laughs 

“Yeah well, he’s a pathological liar, that brother of yours.” You hum, taking a deep breath of Joel’s masculine scent 

Joel chuckles, wrapping an arm around you, “Listen, before he leaves with Ellie, I want you to hear him out. Let him apologize and get it out of his system.” 

“Do I have to?” You groan 

“Yes, you have to. When he comes back I can’t have two trying to rip each other in half.” Joel says 

You groan but nod anyway, promising Joel to let Tommy say his piece. 

“You’re sure we can’t take Ellie ourselves?” You ask him again 

“No, we can’t. She’ll be safe with Tommy. Safer than she’d be with us.” Joel says 

From his tone, you can tell it’s final. You accept his decision, wondering how Ellie will fare without you. Joel asks you what you had for breakfast, and when you mention the cup of coffee, he stands back up, declaring he needs to get down to the community hall immediately. 

“You’re an addict.” You chuckle 

“Haven’t had coffee since-” 

“Last night.” You remind him 

“That’s long enough,” Joel says, offering you a hand as he pulls you off the bed 

You laugh when he tugs too hard, and you collide into him, an oomph leaving your lips as he grunts in pain when you step on his sock-clad feet. You’re tempted to ask him to hold your hand as you walk down Main Street side by side. It’d probably be pushing it though. Joel didn’t seem like the PDA type. 

You still didn’t know what he really thought of you, Sure, there’d been that heated moment in the cabin, but nothing really since then. You had no idea if he’d even want a real relationship, now that you were literally across the street from Tommy, that might be too much for both brothers to handle. Besides, it’d probably be awkward being with Joel and him knowing that you’d been with his brother. 

As you walk, you pass the stables, you see Ellie laughing as Shimmer whinneys and takes a carrot from her hands. Guilt swirls in your chest as her laugh fills your ears. You can’t help it, the attachment you feel for her, it’s real, no matter how you try to push it down the way Joe does his. A sigh leaves your lips as you follow Joel into the hall, a singular thought crossing your mind as you enter,

How could you let her go? 

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter; I carry the tags over to each part.

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[lynnsenpai]

Big Life and Comics Update

Hey, remember that time last April when I finished Chapter 6 of MIS, and I was all like, "I'll be back to posting in May." And then it's the end of June now and I've been mostly quiet the whole time. Heck, I meant to make new character profiles for Esther, Seir, and Marchosias during this break and none of that happened either.

The super short version is that at the time the last chapter ended, depression and burnout hit me hard. On a personal level, our apartment was (and still is) in disarray after our landlord had to come in and do a ton of work on our bathroom only to have to stop partway (for honestly legit reasons). This is an ongoing thing, and due to the current heatwave, he probably won't be back to finish until next week, leaving the busted up look of everything to continue to be a source of stress. All the while, I'm worried about my elderly mother who has dementia, and my elderly father who's been having cardiac concerns. And none of this to even speak of the stress cause by the horrifying goings on in my country.

It was making me feel helplessly, perpetually tired.

I'm not going to claim everything is all better now. But I have been taking it slow for the better part of two months while I dealt with life for a bit. I was able to take a fair bit of time for me to rest and zone out as needed, and I finally took a long needed visit home to see my family. So I'm not all better, but I am… better. And I couldn't ask for more right now.

During the last few months, though, what I didn't do a lot of was draw. I contributed to a handful of collabs where I didn't want to let my friends down, and I managed some new rat doodles here and there. But I only have the cover and two pages for the next chapter and basically nothing else ready to go (although the script is done for the next two full chapters). Again, I needed that time, so ultimately, it was for the best. But this does put things in an awkward position right now, because I can't exactly say "stay tuned for new pages next week!" because I'm simply not ready, and that's just a recipe for rebooting the burnout I literally just got over.

My original plan was to finish chapters 7 and 8 to reach what I felt was a good "season finale-like" stopping point, and then take an extended break to shift focus entirely towards the final Rain book until I get it done. I also thought Chapters 7 and 8 would probably be done by now, or maybe next month the latest. I didn't anticipate the two breaks I would need in the middle of Chapter 6 or the extended one I've been taking now. So I'm thinking I want to pivot to a new approach.

My new plan is to expedite the latter. I want to prioritize focus on the last book, to give it a hint of a chance of actually finally coming out this year (it's the 15th anniversary of Rain this November, so I'd really really love to see it release this year).

I sincerely apologize for those of you chomping at the bit for more MIS. But I promise, it will return. And once I complete my previous story once and for all - for real this time - then I can go all in, with MIS finally allowed to have my full attention without an air of guilt hovering over me that I still need to do something else, and overwhelming all the time.

It may be a longer than usual wait, but I think it'll be especially worth it in the long run. The final Rain book will be better for it, and MIS will be better for it.

Here's a little visual of my girls taking turns, so they can both come back all the stronger. ^_^

Sorry again for the extended break, but thank you so much for all your love, support, and patience while I work through everything. I love you all. Please stay safe, stay happy, and stay healthy.

Until next time! 💜

[blogficsesp]

I'll be waiting (ch. 3)

When a wound puts you in the way of your almost ex-husband, the months without talking are over and perhaps it is the opportunity to resume your marriage or end it.

*English is not my first language

*Sorry for medical inaccuracies

Thank you so much for your love to this story. This chapter is probably very millenial, hehe, but I love Friends and The Sandlot.

Chapter 3

After the rounds, Robby had a little time to breathe and think. He remembered the last time that you talked to him. It was his birthday last year, you waited outside the ED with a present (a new book), still trying to reach him.

“Hi, Robby”. He turned to see you. You were smiling but didn’t reach your eyes.

“Hi, y/n… mhm, how are you?” You came close to him, but respecting the space between you two. You handed him the book. “Happy birthday”. He took it, read the title and his eyes came back to you. “Thank you. You didn’t need to do anything-” “Yes, Robby, I know, but I WANTED to do it”. She looked upset, of course. “Well, again, thank you”. For a moment, both looked each other in the eyes, knowing that there were a lot of things to say, but not saying anything. She was the one to break the silence. “Well, have a goodnight, Robby”. Both nodded their heads and part ways. This year he only received a message, but he didn’t reply.

He knew that it was time to let it go, ask for a divorce and end your misery. But he was selfish, or at least that’s what Dana had said to him; he wasn’t ready to let you go. And it seems that you weren’t ready either. Janey had told him that you were still in touch with her and Jake, and from time to time, Abbot mentioned that you asked about his wellbeing.

He walked to the nurse station to talk to Dana. “Do you know at what time she started her shift?” She looked up to answer him. “Who? Your wife?” He took a breath before answering her. “Yes, my wife”. She smiled slightly, knowing that she was bothering him and he couldn’t do anything. “I didn’t ask her, if you’re not busy, you could do it”. He put his head in his hands. “You’re killing me, Smalls”. Dana laughed at him. “Oh, now you’re citing movies… again”. That was a habit he took from you, you were a fan of watching movies and series in your spare time, and sometimes you used to say phrases of the characters as part of your daily way of speaking.

At south 4, you were talking talk with Perlah while another person took your blood.

“It hurts more right now”.

She took your vitals again. “It’s normal, the shock is wearing off. I’m gonna tell Robby if we could give you something while you wait for the exams”.

“Is it Robby’s case? I mean, you could talk to Collins or Langdon…”

She laughed slightly and shook her head. “I don’t think Robby wants someone else to look after you”.

As if you were summoning him, at that moment Robby entered. “Perlah, what happens?”

Both of you looked at him, and she answered. “She feels more pain now, I said her that I was going to talk to you, see if we could give her something”.

As he listened to her, he closed and opened his fists, nervous. “Let me take a look…”

Robby approached and began to do his physical examination. He knew Jack had done one, but he needed to make sure things hadn’t gotten worse. You were already in a robe. When he finished his examination, looked back at Perlah, “Please, call and tell them that we need those exams as soon as possible”. She nodded her head and did what he told her.

“Soon, sweetheart, we need to make sure that there are no fractures or torn ligaments before proceeding”.

You knew that he was saying something, but your mind went blank after sweetheart. One part of you said that it didn’t mean anything, just a comfort word for a patient in pain. But the other part, louder than the first, said that he cared for you, that he still had feelings for you, the proof wasn’t the word, but the way that he said it, like he meant it.

“Yes… OK…” You didn’t even know what you were answering, but he was seeing you waiting for a reaction, so you said the first thing that you thought.

Once again, he squeezed your hand and walked away.

And while you were waiting for the exams, you remembered the first time that he told you sweetheart. You were on his couch, watching a rerun of Friends, when everyone knew about Monica and Chandler. You were friends at that moment; he was recently single again.

“Oh, the feelings…” It was the third time that you watched Friends, but the way that Chandler let everybody know his love for Monica always gets you.

“I can’t believe that you still get emotional, you already watched it”.

“I KNOW, but look how cute they are!”

“You are cuter than them, sweetheart”.

Suddenly everything felt different in the air, you looked at him and your stomach made flips like crazy. His eyes shined with something that you didn’t want to name, but you knew that was love.

______________________

Taglist: @emma8895eb @li22ie2017

[sethsclearwater]

chapter three | dusk till dawn

synopsis: more unknowns continue to emerge as reader’s connections with paul, seth, and embry make themselves known

warnings: n/a

word count: 4.5k

[masterlist] [previous] [next - coming soon]

it didn’t take too long for seth to heat up the chicken and dumpling soup for the two of you to snack on and, soon enough, you found yourself sipping on it while he made easy conversation about anything other than whatever the hell had just transpired earlier that day. though, it didn’t take him long to notice the way you were nearly nodding off in the middle of your conversation as you finally let yourself feel just how tired you were. it was nearly midnight, and you’d been up since 5 that morning to pack and drive over from seattle, so neither of you were surprised by your sudden fatigue.

“do you know where you’re gonna sleep? i can totally go kick paul off the couch if you wanted to lay down there,” he asked, that same, comforting smile coating his features when you yawned again and nodded.

“i can do it. don’t need him getting mad at you for no reason,” you mused, mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ to seth as he got up with a laugh, taking the empty bowl and spoon from in front of you to set in the sink. you followed shortly after him, instead heading into the living room where sue was on the phone and paul was sprawled out on the couch, half asleep with his legs dangling off one end while he kept one arm tossed over his eyes. sue gave you a small smile when she noticed you, quickly heading outside to the back porch so she could continue her phone conversation. 

you didn’t think too much of it, hearing seth’s footsteps followed behind you and you smiled, looking over your shoulder at him with an appreciative hum that had him chuckling, “wouldn’t send you in here alone,” he mused, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze which had a blush quickly creeping up on your cheeks, not totally sure how to respond to the - very welcome but unexpected - physical touch from him. 

if he noticed your blush, he didn’t say anything because within a few seconds, paul was groaning as he presumably woke himself up, “can’t even sleep for ten minutes without the princess of la push needing something,” he grumbled, sitting up to get a better look at you and seth.

you couldn’t help it, a small giggle escaping your lips at how absolutely ridiculously miserable this man managed to make himself all the time. seth smiled, also letting out a quiet laugh when he heard paul’s new nickname for you, “the princess of la push needs the couch,” seth mused, an easy smile on his face as he slid one hand to your lower back to guide you over to the couch where paul began griping about how obnoxious it was that he was trapped here at such a late hour. 

to his credit though, he did get up, moving to sit back in the armchair while you grabbed a blanket from your duffle bag, quickly laying down on the couch where he was just a few moments ago. as soon as your body hit the couch, you let out a heavy sigh, the warmth from his body heat radiating straight to your core.

“we run warm,” seth mused, sitting down at the other end of the couch by your feet.

you hummed, looking over to paul, who was watching you rather warily. before either of you could start your bickering again, the back door slid open as sue stepped inside, quickly closing it behind her before the cool night air could begin seeping in. 

the three of you turned your attention to her, “did he say anything?” seth asked, not sounding concerned but more so intrigued by whatever insight he must’ve assumed billy would have about the whole thing. from what seth had told you in the kitchen, billy wasn’t just heading the tribal council; his son, jacob, was also the pack’s alpha, both of which had quickly immersed him into the world of the supernatural when they all started shifting over a decade ago.

sue let out a soft sigh, shaking her head, “he doesn’t know much more than we do. said he’ll call for a council meeting tomorrow to put our heads together. quil should be coming over to keep an eye on you tonight, though in case you need anything,” sue explained, looking over to you for the last part, and you frowned, sitting up on your elbows to look over at seth for further explanation. he’d already told you about jacob while he was explaining billy’s connection to the whole werewolf thing, but hadn’t gone into details on any other members of the pack.

“quil is just another shifter, around our age,” he explained, “he’ll probably be outside in the yard past the treeline, but can come in if you need anything,” seth added, running his hand over your ankle to give you another gentle, reassuring squeeze. you nodded slowly, turning to look over at paul.

he didn’t miss a beat as he stood up, stretching his ridiculously well sculpted arms over his head, the joints cracking as he said, “he’s easy pickins if you’re looking for another victim.” 

seth rolled his eyes and you let out a loud groan, matching paul’s dramatics as you dropped back down on the couch, “goodnight paul!” you called as he headed over to the front door, clearly just as eager to get out of the house as you were to get him to leave.

“keep an eye on your phone for a text from jake,” sue directed as paul pulled her into a hug, his form quickly dwarfing hers.

he hummed, “got it boss,” he mused as he released her, nodding over to seth who rolled his eyes again but waved to him nonetheless, “night princess!” paul called, the sarcasm dripping through his voice as he headed out the front door and into the night, not bothering to look back. you were quite thankful for that as he would’ve only seen your jaw drop with a rapidly spreading pink blush coating your features. you were quite certain he despised you but holy fuck you couldn’t help the way he had your heart pounding. 

“i’ll come back over in the morning to check on you, okay?” seth asked, thankfully choosing not to mention your body’s response to paul’s new nickname for you. you nodded, swallowing as you turned your attention back to him, only to find him smiling at you. 

“see you in the morning seth,” you murmured, a shy smile on your face as he got up, mirroring paul’s earlier actions as he stretched his arms over his head, his shirt sliding up just enough for you to get a glimpse of the layer of muscles beneath. his smile widened when he caught you staring, and he just settled for letting out a breathy laugh.

“see you in the morning,” he copied, heading over to his mom where she was grabbing her medical bag and responding to what you assumed was a text on her phone, “ready mom?” he asked, grabbing the car keys and medical bag from her when she nodded, clicking her phone off before heading over to you.

you sat up, realizing you’d definitely need to walk them to the door so you could lock it behind them, “you call one of us if you need anything, okay sweetheart?” she asked, pulling you into a tight hug when you got up, pressing a quick, motherly kiss to your hair before straightening back up, “and quil is outside if you need anything. just yell if you need him.”

you hummed and nodded, “thank you,” you whispered, letting out a soft sigh as you three headed for the door, “should i…” you trailed off as you three got to the door, “like invite quil in or something?” you asked awkwardly and both seth and sue laughed, shaking their heads.

“he’ll be fine,” seth reassured, “i can make sure he comes over in the morning with me to introduce the two of you,” he added, a familiar, serene smile on his face when you nodded, happy with that compromise.

“thank you,” you said again, “for everything today.”

“anything for the princess of la push,” seth teased, and you rolled your eyes, his laughter echoing as him and sue headed down the steps of your porch and over to their car.

you waited until they were both inside safely before heading back into your grandmother’s home, locking the door behind you and quickly climbing back onto your makeshift bed that was the couch. despite his absence, you could feel paul’s body heat still radiating from the couch and seth’s warmth in your chest. the soothing sensations didn’t take long to help you drift off into some much-needed sleep, somehow more comforted knowing there was a wolf outside to make sure you were safe.

…

“i don’t know seth, she just wandered out here asking for embry. oh fuck i think she’s waking up wait a second-” you let out a low groan, blearily looking around as you tried to re-orient yourself. the buzzing in your head was back to an uncomfortable level, and your back was killing you yet again. though, as soon as your eyes managed to focus, you saw a man with ridiculously curly hair sitting on the edge of the coffee table, his expression indicating he was rather freaked out.

“are you quil?” you asked, voice croaky as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, quickly grabbing the bottle of gatorade seth had left on the side table for you. quil nodded, and you took a few sips, the ache in your throat quickly easing.

“do you remember going outside?” he asked, and you frowned, shaking your head. the last thing you’d remembered was falling asleep on the couch, “seth did you hear that?” quil grabbed his phone from the coffee table, quickly putting it on speaker phone for both of you to listen.

“yea i heard that,” his voice came through the phone, muddled with fatigue but you could faintly hear some shuffling in the background and you’d assumed he must’ve been getting up, “i’ll come back over, couldn’t sleep anyways,” he sighed and quil nodded even though seth couldn’t see it, looking from his phone back over to you.

after a few moments, seth asked, “has anyone checked on embry?” 

“who’s embry?” you looked up at quil who’s eyes somehow managed to widen.

“oh this is so fucked,” he groaned, “you don’t remember asking about him?” he questioned, whining when you shook your head. you had no clue what he was talking about, but had assumed it must’ve had something to do with you wandering outside, however long ago.

“okay i’ll call embry, you keep an eye on her, and i’ll be over soon,” seth decided, waiting until he heard quil agree before hanging up the phone. 

“can you tell me what happened?” you asked, pausing for a moment as you took in his stressed figure, “i’m sorry if i scared you. i don’t remember any of it,” you added and he seemed to take that to heart, giving you a small smile as he straightened himself up a bit.

“i think you must’ve been sleepwalking,” he started, “you came outside a little bit ago and walked right up to me which was lowkey kinda creepy because i don’t know how you knew where i was and then you started asking me to take you to embry which was highkey really creepy because i don’t think you know eachother,” he concluded and you sighed, sitting up on the couch so you could sit opposite of him instead of laying down, pressing your hands against your lower back to try and massage the throbbing muscles there.

you tried racking your brain for any memory of someone named embry, but nothing was coming to mind. the only thing your brain seemed to want to focus on was the obnoxious thrumming in the back of your mind. 

after a moment, you exhaled heavily, “i don’t know who he is,” you reminded and quil’s shoulders dropped as he sighed, nodding. 

you offered him a small smile, unable to hold it for long before it turned into a grimace when the throbbing in your back amped up again. a frown quickly coated quil’s features as he watched you try massaging the sore muscles,“is your back hurting? seth said to call him if it started bothering you again,” 

“i can handle it,” you reassured him, “can you show me a picture of embry? maybe i’ll recognize him,” you redirected, not particularly interested in having quil call seth again even when he was already on his way over here at whatever ungodly hour of the morning that it was.

quil didn’t seem to pick up on you changing the subject or at least, if he did, he didn’t say anything about it, “yea i think i’ve got one,” he picked up his phone again, starting to swipe through his photos app, giving you an opportunity to get up so you could go hunt around the kitchen for some tea or something of the sort. 

quil followed you into the kitchen, wordlessly taking a seat at the kitchen table, still digging through his phone while you searched through the cupboards, “assuming i can actually find any, do you want some tea?” you asked, holding in a gag when you got to the cupboard with a ridiculous amount of tins of sardines your grandma seemed to be hoarding. 

“i’m okay, seth probably will though,” he hummed, not looking up from his phone as he continued to aimlessly scroll for a picture of the incredibly elusive embry. 

you nodded, grinning when you finally spotted a box of lavender tea, quickly grabbing it off the shelf before getting the kettle from the mess of pots and pans in the cabinet under the sink. 

holding the kettle under the faucet, you began filling it up with water, “he not very photogenic or something?” you asked with a breathy laugh, quil also letting out one of his own.

“apparently not,” he smiled, “not sure why he’s so difficult to find. i guess anytime we take a picture together it’s on his phone,” he mused, clicking his phone off and setting it down on the table when he looked up to see you gently massaging your hip again while you got the kettle situated on the stove with the other, “you sit, i can take care of it,” he reassured, quickly coming over to shoo you away when you opened your mouth to argue with him. 

you quickly conceded, “thank you,” you murmured, “fuck that really hurts,” you murmured, more to yourself than anything, the pain gradually starting to ramp up more and more along with the humming in your mind. 

as you sat down on the chair quil had just gotten up from, a knock came at the back door, followed by seth clearwater’s voice, “it’s just me,” he reassured, sliding the glass door closed as he kicked his shoes off.

you flashed him a half smile, holding it just long enough to ask, “you want some tea?” before you were grimacing again, a quiet whimper escaping your lips as you got your other hand situated, massaging your hips with both hands.

“sure,” seth’s voice was soft as he came over to you, eyebrows pinched in concern as he came to sit next to you, “are you hurting again?” he asked, frowning when you sighed and nodded. you two held eye contact for a moment too long, his honey irises filled with something akin to guilt as he tried to figure out how to help you. neither of you seemed confident enough to ask if he could touch you, but you were growing more and more desperate as the seconds dragged on.

quil came to your rescue, whether it was because he was actually trying to help save you from the embarrassment of trying and failing to ask seth to help you or because he simply wasn’t paying attention, you appreciated it, “were you able to get ahold of embry?” he asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter to look over at the two of you.

you tore your gaze from seth’s as you stood from the chair, deciding trying to move around a bit would help more than curling up in the kitchen chair, “couldn’t get ahold of him,” seth’s voice was distant as he got up, following you into the living room where you paused in front of the screen door, tilting your head back to blink away the tears that had quickly clouded your vision. you really didn’t need to be having two meltdowns in one day, especially not in front of seth.

without any warning, some primal part of your brain took over, “he’s in the backyard,” you said, struggling to figure out what the hell made you say that but the buzzing in your head only grew, diluting quil’s voice as you dropped your head, looking out the glass door to the backyard, your entire focus suddenly zeroing in on the giant dark grey wolf standing in your yard, staring right through the window at you. before you even processed what you were saying, you breathed out his name, “embry.”

your legs gave out from beneath you as the room began to spin, seth’s hands catching you before you could hit the floor, pulling you back up tight against his chest. as soon as he caught you, the pain faded and buzzing stilled, “okay you need to sit down,” he ordered, “quil can you go-” he started, stopping himself when he saw how quil was already pulling the glass door open to head out into the backyard and help embry, “thank you,” he called, his grip tightening on you when you pulled against him in a weak attempt to see what was happening.

“seth we-” he didn’t even let you get three words out, immediately shushing you before he was dropping one hand down to rest under the bend of your knees, pulling you up bridal style so he could carry you over to the couch.

“quil is gonna check on him, and you and me are gonna sit on the couch while he helps, okay? if he needs anything, i’ll hear it and then we can go out,” despite the firmness of his words, his tone remained gentle. he paused his steps for a moment, waiting until you conceded and gave him a small nod before he was continuing the short journey to the couch.

you remained in a bit of a trance, not giving any more resistance to seth moving you, though you did turn your head in an attempt to look out the window while he walked you over to the couch. the couch squeaked when he sat down, and he exhaled a heavy sigh, helping get you situated next to him so he wasn’t completely overloading your senses by holding you so tightly in his lap. your head relaxed against his shoulder, his hand coming to rest against your hip as he loosely wrapped his arm around you, “i’m sorry,” you whispered, not entirely sure what exactly you were apologizing for, but it still felt right. it didn’t seem like either of you knew what had just transpired but you did know you definitely scared the shit out of him and that seemed worthy enough of an apology from you.

“don’t apologize,” he murmured, and you let out a quiet hum in response to him, smiling a bit when you felt him give your hip a gentle, reassuring squeeze. a silence settled over the two of you as you replayed what had just happened in your mind, the lack of pain making it much easier to attempt to process what was going on.

“was he really out there?” you asked after a few moments, eyes focused on the mosaic pattern dancing along the edges of the coffee table, the array of rainbow colors providing an excellent alternative to looking up at seth while you waited for his response.

“embry?” he asked, swallowing when you nodded, neither of you bothering to lift your heads from eachother as you talked, “yea, that was him,” he confirmed, “quil is talking with him out there right now, i think they’ll come in in a minute,” he added, another silence falling over the both of you, neither of you sure what to say about whatever just happened. 

while the two of you waited, you settled for counting the mosaic tiles instead of continuing to futilely replay everything in your head. you’d only made it to number 74 when the sliding glass door opened again, both you and seth sitting up to look over your shoulders.

quil stepped in first, that same stressed out look covering his features he had on earlier when you first woke up from your sleepwalking endeavor. he did manage to give you a small smile when he saw you looking at him, though, both of you quickly turned your attention to the second man coming in just behind him.

you’d deduced he must’ve been embry, and good lord was he a sight to behold. he was a bit taller than quil and seth, though not by much, and he had a quiet, intense stare that almost had you looking away when you first made eye contact with him, but something deep in your gut told you he was safe. 

“are you okay?” you asked softly, watching as embry noticeably paused for a moment, looking rather confused why you asked him that before he responded.

“are you okay?” he mirrored, not playful in the slightest as he took you in, also seeming to have the same struggle deciphering the depth of the connection between the two of you. 

the corner of your lips curled into a small smile at his concern, “totally fine,” you responded, quickly adding, “you still didn’t answer my question.”

he huffed a barely audible laugh at that, looking down at the floor for a moment to recompose himself before he was meeting your eyes again, “totally fine,” he repeated, and you barely contained your eye roll, quickly coming to the conclusion that he was not a man of many words. 

the sound of the kettle whistling cut through the moment, and quil quickly turned to head back into the kitchen, “not adding house fire to my list of problems from tonight,” he grumbled on his way into the kitchen, both you and seth letting out breathy laughs, embry only giving the smallest of smiles. 

“do you want to come sit?” you asked when you noticed how awkward he looked standing on the doormat, clearly not sure if he was welcome to come in or not. 

he gave you a quick, curt nod before taking a few short steps over to you and seth, opting to sit down in the arm chair across from the couch instead of next to you, “were you also sleepwalking?” seth asked, sighing when embry nodded, “i don’t think i’ve ever heard of anyone shifting in their sleep,” seth murmured as quil came back into the living room, two steaming mugs of tea in his hands.

“haven’t heard of paul’s bogus mood control nosebleed thing or your whole magic touch thing either,” quil’s voice was still playful as he handed you one mug, your old favorite actually, one you’d picked out for your grandma from pike place market when you were just a kid that had somehow still lasted nearly 20 years and counting. seth got your second favorite, an old university of washington one with a cartoonish husky in a football jersey. you quietly thanked him, smiling when he flashed you a rather large, goofy-looking smile before he headed back into the kitchen to grab another mug for embry.

seth sat his mug down on the coaster on the coffee table while you chose to hold yours between your hands, enjoying the warmth radiating off of the mug, “well i’m guessing billy is gonna make all of us come over tomorrow - or today. whatever,” seth groaned and you laughed softly, a yawn following close behind, “you wanna put a movie on? maybe that’ll help everyone fall asleep,” he asked, giving your hip another gentle squeeze when you nodded. 

“i haven’t even tried touching the tv, though, so i’ve got no idea if that’s working,” you explained, the three of you looking to the old tv hung behind embry that your grandma had somehow managed to get mounted on the wall.

“i bet we can figure it out,” seth reassured, grabbing the remote off the coffee table as quil came back in, another two mugs in his hands.

“changed your mind?” you teased when you saw him hand one mug to embry and keep another for himself.

he laughed, “something about seeing two people sleepwalk in one night really makes you reconsider the benefits of hot tea,” he teased, dramatically pulling the other armchair across the room so he could sit next to embry and also sort of face the tv.

while seth spent the next few minutes getting the tv sorted out, you watched as quil and embry had a nearly silent conversation with each other. despite the fact that embry hadn’t said much to you, you could see him talking to quil, even though it was minuscule.

before you could eavesdrop too much, the tv turned on, quil cheering when some weird old war movie came on, “change the channel,” you whispered to seth, and he laughed quietly, clicking the remote again to surf through some channels, much to quil’s chagrin. 

“oh come on seth, please-” he whined, getting up again to turn off the big lights, the living room illuminated only by the lamp next to you and the tv’s soft glow as seth perused the channels. 

seth rolled his eyes as quil continued his dramatics, only stopping when he landed on a new-ish marvel movie you hadn’t seen before but seemed much better than the ancient black and white movie you’d started with, “this is good,” you reassured seth when he looked over to you for approval, quil cheering again when he heard your agreement.

“finally!” he beamed and the other three of you let out quiet laughs, not sure why he considered less than 2 minutes of changing channels to be so long. you took a sip of the tea as you all got situated, a comfortable silence settling over you as the movie played. after a few minutes you set your mug on the coffee table next to seth’s before settling back into his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you drifted off. 

[followmybadreligion]

thinking about your devoted!blue-collar husband and his dreams of getting you pregnant…

it’s one of his sweetest dreams besides being with you.

while in the south, big, growing families were far from rare, he was always hesitant to have one of his own. with the way he worked, forty hours a week and sometimes more, it just wasn’t realistic. despite having a good role model in his pa, and a yearning mother on his back, he never knew if he could see himself that way.

well, until he met you.

while a large part of him was satisfied with taking care of you— giving you every ounce of his love— there came a time where a more primal urge began to form. an urge that desperately wanted to create life with you. that wanted to expand his family and extend his love. that wanted to be the father of your child, along with your husband.

the daydreams started slowly, but after a while they were all consuming.

watching you laze around the house in your puffy sundresses, bump just brimming underneath the fabric. laying with you at night with your swollen, worn body under his hands as he lifts the weight off your back. sweet early mornings filled with sweet tea and your bare feet resting in his lap as he squeezes away the pain.

he fantasized about painting the nursery together— desperate to please your rapidly changing visions. buying your babies little onesies and socks to wear as they grow. making little scrap books of the pictures he’d take along the way, noting how you bloomed more and more with the labor of his love.

he’d learn to cook according to your pregnancy cravings. he’d hold your hair back as you threw up from morning sickness. he’d take those silly breathing and parenting classes with you, if you agreed too. he would do anything at all to make it easier for you; that he knew more than anything.

it got so bad that the thoughts began following him to work, too.

usually, he thought of you whenever things got stressful and be was tempted to quit. thought about how his money was your money, and how each grueling, sweaty day was worth the smile on your face when he’d hand you a random few hundreds.

you were still there, of course. you never leave his mind. but now, instead of seeing your sweet, sexy stare in his mind’s eye, he saw the wet, long lashes of a baby girl with hair just like yours. he saw chubby little hands, a cute little pout, and skin a mix of your two shades. he saw his wife, his baby, and himself— his sacred little family.

that just about does it for him. any doubts he had before have practically melted, replaced by sheer hope.

he’s careful in the way he approaches you about, timid and shy about the broad new chapter. he knows that he’d provide well for both the baby and you. he knows that his loves would never want for anything— never go without. he knows it all, but he’s still so…nervous.

he’s done so much. so, so much.

more than you know— more than can be forgiven. that, he knows.

sure, it’s a sweet dream. one of the sweetest there could be. but, deep down he knows that he’s not deserving.

so, he keeps it to himself. lets it float through his mind and occupy the spaces you don’t fill. lets the temptation of locking you down torment him, hoping that maybe one day, he’ll forgive himself enough to make it a reality.

sweet, sweet blue collar man.

hello, everyone! this was requested as a domestic moment for our beloved blue-collar!husband. of course, i couldn’t resist throwing a little wrench in that plan, though. expect to see more of our guy soon. you guys have been asking some really good questions ;)

wanna send an ask? check this out!

[partylikemajima]

Mending Hearts - Chapter 6 (Final)

Old ends mend with new beginnings. (its much shorter than the others but its the endddd.)

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

Annie woke to the usual songs the birds would sing outside her bedroom window, taking in a breath from where she laid on the bed and opened her eyes.

Immediately she was greeted with the sleeping form of her husband. The side of her head resting on his upper arm that stretched out underneath her, her right arm draped over his bare chest that was rising and falling at a calm pace. She blinked, her fingertips tracing over the lightly bruised marks she left on his chest and she realised it was real.

All of him was real, sleeping next to her, that he did come back two weeks ago, that all the new memories they were making were real, and that last night was real.

His eyebrows twitched and the pattern of his breathing changed briefly, seemingly whatever he was dreaming about had caught him by surprise. She watched him longer and saw his brows begun knitting together, eyelids squeezing and he appeared to be in pain. She rubbed her hand on his chest, trying to sooth him. She remembered he used to have frequent nightmares, most he didn't talk about to her so she could only base it on what she saw and heard while trying to calm him.

Her soothing seemed to help as his expression eased slightly, though a few seconds later his head twitched to the side and the expression returned, his breathing heavier and he whispered 'No'.

She held the side of his face, thumb rubbing his cheek and called for him.

"Elijah"

He didn't respond.

"Elijah" Her voice filling with worry.

The third time she called for him, his left hand wrapped around her wrist and his eyelids flew open, breathing fast. He stared at the ceiling, the fast pace of his breathing slowing as his eyes checked his surroundings until they landed on her.

As soon as they did, he turned his body fast on the bed and was over her, his left hand holding the side of her face, eyes checking her. Her own eyes wide at the sudden movement and checking him too. "Think it was a nightma-" She started to say but his lips met hers.

He kissed her short and sweet, pulling back and looked at her. "You in my dreams again?" His eyes lost in hers, giving her more of the short kisses.

She giggled in between them "I don't think so"

His kisses turned into longer ones, lips exploring the shape of hers as if they didn't explore every inch of her last night. "How you feel so real then?" He questioned.

Does he really feel this is a dream?

She held his face with both hands, holding him back despite thoroughly enjoying his pursuing and met his eyes properly. "This is real, not a dream, we're here" She raised her brows to him.

His eyes roamed over her features, thinking silently. His left hand moved down the side of her body until it reached her behind, and two of his fingers gave a sharp pinch. Her body jerked from the shock. "What that for?!"

He hummed, leaning forward, face still in her hands and gave her a peck on the lips. "Guess it is"

"You supposed to pinch yourself" She laughed as he started kissing over her face, from her brow, over her eyelid and her cheek.

"Well do it then" He mumbled into her skin.

She moved one hand down and pinched the skin of one of his pecs, causing him to grunt with a laugh, smiling when he kissed her lips again.

"I'll set up the bath, we gotta be somewhere soon" He informed.

"Where?"

"Part of the surprise I mentioned yesterday" He kissed the top of her nose and pushed up from the bed, throwing his side of the covers back and walked to the wash room, naked. It was one thing being lost in each other's bodies all of last night, it was another seeing the back of all of him again in daylight. A sight, that had faded in her memory, restored. She held the covers over her face, laughing to herself. She felt like her younger self, time lost had messed up her brain.

She shuffled out of the bed and covered herself up in her night gown, checking the time and picking up pieces of their clothes on the floor. Last night's memories flashing in her mind like lights and she paused several times, recalling them.

They really did go through the house while exploring each other. They had to do the checks of the house, have water, make it to the bedroom....all the while he made it his mission for her to scream his name many times. She made it her mission too for him to call her name like a prayer.

Both of them accomplished their missions.

She held a hand over her mouth, grinning to herself when she heard him calling. She draped the few pieces of clothes she found in the bedroom over the chair in front of her vanity, rest of the clothes must be around the house, and walked into the wash room.

Her smile grew when she saw he was already sitting inside the tub, the water bubbly and she smelled her various handmade soaps in the air. Did he just mix a bunch of them together and hope for the best?

"Water's fine" He lifted one hand out the water and held it towards her. He had a sly smile on his face, eyes twinkling.

He was such a handsome man.

She looked down to the floor, fidgeting with a nail on one finger and her smile causing a slight pain on her face from how wide it was. She shook her head and stepped towards him. The back of his fingers ran down her gown as she untied it, gently shrugging it off her shoulders. It dropped to the floor and she was bared to him again.

His eyelids fluttered at watching her, hand still out that she took finally and his other hand landed on her hip, helping her into the bathtub with him and settled her down into the water between his legs, bringing her back to his chest. His hands moved around her waist and rested over her stomach, humming in satisfaction with his chin on her shoulder.

Her hands laid on his thighs, she looked ahead and caught something different.

Her small, round mirror that was usually hanging in the living room was now hanging on the wall in front of them. He met her gaze in the mirror, giving a soft smile.

"You planning on keeping it here now you're back in the house?" She smirked, one brow angled.

"Yeah" His hands moved up from her stomach to just below her breasts. "For our future plans" He kissed the top of her shoulder.

"How long till we have to leave for your surprise?" She reached for the scrubbers next to the bathtub, handing him one in the water and she lathered her one with the soapy water, taking his right hand from her body to start scrubbing it. Distracting herself too, his body warm against her own, feeling safe and secure but his hands were causing a stir within her again.

"Around two hours" He said while lathering the scrubber she had given him in his other hand, scrubbing down near the top of her left arm gently. "Means we can't stay like this for long" He pecked the other side of her neck with his lips.

"You not tired from yesterday?" She eyed him in the mirror with a coquettish smile.

He looked up from where he was kissing her under her ear. "Are you?"

She hummed, her left hand holding over his that held her to him, he abandoned the scrubber to the water. "A little"

She saw a hint of concern in his eyes so she turned her head to him, kissing his inviting lips. "The good kind" She whispered, his smile melting into her.

"We gotta get outta here, ain't safe" He chuckled lowly, hands returning to her hips, deepening the kiss.

"Why?" She murmured between shared breaths, head tipping back to his shoulder.

The quiet groan from the back of his throat told her many things. "If we keep going" His tongue begged for entrance to her mouth. "I'm gon' break the bathtub" He laughed when she broke the kiss from her own laughing at his words.

They ended their little adventure with having to wash up twice.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

Annie finally got her hands on the bundle of things wrapped up in the living room, feeling it and the contents inside felt like clothes. She looked to Elijah who watched her silently, giving nothing away.

Laying it on the table, she unwrapped the sheet slowly and confirmed it was clothes inside.

A suit and a dress.

His suit a dark navy pinstripe design, embellished with a chain across the buttons of the waist coat. Haint blue silk handkerchief in the front pocket of the jacket, matching the tie around the collar of a white shirt. It was more fancy than he'd usually tolerate.

Her dress was a similar colour scheme, though the colours blended in with one another. Short sleeved arms that cascaded down in ripples, diagonal ruffles segmenting the main body of the dress down to the bottom. There was a small white border around the edges of the dress.

"How'd you get my measurements without even stepping into the house?" She stared at him, mouth hung open.

"You mentioned your dress getting tailored in town days ago, s'why Stack insisted on picking up your dress, he knew I already was." He stepped closer and looked over her shoulder at the outfits. "Used it to get the size" He kissed her cheek.

"You got many cards up your sleeve Mr Moore" She quirked a brow, hand on her hip. "Always had"

"You keep me on my toes, Mrs Moore" He picked up the clothes. "Come on, we gotta get dressed" He turned from her, pulling her hand with him.

"You still haven't told me where we going!"

"Photoshoot baby"

<<<<<<>>>>>>

The door bell chimed when Annie walked into the photography shop, Elijah holding the door open above her from behind with one hand. The last time they were in this place was carrying their bundle of fleeting joy in their arms, snapping a photo of the three of them quickly before rushing to the doctor to retrieve another ailment for their daughter.

She passed by the shop many times after, the owners changed but the business remained as a photography shop. A few of the times she passed by, she lingered. Watching others take photos; new families, elderly couples, siblings, friends. She never felt the need to step in again. Even now, she didn't feel the need, but her husband behind her was eager.

He hardly ever suggested things he wanted to do, only whatever she wanted. But this was his idea for them, and she gladly indulged in the rare times he voiced them.

The photographer welcomed them after finishing a photoshoot with an older couple, the husband adjusting his suit once he stood from the chair, turning to his wife and they exited the shop.

"Ready?" He asked, fixing the lens of his camera.

Elijah stood beside her and nodded once to her as a question. She nodded back and turned to the other man. "We're ready"

They moved over into the staging area, fixing their clothes, checking each other. She fixed his collar and he fixed her sleeves, moving one of her thick braids to sit in the correct place.

They checked the position of the camera in line with themselves and Annie stepped around Elijah to stand behind the chair - when he caught her hand. He brought her back around to the front of the chair without a word and instead positioned himself behind it, hands on her shoulders and gently nudged her down to sit on the chair.

She could tell the photographer was confused, his hands moving from the camera into the air and paused.

"Sir, normally the wife stands behind the hus-"

Annie had begun getting up from the chair but Elijah's hands on her shoulders stopped her.

"Do I look like I care?"

Annie felt his fingers on her shoulders press into her slightly.

The photographer's voice caught, glancing to her momentarily and back to him. "It's just the custom is-"

"You ask again and-"

Annie held a hand on top of his on her shoulder, looking up to him, the touch causing him to glance down to her. She raised a brow to him, one of his twitching at the restraint she was asking him to have.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, then looked to the man. "Just take the damn picture" He insisted, voice holding less irritation than before.

The photographer nodded quickly and stood behind the camera, readying the shot.

Annie, feeling bold in the store from her rule breaking husband, crossed one leg over the other, heel jutting out and placed both hands on her knee. She made sure her left hand was on top, displaying the gold ring. She heard a short, but pleased hum from behind.

Elijah shifted with his hold on her, his left hand still remained on her left shoulder, further down to display his gold ring but he stood to the right a little. She glanced back quickly and saw he placed his right hand flat against his waistcoat, just under the chain.

The photographer counted down to the shot and they held the pose as the camera flashed.

She glanced up to him again, and he glanced down to her, smiling.

A new beginning to healing souls.

~~~~~~

AAAAAHHHHH ITS FINISHED!! 🤧🤧🤧💖💖💖💕💕💕💗💗Thank you to everyone keeping up with this story!!!! all the comments made me laugh and giggle im glad it brought yous joy like it did for me!! omg and big thank you to @margepimpson for starting this off!! Ahhhhh mannnn, probably will do shorter fics for now, 2 parters at most or something, i need to catch up on smoke/annie fics out there!!!! Also the bear season 4 and death stranding 2 is coming out in like 1 to 2 days im gonna be so occupied with that and smoke/annie fics i wont be writing long stories ahahahaha BLESS YOU AND HAVE A GOOD DAYYYYYYY. (sorry its not long omg, it was always the plan to end like this though hehehe)

Tagging (by request): @margepimpson @brownskincheyenne @lizbehave @bigjh @hdfen2474 @theegyal @katezy2x @shamansha @lsc72 @prettygirl2800 @freelandgoddess @itstayleigh @thefutereemmywinner @jasssdee1 @puffmamaa @try-again-bissh @sunshinerepublic @koveragewithkiera @ultralspblr (i wasn't sure if others who commented wanted to be tagged, sorry if i missed you out!! Thank you for commenting and reading though! I just get scared tagging ppl 😂)

[queenofmorningstar]

See You in Hell

Lucifer x f! Overlord Reader

Summary: Will the plan in motion go smoothly?

CW: MDNI, Threesome (Angel!Lucifer x Reader x Lucifer), oral (both f and m), dp

Word Count: 4.8K

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

CHAPTER SEVEN

The bed looked more like a chaotic war table than a place of rest.

Coloured papers were spread across the comforter—lavenders, blood reds, golden yellows and abyssal blacks, each scribbled with doodles, diagrams, and half-baked proposals. Lucifer was on his stomach, legs swinging up lazily behind him, chin resting on his palm.

Lucifer’s smile warmed, and his eyes lingered on you for just a second longer than necessary, still not quite over the fact that he had you like this. Beside him. In his bed. In his arms. Planning the future.

He cleared his throat and rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “Okay, so there’s already a court system in the Wrath Ring. Judgements are passed by the sins and Goetia princes.”

You turned to face him properly, propping yourself on your elbow. “Then we upgrade it. Add balance. The system’s rigged for nobility. What if we included everyone in the courtroom structure?”

Lucifer blinked. “Everyone? Like… everyone everyone?” He tilted his head playfully. 

You started sketching a rough diagram of a new courtroom. “Then we change the structure. Overlords should have a say, they manage entire territories. Sinners should have representation, since it’s them being judged. And I don’t care how elite the Goetia think they are, if Imps and Hellhounds live here, they should get a seat too.”

Lucifer rested his hand on your thigh, gazing up at you with a soft smile that didn’t quite hide the flicker of admiration behind it. “You really believe this could work.”

“I believe in us making it work.”

He sighed dreamily, hand slipping up to your waist. “You’re gonna make me fall for you all over again…”

“You say that every time I pitch reform.”

“Because it’s hot!” he said with full sincerity. “You, talking political justice? In bed? A man can only take so much.”

You chuckled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his nose. “Behave.”

“Never,” he said brightly, then gave a thoughtful look. “But okay. You want seats for each class of Hell. That means four more judge thrones added to the Circle. We’ll have to rewrite ancient law. Probably piss off the Goetia. Ooh, Mammon’s going to hate this. I’m in.”

You blinked. “That’s it?”

He shrugged, pulling you gently back down to cuddle against him. “You’ve already convinced me, remember? All that’s left is logistics. And paperwork. Lots of it. Let’s just make sure the courtroom has decent space for everyone. And maybe… a snack bar?”

You laughed and shook your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, deeply lovable.”

You rolled your eyes but kissed his cheek.

*

Lucifer stood in front of the full-length mirror, frozen, as if his reflection might offer him a script or divine guidance.

He looked perfect, of course. Still, he fidgeted, adjusting his cufflinks for the third time, then rechecking the buttons on his vest like they’d somehow rearranged themselves.

You watched from the bed, propped up against the pillows, chin in hand and amusement glittering in your eyes.

Lucifer groaned dramatically. “I haven’t done this in centuries. What if I say something stupid? Charlie’s going with me. It’ll be the first time for a while we’ve presented something together. She’s...she’s so good at inspiring people. And I’m—”

You cupped his face gently, your thumbs brushing just beneath his eyes. “You’re brilliant. And now you’re trying. That’s what matters.”

Lucifer's gaze softened as he looked at you, melting into your touch. You stepped back slightly, brushing imaginary lint off his coat before fixing his collar just right. Then, with a smile, you rose on your toes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. “For luck,” you whispered.

He smiled faintly. “I might need another one.”

You kissed him again, slower this time, and when you pulled back, you kept your hand resting against his chest. “And don’t forget to tell Charlie,” you added gently. “About us.”

Lucifer stiffened slightly, not in fear, but in that all-too-familiar awkward hesitance. “She sees us together all the time at the Hotel. Isn’t it...implied?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Luci.”

“Fine, fine!” he threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll tell her.”

You smiled. “You’ll do fine.”

He looked at you like you’d just spoken truth straight into his heart. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

Lucifer kissed your hand, lingering for a moment longer, as if drawing strength from your touch. Then he took a breath, straightened his shoulders, and conjured his staff in a burst of golden light.

He turned at the door, giving you one last grin. “If I survive this meeting, I expect cuddles.”

You smiled, folding your arms. “If you don’t tell Charlie about us, expect celibacy.”

Lucifer gasped. “Cruel woman.”

“Go,” you said with a wink. “You’ve got this.”

You went back to curl back onto the bed, thumbing through the notes you and Lucifer had scribbled during your last brainstorming session.

You were just starting on some paperwork on your own territory when you heard a slight scrape, too deliberate to be the wind. You didn’t move, didn’t even lift your eyes. But you heard it again. The faintest pressure against the window frame.

A heartbeat passed.

Then—PHWOOOOOSH!

A jet of searing golden flame shot upward from the rubber duck sitting innocently on the windowsill, which you’d placed there. Lucifer had given it to you the day you arrived at the Hotel, a ridiculous little welcome gift. You remembered him saying it with a wink later on: “Don’t underestimate Sir Quacketh. He’s more powerful than he looks.”

The assassin, a wiry imp in black leathers, crashed through the window, tumbling in with smoke curling off his scorched clothes. He rolled across the floor, smacking out flames and yelping curses, before coming to a stunned halt at your feet.

You glanced at the duck with fond amusement.

The assassin looked up at you, horror in his bulging eyes. “W-What the fuck—?! That thing nearly fried me!”

You finally smiled. “That ‘thing’ was a gift,” you said, “from the King of Hell. For me.”

He scrambled back, hands raised in surrender, blood and soot streaking across the floor. “W-Wait! I wasn’t— I mean, I didn’t know this was his room, I swear—!”

You tilted your head, stepping slowly off the bed, barefoot and graceful like a predator stretching after a nap. “Did you think you could creep into his  private chambers undetected?”

Your smile never faltered. “See, now I have a very personal reason to play.”

You crouched in front of him, lifting his chin with one sharp nail. “Don’t worry,” you cooed, conjuring shackles of obsidian to drag him toward the edge of the room. “This won’t kill you. Not until I want it to.”

You hummed a gentle tune as you summoned your tools.

*

The teleportation to the Wrath Ring had just finished fizzling out, leaving a faint shimmer of sulfur and ozone in the air. Lucifer adjusted the lapels of his suit as he walked beside Charlie, the sky of the Wrath Ring overhead swirling in orange hues.

It wasn’t his favorite place, and frankly, he’d avoided visiting it in person for… well, let’s just say many, many centuries.

Charlie walked ahead slightly, bouncing with her usual optimism despite the ominous environment. Lucifer sighed. His palms were sweating. He cleared his throat and spoke before he could think too hard about it. “Charlie?”

Charlie turned her head, eyebrows raised, “Yeah, Dad?”

Lucifer tried to play it cool, as he looked anywhere but her face. “I, ah, just thought… y’know, while we’re on the way to this oh-so-fun-and-not-at-all-tense council meeting, I should perhaps, possibly, definitely mention something.”

Charlie slowed down a bit, curious. “Okay…?”

Lucifer winced, smile twitching. “You see, I may be, hypothetically, romantically involved with someone. Just thought you should know.”

Silence.

Lucifer tried to backpedal, his hands flailing slightly. “And it’s not, like, a fling or anything—I wouldn’t insult her like that. It’s serious. Like, serious serious. And—and she’s very important to me, and I didn’t want you to find out through gossip or—”

Charlie blinked. Then burst into laughter.

Lucifer paused, stunned. “Wait, are you…are you laughing at me?”

Charlie waved her hand, still giggling. “Dad. C’mon. You two are not subtle.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened. “You—knew?!”

Charlie laughed. “Oh my God, Dad. You two are so obvious! The glances, the way you disappear together, the giddy faces… you literally had her lipstick on your very-white collar the other day.”

Lucifer coughed. “I thought I took that out—”

Charlie burst into giggles.

“I’m happy for you,” she said warmly, reaching up and hugging him tightly. “Really, I am.”

Lucifer stood still, blinking several times as he slowly, gingerly returned the hug—arms wrapping around her as if he still couldn’t believe it.

“You’re not mad?” he mumbled into her hair.

Charlie pulled back, frowning. “Why would I be mad? You deserve to be loved too, Dad.”

Lucifer swallowed thickly. His eyes shimmered faintly with something he wouldn’t name.  Lucifer stilled for half a second, then wrapped his arms around her tightly. His  heart felt lighter than it had in millennia.

________________________

Just as you turned to clean up the mess, a sudden whoosh of air shifted the room’s pressure.

A glowing golden portal opened midair. You instinctively raised your guard.

But instead of another attacker, someone floated down like a feather from the sky.

Robes white and blue shimmered with divine glow. Feathered wings tucked neatly behind his back. His halo glowed faintly overhead, and his eyes—not red but blue—gleamed with almost childlike wonder. 

He looked just like… well…An angel.

Lucifer? No. Not your Lucifer. Not quite.

He beamed at you. “Hello, dearest!”

You blinked.

What.

The.

Hell.

“Hi!” he chirped with a smile as bright as day. “I’m here because the other me didn’t want you to be lonely!”

You raised a brow. “Let me guess… clone?”

He nodded eagerly. “Uh-huh! He didn’t want to leave you alone while he and Charlie are away, so he conjured me from memory! Isn’t that sweet?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Memory? Which memory?”

“I think it was before I fell,” the clone replied cheerfully. “I was still experimenting with constellations! Or was it mushrooms? Either way, hi! I’ll be here with you until the real me returns. He was too happy…like he was in Eden, so I guess he conjured me.”

You sighed fondly. Lucifer had definitely not thought this one through.

You folded your arms, eyes scanning the soft baby-blue eyes and almost awkward posture. This version of Lucifer was… shy. Cheerful. Absolutely unprepared for the bloodbath you’d just mopped up.

Then his eyes landed on the blood coating your arms, the crimson splashes on your clothes. He let out a choked sound. “Oh—oh dear heavens,” he gasped, horrified.

You raised an eyebrow. He fluttered forward, hands outstretched, worried. “Are you alright? Did someone hurt you? Is this—Is this your blood?”

You wiped a bit of blood from your cheek with the back of your hand, half amused, half exhausted. “It’s an assassin’s blood. He broke in.”

Angel-Lucifer gasped. “Someone tried to hurt you?”

You shrugged. “They tried. Emphasis on tried.”

He beamed. “Of course they failed. You’re amazing!”

You tilted your head. “You really are the angelic version of him, huh?”

“Why thank you!” he chirped. Then, gasping again, he conjured a towel and immediately tried to clean the blood off your face. “No no no, we can’t have you looking like this—what if you slip? Blood is terrible for footing! And staining!”

He gently scrubbed your arms and conjured warm clothes. Finally, he stood back, nodding proudly at his work. “There. Perfect. Spotless.”

You sat on the couch, towel drying your hair after a quick shower, still amused by the celestial being cheerfully dusting your bookshelves.

Angel-Lucifer had been nothing short of doting since he arrived—he'd folded your blankets, organized your weapons drawer alphabetically, and even complimented your torture tools with a “marvelous craftsmanship, very symmetrical!”

“You know,” you said, smirking slightly, “the other you wanted me to show off the dresses he bought for me.”

Lucifer stopped mid-hover, head tilting with childlike excitement. “He did?!”

“Mhm,” you replied. “Said he picked some especially for me. Should I model one for you?”

His eyes sparkled. “Oh yes, yes please! That would be wonderful!”

Suppressing a laugh, you stepped into the bedroom, running your hand over the delicate fabrics hanging in the wardrobe. You chose one of the more elegant ones. The neckline was modest, sleeves soft and flowing. 

You stepped back into the room. Lucifer turned and promptly dropped the tray of cookies he’d summoned. His jaw went slack. His wings stiffened with a visible tremble. “Oh—oh God—”

You blinked. “Too much?”

His jaw dropped slightly, lips parted in a soft gasp. “You look… divine.”

You laughed. “It’s not even the sexy one.”

“That doesn’t matter!” he said a little too loudly. His voice cracked at the end, and he cleared his throat with a bright golden blush blooming across his face.

Then your eyes dipped lower. And there it was. The bulge in his robes.

Oh?

He seemed entirely unaware for a moment, until he noticed where your gaze had landed.

He froze. You raised an amused eyebrow.

Lucifer let out a squeaky, “OH DEAR,” and immediately slapped both hands over the front of his robes like a child caught with stolen candy.

You couldn’t help it, you laughed until your ribs ached. Lucifer buried his face in a pillow. His wings twitched, as if trying to shield him from the weight of his own embarrassment.

And gods, it was flattering. You hadn't even worn something seductive. Hadn't even tried.

Your lips curled. “Do you want some help, honey?” you asked, voice smooth, casual.

He peeked over the pillow. “Help…?” he squeaked. “With—what exactly?”

You sauntered closer, slow. “With that tension of yours.”

His eyes went huge. “I—wait, no—are you—seriously—?”

You only nodded. “I’ll be gentle,” you said. “Just let me see you.”

He hesitated, but your gaze, and the gentle brush of your hand down his chest, undid whatever resistance he had left. Slowly, he lifted his robes, and your eyes widened as you took in what lay beneath.

Around his flushed, golden-tipped cock was a curious celestial adornment—three soft, glowing wing-like crests fluttering like a modesty veil, now fluttered open from arousal. It was… oddly beautiful. Like every part of him, even here, had been sculpted in divinity.

He looked down at himself and immediately panicked again. “I know! I look ridiculous, don’t I?!”

You gave a soft laugh, and shook your head. “No, dear. You look stunning.”

And then, slowly, you leaned forward, placing a kiss just above his navel. He gasped.

You glanced up through your lashes. “Just relax, angel. Let me take care of you.”

His voice was already trembling. “O-okay.”

Your kisses trailed lower, down the lines of his abdomen. The moment your lips finally brushed over his cock, he gasped, one hand flying to his mouth to stifle the embarrassing whimper that escaped.

The wings around his cock trembled and fluttered as if trying to shyly cover him again, but you brushed them aside with a soft kiss and began to tease him with slow licks.

His hips jerked, and he let out a breathy, “Oh God—” muffled by the back of his hand.

He squirmed and whimpered like the sweetest thing you’d ever heard, biting his lip, chest rising and falling in flustered waves. He moaned your name like a prayer, his hands finally gripping the sheets as he whispered all kinds of sweet nothings.

A slow lick up his length made him whimper, and he covered his mouth again with his hand. His other hand gripped the pillow beside him like it was the only thing anchoring him to the moment.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to murmur, “You're adorable, you know that?”

He let out a strangled sound. “Nghhh - love, please –”

You chuckled, warmth dancing in your chest. “But you’re doing so well, angel.”

You took him into your mouth again, slow and steady, and the reaction was immediate. His head fell back, lips parted in a helpless gasp, hips twitching despite himself. 

“Y-you’re…Mnghhg…” he breathed, sounding like he was moments from transcending into another realm entirely. “P-please,” he whimpered softly, “I can’t—”

“Just let go, honey,” you whispered against his skin. “Let me have this.”

And with a broken moan that nearly cracked into a sob, he did.

His wings spasmed outward and he bucked once, twice, before spilling over with a quiet, desperate cry of your name. You held him through it, letting him ride it out, soothing him with your touch as he collapsed back into the pillows, boneless and overwhelmed.

You kissed his hip one last time and crawled up beside him. His arms instantly wrapped around you like a koala, clinging.

*

The meeting with the Sins had ended.

Barely.

Mammon wouldn’t stop talking, Beelzebub was halfway into a sugar crash, and Satan had nearly flung the table at Asmodeus. Business as usual. But Lucifer had held it together, until he felt something odd. A flush of warmth, a spike of tension in his chest, a stuttering beat like his body was responding to something... familiar.

His eyes widened, realization washing over him.

Oh. Oh no.

Charlie tilted her head, concerned. “Dad? You okay? You look—”

“I—I’m fine, dear,” Lucifer managed with a shaky smile. “I think I’ll retire to my room early.”

He barely waited for her nod before he portaled away. Landing in his room, Lucifer blinked once. You were curled under the blankets, tangled in the arms of... him. Well, his clone. The sweet, glowing angel-form of himself. Looked like he conjured it without thinking it clearly.

The clone's robe was askew, wings twitching in the aftermath of what could only have been one hell of an intimate session. Your fingers were still gently carding through the clone's hair.

“Now, now…” he drawled, far too casual. “I leave for a few hours and find you in bed with... me?”

You opened your mouth to explain, probably something very logical and well-meant but Lucifer only smirked, far too calm.

“Oh, dove, you’ve been so naughty,” he purred. “Don’t you know it’s impolite to tease your king without offering him his due?”

He glanced down at the angelic clone, who blinked up at him with wide-eyed innocence. “I—I didn’t mean to—!” Angel-Lucifer stammered, flustered and adorably glowing.

Lucifer gave him a wink. “Oh, I know. You’re me, after all. You very well meant to.” His eyes flicked to you with a grin both wicked and smug.

You scooted up, your gaze half-challenging, half-trying not to laugh.

Lucifer leaned back, legs crossed, his cane resting across his lap. “Well?” he said with a crooked grin, eyes glinting like mischief itself. “Go on. Don’t mind me.”

At those words, his angel self lit up like a child told he could finally open his birthday presents. “Really?!” he beamed. “Oh—oh, thank you!”

You couldn’t help the chuckle that left you, right before the angel gently pushed your thighs apart, his breath catching at the sight of you. His hands trembled slightly as they brushed along your skin, and his expression turned awestruck, almost… dazed.

The angel lowered his mouth to you, with a soft whimper of delight the moment his tongue met your slick heat.

Your hand tangled in his hair, coaxing him lower. You didn’t miss the little tremor in his shoulders as he obeyed, mouth finding your clit with a shaky breath and a whimper. The angel let out a muffled moan against your pussy. His tongue moved in slow, desperate circles, soft gasps escaping him between licks.

You let out a soft gasp as Angel-Lucifer’s tongue flicked over your clit just right and Lucifer’s brows shot up. “Oh? That spot, was it? Noted,” he said, grinning.

Angel-Lucifer whimpered again, louder this time. He was panting into you now, lips shiny and slick, and completely undone by your taste.

You arched up into the angel’s mouth, nails raking lightly through his hair, and Lucifer's grin turned wicked. “You’re just full of surprises, sweetheart.”

Your eyes flicked to him, breathless but smug. “Jealous?”

Lucifer laughed loudly. “Of myself? Never! I'm enjoying the show, darling. Carry on.”

Angel-Lucifer moaned again, deeper, fingers digging into your thighs now as he fucked you with his mouth like he was starving for you, like he couldn’t help himself anymore.

Your moan spilled out before you could stop it, hips rising, breath catching, your thighs trembling under the angel’s tongue as he whined into your pussy.

“L-Lucifer,” you gasped, head tipping back… then turning, seeking him.

“Oh?” he cooed. “Is one not enough for you, darling?” But he was already standing. His coat slipped off with a whisper of fabric, and his cane vanished like smoke. He crossed the room in a few slow steps, joining you on the bed.

You were half-gone already, lips parted and eyes half-lidded from the overwhelming pleasure of the angel's mouth still latched to your pussy, but the moment Lucifer climbed onto the mattress beside you, your body reached for him instinctively.

He cupped your cheek. “I missed you, you know,” he murmured, lowering his lips to your neck, trailing kisses down your collarbone. His lips reached your breasts, and he sighed like a man finally home. 

He kissed over the swell of one breast, then the other—slow, doting, entirely enamored, before flicking his tongue gently over your nipple. You shivered, moaning louder as his angelic self below you whimpered at the sound and sucked harder, more desperately.

You tugged him close by his vest, and he groaned. “I love your taste,” he whispered against your skin, grinning softly. “I mean that. It’s nice that I can say it out loud now while he’s still busy licking it straight from the source.”

Your gasp hitched into a laugh, just before another moan broke free. “Luci—”

“I know,” he whispered, lips brushing yours. “I know, sweetheart.”

You kissed him, deep and aching and as his clone whimpered into you, your body spasmed with release, thighs clamping around his head.

You came hard, moaning into Lucifer’s mouth as he kissed you back sweetly, holding your face in his hands like you were his most sacred thing.

Lucifer practically scooped you up. You laughed into his neck, arms around his shoulders, glad to have him back. You both just stayed for a while, breathing each other in. For all this teasing, you’ll get back at him. You grind your soaked core down over the thick press of his cock.

“Oh, fuck—darling—” Lucifer whimpered, hips jerking upward. His teasing tone faltered for a beat, and it made you smirk.

“What?” you purred in his ear, rolling your hips again. “You enjoyed the show a little too much.”

You straddled him fully now, hands braced on his chest, lowering onto his cock inch by inch, watching his face twist in sweet agony.

Lucifer’s head thunked back against the pillows. “Oh my god. I’ve been good, darling. I’ve been so good. Please—ah, fuck, love—”

Your moan joined his as you sank fully onto him, your body clenching around his length. You began to ride him, hips moving in a delicious rhythm, skin slapping against his as his hands held your waist like a lifeline.

“I… I can’t take it anymore,” Angel-Lucifer whispered, crawling up behind you, breath ghosting over your spine. “You’re so beautiful—I just—I can’t stop—”

You felt the soft glide of his fingers on your ass, spreading you gently before one slick lubed finger circled your tight hole. You gasped, bucking on Lucifer’s cock and he shuddered, gripping your hips even tighter.

Lucifer chuckled breathlessly. “NGGHH… can’t resist you. Can’t say I blame him.”

Angel-Lucifer pressed kisses up your back, toward your neck.

“I love you,” Lucifer whispered, voice soft as he kissed you again. 

You barely managed a breath before you felt it—the soft, careful push of the angel’s cock, pressing against your back hole. “Is this okay?” he whispered, voice cracking like he was on the verge of tears and bliss all at once. “Please… I need to be inside you too…”

And you nodded, dizzy, thighs quivering as he slid in. Inch by inch, he sank into you, his breath catching. You moaned, collapsing against Lucifer’s chest, trembling all over. “Too much, too good—ohgodfuckkk…”

“Divine,” the angel moaned, thrusting gently, as if he couldn’t believe this wasn’t a dream. “You’re divine—so warm—thank you, thank you for letting me—”

Lucifer kissed your temple. “You're—gorgeous—so good—I can't believe I get to have you—fuck, I love you—”, Lucifer was babbling now, his voice high and shaking, barely able to string together words through his whimpers. “Fuck, you feel—too good—I’m gonna—please, sweetheart—”

You clenched around him instinctively, and he cried out. His fingers dug into your hips as his body arched beneath you.

You felt the rush of heat flood inside you, his face buried in your neck, soft gasps spilling against your skin as he came. And then behind you, the angel shuddered violently, hugging your waist from behind. “I—me too—!” he gasped, kissing your spine as his rhythm stuttered. “I can’t—I can’t hold it—!”

With a trembling cry, he came as well, his cum spilling hot and thick inside you. You could barely breathe as you came hard.

Your body sank into his as the last of your strength gave away, warm, sated, and full in every sense. Lucifer’s arms were already wrapping around you, pulling the blanket over both of you.

Behind you, the angel clone lingered with a gentle kiss to your shoulder until Lucifer snapped his fingers, and the clone was gone. He tucked your head under his chin and sighed, as if he hadn’t taken a single breath since he left.

You lay there in silence for a moment. His fingers traced slow, absentminded circles across your back, grounding you, while his heartbeat thudded steadily beneath your cheek.

“So,” you mumbled sleepily, “how was the meeting?”

Lucifer let out the most dramatic sigh known, arm flung across his forehead. “Oh my God, I nearly died from boredom. Ugh.”

You tilted your head down. “That bad?”

“I’ve fought angels with more sense,” he groaned, snuggling closer to your chest. “They tried so hard to cling to the old system. Called your suggestion ‘radical.’’

“But anyway—yes. I got them to agree. They’re restructuring the court. Full seats for Overlords, imps, sinners. All of it.”

You sat up slightly, eyes wide. “Wait, seriously?”

Lucifer immediately beamed. “Seriously. Because you asked.”

Your heart gave a small, dangerous flutter. 

His voice lowered. “I wanted to leave as soon as I got there, honestly. But then I thought about you. About what you said. And I—I just kept pushing. Because it mattered to you. And that made it matter to me.”

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, and his whole body eased into yours like he’d been waiting for this moment all day.

“I missed you,” he mumbled. “The meeting sucked. The coffee was lukewarm. But worst of all? No you. You’re my favorite part.”

You kissed him, and he made another one of those stupidly happy little whines before squeezing you tighter.

He was staring at the ceiling, brows knit together, lips parted like he didn’t quite know how to start. You looked up. “Lucifer?”

“I’ve scheduled a meeting,” he said finally. “With Heaven.”

You blinked and sat up. “You—what?”

Your mouth opened but nothing came out. You knew this was the direction you were heading. But…

“You already arranged it?” you asked, stunned. 

“...And you’re coming with me…?”

Your mouth parted. “What? Really?!”

“I’m not going without you,” he said. “I don’t want to go to any meeting without you. But especially not this one.”

He exhaled, his voice cracking, just a little. “You know what that place meant. What it took. I—I can’t promise it won’t hurt to be there again. I don’t know how it’ll feel. But I know this: I’ll survive it if you’re with me.”

Lucifer smiled, but it was small, quiet, almost fragile. “I know how important this part is to you. And to me.”

Your chest tightened all at once. He was doing this for you. Because he believed in your vision. Because he was willing to walk back into the one place that had cast him out, just to support your dream.

You moved before he could say anything else, throwing your arms around him. You buried your face in his neck.

Lucifer let out a small breath of surprise, then melted into you like a thread pulled loose. His arms wrapped around your waist, like he never wanted to let go.

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

Taglist: @atlantis-just-drowned @elegancefr @uniquecutie-puffs @petalsrdead @jazztato @fangthesandwing @rfox1998 @ravensdecent36 @qardasngan @lxxahazel @david-tennant-obsessed @hunt3r0 @himikoquack

[morgana-larkin]

And here's the next chapter of Mine! I'm almost done the next one shot that I will post on my patreon for paid and free members only. I won't tell you much but it falls under the topic of secret admirer. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

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 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Mine - Part 31

Summary: It's Halloween and Amelia gets frustrated at school the next day.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 5.3K

“Alright, this shouldn’t take long to fix.” Melissa says to Amelia in the break room. It’s Halloween and Amelia decided to go as the wicked witch of the west and some of the makeup came off before lunch and Melissa offered to fix it. Melissa has Amelia sitting on the couch while you warm up both you and Melissa’s lunch. 

“Mamma?” Amelia asks as Melissa starts doing the touch ups with the green face paint.

“Ya, Tesoro?”

“You and Mommy aren’t going to get a divorce right?” Amelia asks and Melissa furrows her eyebrows and you look over.

“No, mommy and I are happily in love.” 

“Ok good.” Amelia says.

“What makes you think that mommy and I are getting a divorce?” Melissa asks her.

“Well last night I heard these noises.” Amelia starts and everyone looks over. “And then I heard mommy screaming and you swore.” Amelia explains and Melissa’s face goes red as everyone tries not to laugh. You then put your head in your hands and groan and Ava starts laughing.

“Melissa and Y/n, I think you need to have a talk with your kid.” Ava says. “Although it’s so funny that your kid is unknowingly spilling some tea.” Ava adds.

“Sweetheart.” You say as you get up and go over to Amelia and Melissa. “So typically the noises you hear, followed by one of us screaming or swearing or both, it does not mean we’re getting a divorce. It just means that we’re playing a very adult game in our room.” You explain to her.

“What game?” Amelia asks.

“One that you don't need to know about yet.” You quickly say.

“Was it a fun game?” Amelia then asks.

“Oh, extremely.” Melissa says with a smirk and you flick her head. “What was that for?” She asks you and you raise your eyebrows. “I was just answering her question.” She tells you and she finishes fixing Amelia’s makeup. “And there we go, all good.”

“Thanks Mamma.” Amelia tells her.

“Not a problem, Tesoro. Come on, I’ll take you to the cafeteria.” Melissa offers and she gives you the makeup before Amelia takes her hand and she brings her to the caf. As soon as Melissa and Amelia leave, everyone bursts out laughing.

“Your kid spilled so hard.” Janine says.

“Alright. It’s not like me and Melissa having sex is new as we have 5 kids.” You tell them.

“Didn’t know you were so loud though.” Ava tells you. “Loud enough for your kids to hear.” She adds and you flip her off. Melissa comes back a few minutes later and everyone looks at her and she sighs.

“Alright, everyone go back to doing whatever you were doing.” She says.

“Or what?” Ava asks. “We already know you got lucky last night, which explains your extra good mood today.” She adds and you hand her your coffee mug.

“Here, you might need it.”

“To throw at Ava or to drink?” She asks you.

“Either one.” You tell her and Ava runs out. You then lean forward, closer to Melissa. “I told you we were too loud last night.” You whisper and she shrugs.

“Maybe, but it was really good.” She tells you with a smirk and you roll your eyes.

At the end of the day you were talking with Melissa and you see Amelia coming with Barb and she has a small bag of candy and a smile on her face. Melissa turns around and sees Amelia and she smiles and bends down.

“Hey Tesoro.” Melissa says and Amelia runs to her and hugs her. “Did you get some candy?” Melissa asks and Amelia nods as she shows her what she got.

“Aunt Barb allowed us to have a chocolate bar at the end of class.” Amelia adds and you both look at Barb.

“You let her have chocolate before you send her home with us?” You ask her and Barb nods.

“Yep.” Barb says with a smile before she walks away. “Good luck.” She adds and Melissa looks at you.

On the ride to the daycare, you both notice that Amelia is more restless than usual and you can tell the chocolate is taking effect. You see her bouncing her leg, tapping her leg with her hands and humming when she doesn’t know what to say.

“Are Nico and Cat going to go trick or treating this year?” Amelia asks.

“Yep, they are.” You say as you scroll on your phone. You all go into the daycare and pick up both sets of twins there and you and Melissa strap them into their car seats. 

“Are you ready to go trick or treating, my Ometto?” Melissa asks Nico and he smiles. 

“Ya, am I going to get to eat lots of chocolate, Mamma?” He asks and Melissa smiles and ruffles his hair.

“You’ll get a lot of chocolate and I’ll allow you to eat a couple pieces.” Melissa tells him and then she closes the door and gets in the driver’s seat. “How were your students today?” She asks you and you hum.

“They were distracted and just wanted the day to end, like every Halloween.” You tell her as you relax in your seat. “Were yours the same?” You ask her and she nods.

“Yep.” Melissa says as she stops at a red light and looks at all 5 of her kids in the mirror and she smiles.

You guys all get home and Melissa makes dinner for everyone as soon as you get back as the kids want to go out as soon as possible. After everyone finishes eating then you make sure everyone has a jacket and they’re candy bags ready, as well as a few garbage bags to fill all the candy with that you put in the stroller. You put Bella and Mia in the double stroller and Melissa is pulling the little wagon for when Nico, Caty or Amelia get tired, as well as have a place to put all the candy. 

Amelia wanted to do a costume theme with you and Melissa to the wizard of Oz. So Amelia chose to be the wicked witch of the west, Melissa is Glinda and you’re Dorothy. Then you have Caty dressed up as little red riding hood and Nico as the wolf. A couple weeks ago Melissa saw 2 adorable green fairy costumes that would fit the girls so she got them for Bella and Mia.

“This dress is so fluffy and hard to walk in.” Melissa says as you all walk towards the 4th house. 

“I told you to get your guy to get you a less poofy version of the dress.” You tell her.

“But this one is as poofy as the original.” She tells you.

“But the original Glinda didn’t have to walk to about 100 houses.” You say and Melissa crosses her arms. “Alright, how about you push the stroller and I’ll walk up to the houses with the kids?” You suggest and she smiles. 

“Thank you.” She tells you. 

An hour later Amelia empties her bag of candy into the garbage bag for the second time and then she runs up to the house with you and the twins. 

“Trick or treat!” All 3 of them exclaim and the woman puts a chocolate bar in all of their bags.

“Mommy I got more chocolate!” Nico tells you.

“I see that, what do you all say?” You ask.

“Thank you.” They all tell the woman and then they run to the next house. 

An hour later Caty is walking with Melissa, holding Teddy as she had enough socialising with strangers. While you, Amelia and Nico walk up to the next house, Caty spins in her dress and shows Melissa how it twirls. Caty ends up getting dizzy and Melissa catches her and picks her up. 

“You alright Dolcezza?” Melissa asks her and Caty nods.

“World was spinny.” Caty says and Melissa smiles. 

You get back with the kids and Nico empties the candy in the garbage bag. You see as Caty lays her head on Melissa’s chest with a smile and Melissa places a kiss on her head. You go to the next house and then Melissa hears one of the twins call out for her. Melissa walks in front of the stroller and sees Mia is falling asleep and Bella is looking at her. 

“Mamma.” Bella says. 

“What’s the matter my little one? Are you hungry?” Melissa asks her and Bella nods. Melissa goes into the carry on bag and pulls out a container of goldfish cookies and gives it to Bella. Bella then holds the container in her lap and eats the goldfish. Melissa then goes back to the carry on bag, and with one hand, as she’s still holding Caty, takes out a blanket and carefully puts it on Mia who fell asleep. “You really do love to sleep and sleep whenever, even when the household is noisy.” Melissa says to herself.

Another hour later Nico and Caty are both sitting in the wagon and you can tell Amelia is slowing down. Amelia comes from the house that she was just at and goes up to Melissa and hugs her leg.

“You done, Tesoro?” Melissa asks her softly and Amelia nods with a yawn. “Alright, let’s head back home.” Melissa says and you nod before you both turn around and start walking back home. About 10 minutes later and you both notice Amelia stops walking and just sits down on the sidewalk. 

“You alright sweetheart?” You ask her.

“Legs hurt.” She tells you and wipes her eyes tiredly. Melissa then goes up to her and picks her up.

“I’ll push the wagon, you push the stroller.” Melissa says and you nod. 

You both get home 15 minutes later and Amelia is falling asleep on Melissa, both the girls are asleep in the stroller, Caty is wide awake and holding Teddy while Nico is falling asleep in the wagon. You end up having to wake all your kids up and then get them all into their pjs. You put both sets of twins to bed as Melissa helps Amelia take all the green face paint off in the bath.

“Alright, and all the green is off.” Melissa says with a smile and puts the soap and cloth down. Melissa pulls the plug to drain the tub and Amelia tiredly stands up. Melissa gently wraps Amelia’s animal towel around her and picks her up. “Ready for bed my little Tesoro?” Melissa asks and Amelia nods as she lays her head on Melissa’s shoulder. 

Amelia falls asleep as soon as her pjs are on and Melissa tucks her in and kisses her cheek. She then turns the nightlight on, turns off the LED lights and then closes the door. Melissa quickly checks on all her other 4 kids and sees all of them are sleeping in their beds and cribs before she goes to the bedroom.

“How did it feel to take the dress off?” You ask her as she took it off before giving Amelia a bath. 

“So freeing. I don’t understand how women were able to move in dresses like that.” She tells you and you smile. 

“Were you able to get all the green off her?” You then ask and she nods as she walks up to you in the bathroom. You take a makeup wipe out and start taking off her Glinda makeup. “You make a beautiful Glinda.” You say and she smiles. 

“More beautiful than the original?” She asks and you nod.

“You’ll always be more beautiful than anyone.” You say as you wipe the blush off her cheeks to reveal her natural blush. You then wipe the eyeshadow, eyeliner and mascara off her eyes. You cup her cheek and she wraps her arms around your waist. 

“You make a cute Dorothy, with the plaid dress and ponytails.” She tells you and you kiss her. 

You pull away to throw out the makeup wipe and then you kiss her again. She pins you against the bathroom counter and then she picks you up and you wrap your legs around her waist. She brings you over to the bed and lays you down gently.

“We have to be quiet this time.” You tell her as she kisses down your neck. She lifts your pj shirt up and wraps her mouth around a nipple and you moan out. Melissa takes your top off and puts it in your mouth to silence you and you look at her.

“Like you said, we have to be quiet. Don’t want to give Amelia anything else to say about our sex life.” She says and then goes to your other nipple and both of you let out a muffled moan. 

Melissa then trails up and starts kissing and sucking your neck while she moves her hips against yours. She then goes in between your legs, goes on her stomach, takes your pants off and then grabs your thighs. She then dives in and swirls her tongue around your entrance and you buck your hips. Melissa pins you down and then brings her tongue to your clit and you let out a muffled gasp. You put your hands in her hair and you see her burying her face in between your legs and making sure that you’re enjoying what she’s doing. She already knows what you enjoy though, as you’ve been together for 12 years, but she does enjoy your reactions. 

She then pulls away and replaces her tongue with her middle finger on her left hand and sits up. She then removes the top from your mouth and gets you to suck on two of her fingers on her right hand. You swirl your tongue around, making sure they’re all wet and you see Melissa looking at you with dark eyes, your juices on her chin and her mouth is slightly open from enjoying your tongue on her fingers. 

“My god, your tongue makes me want to pound into you with the strap but I can’t as you’re ovulating.” She says quietly and you notice her breathing is heavier and quicker. She then goes back in between your legs and runs her two fingers down your folds and pulls her finger away from your clit. “Remember before the kids when I used to spend about an hour between your legs, just eating you out, making you have multiple orgasms?” She asks and you nod.

“You're so damn good with your tongue.” 

“What did you used to say?” She asks as she sticks two fingers in your entrance and you gasp. “Didn’t you used to say that I would eat you right into heaven?” She asks you and you nod, unable to talk as she’s pumping two fingers inside of you, slowly but still feels good. “You’re always so tight for me, even though I fingered you yesterday.” She says as she’s almost knuckle deep in you. 

“Oh god.” You say a little too loud and Melissa takes her shorts off and puts them in your mouth.

“You’re the one who said we have to be quiet and yet you can’t be quiet.” She tells you as she goes harder and you buck your hips and grab the sheets. 

You try to close your legs when she starts rubbing your clit with her other hand but you can’t with her in between you. She then straddles one of your thighs and starts moving her hips, getting your thigh to rub her clit. You say an “oh god” around her shorts but Melissa is able to understand, used to having to put clothes in your mouth to silence you. Melissa can tell your orgasm is close so she curls her fingers inside of you and speeds up on your clit. You arch your back and shut your eyes as your orgasm comes rushing through you. Melissa pulls her fingers out of you as she’s still riding your thigh, trying to get her orgasm. She then leans forward enough to put her fingers back in your mouth, getting you to clean up your juices. She lets out a quiet moan as she closes her eyes and just feels your tongue moving all over her fingers.

“My god baby, your tongue feels so good.” She says breathlessly. 

She starts moving her hips faster, getting more turned on with her fingers in your mouth. You grab her left hand as it’s not in your mouth and lace your fingers with hers. She leans forward more to get more stimulation on her clit as she’s close and pins your hand to the bed with hers. You tense your thigh muscles and she lets out a squeaky gasp as she comes. She takes a few breaths as she lets her brain come back to her body before she gets off and lays beside you. 

She gets the cloth that it’s in the nightstand, as you two always keep one in there for moments like this, and she cleans both of you up. You take her shorts out of your mouth and put them beside you and see she’s still wearing her shirt. You look at the baby monitors and see that all your kids are asleep so you pull at the hem of her shirt. Melissa gets the hint and helps you take her pj shirt off. You throw it on the ground somewhere and then rest your head on her chest and wrap your arm around her waist.

“I should know better than to keep clothes on around you in bed.” She says and you smile.

“I like snuggling more when you aren’t wearing anything.” You tell her and she places a kiss on the top of your head.

“So do I. I just hope none of our kids get a nightmare so they don’t come here just to see both of us naked.”

“It’s not like it’s anything new, I’ve breastfed before with them in the room.” You say and she hums. “And you’ve bathed them while being topless many times.”

“That’s because they like to splash and I don’t want my pjs to be wet.” She tells you and you wrap a leg around hers. 

You then fall asleep in her arms right after that and she just feels you in her arms for a few moments before she closes her eyes. Before she falls asleep, she hears crying from one of the baby monitors and sees it’s one of the twin girls. She sees you start to stir as you hear the crying so she carefully gets you off of her, grabs the baby monitor and mutes it so you don’t wake up. She then grabs her robe, puts it on and goes to the nursery. She sees it’s Mia whose crying which is unusual as she usually sleeps through the night. 

“Hey my little Mia, what’s up?” She asks her as she picks Mia up. Mia then bites down on the tip of her sleeve and Melissa grabs a teething ring and hands it to her. Mia takes it and puts it near the end, getting some of her bigger teeth. “Got more teeth coming in?” Melissa asks as Mia lays her head on her chest as she chews on the teething ring.

Melissa tries comforting her as best as she can but Mia keeps crying when she’s put back in the crib. Melissa then sits in the rocking chair, trying to rock her back to sleep but it doesn’t work. So she quietly goes into the bedroom, hoping Mia doesn’t start crying, she grabs her phone and then goes back to the nursery. Melissa sits back in the chair and looks up ways to soothe teething pain. She then puts her phone down, grabs the teething ring from Mia and then massages the gum where the new tooth is coming in. Within a few minutes, Mia is fast asleep on Melissa’s chest and Melissa waits a few minutes before she gets up and gently puts her in her crib. She then grabs her phone and goes back into the bedroom, takes her robe off, unmutes the baby monitor and then crawls back into bed and cuddles you.

The next day right after lunch, Melissa is trying to teach a lesson but all the kids are restless and won’t sit still or pay attention. Melissa can probably guess that they had Halloween chocolate at lunch that the parents packed for them. 

“Alright class, let’s go outside and get that energy out.” Melissa says and all the kids put their shoes and sweaters on before she leads them outside to the playground. When she gets there she sees you and Barb are already there with your classes and the both of you are talking on a bench while watching your classes. Melissa’s students start running around and you look behind you and see Melissa there with her students. 

“Your class had a lot of chocolate at lunch too?” You ask her and she nods.

“Oh my god, they couldn’t pay attention for 30 seconds.” She tells you and you move over to let her sit next to you on the bench. 

“My kindergarteners wouldn’t fall asleep for nap time.” Barb says and you both look to see Amelia running around with a couple of her classmates. 

“Nice to know she’s making friends with her classmates.” You say as Melissa places an arm around your shoulders.

“Oh she’s a social butterfly. Talkative and social.” Barb tells you both. Amelia then notices Melissa is there as well and she runs up to you both with another girl. 

“Mommy, Mamma, this is Annie.” Amelia introduces her new friend to you both.

“Well hello Annie.” Melissa says. 

“The two Schemmenti’s are your mommies?” Annie asks Amelia and Amelia nods. “My sister is in the third grade, her name is Robin and she’s mentioned the two Schemmenti’s.” Annie says.

“Your sister is in my class.” You tell her.

“Do you have any sisters?” Annie asks Amelia.

“Ya, I have 3 sisters and a brother.” Amelia tells her and Annie widens her eyes. 

“You have a lot of kids.” Annie tells you both before they run off to the playground. 

“Wow, a 5 year old just said we have a lot of kids.” You say and Melissa chuckles. 

“Well I guess technically we do as most households have 2 kids, not 5.” Melissa says and you hum. “But I couldn’t imagine not having any of them.” She adds and you look at her with a smile.

“Well I hope so as it was a lot of work being pregnant with them.” You tell her and she smiles. 

“And I appreciate you going through it 3 times.” She says and then gives you a kiss on the cheek.

After half an hour, the sugar crash comes and you all bring your classes back inside. You’re all able to teach again without them getting distracted and the kindergarteners immediately fall asleep. 

You say goodbye to your last student at the end of the day and you look to see Melissa is helping with the shoelaces of her last student and you don’t see Barb and Amelia coming like they usually are. You furrow your eyebrows and you grab your things and lock your door and see they’re still nowhere in sight. You then look and see Melissa is making her way over to you with her purse and see she already locked up.

“We should probably go see what’s holding them up.” Melissa tells you and you nod before you go make your way to Barb’s classroom. You walk in and you see Barb sitting next to Amelia and Amelia is sitting at her desk, getting frustrated by something.

“Hey sweetheart.” You say and Amelia looks up before she looks back down. Amelia tries moving the pencil and then slaps it down on the desk with a frustrated sigh.

“Why can’t I do it?” She asks and Melissa walks up to her.

“What are you trying to do, Tesoro?” Melissa asks her.

“Trying to write the letter A.” She explains and Melissa moves the paper and looks at her attempts.

“These are pretty good, you’re almost there.” Melissa tells her.

“Most of the class was able to do it.” She says before she leans back in her chair and crosses her arms.

“You’ll get it eventually, Tesoro, in your own time.” Melissa tells her softly. 

“She didn’t want to move from here until she got it. Saying she wanted to make you both proud.” Barb explains and you go over and bend down in front of her desk.

“Sweetheart, you make us proud everyday.” You tell her and you see her eyes get watery. 

“But I can’t write an A fully.” She says softly and Melissa holds her hand. 

“And that’s ok, a lot of kids aren’t able to do things at the same time as others, but they always catch up. Also, schoolwork isn’t everything, and you’re so smart in other ways.” Melissa tells her and Amelia looks at her.

“In what ways?” Amelia asks Melissa.

“Well you're an amazing great sister, you figured out quickly what to do if one of your siblings needs us if we’re in another room. You learned how to help me cook and bake very fast, which not even your mommy knows how to do.” Melissa explains and you look at her.

“What a way to throw me under the bus.” You mutter and Melissa hits your leg with her free hand. “Ow.” You complain with a pout and Amelia looks at you.

“Why can’t you cook?” Amelia asks you.

“Just not gifted in that area.” You simply tell her. “But you are.” You add and she looks down. 

“You’re also so smart socially, you always make friends wherever you go. Not a lot of people can do that.” Melissa adds.

“So even though I’m behind in something, you’re still proud of me?” Amelia asks Melissa and Melissa smiles and nods.

“We’re extremely proud of you, Tesoro.” Melissa says and tucks some strands of hair behind Amelia’s ear. Amelia pulls her hand away from Melissa’s and then launches herself at Melissa. “Oh.” Melissa says in surprise but catches her daughter and hugs her. Melissa stands up with Amelia in her arms and you stand up as well and Barb gets out of the chair.

“I do have to lock up so I can go home.” Barb tells you all and Melissa looks at her daughter.

“Ready to get your siblings and go home?” Melissa asks her and Amelia nods. 

At home you see Amelia is practicing the letters again and Melissa goes up to her with a blank piece of paper. 

“Instead of trying to draw on the lines, how about you try it without any lines?” Melissa suggests as you’re holding Mia and she has a teething ring in her mouth as Melissa told you about last night. 

You then watch as Amelia looks at the lines for the letters and then tries to write it on the blank paper. She tries it a few times before she’s able to get it and she gasps. Amelia jumps up and down and then looks at Melissa.

“Mamma, I did it!” She exclaims and Melissa smiles at her. 

“Ya, you did.” Melissa tells her and rubs Amelia’s back. 

At night you get into bed next to Melissa and you sigh. Melissa looks up from her phone at you and quirks an eyebrow.

“Something on your mind, Amore?” She asks you and you nod.

“Amelia learned some things really fast, like talking and reading.” You start and Melissa puts her phone down. “What if she learns other things quickly and the others feel like they’re not smart like how Amelia felt today?” You ask her and she thinks about it. “Or what if Amelia feels that way again because she thinks she has to get everything right away?” You add and Melissa grabs your closest hand.

“If that happens then we’ll fix it just like we did today.” She tells you and you look at her. 

“If it happens again with something you’re not good at then maybe I’ll throw you under the bus.” You say and she quirks her eyebrows at you.

“And what am I not good at?” She asks and you think about it and come up blank.

“That’s actually a good question.” You say and cross your arms. “Oh actually, you sometimes have trouble controlling your emotions.” You tell her and she laughs.

“That’s the best you can think of?” 

“It’s the only thing that came to mind actually.” You say and she smiles.

“How about the fact that I have trust issues?” She tells you and you furrow your eyebrows.

“Ok first of all, most people do, and second, are you helping me figure out a flaw for you?” You ask her.

“Ya. I mean I did point out one of yours to our 5 year old so why not?” She tells you. “What about that I’m not as physical as I used to be?” She tells you.

“I don’t know, you were pretty physical last night and the night before that.” You say and she laughs. “But see, you’re perfect. Both of us can’t find a flaw about you.”

“I’m not perfect Amore, I’m just perfect for you.” She tells you. “Just like you're perfect for me. I mean I think it’s great that you can’t cook which means I get to feed you and my entire family the most amazing meals. And I get to pass it on to my kids.” She says. “As well as you’re just as crazy about me as I am about you, and I find that perfect.”

“You know what I just thought that’s not really a flaw but can be used against you?” You ask her and she quirks an eyebrow at you. “You hate the show that Caty and Nico are obsessed with.” You tell her.

“You tell them that and I will divorce you.” She threatens.

“You’ve gotten so bad at threats since being with me.” You tell her and she rolls her eyes. 

“I say you’re perfect and you’re threatening to tell my kids that I hate their show?” She asks and you nod. 

“It can be used against you whenever I like.” You say with a smile.

“I’ve been such a bad influence on you.” 

“I think the skills I’ve learned from you are very useful. Where to swing a bat at an intruder, swearing in Italian at someone who pisses me off and they won’t understand a word I say, how to threaten people. And because I married you, I have connections all over the city.” You tell her and she hums. 

“I regret telling you about a few connections.” She says and you kiss her. 

“Let’s go to bed.” You tell her and then you both get comfortable. “Did you put a cloth in the fridge in case Mia gets teething pains again?” You ask her.

“Yep, there’s one in there. Top shelf next to the lunches.” She says before she puts an arm around you and pulls you up against her body.

“I hope you know that I’m not mad at you for pointing out I can’t cook, and that I love your flaws.” You tell her and you feel her hold you tighter.

“I know.” She says. “You weren’t serious when you said you’d use that I hate the kids show against me, right?” 

“Oh I was definitely serious about that.” 

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.” You tell her before you both fall asleep.

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[hysterical-honey]

Heaven

Heaven - Bitter:Sweet

Steve Raglan x Fem! Reader Ao3 Word Count: 1,231 Summary: Down on your luck, you've been desperate for employment, and Steve Raglan has been doing his best to help you to no avail. Tws//: 18+ ONLY, Reader is AFAB, Reader uses she/her, Age Gap, Age difference, Power imbalance, Divorced DILF Steve Raglan, Reader is in her 20s, Misogyny, Takes place in the Early 2000s, Steve is a thinly veiled jackass sorry not sorry, Girl failure reader, Sex fantasy, Sexual Tension, Hand kink, Mentions of masturbation and fingering. A/N: I genuinely don't know what possessed me to write this, but here we go, gang. Also, the cologne mentioned is Mackie for men by Bob Mackie. Chapter one build-up!!

Ten months, nineteen days, eight hours, and seven minutes have passed since you were last employed and left practically desperate for work.  Anyone else would have given up on you by now—frankly, it's a wonder Mr. Raglan hasn't forwarded you to another caseworker, another poor soul to dredge through your resume and smile stiffly through those inevitable words.

'I'm not really sure how to help you, dear...'

The sentence you've come to dread, repeated until it led you here to your current career counselor's office. Steve Raglan—a man you've met quite a few times before, the only counselor persistent enough to keep offering help, arranging various interviews that proved fruitless and ended in rejection. Each subsequent reprint of your resume meant more time at the local library and, more recently, in his office. The warmth of printer paper once brought comfort before this last year's events; now that subtle burn only solidifies the countless rejections.

The office sits silent except for the buzzing fluorescents and the coffee machine's soft drumming. It's early—you arrived at 6:00 AM sharp, just as always. Mr. Raglan's office carries an oddly nostalgic scent, like a church basement kitchen after Sunday morning breakfast, only muskier, without lingering peppermint oil and cinnamon vanilla. Instead, fresh cologne lingers thickly, as if he'd doused himself before every appointment like a teenage boy. The combination is smothering, though you never comment.

Mr. Raglan's brow furrows, his expression twisting as if pained, while crow's feet crinkle and a pout breaks across his face.

"Is everything okay?" The words escape with worry you can't suppress.

Breaking the silence, your question draws his pout into a polite upturn as your eyes meet.

"Hm? Oh, sure... just looking this over..." He trails off, though, he isn't reading anything as his eyes return to the off-white and black lettering. He's read it countless times by now—the changes you make are always insignificant, little things he mentions in passing.

Steve knows the truth, though he'd never say it to your face: there isn't much of a case to work with. You're a lost cause. Employment simply isn't your bread and butter. You might as well get hitched while you still can and pump out a few kiddoes who may prove better at cultivating careers than you are. If Steve were a different type of man—a mean one—he'd recommend exactly that.

He has no clue how to break the news, how to explain that he's run dry once again regarding your ‘career counseling’. It's almost endearing how hard you try without success, nearly out of rent money and barely able to afford the county library printer—hence using his instead.

Steve genuinely feels for you. A strange affection has burrowed into his heart, though his grace can only stretch so far. His eyes drift from the papers toward you for a split second while you fidget nervously despite his assurance that everything is fine. Your gaze falls to his hands, watching dorsal muscles contract and flex under tight, wrinkled skin, observing how his fingers turn each page, how he sometimes wets his pointer finger with his tongue when pages stick together. You probably don't realize he notices the way your eyes linger.

What you definitely don't notice is how his eyes linger in much the same way.

Steve Raglan is a busy man—a busy divorcee with a grown child and an empty suburban home, a job he neither hates nor loves, along with ‘other’ obligations. Despite this, like any man, he finds himself under desire's timeless weight: fist tight around his stiffened cock, pumping and gripping, fondling and gasping for someone he knows he'll never possess.

You.

A twenty-something, barely younger than his own daughter. He often wonders what your father did so wrong to raise such a woman—a pretty girl with obvious potential, yet he sees how you peer away and shy from his gaze. Your lack of confidence bleeds through so profoundly that you might as well be a crime scene of social ineptitude.

A lost cause.

A selfish distraction.

It eats him alive, stringing you along because of his superficial attachment, yet he does it anyway. Here you sit in his office, studying his hands like a Victorian witnessing an exposed ankle. Do you wonder what it might feel like to have them wrapped around your throat, as he does? To feel the thick meat of his pointer and middle—maybe even ring finger—carve into what he imagines to be the tight heat of your wet cunt?

Another break in the silence, you clear your throat, and it snaps Steve from his dirty, ridiculous ideals. He begins to read the useless paper once again. 

* Attention to detail, technologically savvy, prefers night shift…

Oh, he might be the inept one here, not you.

"I have an idea..." He catches your attention as if it had ever strayed from him. It was something you’d heard from him a thousand times before, but the follow-up was new. "I have an... off-the-record job opportunity."

That makes you pause, eyes narrowing, cheeks a bit warm suddenly. Perhaps your mind wandered slightly, flicking from his lips to the cheery disposition he kept over that critical eye.

"Off the record?" You parrot back, almost scoffing out the words.

"Yeah, you know, a personal type thing—I have a...buddy—"

"Mhm,"

"Owns this old place out on the south end of town, you know..."

"Uh-huh..."

"Night shift security pays...terribly, and the hours are worse, but it is something," he says optimistically, his voice straining with the effort as he makes a subtle hand gesture.

You're giving him an odd look; he mirrors it. 

"Oh—sorry," you snap out of that stare, a fake little smile stretching your pretty face. 

"Just...I've never worked a security job. Do I need any certifications or training, maybe?"

"Do you know how to open a door, click a few labeled buttons, and work a flashlight?"

"Yeah..."

"Then you'll be peachy-keen, sweetheart." Steve leans back in his chair. The hinges protest with a loud creak. "I'll say first," he continues, "it's a pesky gig. High turnover and all, but it could be a good fit." His voice carries a more playful tone. "All you need to do is tidy up a little, make sure nobody breaks in, and don't fall asleep on the job." 

"What kind of...place is it?"

"That old place on the south-end...uh..." He'd get up quickly, earning a squeak from that poor chair's hinges. Rummaging through filing cabinets as if he didn't know precisely where the cream-colored folder was. "Fazbears," he drags the title out in a very sing-song manner as he finally finds it. Mr. Raglan pushes his glasses up his nose with his knuckle as he looks through the few papers with what seems like mild intrigue. The file is thin, and the paper is almost yellow rather than cream.

"Oh! The pizza place?" You hadn’t heard anything about that place in forever, you can still recall the shutdown day being all over the news. Your mother taking all the merchandise and shoving it away into some tote out in the garage. 

"Where fantasy and fun come to life!" That sing-song tone persists; it makes you smile more genuinely. You’re sure Steve Raglan must be a saint. Despite how messy everything is, how difficult this job search has been, you have hope for the first time in a long time.