pinklunarprincess

[pinklunarprincess]

agree

[pinklunarprincess]

Hiiii!!! I saw you had requests open.. soooo I was wondering if I could request Silco with an artistic/art driven lover? Pretty please with a cherry on top? 🥹🫶

He has always seen the value in artistry.

It was a form of expression, rebellion that made the streets of the Undercity so starkly different from that of topside.

Your art is likely what drew him in in the beginning.

He has no hesitation in telling you his interpretation of your crafts.

He is always willing to listen to your reasons.

Why you chose what color. What this specific item symbolizes. Where the inspiration was drawn from.

He’ll readily supply you with new supplies.

“Make a list,” he’ll tell you. If you try to argue he’ll reason, “Jinx is running low on her paint pens, a trip is required anyway. Best not to make two and waste both of our time. Make a list.”

Speaking of. . .

Jinx is absolutely 100% on board with him having an artistic partner.

If you’re into more pop art or cartoony styles, she’s all over that shit. Absolutely is gonna ask if she can do the lettering if there’s any and damn is she good at it.

If you tend to lean more realistic, she’s less energetic but will watch you while you paint.

There are often days where Silco is doing paperwork, you’re glued to a canvas, and Jinx is watching, asking you why you used a specific technique.

Silco absolutely adores these moments.

They remind him why the fight is worth fighting, so everyone in the Undercity can have peaceful moments such as these more often.

[pinklunarprincess]

*asks with rizz*

Silco with a scent kink perhaps? Like he loves the reader smell, wether they wear perfume or not!

Silco with a Scent Kink ~ headcanons

Notes: ooooooohhhh yessss. I didn't actually know this was a thing so I did a google and, to out him a bit here, my boyf has this with me 😅 I had so many thoughts for this that I decided to pop thiese into headcannons, I hope that is okay! Wordcount: 1k Warnings/Rating: scent kink (pheromones, perfume, sweat, and arousal), smut, swearing, gender neutral reader with the exception of a few lines in italics which is female!reader, mentions of breeding kink/pregnancy kink, | 18+ MDNI

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Silco keeps this little preference of his as quiet as he can. It is not that he is embarrassed by it by any means, but he didn't like that he had a weakness as 'silly' as they way you smell.

It felt base - animalistic - something someone with far less control over themselves would suffer with.

But no, your scent was like a drug to him - more potent than Shimmer.

If he was honest with himself, it was not something he really knew he had until you started working for him. He initially brushed off the fact he inhaled more deeply and his muscles automatically relaxed when you were around and put it down to the fact you wore a nice fragrance and nothing more.

But when you started getting closer, and he felt more confident pulling you into his lap to perch and check over documents, he found himself less focused on the work in front of him, and more on the way your scent seemed to wash over him in waves, his eyes shutting as he tried his hardest to hide how it was affecting him.

"Oh stop hovering." Silco's hand reached out and wrapped around your hip, pulling you a few steps backwards until you toppled, falling back against his knees until you were settled firmly on his lap. "There. Better?" Your muscles tensed as he scooted his chair closer to the desk, letting you lean forward more comfortably to read over the documents. You weren't oblivious to the way he leaned forward with you, his fingers skimming over the curve of your hip, his chin hovering just above your shoulder as he looked over the papers with you. "Yes... thank you."

When you started dating, he was less subtle about the way he would burry his face in your neck whenever you lounged on his lap or cuddled into him in bed. His nose would brush against your pulse point as he breathed in deeply, letting your pheromones wash over him, his body relaxing on instinct.

He would also try and get away with it in public, passing off subtly breathing you in as him leaning in to whisper something in your ear. You often found it difficult to suppress a giggle when his exhale ticked your soft skin.

Silco largely allows you to dress how you want, doing very little to control what you do besides stopping you from going anywhere that could be considered dangerous. However, the one exception was your fragrances. It started slowly with him insisting on buying all your perfumes as a treat, always picking his favourite one and subtly getting rid of all your others.

Then, the perfumes stopped altogether. Whenever you questioned him on it, he simply raised a brow and shrugged it off with something along the lines of 'that's strange, pet. You must have lost them.'

It very quickly become obvious that he was behind their disappearance, forcing you to go without as he became more and more hooked on your natural scent.

"You don't need them, dove. You smell delectable." You couldn't help but roll your eyes, "To you, maybe, but not everyone else." "And who else is getting close enough to notice, hm?"

He wouldn't have anything getting in the way of your natural pheromones (you were, of course, allowed to shower but he preferred when he could join you).

There have been several occasions where he has shamefully been unable to contain himself when he smells you, especially if it is a particularly hot or humid day and your skin is sticky with sweat and your lounging around his office.

He would immediately bend you over his desk, or order you to your bedroom.

You better know he is burying his face in the crook of your neck as he fucks you roughly, a hand buried in your hair to pull your head back to allow him better access, his teeth nipping at the skin as he huffs against you.

His nose pressed firmly against your pulse point, low groans ripping from his throat as his hips dug into the flesh of your arse, the desk similarly digging sharply into the tops of your thighs. "You drive me wild." His teeth nipped at your shoulder as his hips rutted into you desperately, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned back, slender fingers digging into your shoulder and pulling your back with him, forcing a moan from your throat as he used it as leverage to fuck up into you quicker, rougher. "You're going to be the death of me."

When you're not around, he would be shameless, using a piece of your clothing balled up and pressed against his nose as he fists himself, using it to muffle his groans. He just can't help himself.

Buries his nose against you whenever he goes down on you, breathing deeply as you whimper above him, hands buried in his hair as he encourages you to pull him closer.

It gets to a point where he could actually tell if you were ovulating. He claimed that your scent was stronger and he would always go feral, hardly letting you leave his lap through he day, keeping you firmly pressed against him so you could feel the affect you had on him, his hardened cock digging into lower back.

You better know that his breeding kink goes into overdrive. He isn't particularly desperate for another child, but something in him snaps at the thought of you full of him, and he can't help but wonder what it would do for your scent when your stomach swells with him.

Would 100% steal your underwear when they are covered in your slick, stuffing them in his pocket with a sly grin on his face.

Ask him about it, though, and you’ll only get a sly grin in response.

[pinklunarprincess]

72 hours in Piltover - Jayce Talis x f!reader

Notes: Big AN incoming. This has become my little baby over the last week. It is incredibly self-indulgent, featuring a violinist reader (like myself) and I have quite a few music recommendations for reading this. Firstly, I listened to Sibelius’ Violin Concerto in D Minor, and I imagine that for the opening of the fic. Not only is it an astounding piece of music, but has an interesting story of mental turmoil and burnout that really resonates with themes of this fic I think. I then also listened to The Butterfly Lovers Violin Concerto for the second violin section later on in the hotel. Do give them a listen, even if you don’t usually listen to classical music. Your resident violinist fanfic writer highly recommends. Warnings/Rating: Fluff, yearning, lots of plot leading into soft smut, a bit of angst, one use of y/n, reader is a violinist from Demacia - a little bit of LoL lore, swearing, whirlwind romance, unprotected PiV sex, female-receiving oral, reader is smaller than Jayce (but who isn’t) | 18+ MDNI Wordcount: 6.5k Synopsis: Jayce is usually not one for pompous concerts, but one musician and three days manage to change his perspective on music and romance for good...

Masterlist | Ko-Fi | '72 Hours In Piltover' playlist

“Councillor Talis! I wasn’t expecting you here!” Mel raised her eyebrows in surprise as she pushed off the balustrade, greeting him with a customary kiss to each cheek before handing him a champagne flute. 

“I can’t say it was my first choice for this evening, but I needed to talk to you about today’s proposal—“ 

“That can wait,” she brushed him off, sitting back on the edge of the balcony again, eyes gazing back out to the stage. “The concerto is about to begin.” 

Jayce crossed the gap between them slowly with a small huff of frustration, resting against the wall casually as he took a sip of the bubbling liquid, watching as the orchestra took their seats to tune up. 

“Is this that Demacian virtuoso Heimerdinger was babbling on about?” He asked, gesturing vaguely downwards with his glass. 

Mel nodded, swallowing a sip of her drink. “She’s a good friend of mine, and an astonishing musician.” 

Jayce hummed absentmindedly. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate music, it was just never as important to him as science. The arts were simply something to pass the time. 

He opened his mouth to speak again, just for sudden applause to silence him, Mel clapping loudly down his ear as someone walked out on stage, people throwing white roses onto the stage in droves. He was too busy flicking over the audience to pay attention to the performer, instead counting the sheer number of great houses and dignitaries in attendance with surprise. 

He glanced up at last when the first notes rang out, resounding around the concert hall eerily. 

His glass paused against his lips when he finally focused on her, the soloist standing in the soft glow of the spotlight as they started the yearning melody, immediately demanding his attention. 

“I didn’t realise you were so interested in the classical arts, Jayce?” Mel’s voice was dripping with sarcasm beside him, eyes flicking over his face as he stood enthralled. 

He hummed softly, not registering her words fully as his eyes remained fixed on the violinist. Their command of the stage, their instrument, and the audience had him transfixed. His eyes were unable to tear themselves from the fast moving fingers as they worked against the strings. The care and delicacy it took bewitching him, not to mention the performer behind it all. 

She was astoundingly beautiful, almost ethereal under the soft stage lighting, the muscles of her arms flexing with each movement of the bow, her eyes closed with concentration and brow furrowed as she lost herself in the music. For a moment, he could have sworn there was no one in the hall besides the two of them. 

He slowly became aware of Mel watching him closely, eyes trained to the side of his face in thought. “I know you weren’t going to go to the gala after the concert, but I can introduce you, if you like. She is attending as my personal guest.” 

“She is?!” His voice came across far more desperate than he intended and he cleared his throat roughly, “I mean, is she? That would be interesting – to meet a close friend of yours, that is.” 

She grinned slyly, taking a sip of her drink, “You have certainly changed your tune.” 

He side eyed her as she held in a laugh at her pun. 

“What can I say, music makes people act strangely.” 

“Yes, it’s the music.” Her laugh finally escaped and she muffled it with her hand as he sighed agitated, eyes and attention drifting back to the woman on stage. 

The room was growing unbelievably stuffy as you stepped between guests, each one laying their compliments on thickly – although whether they were to appease you or appeal to councillor Medarda you weren’t sure. Either way, your feet were beginning to ache, your throat scratched, and the champagne was starting to taste stale. 

“I think I might have to make an escape,” you muttered to her, earning a soft chuckle but noticing her attention was elsewhere. You followed her eyes to the man approaching, ready to put on the fake smile, only for your jaw to fall slack. 

“(Y/n), this is our very own man of progress, councillor Jayce Talis.” Mel gestured to the man now standing before you and your stomach fluttered, eyes raking over his tan skin, his towering height enough to have you swooning. He was far more handsome than the pictures led you to believe, and that was saying something. 

“I’ve heard so much about you,” you smiled softly, holding your hand out for him to take, feeling your skin heat up as he leaned down to kiss the back of your hand softly. “I hope you enjoyed the performance, councillor.” 

“Councillor Talis here is usually more… mechanically inclined than musically,” Mel interrupted, a knowing grin shot in Jayce’s direction that he chose to ignore. 

He flushed a little, fingers fidgeting around the stem of his champagne flute. “It is true that I am perhaps more used to the hum of machinery,” he laughed awkwardly. “But yes, I very much enjoyed it. It was – you were – astounding.” 

You smiled softly, ignoring the flutter in your chest. It was the first compliment this evening that felt truly genuine. “I suppose the orchestra is its own kind of machine of sorts. All individual parts coming together to make magic,” you pondered, satisfied when his lips twitched up with a small laugh. 

His breath hitched in his throat as you smirked into your champagne glass, raising a brow at him over the rim, sending his mouth dry. 

“Councillor Medarda, is this the brilliant young virtuoso?” Your eyes stayed fixed on his as another dignitary sidled up to you, your mind ticking away as you took his features in for a moment, too busy to listen to her introductions until you heard your name, finally pulling your eyes away to greet them. 

Your heart sank a little when you turned and found him missing from your side. Your eyes flicked over the crowds hoping to spot him, but it was like he had vanished from thin air. 

“Are you quite alright, my dear?” The old woman’s voice called you back to earth. 

“Quite – sorry, it’s been a long day,” you brushed off, forcing a half-arsed laugh. “Would you excuse me?” 

You glanced around for the nearest door. The air was becoming almost oppressive, making you feel dizzy the longer you spent in amongst the throngs of people. You made a beeline for the large set of balcony doors propped open across the room, the gentle breeze that sent the thin drapes billowing drawing you in like an oasis. 

Huffing a sigh of relief as the cool air hit you, you pushed the curtain to the side and slipped out, pausing on the threshold when your eyes caught his silhouette, the wall of muscle unmistakeable even in the dim lighting. 

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” You called softly, lips twitching into a smile when he jumped, turning quickly away from the balcony edge to see who it was, his shoulders relaxing a little when he saw you. 

“I thought you would be busy being swept off your feet,” he teased softly, letting you lean against the balustrade beside him. 

You laughed gently, “gods, I think I might dissolve on the spot if I have to spend any longer mingling.” You jokingly cringed at the thought. 

“Not your scene?” He enquired boldly, raising a brow as he studied your face. Your own attention was fixed out on the lights of the city below, giving him time to really break down the contours of your face, eyes lingering on the gentle curve of your lips as you pursued them in thought. 

You shook your head, “I am far happier in the comfort of my practice room.”

He huffed a clipped laugh, “you remind me of my partner.” 

Your brows rose as you turned to look at him, “your partner?” You tried to hide the disappointment you felt in your chest. 

“My lab partner,” he was quick to clarify. “He has one of the most brilliant minds of our generation, but he is far more content tucked away in the lab than sharing himself with the world. You know, before our first innovators competition, he was so nervous he was si–“ he stopped himself quickly, realising he was rambling. “He would probably hit me if I finish that story.” He laughed. 

You laughed softly with him, forcing your gaze back out over the city again. “What about you, councillor Talis? Are you more for the practice room, or the spotlight?” 

He hesitated for a moment before answering. You could feel his body tense every so slightly beside you, the air around him suddenly feeling thicker. 

“If I’m honest?” He paused to wet his lips, “I miss the old days, before all this politics. I’ve never minded the spotlight, but I think I would like to spend a little more time in the lab again. Just me and the machines.” 

You hummed softly, mulling his words over. “I guess that’s the bitter sweet thing about our lines of work, you never know how good you have it until everything changes. Fame is never what they make it out to be.” Your tone was sadder than you perhaps intended, but for the first time in a long time you felt you had someone who might finally understand what it was like. 

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “You know, before tonight I thought there was no conceivable way for science and art to compare,” he started earning a playful eye roll from you, “but I think you have made me see that they’re not all that different after all.” 

“Well, I am glad to have been of some service,” you tipped your glass to him and he cheersed it gently, both of you taking long sips as you looked back over the busy city. 

“How long are you in Piltover?” He asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence. 

You shrugged, “another day or two, I think. Everything blurs into one on these tours.” You sighed, leaning your full weight atop the stone railing and looking down over the edge. 

You sensed his aura shift, his face dropping slightly at the news. “And after that?” 

“Back home to Demacia I think, closing it out where we began.” 

“It would be interesting to visit Demacia someday,” he mused, taking another small sip of his champagne.

You snorted lightly, eyeing him carefully, “Don’t take this personally, Mr. Talis, but I’m not sure that you would receive quite the same welcome.” He looked at you confused for a moment before his lips parted in a silent ‘ah’ as the realisation dawned on him. “You might not be a mage yourself, but this Hextech of yours would put you in a difficult situation. Not all of my kin are as open minded to the prospect of magic” 

You both fell into silence again, this one more tense than the last. Part of you didn’t want to step away, wanting to cling onto the moment as long as you could as the world seemed to stand still around you, the only thing alerting you to the passage of time being the steady thrum of people on the other side of the glass doors. 

“I don’t suppose you have any plans for your final few days here, do you?” He asked cautiously, glancing down at the dregs of liquid in his glass before turning to you, leaning with one elbow on the balustrade as he finished off the last drops. 

“Besides more shaking hands, I don’t think so,” you turned to face him and mimicked his stance, intrigued. 

“How about I give you a tour of my lab? My little practice room, I suppose” he chuckled awkwardly, eyes flicking back to his glass before finding you again. You could see the nerves swimming behind them.  

You couldn’t help but grin, nodding tentatively. “I would like that,  very much – so long as your partner doesn’t mind?” You teased softly and he chuckled. 

“He won’t, I’m sure.” 

“Well then, councillor—“

“Jayce. Just Jayce, please.” He stopped you. 

Your stomach fluttered and your skin prickled under his intent gaze, the warmth of the champagne suddenly hitting you as he looked at you with doe eyes, hazel orbs softening in the soft balcony lighting. 

“Well then, Jayce,” you spoke softly through a smile, “I suppose it’s a plan.” 

You knocked on the door cautiously, pushing it open and peeking around, hoping to the gods you had managed to find the right room. 

“You’re here!” Jayce sounded genuinely surprised, pushing his stool back as he stood quickly, crossing the lab quickly to greet you. 

“Well I was promised a tour,” you chuckled softly as your eyes flicked around the room quickly, taking in the various machines and tools scattered around. They made the place feel almost cosy, despite the harsh lines and sterile lights. Finally, you landed on a very confused looking man sitting looking between the two of you, goggles pushed up into his hair, his brows furrowed at the intrusion. 

Jayce cleared his throat as he crossed to you, opening the door more fully and gesturing for you to step in. “Viktor, this is (Y/n), the violinist I was telling you about?” 

Viktor’s face softened a little as he nodded, humming under his breath, cautious eyes flicking between the two of you again before his lips quirked up into the ghost of a smile, “Yes, I see that now.” 

You glanced at Jayce a little confused as he coughed awkwardly, sending his partner a disconcerting glare before turning to you more softly, the irritation melting from him almost immediately as he gestured loosely to his partner, “And this is my lab partner, Viktor, don’t mind him.” 

Viktor snorted a laugh across the room and Jayce glared at him again before turning back to you, an exasperated chuckle escaping his throat as you raised a brow. “So, that tour…” 

“You truly are a remarkable man, Jayce,” you mused as he led you out to the Academy foyer again, your fingers twirling absentmindedly around the small cog he had flicked to you teasingly. You tried to ignore the heat of your skin under his hand as he guided you through the door, fingertips resting against your lower back as he held the door open for you.

He scoffed self-consciously and you could just about spot the light flush that creeped up from beneath his collar. “Viktor’s the real mastermind behind it all. I wouldn’t have managed any of it without him.” 

Jayce continued to lead you through the corridors, still lingering close to your slide despite having retracted his hand from your skin. 

You glanced at him, taking a moment to study his face as you smiled softly, “he means a lot to you.” It was more of a statement than a question, and he chuckled quietly. 

He reached out again quickly, his hand settling against your back as he guided you again. You hadn’t even realised you were starting to stray off away from him as you gazed at him until he tucked you a little closer into his side again, helping you narrowly avoid walking into some oncoming students. 

“He is like a brother to me,” he agreed, leaving his hand gingerly against your back as he guided you towards the main doors. “Do you have anyone like that? Back home, I mean?” 

You hesitated for a moment as you both stopped by the doors, hovering as if neither of you really wanted to part. “My teacher,” you admitted quietly, swallowing thickly, “although they passed a few months ago.” 

Jayce’s eyes immediately softened, his features immediately twisting with regret, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t m–”

“It’s okay, they had been sick for a while,” you offered him a tight-lipped smile before glancing down at your hands as you fidgeted with the cog. “Tell me, do you know any good bakeries around here? I’m dying for something sweet.” You laughed softly, your smile turning more genuine when he visibly relaxed again. 

He nodded a little too enthusiastically, and you could see himself beat himself up for it immediately in his head, swallowing hard as he controlled himself again, “There’s one just down the street – I could take you, if you like?” he added quickly, gesturing towards the door and stepping a little closer towards it. “I could do with more breaks.” 

You lifted a brow, your heart fluttering in your chest at the thought of not having to say goodbye just yet, “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother…” 

“You’re not,” he raced to stop you, his voice low and sincere. “You never could be.” 

Warmth flooded your chest, creeping up to your cheeks “Well then,” you murmured, lips curving into a coy grin, “lead the way, dear tour guide.” 

His smirk softened into something more tender as he offered you his arm. You glanced at it for a moment, hesitantly, before looping yours around it, your hand resting on the firm muscle of his forearm as he pushed the door open for you. 

You wiped the corner of your mouth as you laughed, brushing the icing sugar away from your lips. 

“You still have a little – just there,” Jayce pointed to your face vaguely and you wiped your fingers across your chin again, still giggling as he rolled his eyes. “No, just – come here,” he laughed breathily as he reached up. 

Your breath caught in your throat as he brushed his thumb over your cheek, his calloused fingers resting against your jaw to steady his hand as he brushed the evidence of your baked treats away. Your laugh died in your throat as you both paused there for a moment, your eyes unable to move from his as you swallowed thickly. You were sure he would have been able to feel the effort beneath his fingers as they brushed your pulse point. 

“Got it?” you asked gingerly, the sound coming out as little more than a whisper, not quite trusting your voice. 

He retracted his hand a little too quickly for your liking, coughing to clear his throat awkwardly as he tore his gaze from yours, looking anywhere but your face. “Yeah, you’re good.” 

That light flush was back again in his cheeks. 

You too glanced away, your eyes catching your watch as you looked down at your lap. Your eyes widened when you realised how late it was. What was supposed to be a quick tour and lunch break had turned into nearly five hours of talking. 

“Gods, I have to go!” you rushed to stand, gathering up your jacket and swinging it over your shoulders hurriedly, fighting to find one of the arms. “I have another thing I promised I would go to with Mel, I–” you broke off with a huff, still fighting to try and swing your jacket on.

Jayce stood, fingers curling around the fabric and holding it still for you to slide your arm in more smoothly. You hesitated again, realising just how close he was standing to you. Another small step and his lips would have brushed your forehead. 

“Can I see you again?” his voice wavered a little, betraying his nerves. For a split second, you were sure you caught him glancing down to your lips. His honey eyes lingered for just a moment before coming up to meet yours again, once again stealing the air from your lungs. 

You barely hesitated before you fished in your bag, pulling out a pen and leaning down to scribble on one of the cafe napkins, the ink mixing a little with the remnants of powdered sugar. “This is my hotel,” you capped the pen again and handed him the napkin, “If you have time, stop by tomorrow? I’ll be there.” 

He nodded fervently, fingers brushing over the paper as if it were made of the finest silk. “I’ll be there.” 

You smiled again before you leaned up on your toes, your body moving quicker than your own mind could process to place a quick kiss to his cheek, your lips barely brushing the skin before you pulled away and rushed out the cafe door. 

You unfolded yourself from the chair slowly, pulling your legs out from beneath you as the knock on your door roused you. You pulled your robe a little closer to your body as you pressed against the peephole. 

You had spent almost all day in your hotel room at this point, moving gradually between your bed, the chair by the balcony, and playing aimlessly, wandering around the suite and, quite frankly, moping. 

When you had first arrived in Piltover, you had wanted nothing more than to get the performance over with and finally go home so you could spend some time to yourself. Maybe even take a few months off playing to just… be.

Now, however, you wanted nothing more than to stay, just another few days, at least. Just to see him. The man you had spent all day moping about. 

You pulled in an anxious breath as you stepped away from the door, taking a moment to compose yourself before you pulled it open, hiding behind it a little when you realised just how exposed you were in your thin pajamas and your robe. 

“I was starting to think that you weren’t coming,” you teased lightly as you leaned against the door, unable to stop your grin as your eyes flicked over him. His hair was  a little disheveled, as if he had been raking his hands through it all day, and his chin was shadowy with the hint of stubble. Your eyes paused, however, on the bouquet of white roses he had cradled in the crook of his arm. 

“I am so sorry,” he huffed, raking his hand through his hair and confirming your suspicion, “I have had the busiest day.” 

You stepped to the side, biting your lip to try and suppress your grin a little as he stepped past you, letting you close the door and lean against it, simply admiring him for a moment as he looked around the suite, taking the moment to try and calm the tingle in your skin. 

“I brought you these,” he held the flowers out bashfully. Any attempt to calm yourself were immediately thwarted as he smiled softly. You took them from him gently, your fingers brushing his. “I didn’t have any to offer at the show, and I felt I needed to make up for that.” 

“You didn’t have to,” a sheepish smile tugged at your lips as you set them down, unwrapping them carefully as he settled in the chair you had just been huddled up in, watching as you placed each rose carefully into one of the empty vases on the large table. 

“I wanted to. I meant what I said the other night, you were spectacular,” he brushed you off. “I just wish I could hear you play again before you leave.” His voice grew tighter and your hands paused over the final flower, your fingers brushing over the soft petals as a lump formed in your throat. How did a man you had only met two days ago have such a big effect on you?

“When do you leave?” His words came softly, almost heavy. 

You turned slowly, leaning against the table and pulling your robe closer to your skin. “Tomorrow.” 

An uneasy silence settled between you as you picked at your thumb. The air between you seemed thick, the easiness of yesterday had seemed to evaporate as you realised that it was all going to be ripped from you before anything had really begun.

“Would you play for me?” 

You glanced up quickly, eyes widening as your fingers stilled. 

You could see the immediate panic in his face, “I didn’t mean to overstep–”

“No, no, sorry,” you breathed a laugh, “I just…” you hesitated for a moment, rolling your lip between your teeth, “I actually get pretty bad stage fright,” you chuckled as you frowned at you. 

“But you seem so natural on the stage?” he pressed, lips curving into a baffled grin. 

“It’s different up there. With the lights, you can barely see anything beneath you. Here, well, it’s you.” 

He sniggered, sitting back in the chair and draping an arm over the back of it as he relaxed more, the ease quickly returning. “What does that mean?” 

You rolled your eyes, pushing off the table and rounding to where your violin sat propped up on its stand. You lifted it slowly, rolling your thumb over the strings on the fingerboard. “You’re the man of progress,” you drawled, “You’re special.” 

You heard him shift behind you, but you didn’t register that he had moved until you felt his hand brush down your arm, fingers trailing down the soft satin of your gown. You turned your head just slightly, enough to glance at him over your shoulder.

“I’m just Jayce,” he reminded you softly, his voice little more than a murmur. 

Pulling in an unsteady breath, you leaned down again quickly, picking up your bow and twisting it in your fingers. Jayce took a few slow steps back, leaning against the table you had leant against earlier as he watched you. 

“What would you like to hear?” you asked quietly, your thumb strumming over the neck of your violin as you held it against you. 

He shrugged lightly, folding his arms over his chest. “Whatever you’ll let me hear.” 

Your fingers felt clammy as you brought the instrument up under your chin, letting the shoulder rest dig into your collarbone as you nuzzled your chin into place. Your eyes fluttered shut as you rested your fingers over the strings, feeling the thin metal as you thought it over. 

You exhaled softly as you lifted the bow to the strings, sucking in a breath again as you started to play, the notes resounding around the suite’s small sitting room. You felt yourself get lost in them again, your brow furrowing and jaw clenching as you breathed through the music, barely aware of Jayce as he stood watching you in awe until you suddenly felt brave enough to open your eyes, finding his immediately, as if he hadn’t taken his gaze off you. 

He continued to watch you for a few minutes before he pushed away from the table slowly. You continued playing, your gaze remaining steady as you pressed through the notes, only faltering as he stepped closer towards you, suddenly struggling to draw breath. 

You lowered your instrument slowly, the sound ebbing away as the bow fell from the strings as he stepped closer, his eyes falling to your lips as they parted for breath. 

Then, he kissed you. 

His lips were a little rough against yours as he pressed against you, careful not to bump your violin as his hand wrapped around your waist slowly, your arms dropping slowly to your sides as you started to lose yourself in the feeling, his tongue rolling teasingly over your lip. 

You gasped against him, and he rolled his tongue against yours, deepening his hold on you as you pressed up against him, desperate to be closer. 

You broke away from him for only a moment, pausing to glance between his eyes before you turned to rest your instrument back in its stand.

Without a second thought, you pulled his hand into yours, taking steady steps backwards towards the bedroom as you pulled him with you, smirking softly as he reached up with his spare hand to loosen his tie, dropping the fabric to the floor as you crossed the threshold, immediately tugging him into you again and crashing your lips to his. 

Within a breath, he was tilting your head up to meet your lips more easily, fingers nestled under your chin as his other hand roamed down your side, fingers bunching the thin fabric of your gown as he pulled at the satin string that held it together. 

You were more than willing to let it fall from your frame, pooling at your feet beside the bed before he pressed gently against your hips, easing you back onto the mattress as he brought a knee up to rest between your thighs, pausing just briefly to let his eyes roam over your scantily clad form. 

“You’re breathtaking,” he sighed before his lips found your skin again, trailing down your throat as he worked to undo his shirt buttons. He gave up after the first few and opted for shrugging it off over his head instead, tossing it to the side as you giggled at his desperation, sheer joy bubbling in your chest as he kissed you again with a grin. 

You arched your back with a sigh as he kissed down your chest slowly, his fingers making light work of pushing your top up your torso and encouraging it over your head. It took him very little time to latch onto your chest and suck teasingly, eliciting a soft groan from your throat as your wove your hands into his hair, tugging instinctively as he rolled your nipple under his tongue, glancing up with lust-blown eyes before continuing his path down your body. 

He tapped on your hip gently, grinning dopily, “move up.” His voice was little more than a breathless pant as you obliged with a smirk, shuffling up to rest against the lush hotel pillows, your skin tingling with anticipation as he settled between your legs again, hooking one over his shoulder and pressing lazy kisses from your ankle, up your calf, to your thigh, where he paused. 

His eyes found yours again, seeking silent permission as his hands rested against your hips, fingers toying with the thin fabric of your sleep shorts.  

You nodded, “please.” You barely managed to get the word out before he was tugging the soaked fabric away from your core. You would have laughed at the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips had he not immediately lowered himself, his breath fanning over your folds and sending a shiver through your nerves. 

“Oh, Jayce,” you were not oblivious to the effect your voice had on him. He leaned forward, his tongue darting out to part your folds tentatively and lap at your wetness. His eyes fluttered closed with a groan as he tasted you, fingers instinctively tightening against your skin as if holding himself back.  

The whine that escaped your throat would have been embarrassing had you not been so lost in the way his tongue flicked at your clit with ease, his hands wrapping around your thighs to hold you against him, locking his head between your legs as if he were happy to be suffocated between them. 

Your hands found his hair again, practised fingers tugging at the strands to press him closer to your core, spurring him on as he licked into you, tongue dipping down to your entrance to gather your wetness, alternating between fucking into you with his tongue and lapping at you like a man starved. Every flick, every swirl, sending waves of bliss through your stomach, making your toes curl and cramp.  

It was almost embarrassing how quickly he was pulling you towards the edge, holding your hips still to avoid you squirming away from his mouth as he devoured you gently, sucking every so often on your clit and sending shocks of pleasure through your body, your stomach twitching with the shocks of it, until the pressure grew too much, eventually snapping as you came on his tongue. Your body tensed under his hands, yet he held you down, continuing his assault on your clit until you were pushing at his forehead, desperate to find some relief from the overstimulation. 

You laid there panting for a moment, hand pressed to your forehead as you tried to come back to your senses when you realised he had made no attempt to undress himself any further – ever the gentleman. Instead, he was simply knelt at the base of the bed, watching you blissfully with a dopey smile on his face, chin glistening a little in the moonlight with your slick. 

“Come ‘ere,” you reached for him, laughing when he crawled up towards you, caging you against the mattress and meeting you in a kiss you could taste yourself in as you pressed against his shoulders, encouraging him to roll as you straddled him, hands resting against his broad chest for balance. 

You took a moment to feel the strong muscles beneath your palms, trying to commit them to memory before you kissed down them, fingers making light work of his belt as you tugged his slacks down his thighs with a little help from him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you mused as you crawled back up him again. Even in the dim light you could see the faint blush that covered his cheeks. It only darkened as you settled over where he needed you most, his cock twitching against his stomach as you hovered above him. 

You gave him a few tentative strokes, the weight of him heavy in your palm as you spread his leaking precum across his skin before you lifted yourself up on shaky legs. His hand quickly replaced yours, letting you use both hands to balance on his chest as he brushed his tip through your folds, a low hiss escaping from his lips.  

With a sigh, you sunk down on him, letting his tip split your lips as you eased down on him gradually, letting yourself grow accustomed to the delicious stretch. You could tell he was trying his best to avoid bucking up into you as you adjusted, the muscles in his abdomen tensing as he groaned. 

With a sigh you bottomed out, shuffling your legs a little beside his hips for better leverage as you lifted yourself up slowly before dropping down. Both of you groaned in unison, your fingers digging into his skin, your head dropping forward as you bit your lower lip; Jayce pressing his head back into the pillows. 

Your breath came out in gentle pants as you rode him slowly, your fingers clutching at his broad shoulders as you felt him drag along your walls. His fingers fluttered over the skin of your hips as he helped guide you lovingly, squeezing softly with every roll of your body against his. 

“You feel so perfect,” he mumbled aimlessly, his brain fogging over as you squeezed around him, “Fuck – you are so perfect, so beautiful like that–” 

He pulled his lip between his teeth as he pushed himself to sit up, his arms snaking around your waist to hold your chest against his as you continued to rock against him. He leaned forward a little to bury his face in the crook of your neck, nestling against you momentarily before his lips dragged across your hot skin, his breath searing as he trailed open mouth kisses across your pulse point desperately. 

Your fingers dug into his hair, holding him against you as you continued to lift yourself lazily, grinding your hips against his with soft mewls, your eyes screwed shut as you lost yourself in the feeling of him filling you, gasping his name each time he bucked up into your instinctively, reaching spots of you you didn’t even know you had. 

“J-Jayce, I–” you trailed off, your hips starting to rut a little more pathetically as your energy drained, the pleasure twisting your stomach making it harder to concentrate on your movements. 

With a breathy laugh against your lips he tightened his grip around your lower back, twisting you both until you were sprawled out beneath him, legs wrapping around his waist as he settled between your legs. 

“I’ve got you–” His voice was breathy as he brought his lips to yours again, capturing them and swallowing your breathy groan as he pressed into you again until his hips were flush with yours, one hand balancing him beside your head as the other clasped at your thigh, holding you against him as he rolled into you, again and again, the new angle letting him drag tauntingly along your front wall. 

You practically sobbed when he brought a hand down to your clit, his thumb rolling over your clit lazily as he huffed, his movements growing sloppy. 

“Need you to cum for me,” he muttered in your ear, his breath gravelly with effort. “Feel so good around me, need to feel you – really feel you.” He was particularly begging, and with the way he moved against you, it brought you to the edge again. 

You nodded pathetically, your nails clawing at his broad back as he leaned down over you, your thighs pressed up against your stomach as he bent you to his will, your muscles melting against the mattress as you turned to putty in his hands. 

“I’ve got you,” he uttered again as you came undone around him, your walls fluttering and squeezing him with such force that you nearly pushed him out. He pressed forward, groaning against the shell of your ear as he filled you, his member twitching as his head dropped to your shoulder, his desperate groans drawn out as he came down from his high slowly. 

He squinted as he opened his eyes, trying to adjust to the light as it filtered through the thin curtains. For a moment, he glanced around confused, trying to get a grasp of where he was when it dawned on him, the memories of the night before flooding back. His lips ticked up into a lazy smile.

He rolled over slowly, the smile slowly fading as he reached out to find a cold mattress beside him. Pressing his palms against the bed he sat up, letting the sheets droop around his waist as he looked around the room, brow furrowing when he found it empty. 

Standing and pulling on his boxers and trousers from the day before, he padded out to the small sitting room quietly. He stopped in the doorway, his chest tightening uncomfortably when he spotted her violin missing. His eyes wandered again, settling on the single white rose on the table, all other traces of her removed. 

He stepped towards it slowly, as if moving too quickly would cause it to disintegrate. With a small, defeated huff he picked the flower up, rolling the stem carefully between his fingers, watching it despondently as he realised she had gone - truly gone - where he could not follow. 

He held the flower against his lips lightly, the velvet petals brushing against the skin as he inhaled, eyes fluttering shut as the gentle perfume washed over him. Then, he dropped it, letting it fall from his grasp ack to the table as he stepped away to collect his clothes again - the moment as fleeting as the last 72 hours in Piltover.

Tags: @helaenabugmom @sleepysoldier @lovebugintardis @soniiyi

[pinklunarprincess]

vi with kinda sorta an exhibitionist thing. who likes it a lil too much when she's got you squirming next to her at a bar, and there's people who can see (bc why wouldn't she wanna flex having a gf like you?) casually teasing her fingers into the waistband of your jeans or your skirt, tugging you in between her legs if she's propped against a barstool, whispering in your ear just to get you laughing.

loves it, really, when you shudder a little, your cheeks stained dark, your eyes following shortly after, but cocking her head as if to ask yes, and? when you bat your lashes at her, bite your lips, but she knows you're not gonna stop her, knows that you like it just as much as she does.

vi, who has zero qualms about pressing you up against the wall of a club, tucked in a slice of shadow just off the pulsing dancefloor, her lips trailing down your neck, her teeth teasing your collarbones just to hear you moan. inch her hands up the material of your top to tease at your nipples, grinning when she feels your hips kick up, your breath going shorter than it already was --

"vi... p-people will see!"

she chuckles, a soft, almost condescending sound even as she leans forward to wedge a thigh between your legs, murmuring low beneath the thrumming beat of the music --

"so? let them -- we can put on a show, can't we, princess?"

[pinklunarprincess]

Silly vent post:

Y’all I swear to you IM NOT A FILTHY PERSON! LIKE I CLEAN!!! WEEKLY!! I SWEEP AND MOP MY FLOORS!! CLEAN MY BATHTUB, TOLIET, AND SINK!!!

But ya wanna fuckin know something… the cabinet underneath my sink FUCKIN SMELLS….

AND I DONT KNOW WHY

I have taken everything out and cleaned the inside

Multiple times

I just put drain-o down that bitch and scrubbed her extra hard

I don’t know why the hell she smells bad?!

And if I find out it smells bad because of my neighbors and not me, I’m gonna blow a gasket.

[pinklunarprincess]

I think I’m coming down sick…..

FUCCCCCCCCK 😫

How it got me feeling:

[pinklunarprincess]

the start of it all - Young!Silco x gn!reader

Notes: This is another one I started way back when it was requested, but I couldn't get happy with it. I finally came back to it and tweaked it a bit and now I think it is in the place I wanted it to be. It is very much set in the immediate days before the bridge attack that kicks off season 1, setting out some motivations for Silco throwing that molotov. Warnings/Rating: arguments, allusions to physcial violence (from enforcers) but no descriptions, mentions of bodily harm, swearing, angst, make ups, | 16+ for mature themes Wordcount: 2.5k Synopsis/Request: Can I ask for young silco (again ups) with "i have the right to be worried" and "close your eyes u don't have to see that" where reader and silco are in relationship but got in a fight (a little angst to spice things up hihi) because silco gets in the dangerous situation cause of the revolution stuff and u haven't speak for a few days after but then silco walks in to the last drop before opening and find u and vander and others trying to fixed u up because u got in the dangerous situation this time and silco freakes the fuck out and u make up in the end and fluff <3

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

If there was one word to describe you, it was loyal.

You don’t remember the last time you ever questioned Silco’s judgement when it came to this whole Zaun thing, but with more of your people limping home, bruised and cut by Enforcer’s batons and the mines paying less and less, blaming it on ‘rising costs’, your boyfriend was starting to become desperate. You could see it in his eyes – an alien anger bubbling under the surface, being stoked day after day as more of your friends suffered at the hands of topside. 

You froze in the doorway of your bedroom, your breath hitching as your eyes locked onto him. He was bent over a half-packed bag, his hands moving frantically to pack supplies in. 

“What are you doing?” you demanded, your voice cutting through the silence. 

His head snapped, that unusual anger flashing behind his eyes again before he continued packing. 

“A job needs doing,” he said curtly, voice sharp. 

You frowned, stepping into the room, your confusion evident as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Do you really think that is a good idea right now?” 

He didn’t bother looking at you, brushing off your concern with a shake of his head.

“The enforcers–”

“The enforcers are getting more dangerous by the day,” he snapped, cutting you off, pausing just long enough to glare at you. “They don’t give a shit if they kill a few of us so long as we stay down here and out of their way. And I’m not having it.” 

Your chest tightened, “But I can’t have you on the receiving end,” you stressed, trying to keep your voice level.

“So what?” he scoffed bitterly, “I let the others take the beating when they are only following our instructions?” 

“No,” you huffed, growing increasingly irate as he started to twist your words. “No one should be in that position. That’s my point. We can’t fight violence with violence.” You planted your hands on your hips as you stared at him down, watching as he slipped his knife into his pocket. “I have a right to be worried!” You pressed, your voice cracking with desperation when he ignored you. “All this talk of riots, fighting – this isn’t you!” 

He froze for just a second, the faintest twitch of hesitation in his shoulders, but it was fleeting. The bile in your throat rose as you swallowed hard, your voice trembling. “You’re scaring me.”

Silco huffed derisively, lips ticking up with a bitter smile, “I thought you said you were with me to the end? That you were willing to do anything to achieve our freedom?” he spat, his voice low and dangerous as he zipped the bag closed decisively. Swinging it over his shoulder, he fixed you with a glare. “They will never give power to us. We have to take it.”

“Yes, but not like this,” you pleaded, trailing after him as he brushed past you. “I can’t see anyone get hurt – especially not you.” 

He stopped briefly in the hallway. “Then you’ll just have to learn that I can take care of myself.”

Before you could reply, he moved to step around you, but you planted yourself firmly in his path, your body a barrier in the narrow corridor. “Now let me pass,” he growled.

You kept your eyes on his as you stepped aside slowly, following the back of his head down the corridor until he disappeared down the stairs. 

You sighed, closing your eyes briefly to try and calm yourself down, opening them again to find Vander standing in his doorway, looking from the stairs to you confused, 

“What was that about?” 

“You know what,” you huffed, trudging back to your room again and slamming the door. 

“Have you seen Silco?” your voice was laced with worry as you called out across the bar. It was always strangely quiet after closing, the only sounds being the jukebox and Vander’s slightly off-tune humming. 

“Not since he went out earlier, why?” Felicia was finishing up wiping down the bar as you descended the stairs. 

“Is he really not back yet?” Vander put his towel down, brows furrowing with concern. You shook your head, pulling your jacket tighter to your body. It was one of Silco’s old mining jackets that you had fixed up and claimed as your own. His worker’s number had nearly worn off by now, and a few of the buckles had snapped and come off, but it was still comfortable. Its weight was comforting when he wasn’t around. 

“I’m going to go and look for him,” you decided out loud, taking sudden sure steps towards the doors, reaching for the lock. 

“Woah there soldier,” Vander’s hand clapped gently on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks, “I don’t think that’s a great idea looking like that at this time of night,” He gestured to the workers patch on the jacket. “They’re looking for any excuse to trouble the workers at the moment.” 

You shrugged him off, fingers reaching for the handle again, “All the more reason to look for him,” you pressed, voice firm. “You can either help me, or wait here to let me in when I’m back.” You pushed out of the door, letting it swing closed behind you as you disappeared into the smog. 

“You should go after them,” Felicia’s voice echoed around the empty bar, nodding to the door as Vander turned to her exasperated. “I’ll close up here.” 

"What about the kids?"

"Connoll an wrangle them, I'm sure. Now go," she pressed.

“You sure?” She nodded, and his shoulders relaxed, muttering a thanks as he trudged upstairs to get his boots. 

Silco’s head tilted with confusion when he slipped his key into the bar door and found it already unlocked. He pushed at it warily, gripping the thin piece of cut metal between his knuckles as he cautiously stepped inside.

Vander never left the door unlocked. 

Rather than finding a break in, everything was in perfect order. He kept his haunches up as he closed and locked the door behind him slowly, eyes flitting around in the dark as he dropped his bag and tucked his key back into his back pocket. That’s when he noticed it. It was nearly invisible in the dark, but at the right angle, the red droplets caught the lights from the neon outside. The splattered blood leading from his feet to the door to the basement. 

His hand instinctively reached into his pocket as he descended the long staircase quietly, fishing out his knife and flicking it open, trying to listen in to the hushed voices on the other side, pushing it open slowly and peering through the gap at those below. 

His heart leapt to his throat as he stepped across the threshold, his eyes landing on a frantic Felicia trying to patch someone up as they laid on the tattered patchwork sofa. 

Vander turned at the sound of the door creaking, his broad frame blocking the frantic chaos until he shifted just enough for Silco to see clearly.

And then the world tilted.

Silco’s knife slipped from his grasp, the clang echoing off the walls as it hit the floor. His throat tightened, his breath catching as his eyes fixed on your face – bruised, battered, and unnervingly still. His pulse roared in his ears. 

“Silco–” Vander’s sounded like he was trying to calm a scared animal, Felicia looked up for a second before going back to dabbing blood from a cut on your head. The mountain of a man moved quickly as Silco descended the steps, eyes wide and skin even paler than usual as he took staggered steps towards the couch. 

“What happened– wha-”

His brother stepped in front of him, blocking you from his view as he tried to push past, caging him against the banister. “Close your eyes, you don’t want to see this.” 

Vander’s words only served to worry him more as he grasped him firmly by the shoulder, trying to stop the smaller man pushing desperately against his far larger frame as he tried to get to you. Nevertheless, Silco’s head ducked under his arm, managing to slip out of the jacket in his tight grip to weave around him.

He took a few hurried yet staggered steps forwards, jaw slackening as he tried to assess the damage, bile rising in his throat as you laid there bruised and bloody and, most worryingly, not unconscious. 

“Wha–“ his voice trailed off, knees going weak as he attempted to get to your side, only for Vander to grasp his shoulder firmly, putting himself between him and you again like a brick wall. Silco tried to fight against him again, swearing to the high heavens, only to have Vander’s arms tighten around him, nearly lifting him from the floor. 

“Get off me!” Silco snarled, his movements growing more frantic. His voice cracked as he pushed and clawed against Vander’s hold. 

Vander was saying something to him, but he couldn’t make it out over the rush of blood in his ears. 

‘Let her work — fight — hit head’

Silco stilled, energy giving way to pure panic as he made out some of the words. His eyes finally flicked up to Vander’s, his brother looking at him pitifully. He was going to be sick. 

“Are they…” he started, voice weak and scratchy from his previous cursing. 

“They’re going to be fine,” Vander let out in a long huff, swallowing thickly.

“Who?” Silco’s voice suddenly hardened, fists clenching at his sides, nails digging into the skin to a degree that should have been painful, but he couldn’t feel it. 

“Enforcers,” Vander sighed bitterly, “that’s all we know. Thought they were a miner looking to cause trouble.”

“A miner?” Silco looked at him confused, frantic. His hair had mostly fallen from his hair tie in the struggle, making him look even wilder than he did already. 

“They had your jacket…” he explained cautiously. “They had gone out looking for you. I went after them but lost them in the fog–”

A small, pained groan had both men twisting round quickly, Silco’s eyes wide, breath sticking in his chest as he saw you start to move. In an instant he had pushed past his brother, feet moving more surely as someone moved out of his way, letting him drop to his knees beside your head.

His hands hovered for a moment either side of your face, eyes scanning over the damage, flicking up to the now bloodied miners badge on the tattered jacket as it lay slung across the back of the sofa and feeling the bile rise in his throat again. 

His hand came down gently to rest on your hair, finally releasing his breath when he felt you lean into it just minutely. 

“Sil?…” It was little more than a breath, but he heard it, fingers immediately starting to stroke your hair gently as he shushed you.

“I’m right here,” he cooed softly. “You’re gonna be okay.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself of that fact as you hissed at the pain.

Besides the sizable gash on your head, you had a few other decent bruises across your torso from what he could see, and a vile looking hand mark on your forearm. The sight made him seethe, the anger bubbling in his chest again as his stomach churned. His teeth ground together, his jaw set so tight it ached, and yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away. 

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay…” 

You hissed as you stood up, the pain in your back flaring. You took a moment, eyes closed as you bit back the ache. 

“You shouldn’t be moving around yet.” 

You exhaled slowly, looking up at your bedroom door as Silco pushed it closed behind him. He was eyeing you carefully as he crossed to you, hands coming to your elbows to help ease you back down to your mattress. 

“I can’t stay in here forever. Work needs to be done,” you groaned, batting his hand away as you relaxed back onto your bed, fists gripping at the duvet. 

“And that work can be covered by the rest of us,” he pressed, fishing a bottle of painkillers out of his pocket and placing them on your nightstand. 

“Where did you get those?” Your brow furrowed as you leaned over to pick them up, glancing over the little pills through the murky glass before glancing up to him, skeptical. 

“You don’t need to know that, you just need to take them.” 

You put the bottle down again, fingers lingering on the cap as you raise a brow, “If you tell me you risked yourself for the sake of a few hours of pain relief I am going to beat you worse than they–”

He looked at you pointedly, hands buried deep in his pockets and a brow raised as he rolled his tongue into his cheek, daring you to finish your sentence. You swallowed thickly instead. 

“Just take them.” 

You sighed, picking the bottle up again and twisting off the lid, tapping two out onto your palm and shooting them back. 

“Thank you.” 

He lifted himself up to sit on your small desk, shuffling a few of his notebooks out of the way to make room as he scottled back, leaning against the wall. 

“Why did you follow me?” 

You had been waiting for this question. You had sensed it on the tip of his tongue a few times. Each time, however, he had swallowed it down, exchanging it for concern about how you felt, or if the pillows were comfortable enough, or if you were sure you were okay being held and he wasn’t hurting you. 

You swallowed thickly, the pills feeling a little like they had stuck in your throat. “Because I was worried about you.” You tried to shrug, but quickly realised it wasn’t worth the ache. 

He huffed a humourless laugh through his nose, piercing eyes meeting yours as he leaned his head against the wall. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I never want you doing that again. You mean too much to me, and I can’t keep you safe if I don’t know you’re out there.”  

You both settled into a comfortable silence again as you shuffled back further against your pillows, trying your best to hide your wince. 

“I understand now.” 

Silco picked his head up from the wall, cocking it slightly as he tried to put together what you were referring to, his eyes widening a little when it clicked. 

“If all they know is violence, that’s all they’ll respond to.” You pulled your cheek between your teeth as your gaze landed on the bruises on your wrists from where they had held them behind your back. 

Silco pushed himself off the desk, coming to sit beside you on the mattress carefully. His hands slid beneath yours , his thumbs running softly over the marks as he largely hid them from your eyes, forcing you to look at him, his gaze flicking between your eyes softly. 

“We’ll show them,” he muttered, bringing his lips down to press against your knuckles gently. “We will show them all.” 

[pinklunarprincess]

Okay but I’m like OBSESSED with the idea of Silco with a translator… like YESSSS

Ab Voce Ad Rem (Silco×gn!Reader)

Before a deal with potential partners from abroad who happen to only speak your native language, Silco asks you to serve as an interpreter. But there's a twist.

Word count: 2,7K

Tags: NSFW, established relationship, kinda henchman!reader if ya squint, dirty talk, non consensual voyeurism (?), no pronounces and gendered genitals mentioned

P.s.: based on my own two year old prompt also this is self indulgent bc I need to give my translation degree some justice

"You know how much I hate it!" You exclaim, settling on a poorly cushioned settee with familiarity allowed to so few under Silco's employ. Limbs sprawl out on the red velvet, an exasperated sigh followed by a groan escapes your lips before you tilt your head up to look at him, masterfully pretending to be hard at work with his mismatched gaze focused intently on the dissaray of papers strewn before him on the desk. Asshole.

"Indeed. I also happen to know how fortunate I am to have someone as... linguistically skilled as you by my side, my dear." He finally breaks the tense silence without looking up at you, his voice slightly hoarser and deeper than usual, a testament to how much time had passed since he last parted his lips to utter a sound. To ask you to be his oral translator for a deal to come. "I assure you - it will not be as tedious as you dread it to be. I simply aim to corroborate that our interests align with those of our... potential business partners."

The words roll of his tongue lacking the usual sting and strictness he employs whenever he wants to make sure he is not just heard, but understood. Thoroughly so.

Instead, the deep velvet of his voice seems to soften, smoothing all the sharp angles out as he adresses you, his little dove, his confidant. His lover.

But his tender tone and insistent reassurance serve a poor job soothing your blooming anxiety. The prospect of performing the role of an interpreter during a business deal, where someone as well spoken and quick witted as Silco will undoubtedly lead the conversation, using intricate proverbs and slithering the words you've never heard before into his speech, doesn't excite you. Well,it does. But not in a good way.

You shuffle in your seat, making the settee groan in protest under your shifting weight as you move to rise to your feet, arms reaching out above your head as you stretch your whole body. A pleasant feeling of your muscles growing taut and the tiny gas bubbles crackling in-between your joints presents itself as a good-enough distraction from the thoughts concerning your new task at hand. Your top rides up, exposing the slightest of slivers of your belly, a sight you know Silco would appreciate, before you arms flail back to your sides and you catch him staring, shamelessly so. Of course. You giggle and stride over to his desk, feeling the cold metal of it's rimmed edge press against the back of your thighs before you hoist yourself up to sit fully on top of the work surface, your ass landing right beside the papers he's been pretending to be so engrossed in.

"You were drooling there, mister boss," your hand reaches out to pluck a pen from his hand, meeting zero resistance from his side. "If you plan on staring at me like this while I'm hard at work, doing insane mental gymnastics to translate words from one language to another, and on top of that make sure that the denseheads you're doing business with can comprehend it... well, it'll be a challenge."

The man let's out a low chuckle and looks up at you at last, scooting his chair closer to where you've perched yourself so comfortably, now free hands coming up to rest on your thighs and parting them slightly to settle in-between.

"When have you ever shied away from a challenge, my sweet?" he murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, thin lips lingering on the heated skin as he continues to speak. "You know I don't employ weaklings... and you... you are a far cry from one."

Silco's fingers draw intricate patterns on your thighs, causing the hairs there to stand up and adorn the usually smooth skin with small bumps, a clear testament to how much your body enjoys his gentle ministrations. You let out a soft sigh, leaning your head back and puffing your chest out, eager to be even closer to him.

"Silver tongue..." you whisper, unable to hold back a quivering, breathy laugh. "At least tell me more about what you plan on talking about, so I could prepare... you owe me that much, don't you?"

A soft hum echoes through the warm thick air of his office, charged with the combined scent of his vices, cologne and your perfume. A sound of his lips pressing a wet kiss against the skin of your neck follows soon after.

"And ruin such a lovely surprise?" Silco asks, in a mockingly sweet tone so uncharacteristic of him. "No, my dear. You're on your own here. Besides..."

The long fingers skillfully wriggle his pen out of your loosened grip, having utilised his affectionate nature to dull your senses and rightfully take his belonging back. Silco chuckles once more as he scoots away, your pathetic whines of protest caused by the sudden loss of both a writing utensil and his proximity serving to amuse him to no end. "By dignifying your request, I would risk sharing confidential information. And that is a fairly unfortunate issue to deal with. Terrible for the business."

The teal, healthy eye crinklesat the corner as Silco smiles at you, having repositioned his chair to where it was situated right before you had decided to make yourself feel at home in the confines of his workspace. His gaze lingers on you for a few more moments before he schools his expression back into the mask of a kingpin everyone fears and respects, cold and unyielding. Silco tilts the pen in his hand, poising the ink stained tip right above a piece of parchment littered with various numbers and names. He nods towards the door without lifting his gaze, a clear gesture for you to take your leave.

"Move along, dove. Prepare well. They will arrive in no time."

🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

"Господа, Силко безмерно благодарен вам за изьявленное вами желание сотрудничать с его... корпорацией.¹" You repeat the words Silco had uttered moments prior, your gaze flickering down to the notes you've made as you listened to him speak, then up to the men sitting on two ridiculously small chairs poised before a coffee table and the settee you and Silco were currently occupying. He doesn't look your way, not even once, his mismatched eyes set exclusively on the men in front of him. A pair of sketchy looking men to be precise, one buff and bald with a ridiculous curled moustache, and the other scrawny and neurotic, tar black hair parted in the middle and bathed in unfathomable amounts of pomade.

The bald guy tenses his jaw as he leans forward, meaty elbows resting on his knees.

"Да, да, на здоровье, папаша. Ты лучше расскажи ка нам об условиях, а?²"He says in a deep baritone, a teasing edge adorning the condescending words. "Мы не будем рисковать шкурами за мизерный процент и паль. Товар должен быть отменным, а прибыль - ну, ты сам знаешь. Видать давно тут варишься³."

You clear your throat and poke the inside of your cheek with the tip of your tongue as you write down the man's words, so crude and foolish had Silco understood them the guy would've already been laying in the gutter with his throat slit. But you'll let Silco in on all the details later, no need to ruin a potentially good deal by personal disputes. You turn to Silco, your tongue peeking out to wet your dry lips before you speak.

"Our guests here would like to know more about the terms of the deal, sir. They say they don't want to risk their lives for small profits, or fail their clients by selling bad quality products."

Silco takes in your words, languidly leaning against the back of the settee, one leg thrown over the other as he keeps his gaze focused solely on his potential business partners still. A quiet hum rumbles in the back of his throat as he digests what he had heard from you and what he had managed to gather himself from observing the bald ones tone and body language, deft fingers reaching into an intricately ornated cigar case and pulling out a fresh one. The sound of a lighter flickering open is followed by a soft hiss of burning tobacco as Silco lights the cigar up and takes his first drag, the rich scent lacing the stuffy air with it's uniquely pungent fragrance. He exhales the smoke through his nose as he leans forward, one natural brow arched up as it's drawn twin remains straight.

"I don't believe I have given you reason to doubt my professionalism in the field. Ask those who had ever had the opportunity of working with me - if the likes of you would even be allowed to step a foot near them." He can't hold back a sneer as he says the last part, as arrogant as ever. Silco takes another drag from his cigar, unceremoniously exhaling the thick smoke in the direction of the men. "Do your job well and get twenty percent of the profits. You either accept MY terms, agree to aid me in allocating my product beyond the borders of your fair homeland and get well rewarded for it, or you take your leave. There is no paucity of people willing to perform your potential duties for a far lesser price."

Your pencil scribbles furiously against the paper as you rush to put down the main points of Silco's lengthy reply. A shaky exhales escapes your lips as you pull back to look at the foreigners, poor semblance of a polite smile gracing your features.

"Силко уверяет, что у вас нет причин сомневаться в его профессионализме. Он готов отдавать вам двадцать процентов от прибыли и если вы не согласитесь с его условиями, то он найдёт других желающих помочь в распространении его товара на территории вашего государства.⁴"

The bald man crinkles his nose and furrows his brows, clearly angered at the nonchalant and dismissive response from the kingpin. His mouth curves in dissatisfaction and he bares his teeth as he prepares to snark back before his comrade beats him to it.

"А договориться н-никак нельзя? Двадцать процентов это мало для нас.⁵" The scrawny man asks in a shaky voice, a well pronounced Adam's apple bulging against the skin of his frail neck as he swallows nervously.

The question is repeated to Silco by you in a language he understands, to which he doesn't reply immediately. Instead, he rolls his eyes and leans even further back against the couch, taking another lazy drag from his cigar, as if completely unaware of the presence of two strangers sitting right in front of him. This is getting boring, too much hassle and too much sass to deal with. Not all the pawns he's willing to put onto his board are as peculiar as those two - having the nerve to come to him, bargain and act like they're the ones doing him a favour? Truly a pair of fools, but bold ones, Silco will give them that. They'll go far. Just not in association with him.

The man turns to look at you at last, a semblance of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes meet yours. Silco slightly tilts his head and takes in your wound up state, how a pencil is gripped tightly in your fingers as you await for his response, how eager you are to write it down and transmit it into a language he'll never bother himself with learning. What a sight. His beloved dove so hard at work, so desirous to please him. How fortunate he is to have you, indeed.

Silco's gaze hardens once more as he spares the men an indifferent, almost bored glance. One final drag and the cigar is discarded, the glowing ember distinguished as he presses the tip against the bottom of a ceramic ashtray settled on the coffee table. He has to draw some amusement from the dire situation. And he will.

"Tell those imbeciles that once they leave, I'll take you." He almost growls as he says that, yet his voice remains even. "Right on the desk. Finish what we started earlier."

Your eyes widen enough to the point of almost bulging out of your sockets. The pencil in your hand cracks as your grip on it tightens and you barely hold back a surprised yelp at his sudden admission.

You catch the men looking at you in confusion, not having the slightest idea of what your boss had just said, and you intend to keep it that way.

"С- Силко говорит, что поднять процент не представляется возможным...⁶"

You come up with a sloppy lie, hoping they'll take it. And judging by their expressions, clearly weirded out by your sudden flustered state, they didn't.

But Silco seemed to care very little about the fact.

"First, I'll spread those beautiful thighs of yours and bury my face in between them, use my lips and tongue, make the sweet needy sounds I've come to adore to spill from your lips," he continues, looking the men straight in the eyes as he describes the filth you two will indulge in once the visitors are out the door. But the tone of his voice and the way he holds himself up serve to deceive the oblivious audience, making it seem as if he's still rambling about the stupid deal that was doomed to fail from the very start. "And once I've brought you to the brink of pleasure, I'll take you. Bury myself to the hilt, make you moan and cry out my name, loud enough to be heard through the tasteless music coming from below."

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, squeezing your thighs together as you vividly picture his promise to you, counting seconds until it's fulfilled. There's no need to take any more notes now, your mind is focused on a completely different topic. You look up at the men once again, sensing how their confusion had heightened.

"Че он говорит?⁷" The bald one asks you after a long pause, the earlier anger in his voice now replaced with bewilderment. "Всё таки накидывать не будет?⁸"

Your lips part as you exhale shakily, moving your head from side to side.

"Н-нет, не будет...⁹"

"А че он ещё сказал? Долго же моросил.¹⁰"

A snicker falls from your lips as you steal a quick glance at Silco, as stoic as ever, as if he's not currently in the process of arousing you to the point of madness. In front of strangers, nonetheless.

"Либо двадцать процентов, либо выметайтесь отсюда...¹¹" you almost whine out, unable to control the words spilling from your lips as your whole body throbs and pulses, the heady feeling of feverish heat enveloping you, suffocating you. You are practically hallucinating the sensation of Silco's touch, of his hands groping and caressing you, of his eager mouth and tongue probing and tasting, licking and sucking, making you feel like you've ascended, known pleasures too great to be considered earthly.

The harshness of your breathy statement causes the men to falter and exchange confused glances.

"Tell them I'll finish inside you, too. Claim you as mine, completely and utterly. And I'll remained sheathed inside you until I grow aroused once more," Silco suddenly chimes in once more, a smug smirk adorning his scarred face, the mismatched gaze flickering with mischief. "Can you guess what will happen next, my sweet?"

"You'll fuck me again..." you whisper, paying no mind to the baffled audience now.

His smirk widens.

"Good dove."

Silco's expression shifts as focuses his attention on the visitors for a fragment of a second, his expression stone cold as waves his hand towards the exit, the gesture clear enough to be understood despite the language barrier. The men scurry to their feet and leave the office, exchanging murmurs and curses on their way out.

Once the door closes behind them with a prominent click, you all but pounce on the man beside you, lips hungrily crushing against his as you hurry to straddle his lap. He responds to your desire with equal fervor, groaning into the kiss at the feeling of your ass grinding against him and your trembling hands struggling to untie the intricate knot of his tie. Silco's hands come to rest on your hips as he brings you closer and he let's out a soft chuckle at your sloppy eagerness. You pull back, just enough to have the tip of your nose brush against his, your hot breathing mingling with his.

"You're the worst."

Silco chuckles once more.

"Yet here you are."

1. Gentlemen, Silco is immensely grateful for your expressed desire to cooperate with his... corporation.

TRANSLATIONS:

Title translation: "From Words to Action"

2. Yeah, yeah, you're welcome, pops. You better tell us about the terms, eh?

3. We won't risk our hides for a poor percentage and shitty wares. The product must be excellent, and the profit - well, you know. You've been here a long time.

4. Silco assures you that you have no reason to doubt his professionalism. He is ready to give you twenty percent of the profit and if you do not agree with his terms, he will find others willing to help in the distribution of his goods on the territory of your state.

5. Can't we make a deal? Twenty percent is not enough for us.

6. S- Silco says that it is not possible to raise the percentage.....

7. What is he saying?

8. He won't throw some more on?

9. N-no, he won't.

10. What else did he say? He's been yapping for a long time.

11. Either accept twenty percent, or get the hell out of here ...

[pinklunarprincess]

sfw; modern neighbor!vi au

cool but enough about that. thinking about vi who lives in the same apartment building as you and is on the same floor just a few doors down, who sees you struggling with some boxes when moving in so she sweeps in to your rescue and well i mean you're not one to look a-gift-horse-muscular-butch in the mouth when she's so valiantly offering to carry these boxes for you.

who introduces herself and tells you that she lives here with her sister, who's studying mechanical engineering at the university. her? oh, she's a freelancer! you know how it is these days, teaches boxing at the local gym, helps her dad with the family bar on the weekends sometimes, "bit of this and a bit of that." and it sounds like she doesn't wanna talk about it all that much so you don't ask.

you ask her in for a cup of coffee, say it's the least you can do to thank her for helping you with the boxes.

"pleasure's mine, helping a pretty girl like you."

woof.

you swallow, busying yourself with your beat up little moka pot, asking her if she wants sugar or creamer. both, she says, and you pause, looking over your shoulder. she's leant up against your half-unpacked sofa, her arms knitted loosely over her chest.

"what? i've always like my stuff with a little bit of sugar."

it's a simple enough statement but the way she says it makes all your fingers and toes tingle. you swallow, fiddling with the fraying edges of your sweater sleeve.

"yeah, no -- that's --"

you jump as the moka starts to bubble and you pull it off the stove, feeling the same heat working it's way into your skin.

it's easy, so easy, after that. she offers to help you unpack (only if you need it of course) and well, you could use another pair of hands. you tell her that you'll pay her in pizza, and she smiles so wide you can see the hint of a dimple etching itself into her cheek.

you end up spending the whole day together, and when all the boxes are broken down and tamped into a pile by the door, your fingers grease-stained, sitting curled up on your now fully built-out couch, with plastic cups of prosecco, she sighs, staring into the bubbling liquid with a smile just a hitch away from sadness.

"cool! well -- thanks for the pizza," she sets down the cup and pushes up off the couch. you clear your throat and scramble up as well, pressing your palms into your thighs.

"no! thank you for helping me --" you motion around your apartment, "and uh --" you chew on your lips, teetering on the balls of your feet.

"if you ever wanna hang out," vi says, grinning as she rounds the sofa, glancing over her shoulder, "i'm just two doors down."

you slump down onto the sofa, pressing a hand to your chest, feeling it's wild, fluttering beat beneath your palm as you try to steady your breathing.

a few days later, you knock on her door, only to find a girl with shocking blue space buns and a pair of magnifying goggles on her head that make her look truly unhinged.

"who're you?"

you blink, fingers clutched around a large mug.

"uh -- uhm -- i just -- i moved in to the unit two doors down a few days ago and i was -- i was wondering if i could -- borrow some... sugar?" you hold out the mug, wondering if you've just royally fucked up.

"powder? who's at the door?" vi's voice calls out just as the girl with blue hair opens her mouth.

powder pauses, a sly smirk twisting the edge of her lips as she pushes up her goggles to reveal bright blue eyes just a few shades darker than vi's.

"oh no one, juuuuust... the super cute neighbor you couldn't shut up about from a few days ag --"

something clanks from further in the apartment and the girl named powder gets yanked back as vi appears, wide-eyed and a bit disheveled, clearing her throat as she almost crashes into her doorframe.

"h-hi! what -- what're you doing here?"

"i uhm --" you swallow, warmth prickling beneath your skin.

"sugar," powder says, rolling her eyes, waving a hand as she prances back into the apartment.

"sugar...?" vi asks, almost uncomprehending.

you lick your lips, holding out the cup, "yeah... i -- uh -- ran out..."

vi blinks down at the empty mug for a second too long before her eyes flash up to meet yours.

"yeah? what've you been up to, using so much sugar?"

you lick your lips, biting down on our bottom lip as she steps back to motion you into the apartment. it's not big, but it is cozy, sticky-notes and doodles littering almost every available surface, cups with day-old coffee/water/tea cluttered on the countertops. but vi reaches up into the cupboards and tugs down the sugar bag.

"i --" you cut off as she fills up your cup.

you don't want to tell her that you were trying to bake cupcakes of all things. and for her no less.

"ahh... don't wanna tell me? s'okay -- fine then, keep your secrets," she teases, shooting you a tiny wink as she leans up to put the sugar back.

"it's --" you nearly trip over your words as they tumble out of you, "i was -- wanted to make some cupcakes -- f-for... you..." you force out, turning away as her eyes widen slightly, "but i keep fucking up the measurements so --" you chance her another glance.

vi watches you with a soft smile, leaning against her kitchen counter.

"for me, sugar?"

you nod, now feeling impossibly hot as she vi slates you a knowing smile.

"well, lemme know when you're done," she says, "and uh..." she glances down at your sugar cup, "don't be afraid to put in a little extra for me, okay?"

you walk back to your own apartment in a daze, staring down at the cup of white sugar grains as you finally get back to your kitchen and set the mug down. you look at the two batches of failed cupcakes sitting on the counter and sigh, a helpless little smile ticking up the corner of your lips as you remember the twinkle in vi's eyes as she'd told you to add a little more sugar for her.

you drop your face into your hands with a loud groan, slumping back onto the couch, letting your feet dangle off the side as you stare at the light-stricken ceiling.

and you say, to no one in particular --

"i am so, so fucked."

[pinklunarprincess]

Helllooooo!!! I was wondering if you could maybe write something of Silco x Reader where reader suffers from headaches and he gives them a shoulder/head massage 👀 it’s can be fluffy, sensual, sexual…. However you want!! Xoxo!!!😘

Scattering Tension

With Silco’s busy schedule and chaotic life, one would assume he was the one who needed the constant care in any relationship. Did he need to be pulled to bed? Yes. Did he need to be reminded to eat? Occasionally. However, that was not the case.

He was actually a very attentive lover. He was in touch with your and your body seemingly better than you were. He would be able to spot the signs before you and drag you away to rest before things got bad.

Today was one of those days. You were unable to focus. Everything just went through one ear, around the boiling pain, and then right out the other.

The pain was behind your eye. It carved through the tissue into your brain. You could feel the blood rushing through your veins and the pain pulsed with it. It wounded its way into your teeth. The muscles of your jaw pulled tight. That tautness went down the back of your neck and into the tissues of your shoulders.

You felt a pair of cold, long fingers press into your temples. The pressure forced apart nerves. A moment of relief was granted to you as they no longer bounced against one another.

You leaned back. A soft chuckle was given in reply.

Two fingers pressed against your temples. Another two curled at the connection of your jaw. The knuckles dug into the tight muscles. A thumb was behind your ear. It was soft and caressing in comparison to the pressure of the other fingers.

“You work yourself too hard,” Silco’s voice said.

His chin brushed against your hair but you could still smell the smoke and ash on his breath. It brought you comfort.

You wanted to give some witty reply about a pot and a kettle or something of the sort but the knuckles which worked your jaw were too nice to part with. Instead you simply groaned.

The fingertips at your temples moved further down. They rubbed at the soft tissue until they met the hardness of your cheekbone. They passed beneath your eye and down.

The knuckles left your jaw but not before circling up one last time to the place at the top where your muscles were gathered. A final, hard press was given to them like a farewell kiss.

You were made aware of every piece of gathered muscle, tissue, and even the veins which rolled between and through as Silco’s hands wrapped around your neck. His thumb pushed and a hum left you. The tension was slowly ebbing away. A tide of pain and pleasure came to you as it did.

“You’re too good at this,” you said.

His hands flattened. He gathered up your skin and grabbed. The flat of his hand rolled at the back of your neck. His fingers pushed into the underside of your jaw.

“What can I say? I’m good with my hands,” you could hear the sly, pleased grin on his face.

You couldn’t even retort. His was right. In all the underlaying ways he was implying, he was right. He was a man who knew how to use his hands and use them well.

[pinklunarprincess]

Nothing like a good TV show to make you question your sexuality all over again

[pinklunarprincess]

your way, my way - Young!Silco x gn!reader

Notes: These are two requests Igot at the end of last mnth that I decided would work perfectly together! I hope you don't mind me melding them together Warnings/Rating: mild argument, mentions of bullet wound, | E for Everyone Wordcount: 3.4k Synopsis/request: Hiii darling, do you think you could please do the prompts(if you are fine doing three)? "That's not what I meant, and you know that" "You could have died, you know" and "I have the right to be worried!" For a young!silco x reader where they are still friends but clearly are pinning for each other hard. In which the reader does some kind of job that ends with them almost getting fatally hurt, but they aren't taking it seriously(angst..just as much as you can fit in with fluff) & Hi loooove <3 can I ask for silco (idk young or not, u decide which one is better in this one) with "You're definitely the only person I would do that for" & "I know u love when I play with your hair" when u guys are on the mission and u get shot protecting silco cuz shot was supposed to hurt him

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

“Why are you so fidgety today?”

Silco glanced up briefly from his scope as you groaned, reaching up to stretch out your shoulders as you shifted uncomfortably from laying on your stomach to your knees. 

He turned back to continue watching the enforcers unloading a cart of crates just across the bridge as you huffed, rubbing at your neck, “there are only so many days I can do this before I start to lose my mind. I don’t know how you do it.” 

You could hear his snigger, his lips ticking up to smirk as he continued to watch the Pilties carefully. “It is called patience, it's a virtue.” 

Your scoff forced itself past your lips before you could think better of it, “are you implying that you are virtuous?” you challenged, twisting to pull your legs from under you and sit more comfortably. 

“I take it you don’t agree?” His brow lifted despite his gaze remaining trained across the river, fingers carefully adjusting the focus.

“They are not the words I would use, exactly…” you drawled, fighting your grin when you heard him chuckle, the sound rumbling from his chest as he broke his concentration just a little, risking glancing back at you for a moment before you settled back into your silence again.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy your stakeouts with Silco. So far as stakeouts went, they were a lot more fun than going on your own, but they were still tedious at the best of times. You were not one for sitting still and waiting around. You would much rather just quickly sneak in and deal with problems as they crop up – it was why you and Vander had become such fast friends.

Your best friend, on the other hand, preferred things slow and methodical. He had nearly hung you both up by your necks when you last did that, and had refused to let you pull a job like it since. 

Your eyes wandered again, lingering a little on the side of his face as he laid on his stomach, propped up on his elbows. He somehow managed to stay completely still. A part of you wondered if it was the almost constant tension he held in his shoulders that helped hold him upright – a result, you hypothesised, of far-too-long work hours, taking himself too seriously, and a staunch aversion to anything that might help him relax. 

You lingered for a moment, watching as his tongue darted out to wet his lips absentmindedly as he concentrated. Then, without much thought, your hand reached out for his hair, pulling the hair tie out gently and letting his locks fall down around his face. 

“What on earth are you doing?” he pulled away from his scope again with furrowed brows, flicking his head to move some of the hair from his forehead as he frowned at you, waiting for an answer. 

“You look tense,” you shrugged, “and I know you love it when I play with your hair.” 

“Do you really think that now is the time for this?” How words came from behind tight lips as he turned back to watching the enforcers. 

You shrugged, threading your fingers through his hair regardless and scraping your nails against his scalp gently, watching as his shoulders started to relax against his will, a soft sigh escaping his nose at the feeling of your fingers massaging away the residual tightness from his hair tie. 

“You don’t appear to be doing anything to stop me,” you pointed out through your grin, completely forgetting about the job at hand as you shuffled a little closer to him to make it easier.

You had always toed the line between friends and something more with Silco, and you were not the only one to have picked up on it. On more than one occasion, Vander had walked in on you with your fingers tangled in your Silco’s hair, as he sat on the floor between your legs, or he had had to pull him away from leaning over the bar and talking to you all night rather than actually helping him serve the drinks. 

And still, neither of you dared to address it.

Another sigh fell from his lips as he dopped his head down a little, lowering the scope as his eyes closed instinctually, the tension slowly easing from his muscles.

“Yes, well you make a compelling argument.” He tossed the scope to one side, pressing his hands beneath his shoulders to push himself up to his knees, your hand falling from his head as he started packing up his bag. “Unfortunately, we have to move.”

“Why?” you started packing up your odd few bits anyway. 

“They’re moving and I still can’t tell if they stuff is worth the job, so, we are doing things your way.” 

Your eyes lit up, “You’re serious?”

You grinned when he nodded, throwing your bag over your shoulders with far more enthusiasm than you had a few moments ago, waiting a little impatiently as Silco tied his hair back up. 

“We are only following them for a bit, we are not getting involved in broad daylight.” He warned pointedly, looking at your from beneath his brows as he bowed his head to gather his hair more easily. 

“Fine, so long as we are not sitting still here any longer.” 

“And you stick with me–” he added quickly as you turned on your heal, “–no running off. We are not kids anymore.” 

“You offend me,” you turned, walking backwards for a few steps, dramatically holding your hand to your chest  in mock despair, “What do you take me for, anyway? I don’t have a death wish, you know.” 

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips quirking faintly at the corners as he hummed under his breath as he overtook you, long legs striding past you, “You have me fooled.” His voice was softer for a second, and you almost missed it as you hurried to fall into step with him. 

“How the hell did we end up here?” His words were spat from behind clenched teeth, punctuated with heavy breaths as you both bolted back across the bridge, the heavy boots of enforcers thundering behind you as you dodged back into the lanes. 

“It wasn’t my fault!” you seethed, trying your best to avoid slipping as you hightailed it around corners, weaving into the narrow passageways, close on Silco’s heels. “How was I to know those pipes were going to fall.” 

It was getting harder to talk through your heaving as you sped up, the enforcers boots sounding closer by the second.

Desperate, you both threw yourself over the edge, boots clattering against the roof of the building below as you dropped and rolled, scrambling back to your feet and heading for the other edge, eager to drop down further into the lanes. 

You ducked when resounding shots echoed over your head, your feet skidding from under you as you tensed with a wave of fear, eyes widening as you slipped down the angled roof. Silco was already paces ahead of you, launching himself across the narrow gap to the other building and dropping down, only turning when he heard your yelp as you skidded across the metal, palms tearing with the friction as you scampered back to your feet uneasily, ducking again when more shots rang out. 

His eyes widened, jaw falling slack as he sucked in useless breaths as he watched you rush the jump, arms flailing a little as you crossed the gap, landing with an uncerimonious thud that had you crying out. 

“I’m fine!” you called, pushing yourself to your feet again with a grimace, pain shooting through your nerves as you waved for him to press on, staggering a little as you picked up your pace. “Go!” 

He hesitated for a moment, flinching when a few more shots rang out around you, still, he refused to move until you had caught up, slinging himself over the edge for his feet to find the ledge before helping you to drop down between the pipes and balconies below. 

“Fuck, I never want to do that again.” Your eyes screwed shut as you bent over, your hand clutching at the shooting pain through your side as you tried to catch your breath. Each drag of thick air only served to make you feel more woozy, however, doing nothing to settle your racing heartrate. 

“And now you know why I want you and Vander doing it my way.” 

You would have scoffed, had you had the energy, but as it stood, you were far too exhausted. You slung your bag from around your shoulders, letting it drop with a thud to the ground beside you as you slumped against the wall, your head pounding with the blood rushing through your veins. 

“Is it so difficult for you to–” Silco suddenly cut himself short as he turned back to you, his hands stilling on the unraveling wraps around his wrist as his eyes focused on you in the dingey light of the alley, “–You’re bleeding.” 

His hands were quick to pull yours away from your side, his already pale skin getting paler when he saw the shredded, blood-soaked material of your top, his fingers quickly becoming sticky as you batted him away.

“It’s a scratch,” you puffed, wincing as you pressed your hand back over the wound. “A shot grazed me as I jumped. I’m fine.” 

He scoffed, unravelling one of the wraps from his wrists hurriedly before pulling your hands away from your skin.

“You are not fine,” he seethed, rushing to try and wrap the make shift gauze around your abdomen, using the wad of your ripped shirt to try and block most of the slowly oozing blood. “You were reckless, again. Gods, would it kill you to be careful so I don’t have to worry about your safety all the time?” 

If you had the energy to argue, you would have bit back, but now the adrenaline was slowly wearing off, you were finding it increasingly difficult to stay upright, let alone focus on the anger in his voice. 

“I’m sorry…” Your voice felt like sandpaper as you rasped out, your body starting to feel a lot heavier than it had ten minutes ago as you slumped further against the cold bricks behind you, your aching muscles gnawing at you to lie down. “You go ahead, I’ll catch up.”  

The rushing sound in your ears made it hard to catch his response as your vision blurred, your limbs tingling now as you felt your legs give way beneath you, the world around you going murky as your knees hit the concrete with a crack. 

The incessant tapping was the first thing you noticed when your eyes pried open, the lids feeling impossibly heavy as you adjusted to the soft light around you. The sound was muffled, as if you were under water, as you came back to yourself, wincing as the pain hit you like a wave, emenating from your side and rushing through your body, every muscle feeling like it was concrete as you tried to raise a hand to your waist, fingers brushing against bandages. 

You made a slow attempt to look around, eyes narrowing as your headache made it tricky to focus, until you managed to make out Silco, sat with his head in his hands across from what you figured was your bed. His heel bouncing off the floor explaining the dull thudding that echoed around your cramped space. 

“I have enough of a headache without that, thanks.” You attempted to wet your lips, but your mouth was dry, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth as you pulled in a shallow breath. 

His head snapped up, usually icy eyes softening immediately as he saw yours open, his hands untangling themselves from pulling at his hair.  

“How are you feeling?” His voice sounded equally as tight, as if he had been sitting in the same position for hours. 

You attempted a shrug, but immediately regretted it. “Like I was shot and fell from a building.” 

He found it within himself to laugh, his shoulders relaxing a little at the sound of your achy voice after hours of unusual silence. 

“You could have died, you know.” His voice was softer now, barely above a whisper, his eyes darting away from yours and back down to the floor. 

“But I didn’t,” you said gently, watching him carefully, “I don’t know what all the fuss is about.” You turned back to your humour as a defense mechanism, trying to swallow down your guilt as you shuffled uncomfortably, sitting up very slowly against your pillows. You pulled your lip between your teeth and bit down as the pain shot through your side again. The last thing you wanted right now was another one of his lectures. 

"I have the right to be worried!" he pressed, his tone growing harsher with each word. 

You couldn’t look at him. Instead, your gaze drifted to the dingy window, the streaks of grime blurring the faint light outside as you chewed on the inside of his cheek. Your lash line burned with hot tears as you struggled to keep yourself calm. Was it not enough to have been beaten down once today? 

“Why?” you spat, your voice rising despite the throbbing ache in your head. It felt like your skull was splitting apart, but the pain only fueled your anger. “What would it matter if I did, huh? I’m reckless, you said so yourself. It seems like it would make your job easier.”

The words came out sharper, more bitter, than you intended, but you didn’t care, and for a second, you thought you saw him flinch. 

He leaned forward on the small stool, his elbows digging into his knees as his jaw clenched. He didn’t yell back, but the rage on his face was unmistakable – his teeth gritted. 

The silence stretched unbearably thin. You braced yourself for him to march out, but instead, he took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort.

His voice was scarily steady. “That’s not what I meant,” he said through tight lips. “And you know that.”

For a brief moment, you saw past the anger. Silco was scared. 

It wasn’t something that happened often. In fact, you cold only recall one other time you had seen him look like this, back when you were kids and you were running from enforcers for the first time, their masks glowing a terrible orange through the smog. You’d both had to curl up together to try and sleep for a week afterwards.

His hands were trembling slightly, his knuckles white as he clasped his hands rigidly. 

“But what am I supposed to do?” he asked, quieter now, “Allow you to continue to throw yourself in harms way for the sake of a few odd supplies?” 

The rawness in his voice made your breath hitch. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out.

He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back, trying to collect himself. “I can’t lose you,” he muttered, almost to himself, before his eyes met yours again. “I won’t.”

“Sil…” you attempted to sit forward again only for him to stand, his hand to pushing against your shoulder gently to ease you back against the pillow. You winced as you settled back against them, your hand pressing tentatively to the wraps around your wound as he perched on the edge of the bed, moving your hand slowly to check over the bleeding. 

You watched him work delicately, his fingers trailing over your skin carefully as he checked you over, eyes focused entirely on your side to avoid hurting you. 

“You aren’t going to lose me,” you spoke softly as he worked. His movements paused, hands overing over the gauze as he eased it back into place. “What kind of friend would I be if I wasn’t here to bicker with you.” 

You saw your opportunity, clasping his hand in yours tenderly and lacing your fingers with his as you had done so many times before. It only took a moment for him to squeeze it softly, bringing it up to his lips and letting your knuckles linger against them as he closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath as he nuzzled against your skin. 

“I want more,” he started, his breath fanning over your hand before he lowered it again, keeping his fingers wrapped around yours. You watched him, brows furrowing. “I can’t keep pretending that the way you play with my hair doesn’t send shivers down my spine, or that the way you laugh doesn’t make something in my chest ache, or that seeing you so close to–” he faltered, his words catching. The word death lodged in his throat, too sharp to say aloud. He coughed gently, clearing his throat.

“Being so close to losing everything, it was unbareable.” His eyes searched yours, almost desperate. “I’m done pretending, done tiptoeing around this,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly as his gaze dropped to where your hands were entwined. “If you don’t feel the same, I’ll live with it. I just... I can’t keep lying to myself.”

You swallowed hard, your heart thundering in your chest as the weight of his confession settled over you.

“Gods you can’t even ask me out without monologuing” you teased. His expression faltered for a heartbeat, confusion flickering in his eyes, but then he caught the glint of mischief in yours. His shoulders relaxed slightly, though his grip on your hand didn’t waver.

He scoffed, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Is this your way of letting me down gently?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing gently,  “Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, your tone light but warm. “I’m just enjoying the moment. For the record, I’ve wanted more for a long time, too. But you’re infuriatingly hard to read, you know that?”

“Hard to read?” he repeated, mock-offended. 

You attempted a shrug, “I thought, perhaps, I was seeing things that weren’t there. I didn’t want to take that risk with you.” 

“Really?” his eyes flicked back down to the hole in your side, “That was the type of risk you were concerned about.”  

“I will take everything I have said back if you push me right no–” 

Silco shushed you with his lips, leaning forward tentatively and ghosting them over yours, his hand coming to cup your cheek gently as he leaned into you. His movements were deliberate, careful. 

Your breath caught, the softness of his touch disarming in a way that made your heart ache. Your eyes fluttered shut, leaning into him instinctively, getting lost in the feeling of him agains you, the sudden wash of his scent, mixed with smoke, making your mind hazy again. 

“Oh shit,” you winced, pulling away slightly and biting your lip as you leaned forward a little too closely, sending a sharp pain through your abdomen again. Silco pulled back quickly, his hand instinctively hovering over your wound again as his eyes flicked over it attentively.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low and strained.

You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you, the sound light and teasing as you tried to distract yourself from the ache. “I’m fine,” you reassured him, smiling softly. “Just got a little ahead of myself.”

The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his shoulders relaxing slightly at your attempt to lighten the moment. “Then perhaps,” he murmured, his hand brushinagainst yours again, “we’ll do it my way and take it slow.”

You practically cackled, the irony far from lost on you. “I guess I can take slow for a change. This time, at least.”

Bonus:

“Who would have throught that you were such a good nurse,” you grinned as he helped you stand up shakily, hands clasping your forearms and letting you rest most ofy our weight on him as you took a few hobbling steps. 

“This stays between us,” he shushed you. If he was trying to sound threatening, he was failing miserably. "You're definitely the only person I would do this for." 

“Well, I am flattered.” Resting a little more of your weight on him you leaned into him, ghosting a gentle kiss to his cheek. He flushed, looking a little disgruntled at being taken off guard. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” he grumbled, making sure you had your balance before letting you go, turning to get you some fresh clothes. 

[pinklunarprincess]

Hiii, I’m the person screaming crying throwing up every time you post, love ur stuff!

Anyway… I’m thinking mechanic!vi prolonging the time it takes her to fix your car just cause she wants you coming around the shop more and then when she does eventually fix it she kinda worries you’re not gonna stay over at hers as often but u decide to ask her if u can move in or smth like this?!?

Idek tbh my brain is so fried from over consuming Vi content

all you have to do is stay

mentions of sex, but no explicit scenes, car mechanic!vi au oh she absolutely would; there's actually so much stupid domestic bliss in this wow

and sure, the hookup was good in the beginning, but she liked it when you came around, liked it when you'd show up at her shop, all shy and wide-eyed, asking her if you could watch, and who's she to turn down such a pretty girl, right? and honestly, she thought it was kinda cute, how you'd try your best to ask her about this or that, and she'd find herself rambling about her favorite kinds of pinon brackets, or talking you through a chassis restoration for another vintage car that was brought in.

it shouldn't take a whole-ass month to rig a crossflow radiator, especially since the rest of your car's actually in pretty good condition, but she keeps on picking out other things to do, insisting that she's already here anyway, sliding out from under the car with a crooked grin, asking you to pass her another cold beer.

but there's only so many things she can make up before it's obvious, even to you that there's not much else to do. so when the day comes, she's quieter than usual, tallying up the extensive list of repairs that she's both done and made up for herself to do (you'd insisted that you at least pay for the major ones, and if the smaller ones came with a dinner-date and dessert in bed afterwards... well.)

"and... i think that's all of it, sweets."

she hands you the receipt, immediately tucking her hands into the pockets of her light-wash jeans. her shoulders shrug up as you look down the list. it's way less than that she should be charging you for, but you peer up at her, frowning at the pinch between her brows and the tension clear in her muscles.

"vi? what's... wrong?"

"ah -- it's nothin' sweets, don't worry your pretty little head over it."

she teeters forwards and back, as if she can't decide if she wants to move closer or back away. but you're already reaching for her, closing the distance between you with your head cocked, your eyes bright and questioning. and she could never resist it when you looked at her like that, so toe-curlingly trusting. as if there wasn't a thing in the world she could do or say to drive you away or upset you.

sometimes, she'd lay awake and wonder if you knew how dangerous that kind of trust is -- how someone less scrupulous would take it and twist it into something foul. but she'd never let that happen -- at least not while you wanted her around.

"violet... we might not have known each other for very long but... you're not a very good liar," you say, reaching up to cup her cheeks, coaxing her eyes back to yours. she laughs -- it's a tiny, helpless sound; it shakes her open in a way that startles even her, the way her whole body wants to fold over you, into you.

"geez, sweets... that's... that's not really fair of you."

she lifts her hand to press them over yours, hands over hands, petaled around her cheeks, and it occurs to her that perhaps this is what it means to live up to her namesake -- violet. you'd said it was a beautiful name the first the she told you what vi stood for.

"you're not really fair either, vi... but that's never stopped you, has it?" you ask, a mischievous glint in your eyes, your lips twisted up on a fox-hole smile.

vi sucks in a breath. something feels like it's clawing up the length of her ribcage and burrowing through the hollows in her chest till she can taste it pitter-pattering at the back of her throat. it takes her a full three seconds to realize that it's her own traitorous heart, beating so strong she can taste it on her tongue.

"fuck."

and then she's kissing you, pulling you to her, fingers harsh and desperate, her touch lingering like month-old grease-stains the way they dig into your delicate skin. you gasp open for her, against her -- you let her tug you into her till there isn't a part of you she can't reach if she wanted to.

the kiss breaks like a dam bursting open, and a few seconds later, she's got you hoisted up on her workbench, wrenches and old receipts scattering to the floor as she slots herself easily between your legs. it's a familiar place to be, after all -- after all this time.

you hiss, fingers fisting in her hair; it's longer now, than when you first met. and she'd be lying if she said her letting it grow had nothing to do with your offhand comment once (over yet another impossible banana sundae) that you liked it long.

"vi -- vi -- please -- you --"

"hm? what is it, pretty girl?"

"you c-can't just try to distract me w-with sex every time --"

and she can't help the grin that hitches over her lips at the way your chest is heaving, your eyes blown dark, the way your thighs shake on either side of her hips. but she can see the flicker of worry in your eyes and her stomach twists with uncertainty.

"i -- i don't --" she tries, but a breath puffs out of her and she sags against you, "it's... just... now that the repairs are done... there's not really much reason for you to come around... and..."

at her words, you heave a sigh that seems much too big and weary for your body, pulling back to fix her with a surprisingly sharp look.

"you really thought i was coming around here to listen to you talk about my car repairs?"

vi does her level best not to pout; hearing you say it out loud, it does sound... a bit childish. instead, she leans forward and digs her nose into your neck, wrapping both arms around you till she's got you cocooned in her chest.

"what? you weren't interested in the new pressure washer i got just so i could get that really stubborn stain off your back bumper?"

you trail your fingers through her hair, letting your nails graze along her scalp. a shiver washes down the length of her back and you giggle close to her ear.

"sure i did... but you could talk about... dunno... your favorite dish rag, and i think i'd still wanna listen -- because i like listening to you talk about the stuff you like... because..." and its your turn to hesitate, her turn to pull back and fix you with a look -- one that's equal parts pleading and disbelieving.

"because what, pretty girl?" she asks, her voice low and husky, a thumb running across the round of your cheek.

"b-because i -- i like you, vi."

your eyes flicker away and color seeps into your cheeks like dye across clear water -- the shade blooming into you till vi's sure there's no color so beautiful as the one that you are now.

"mm... well, thank god for that cause..." she leans in to press her forehead to yours, "i was starting to wonder, what with all the multiple orgasms and midnight munch sessions and --" she laughs as you squawk indignantly at her, your eyes flashing wild and wide.

"t-that's not what i -- you know that's not --"

"oh? so you don't like those?" she asks, the tease now so obvious in her voice that you flush several shades darker. vi thinks she may have to amend her previous decision on her favorite shade of you. and you're outdoing yourself today.

she lets her free hand wander to the bend of your hips and she gives you a squeeze.

"i --" you steady yourself in the solidness of her, reaching down to lace your hands with hers, "of course i -- i like those things too but i -- i like that you're the one doing them to me and --" you swallow; vi tries not to be to distracted by the hummingbird flutter of your pulse as you struggle to find the words, even though both of you know full well by now exactly what you're trying to say --

sometimes, just sometimes, words speak just as loud as words need to. and the actions are just there to back them up.

sometimes, there are certain things that people just want to -- or need to -- hear said out loud.

"i -- i wanna come over even when there's nothing for you to fix... i..." you steady your breathing and vi nearly drowns in the certainty that settles between the pair of you, an ocean full of of unsaid words (the ones that don't need to be said to be understood), drifting like sunlight over shifting waves -- their brightness made no less real by their shimmering reflections in the water, "i guess i just... wanna be wherever you are. like... all the time."

vi's eyebrows hitch; her breath follows shortly after.

"all the time?"

you bite down on your lips, "yeah but... i know it's only been like... a month or whatever --"

"no, no god -- sweets, i -- i want that too -- more than anything -- it's just --" she motions at the shop, and you nod, catching her hand in yours mid-air.

"it doesn't have to be right now," you say, smiling and giving both her hands a firm squeeze.

"yeah?" she asks, a rare quiver to the shape of her voice.

you nod, "yeah." and your voice is just as solid as she needs it to be. you lean in to kiss her, and she sighs open against you, as you've done so many times for her.

"we'll -- we'll make it work," you say, in between harsh, nipping kisses, even as vi groans and trails her mouth along the line of your jaw. you gasp, letting your head tip back, "w-we'll t-take it s-s-slow -- mmngh -- vi!"

vi hums as she sucks a dark hickey into the side of your neck, feeling savage wanting plume open in her chest. she looks back up at you with darkening eyes and a hunter's smile.

"dunno if i know how to take it slow, sweets --"

"w-what about all those t-times you told me t-to wait --" you keen high in the back of your throat as she drops to pillow her cheek to your thigh, flipping up the bottom of your skirt to dig her nose into the damp triangle of your panties.

vi scoffs, rolling her eyes as she glances back up at you with a playful smirk.

"oh fuck you."

you lick your lips, reaching down to sink your fingers into her hair again, pulling just hard enough for the an ache to gather in her belly.

"thought that's what you were trying to do."

vi stands up, pulling you bodily forward till your ankles are linked at the small of her back, her palms holding up the plush of your ass as she walks the pair of you back into the house and up the thin flight of stairs to her room.

it's a good few hours before either of you are coherent enough to talk about any of this again, but by the time you are, the twilight is budding along the far horizon, and vander's texting to ask vi if he should pick anything up on the way back from the bar for dinner.

"you wanna stay for dinner?" vi asks, twisting to glance at you in bed, her face illuminated by the digital blue of her phone.

your pillow your cheek on your hand, "yeah, i'd love to."

"cool, what do you want?" she asks, her eyes turning back to her phone.

you lick your lips, "how about... you ask vander to pick up some tomatoes? i can make one of my grandma's old soup recipes. you have potatoes and cabbage right? and... i think i saw some pork bones in the freezer the last time i was here."

you cast your eyes up at the ceiling, ticking through a mental list of ingredients.

you only turn to shoot vi a glance when you realize that you can no longer hear the rapid pik-pik-pik of her fingers on her phone.

she's staring at you with what could only be called wonder in the halfway dark.

"you... remember what's in our fridge?"

"well i -- there's not much in there --" you say, almost indignantly.

she laughs, shaking her head, "no, it's just -- i didn't think you'd ever notice something like that, i mean, pardon me for thinking that you've never set foot in a kitchen in your entire life, what with you being daddy's little princess and all," she goads, nudging you with an elbow even as you squirm away from her, pouting.

"i'll have you know that i'm actually a really good cook, okay?" you tell her, "when -- when i was little, and my grandma lived with us, i'd help her in the kitchen all the time. and... after she got too old to make stuff... i was the one who cooked for her, because she said it tasted like stuff she'd eat in her childhood so..."

vi shuffles closer to you under the blankets, nuzzling her nose into your cheek.

"and just when i thought you couldn't get more perfect," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

you giggle, allowing yourself to be tugged back into her chest.

"i told vander to pick up tomatoes... and to invite silco and everyone else he can round up over for dinner."

you squeak, shooting up, "what?!"

vi grins, pushing up with a soft yawn, "you can't just tell me that you've got grandma-level cooking skills and not expect me to invite my whole entire family, right?"

you tumble out of bed, nearly tripping over your panties, still caught around your ankles. you pull them up, scrambling for one of vi's big shirts to toss over your body as she watches you from the bed with an indulgent smile before swinging her legs off and standing up to pull you back into her chest.

"calm down, sweets -- i'll help you, kay? now, tell me what you need."

you nod, pulling on a pair of her jogging shorts and twisting your hair into a haphazard bun out of your face as you start listing off ingredients, hopping the last two steps onto the first floor landing and fluttering into the kitchen.

by the time vi rounds the doorway, it's to find you with vander's massive apron already tied around your waist, an several pots and pans stacked on the countertop.

"i need three onions, and a head of garlic and... a few bay leaves, if you have them. it's okay if you don't --"

vi fights back a grin (it's a losing battle, she thinks, but it's one that she's considering losing for the rest of her goddamn life if it meant doing this every day with you).

"sure, sweets -- whatever you need."

you nod, rolling up the sleeves of your shirt as you set to work peeling the potatoes. a few second later, vi pops up from the fridge, frowning.

"looks like we've only got one onion, but i found some shallots... not sure how good they are though... they were kinda shoved into the back." she holds up the bag with a grimace.

you blink at her, and for a moment, vi thinks that you're going to be angry, or at least a bit frustrated. but then, your face breaks into a sweet, helpless sort of smile, and you reach out to take the shallots from her.

"it's okay," you say, in a voice that sounds just a little too much like coming home, and vi has to swallow passed the peach-pit suddenly caught in her throat.

your fingers brush against hers as you point her towards the half-peeled potatoes, and she gets to work without you even having to ask.

you lean up onto your tiptoes and press a kiss to her cheek, your eyes bright as fallen stars when she turns to look at you.

"it's okay," you repeat, smiling up at her with that smile that just might rhyme with forever, "we'll make it work, okay?"

vi licks her lips; there's an entire ocean of saltwater words caught behind the tombstones of her teeth that she does not know how to say. but she thinks, as she looks at you and you turn back to fussing over the one onion and handful of shallots, that you probably know it all anyway.

"okay," she says, before turning back to the diligent work of peeling the potatoes.

[pinklunarprincess]

all the things left unsaid - Viktor x gn!reader

Notes: So, confession time, I wrote this one agesss ago but it stayed in my drafts because I was trying to get back into the swing of writing smut that would do it justice, and I just couldn't get through the block for it, so I wanted to post the main fic now, and maybe revisit it with a pt.2 with smut later down the line. I just have a big issue with smut atm and not feeling like I do it very well. Warnings/Rating: a little angst, misunderstandings, Vik not feeling good enough because of his leg, eventual comfort | E for Everyone Wordcount: 2k Synopsis/request: may I request a one-shot of Viktor x fem reader? Maybe where the reader pulls a prank on Viktor by calling him her husband to Jayce to get his reaction. But there’s a little angst cause although they’ve been dating for a long time, they have never brought up marriage before. So when he asks if she was joking, she felt as if he despised the idea. Anyway, some fluff of him reassuring her and maybe some smut cause the thought of her being his wife, a ring to show she belongs to him, kinda turns him on? Lol! ~ @snowflakeanimelover

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

“I need you to do me a really big favour.”

You turned at the sound of Jayce’s voice as the lab door swung open, shocked to see he was looking at you and not his lab partner. 

“Me?” your brow furrowed as you looked up from your paperwork, your pen stilling over the last of the approval forms for their newest project. 

“The Kiramman’s want me to attend their fundraiser tomorrow night and I am expected to turn up with someone.” His cheeks were flushed and you presumed he had jogged here, three coffees in hand. He handed Viktor his, his partner looking at him with knitted brows as he crossed to you, balancing it on the only part of your desk not covered by paperwork and notebooks.

“Strictly as my assistant, of course,” he rushed to add. “You’ll just be able to help me remember all the names,” he chuckled awkwardly, taking a sip of his coffee and picking up some of the completed forms to glance over. 

You glanced over to Viktor again subtly, a risky idea blooming, seeing an opportunity to have a bit of fun with both the scientists you called your colleagues – and the man you called your boyfriend. Albeit only behind closed doors. 

“Well I shall have to ask my dear husband,” you smiled cheekily, spluttering out a laugh as Jayce spat out his coffee, Viktor’s head whipped around wide eyed, nearly knocking his cane over beside him. 

Jayce wiped the back of his mouth with his hand, racing to dab the paperwork in front of him dry. “Have I missed something?” He choked out, “I didn’t even know you were seeing someone, yet you’re married?” 

You shrugged nonchalantly, turning with a grin to Viktor. Your smile quickly dropped when you caught him frowning at you, however, brow furrowed and lips down turned. You cleared your throat quickly, suddenly feeling awkward as you turned back to Jayce. 

“I was just joking,” you laughed uneasily, “wanted to see what you would say. But yes, I can make that work.” 

He huffed a laugh, and you pushed yourself away from your desk and crossed to help him with the spilled coffee, anything to avoid looking at your scowling boyfriend. 

“Vik you alright?” Jayce’s voice called over your head and your hands paused momentarily, not turning around as you waited for him to say something. 

He hummed lowly, and you heard the tapping of his cane as he pushed himself up from his stool. “I am fine. I just need a break.” He pushed out the room as you finished clearing up. You felt his eyes boring into you as he stepped past, only breathing out once you heard his cane growing quieter down the corridor. 

“What’s got into him?” Jayce’s brow creased as he turned back to you. You did your best to push down your anxiety, 

“I have no idea.” 

“I’ll go check on hi-“ 

“No it’s fine,” you rushed to stop him, pausing to swallow and calm yourself when he only looked more confused. “I’ll go. You crack on here.” You smiled softly, pushing past him and leaving him staring bewildered at the lab door. 

You pulled your jacket tight around you as you stepped around the large pendulums, sighing softly when you caught sight of him perched on the edge of the wall and staring out down the waterfall. 

“I thought I’d find you here,” you called softly, offering him a tentative smile as he turned around surprised, his shoulders sagging slightly when he saw it was you. He stayed silent, looking back out over his steel retreat. 

You closed the gap slowly, leaning against the wall opposite him and studying his stoic face, pulling your lips between your teeth. 

“I presume that was a joke?” His voice was rough, and he refused to look at you as he broke the silence. 

You felt your skin heat up, a lump forming in your throat when you realised he was entirely serious, his tone dripping with what you could only describe as contempt for the idea. 

You stuttered, shocked, “s-sorry. I just wanted to see how you would react to it. I didn’t mean to take anything too far.” 

He scoffed, a quiet sound as he shook his head, closing his eyes as if deep in thought. 

“I won’t say anything like it again…” you trailed off, trying to disguise the fact your heart was hammering anxiously in your chest. When you had come up with your little prank, you hadn’t expected to find out your boyfriend was physically repulsed by the thought of marrying you. 

He finally turned to you, hearing the crack in your voice. His eyes softened at the sight of you closed in on yourself, and he twisted to face you properly. “Oh my love,” his voice softened as you avoided his gaze, pushing off the wall to try and walk past him, only to be stopped by his hand reaching out and clasping your wrist gently, his fingers curling to press against your pulse point. Still you refused to meet his eye, focusing on the floor beside you instead, ignoring his doe eyes in your periphery. 

He huffed gently, lips pressing into a grim line. “Why did you say it?” His tone softened, the initial anger melting out of it. 

Your eyes fell on where he held your wrist tenderly, “I thought it would be fun to see how you reacted to the idea of being my husband. Test the word out a bit, that’s all. It was supposed to be harmless fun, but I didn’t know you didn’t like the idea of marriage—“ 

He stopped you with a scoff, “Well, you have never talked about marriage before. I presumed that it was not something you wanted, at least not with me…” 

Your brow creased and you finally looked at him, “What is that supposed to mean?”  

He hesitated for a moment, dropping your wrist and glancing at his cane. “Why would anyone choose to tie themselves to a cripple for the rest of their life?” You were stunned into silence, gawping at him. “We haven’t even told people we are together after nearly two years,” he chucked dryly, the sound devoid of any joy. 

You felt your mouth dry out as you floundered, before you crouched beside him, retaking his hands in yours. 

“Do you really think that’s why I suggested we stay private?” Your heart raced in panic as he looked away from you, refusing to meet his gaze. “Viktor, we both agreed it was better for our work if no one knew,” you brushed our thumb gently over his hand, “never for a moment did I consider any other motive. Janna knows I want nothing more than to stop hiding us.” He finally looked back to you, guilt welling in his chest when he saw the tears on your waterline. “I thought perhaps I was the one not good enough for you…” 

“Absolutely not!” He frowned, his hands clasping around yours, his legs parting so you could kneel between them more easily. He brought one of your hands to his lips and placed a reassuring kiss to the knuckles. “I–“

You both jumped when you heard approaching heavy footsteps, Viktor instinctively dropping your hands as you stood up, taking a few steps back, clearing your throat and dabbing your eyes. 

“There you both are,” Jayce’s voice echoed as he weaved around into the light. “Heimerdinger wants to see us,” he gestured back towards the door and Viktor nodded, clearing his throat as he stood. 

“I’ll be with you in a sec,” you smiled tight lipped and nodded for them to go ahead, smiling softly when Viktor mouthed ‘I love you’ as Jayce turned around, following him out. 

You sighed heavily as you closed your apartment door, leaning against it as you slung your bag to the floor and kicked off your shoes. 

“It’s rare that you end up home after me.” Viktor’s voice made you jump as he peeked his head around the kitchen door frame, chuckling as he moved to lean against it, instinctively opening his arms to let you fall into his chest with exhaustion. Your forehead collided with his shoulder with a huff, his arms closing around you tightly. 

“How can the Kiramman’s know so many people? That list of names is endless.” you groaned, arms still hanging limply by your sides as his hand trailed up your back comfortingly, huffing a laugh and letting you relax most of your weight against him. 

He let you stay there for a moment before his hands came to rest on your arms, pushing you away gently and holding you at arms reach. “I have something for you,” he spoke softly, his voice unsure as he picked up his cane from where it leaned against the kitchen counter and pushed off the door frame, heading to the bedroom.  

You frowned, pausing for a moment before following after him “Vik, if this is about earlier that was on me, you didn’t ha–” 

You froze in the bedroom doorway when you saw it. His back was to you, but he was picking something up from his dresser drawer, his hand hovering over a small velvet box. Your breath caught in your throat. 

He turned to you slowly, turning the box around in his long fingers and looking at it intently. “I have had this longer than I have known you,” he pondered, wetting his lips. “It is one of the few things I have left of my parents.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, the palms of your hands turning clammy as you stayed rooted to the spot. He started to cross to you slowly, still fiddling with the box, flicking the lid open as he stilled in front of you. His eyes were fixed on the band inside, but yours couldn’t leave his face. 

“Now, if you will have me, I want you to have it,” he let his cane rest against the bed so he could fish the ring out of the dusty cushion. “I never want you to doubt your importance to me again, nor do I want to hide what we have any longer.” He looked up at you expectantly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips again nervously. 

“Oh Vik…” you felt your eyes well up with hot tears as you grasped his hand in yours gently, sure he would be able to feel the tremble. “Yes, a thousand times yes.” 

His face split into a relieved smile, letting out a long breath as you nodded, letting him slip the old ring onto your finger. “It is nothing fancy, I know but–”

You shut him up with a kiss, your lips crushing against his as you swung your arms around his neck, nearly knocking him off balance. You muttered a quick sorry as you rebalanced you both again, letting him rest some of his weight on you as his hands landed on your hips. 

You pulled away gently, his face still hovering above yours. “Earlier… I thought you despised the idea of being called my husband,” you chuckled hesitantly, your eyes naturally falling on the ring as your fingers lay against his shoulder. 

“Not for one second,” he rushed to assure you, fingers gently tilting your chin to meet his eyes again. “Quite the contrary, actually,” he laughed uneasily, waiting for you to catch on and flushing as your eyes widened in realisation. 

His brow furrowed as you broke into a slow smile, “Well then, soon-to-be-husband, how about I do something about that,” you teased, trailing your fingers along the buttons of his uniform shirt slowly, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. 

He shuddered under your touch, eyes fluttering closed as your fingers trailed up the side of his neck and along his jaw.  You leaned into him, pressing slow kisses where your fingers had just ghosted over the skin, smirking when you heard his shuddering breath…

[pinklunarprincess]

Feelings, It’s Been Too Long Since I Felt

Inspired by a Mustafa Avşaroğlu song

Summary: When a series of innocent encounters with the cleaning lady led to a more intimate relationship, Viktor finds himself absolutely smitten.

Pairing: Viktor x cleaning lady!reader

Rating: Mature

Expected Content: There are no sexual acts depicted in this work. However, there is a passionate kissing scene.

Word count: 2,440

To @the-californicationist, thank you for your kind words and advice. I finally wrote something that I felt proud of sharing.

———

Even in his deepest moments of solitude, there was this undeniable feeling—a yearning that Viktor could never shake. It was this bothersome inkling, incessant in its demand and fervent in its inclination. Forever present in his lonesome existence and forever there to remind him of his growing need for companionship.

With each passing day, the notion remained. It festered like an ill-begotten wound, clawing into his flesh until it gnawed on his weary bones. Soon, his mind became a feverish haze, lost in a stream of consciousness that delved into the primal depths of his imagination.

For hours, Viktor sat. His gaze was turned towards the window, watching the silver light filter into his laboratory. His space was a mess, cluttered with various contraptions and inventions, the metal machinery glinting underneath the pearlescent glow. Somewhere, a faint yet constant hum filled the empty air, a noise that barely kept him from the brink of silence.

Within his hands was a small device, a partially constructed piece that kept his idle hands busy. Yet, despite his best efforts to keep his mind from conjuring visages of you, it was all met in vain.

For a brief moment, Viktor caught a faint whiff of your perfume—the delicate notes of lavender and vanilla flitting in the air until it swirled around him like a tender caress. Suddenly, memories of you rushed into his mind like a babbling brook. Every little detail came to him so vividly. The way you looked into his eyes with that sweet little smile. The lovely sound of your voice while you rambled on about your day. The feeling of your fingers running over his skin.

With a shuddering sigh, Viktor slumped into his chair and closed his eyes. He was fraying at the seam, practically unraveling from the mere thought of you. The moment he had gotten a taste, you became a craving for a man who never knew he was starved. You became his reckoning—the reason behind the fall of a brilliant scientist. If you were to ever disappear from his life, Viktor would be in absolute pieces. You became his everything.

It was a simple yet profound epiphany, one that dawned on him the night you slept in his arms. Your weary head was pressed against his firm chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you to sleep. His slender arms were wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him while the two of you lay on his bed.

Somehow, that night stirred something deep within him as he watched you. His gaze was tender, eyes tracing the features of your face and counting the moles and freckles along your skin. Viktor spent those blissful hours studying every little detail, committing them to memory.

“Viktor? What are you doing, it’s a quarter past midnight.”

Your voice was a delicate sound, one that complimented the peaceful stillness in his laboratory. Amidst the constant humming and thrumming, devoid of the usual clanging and thrashing, your voice was the perfect harmony that soothe his aching heart.

Within an instant, Viktor turned in his seat to meet your gaze. Even under the dim moonlight, the amber in his eyes were smoldering with emotion—something so raw and intense that it left you momentarily stunned. Before Viktor, no one had ever looked at you that way. It was as if you were the definite solution to a once insoluble equation.

For a fleeting second, nothing else mattered. Whatever words you were supposed to utter next had died on your tongue. In the absence of speech was the weight of unspoken meaning—sentiments that were never fully expressed but entirely felt. It lingered heavy in the air, begging for someone to bring it to attention.

Then, Viktor cleared his throat and looked away.

“I needed to finish some work.” He gestured to the device in his hand before placing it on his desk. He spoke in an even tone, belaying the inner turmoil stirring deep within his core. Somehow, a simple cleaning lady was turning him inside out.

Unlike his stoic delivery, what tumbled out of your trembling lips was a sheepish reply,

“Well, you should—uhm—call it a… night.” You suggested, your voice barely even an audible mumble.

You watched the corner of his lips twitch into a crooked smile, his voice sounding softer than when he last spoke. When Viktor met your gaze again, the heat behind his eyes softened—replaced with a promising warmth that made your stomach flutter.

“I suppose I could use the rest.”

Viktor made a small hum before he lifted himself from his chair. His movements were careful, using his cane to support his crippled leg. Even with the subtle hobble in his step, his stride remained purposeful. There was nothing that could stop him from walking towards you. Viktor was always determined to cross the distance, especially when it meant he could be with you in the end.

Soon, the two of you were walking down the hallway side by side. It was a long journey from his laboratory to the dormitory, navigating through several intersections and winding corridors. But, whenever Viktor had you with him, it made the ache in his leg a little more bearable.

You listened to the sound of your footsteps padding against the marble floor, noticing how the tip of his cane would make a soft clack at the same moment. It was an easy melody, one that filled the comfortable silence.

“How have you been?” Viktor finally spoke. His heart was racing—building a thundering rhythm he was sure you could hear.

It was an innocent question. One that either of you would ask on any given occasion. Viktor knew about the misgivings of your work, having witnessed some of it firsthand. Yet, he always loved to hear your recounts—rather, he loved to hear your voice when you did so.

“The usual.” You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, noticing the small smile that curved his lips. It was almost unusual to see him like this—content and at peace. Viktor was a man of relentless ambition. Yet, whenever you were with him, Viktor seemed to forget about his work. Instead, all he could focus on was you. You were what mattered most in that moment.

“The councilors had a gathering earlier. Had to clean after them…” You continued, relaying the events of your day while knowing how trivial it was to a distinguished scientist like him. Yet, unbeknownst to you, Viktor needed to hear something mundane. His mind was like a loom—constantly weaving equations and theorems. He needed to hear something unrelated to his work, something monotonous and ordinary.

“I missed you.” You remarked suddenly.

Within an instant, Viktor snapped his head to the side. He looked surprised, not expecting you to say something so bold. His lips were opening and closing, searching for the right words to say.

“I… I missed you too.” He mumbled a reply. But, beneath the twilight, you saw how his eyes gleamed with sincerity.

Then, the both of you stopped.

“How have you been, Viktor?” It was your turn to ask, and when you did, you saw how his lips curved into another smile.

“Restless—until you came.” It was an honest answer. Because throughout the day, his mind was nearing the brink of hysteria. You were driving him practically insane.

Then, the two of you continued to walk, rounding the corner to where his dormitory was.

It was only when you stood in front of his door did you meet his gaze again, noticing something swimming beneath the amber of his eyes. It was almost indiscernible—yet, it made your core blossom with warmth.

“Would you like some tea?” Viktor inquired as he opened the door, gesturing for you to enter.

“That would be lovely.” You smiled in reply before stepping inside.

A few of the curtains were still drawn from this morning, offering a faint pearlescent glow to an otherwise unlit apartment. He followed you from behind, closing the door until it made a click. Then, he made his way into the small kitchen, pulling the kettle from the shelves so he could boil some water.

Whenever the two of you had your little meetings, it always began with a good cup of tea. It became a tradition—something that Viktor looked forward too.

You ventured deeper into his room and took a deep breath, smelling something familiar. It was his scent—woody, musty, and with a delicate note of vanilla. It reminded you of an old book, where the pages were browning and the ink was fading.

His room reflected his simplicity, keeping to the basic necessities while staying true to his academic pursuits. You walked over to the side of his bed, your hand tracing over the grains of his wooden bookshelf. It displayed a few of his favorite collections, with titles written in his native tongue while others pertained to the sciences.

You undid the front buttons of your jacket, folding it over the backrest of his chair.

Meanwhile, Viktor watched you from the kitchen, his eyes following your gentle movements. While the kettle remained on the stovetop, boiling on low heat, he walked over to you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, the sound of his cane mingling with the soft patter of his footsteps. Then, it came to a stop just a few paces behind you.

When you turned around, you saw his slender fingers undoing his necktie and the first few buttons of his dress shirt. He gave you a knowing smile before glancing over to the bed.

“I could say the same about you.” You replied, the corners of your lips twitching into a cheeky grin. Even under the dim light, you could see the playful gleam in his eyes.

So, you kicked off your shoes and jumped into bed. Viktor couldn’t help but chuckle at your eagerness, removing his loafers before he settling in beside you.

You lay your head on his chest, a finger tracing a gentle pattern over his skin. His nose was buried in your hair, an arm wrapped around your waist. Viktor pulled you closer to him until your bodies met, pressed impossibly close. Underneath the layers of clothing, you could feel his warmth seeping into your skin, stoking a fire deep within your core.

“I’ve been thinking about you. A lot.” Viktor whispered, his lips grazing your forehead.

You tilted your head back, wanting to meet his gaze. You could see something simmering beneath the amber of his eyes—something so intense. His desire for you was humming deep within his bones, his fingers twitching as it yearned to touch you.

Slowly, you leaned in, closing the space between you by millimeters a second. Then, your lips brushed against his chapped ones, soft and testing, wanting to see whether he would pull away. When he didn’t, you fell deeper into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close. The kiss deepened and you could feel the coolness of his fingers against your flushed cheek, hands moving to cup your face.

Viktor hummed in response, his eyes fluttering close as he melted into the kiss. Your head was spinning from the excitement, your heart pounding in your ears. It sent you into a blur of pure want, desperate to feel more of him. Your lips were moving in tandem with his, suddenly feeling something warm prod against your bottom lip. You made a quiet and pitchy sound, almost like a suppressed whine of surprise,

“Mm!”

Viktor hummed and continued his exploration, slipping into your mouth. You could feel his tongue gently moving inside, stirring something deep within your core that made you blush. It was becoming too much for you to handle, your head now dizzy from the sudden rush.

Your breathing became ragged, out of tune with your usual cadence. It was frantic and without pace, sucking in breaths whenever you could. It was only when Viktor broke the kiss did the both of you breathed again, panting heavily like a pair of dogs. Underneath the pale light, you could see his swollen lips glisten and parted while he took in a series of quick and sharp breaths.

“You make me feel things… I never thought possible.” Viktor muttered, his hands still cupping your face. His thumb was brushing your cheekbone, his touch light and tender.

There were no words to describe the feelings you had for him. It was profound, with no words or adjectives to do it justice.

“Viktor…” You whispered his name like it was a prayer, so soft yet reverent. Your voice was shaking, still trying to recover from the last kiss.

Without sparing another moment, his lips crashed into yours. He pulled you even closer, desperate to feel your body pressed against his while he poured his everything into one earth-shattering kiss.

In that moment, nothing else mattered—only you.

His blood was running hot with excitement, his heart blaring in his ears. Viktor felt like he was going insane. All the yearning, all the wanting, has now culminated into one fervent kiss—it was chaotic, overwhelming, like a maelstrom of emotions.

You were sinking into his kiss, completely and utterly ruined from the unrestrained passion he unleashed. You never expected to feel something so fierce from a man like Viktor. He was always controlled and immune to his impulses. Yet, when it came to you, he felt like a crazed man without reservations.

“Miláčku…” He muttered into the kiss, his voice strained and breathless.

You could hear something whistling, something sharp piercing into the quiet night. It took you longer than a minute to realize what it was, not exactly caring for whatever else was happening in the moment—except for Viktor.

Unlike you, the man heard nothing. His frantic movements remained that, fervent in his desire and consumed in the kiss. You muttered something incoherent, trying to catch his attention,

“Viktor… the kettle.”

He only hummed in response, not even stopping to hear you better,

“Viktor… kettle.” You mumbled again, a little louder this time.

His movements stuttered, as if he was beginning to realize that the kettle was indeed piping in the kitchen.

“Let it be.” He replied, his voice scratching deep in his throat. Before he could resume the kiss, you interjected with a more scolding tone,

“Viktor… we have neighbors…”

With a loud and reluctant sigh, Viktor conceded. He pulled away and gathered himself to stand.

“Fine.”

———

[pinklunarprincess]