#And their ways of not just saying those 3 words | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aspenmissing · 1 day ago

Note

Congrats on completing all those requests!

So, pretty please could I request the usual guys with a reader who’s a runaway bride? Like they were in an arranged marriage and fled because they wanted to be with their true love! Just something a little angsty and cute :)

Thank ya kindly <3

ʀᴜɴᴀᴡᴀʏ ʙʀɪᴅᴇ ᴘᴛ 1

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 12881 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ, ꜱʟᴜᴛ ꜱʜᴀᴍɪᴍɢ/ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠɴᴇꜱꜱ/��ʙᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ (ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ! ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪᴅᴇᴀ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏ 2 ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ…ʙɪɢ (ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴀꜱᴋ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜʏ, ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜɪʟᴛ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜɴᴀᴡᴀʏ ʙʀɪᴅᴇ). ʙᴜᴜᴜᴜᴛ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ ᴍʏ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ! <3 <3

ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴍᴇʟ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ

JAYCE

Y/N had met Jayce in his lab, though she had known of him long before that day. As a student at the Academy, she had heard his name murmured in hushed conversations—his talent, his ambition, the way he had shaken the very foundations of hextech research with his ideas. But she had never expected to meet him like this, entirely by accident, wandering too far from the pristine halls of the upper districts, drawn in by the vibrant energy of the lower city.

She had always been curious about the world beyond her lectures and neatly organized textbooks. It was one thing to study hextech in theory, another to see it come to life. And it was in that search for something real, something beyond politics and academia, that she found herself standing in the doorway of a dimly lit workshop, its walls lined with half-finished blueprints and shelves cluttered with spare parts.

Jayce had been hard at work, his sleeves rolled up, arms streaked with grease as he adjusted the settings on a complex contraption. The soft hum of hextech energy filled the air, the glow of blue runes casting sharp shadows across the cluttered workbench. She had lingered there, mesmerized by the sight of him—by the sheer intensity in his gaze as he worked, by the easy confidence in his movements. He muttered something under his breath, tightening a few bolts with a practiced ease, utterly absorbed in his task.

He must have sensed her presence because, without looking up, he spoke. "If you're going to stare, you might as well come in."

Y/N startled, instinctively taking a step back. “I—sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Finally, Jayce turned to face her, wiping his hands on a cloth, his expression more amused than annoyed. "You’re a student, right? From the Academy?"

She nodded hesitantly. “I am. I’ve read some of your work.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Oh? And?”

She hesitated. “Your theories on stabilized arcane energy are… ambitious.”

Jayce laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s a polite way of saying reckless.”

Y/N couldn’t quite hide her smile. “Maybe.”

That was all the invitation he needed. His face lit up with excitement as he beckoned her forward, stepping aside so she could get a better look. "Then you're in for a treat. This—" he gestured to the intricate device on the table, "—is going to change the world. Or at least, that's the plan."

Y/N stepped closer, her curiosity outweighing her caution. "It doesn’t look like much."

Jayce let out a mock-offended gasp. “Ouch. That’s because you’re seeing it in pieces. But once it’s all put together? This could revolutionize the way we harness energy.”

She glanced at the blueprints scattered across the table, trying to make sense of the carefully drawn schematics. They were complex, but the ideas were bold, innovative. She could see the brilliance in them, even if some of the calculations looked… unstable. “And you… you built this?”

"With a little help." He grinned, leaning against the workbench. "Though if you ask Viktor, he’d say I mostly break things until they start working."

She found herself smiling again before she could stop it. "Sounds efficient."

"Painfully."

That day, Jayce had eagerly explained his vision of a brighter future for Piltover, his words brimming with an enthusiasm she had never seen in the stiff, political conversations of the upper districts. His passion was infectious, and for the first time in a long while, she had felt truly captivated by something—not by duty or expectations, but by someone who believed in something greater than himself.

She hadn’t meant to return, but she had. Again and again, always with the excuse of academic curiosity, though deep down she knew it was more than that. Jayce was unlike anyone she had ever met. He challenged her, made her think, made her question the rules she had always lived by. And before she even realized it, before she could even name the feeling, she was falling for him.

Months passed, and their connection deepened. Their meetings became more than discussions about hextech or theoretical debates on Piltover’s future. They turned into stolen moments—late-night conversations in the glow of flickering lamps, laughter shared over hastily prepared meals, whispered confessions under the hum of hextech cores.

Jayce made her feel seen in a way no one else ever had. He listened—not just to her words, but to the hesitations, the things left unsaid. He saw through the carefully composed façade she had perfected for the Academy, for her family, for the suffocating expectations of the upper city.

There were nights when she stayed too long, only leaving when the city bells signalled the deep hours of the night. Jayce would walk her as far as he could, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes lingering on her as if memorizing every moment before she disappeared back into the world that wasn’t theirs.

“You ever think about running?” he asked one night, his voice quiet in the dark.

She hesitated. “Running?”

“From all of it,” he said. “The expectations, the duty, the future someone else planned for you.”

Y/N swallowed, looking at him carefully. “And what would I do?”

Jayce gave a lopsided smile, but there was something serious behind his eyes. “Whatever you want.”

She wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe in the freedom he spoke of, in a world where she could choose her own path. But she wasn’t brave enough.

Not yet.

But she would be.

At least, that was what she told herself as she lay awake in the grand, suffocating silence of her family’s estate, staring at the carved ceiling above her bed. The echoes of their conversation haunted her, as they always did.

What if she could be the kind of person who chose herself over obligation? What if, for once, she let herself want without guilt, without fear?

The thought sent a spark through her chest—one that burned with longing and terror in equal measure.

Jayce made it sound so simple. And maybe, for someone like him, it was. Maybe that was what she admired most about him—the way he stood so firmly in his convictions, unshaken, unwilling to let the world decide his future for him.

She wished she could be that way.

One day, she hoped, she would be. One day, she would look him in the eyes and tell him she was ready. One day, she would stop being afraid.

But until then, all she had were stolen moments and the quiet, aching hope that maybe, just maybe, she was brave enough to try.

One evening, as they stood on the balcony of his workshop, the city lights glowing below, he had turned to her with a quiet seriousness in his gaze.

“Y/N… if you could choose your own path, what would you want?”

She had swallowed hard, staring at the twinkling lights below. “I don’t know,” she had admitted. “But I know I don’t want this life. I don’t want to be a pawn in a game I never agreed to play.”

Jayce had reached for her hand then, his fingers brushing against hers in a silent promise. “Then don’t let them decide for you.”

It was in that moment she had realized she was falling for him. Not just for his mind or his idealism, but for the quiet strength in his voice, the way he looked at her as if she mattered—not as a tool, not as an obstacle, but as someone who deserved to choose her own future.

The wind curled around them, carrying the scent of metal and ozone from his lab, but all she could focus on was the warmth of his touch. Her heart pounded, not from fear, but from something far more dangerous—hope.

“What if I don’t know how to choose?” she murmured, the vulnerability in her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N had known something was wrong the moment she stepped into the grand hall of her family’s estate. The air was too still, the heavy chandelier casting long, wavering shadows across the marble floors. Her parents sat waiting for her, their expressions unreadable, their posture rigid with the weight of something inevitable.

She barely had time to sit before her mother spoke.

“It’s been decided,” she said, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her gown. “You’ll be engaged to Latimer’s son.”

The words fell like a gavel’s strike. Cold. Final.

Y/N felt the world tilt slightly beneath her feet. “What?”

Her father let out a measured sigh, as if speaking to a wayward child. “This is what’s best for you—for all of us. The Latimers are influential. This match will secure your future, ensure your place in the city.”

“My place in the city?” Her voice felt small, lost in the vast emptiness of the hall. “What if I don’t want it?”

Her mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You don’t have to want it. You just have to do it.”

A cold numbness seeped into her limbs. She had known this day would come, had spent years preparing for the inevitable. And yet, sitting here, hearing it spoken aloud, it felt like something inside her was fracturing.

She wanted to fight. She wanted to tell them that she wasn’t some bargaining chip to be traded for power. But the words stuck in her throat, swallowed by the crushing weight of expectation, of duty, of the quiet, suffocating knowledge that there was no escaping this.

So she didn’t argue.

She couldn’t.

Instead, she rose stiffly, keeping her expression neutral, controlled—just as she had been taught—and left the room without another word.

But the moment she was out of their sight, she ran.

Jayce’s workshop was the only place she could breathe.

She didn’t knock, didn’t announce herself—just pushed through the doors, her heart slamming against her ribs, her pulse a frantic drum in her ears. The familiar scent of metal, oil, and ozone filled her lungs, grounding her for just a moment.

Jayce looked up from his workbench, confusion flickering across his face at the sight of her. But then he saw her expression—saw the way her hands trembled at her sides, the way her breath came too fast, too uneven—and he was on his feet in an instant.

“Y/N?” His voice was gentle, careful. “What happened?”

She opened her mouth, but the words tangled together, a mess of emotions too heavy to hold back. So she just said it.

“They’ve arranged my marriage.”

Silence.

Jayce’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists before he forced them open again. “To who?”

“Latimer’s son.” The name tasted bitter on her tongue.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he turned away for a moment, as if trying to get his thoughts under control. “And you’re just going to let them do this to you?”

Y/N flinched. “Do you think I have a choice?”

“Yes.” His response was immediate, fierce. He stepped closer, eyes searching hers. “You do have a choice, Y/N. You don’t have to go through with this. You can tell them no.”

She let out a sharp, hollow laugh. “You think it’s that simple?”

“I think it’s worth fighting for,” Jayce shot back, his voice rising. “You hate this life. You’ve told me yourself—you don’t want to be their pawn. So don’t be.”

“I can’t.”

The words came out too fast, too raw, cracking at the edges. She turned away, arms wrapping around herself as if she could hold herself together. “You don’t understand, Jayce. If I say no, I lose everything. My family, my name, my place in the world.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, “Would that really be a loss?”

Her breath hitched.

She wanted to say yes. She wanted to tell him that it mattered, that she wasn’t strong enough to throw it all away. But deep down, a small, terrified part of her knew the truth.

She wasn’t afraid of losing everything. She was afraid of what it meant if she let herself want something else. If she let herself want him.

Jayce sighed, running a frustrated hand over his face before stepping closer, his voice gentler now. “Y/N… I know it’s not easy. But if you want out—if you want something more—you don’t have to do this alone.”

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, she let herself imagine it. A different life. A different future. One where she was brave enough to choose for herself. But she wasn’t. Not yet.

“I can’t,” she whispered again, and this time, it felt like she was breaking.

Jayce’s expression softened, but there was something else in his eyes now—something sad, something aching. He reached out, hesitated, then brushed a hand against hers, his touch warm despite the cold that had settled in her chest.

“Then tell me,” he said quietly. “If you could—if none of this mattered—would you stay?”

Her throat tightened.

“Yes,” she admitted, barely more than a breath.

Jayce closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling softly. Then he nodded, his grip on her hand tightening briefly before he let go.

“Then that’s enough for me.”

For now.

And for the first time, she wished it wasn’t.

After that night, things changed.

Y/N and Jayce didn’t talk as much.

Not because they fought, not because they had parted in anger—but because there was nothing left to say. She had made her choice, or at least, she had let one be made for her. And Jayce, for all his passion and conviction, couldn’t fight a battle she refused to step into.

Their stolen moments became fewer and fewer, their conversations shorter, more distant. The space between them stretched, quiet and aching, filled with all the things they no longer dared to say aloud. He still looked at her the same way, still lingered just a second too long whenever their paths crossed, but there was a quiet resignation in his eyes now—one that haunted her, one that said I would have fought for you, if you had let me.

And so, she forced herself not to think about it.

She had a role to play, a duty to fulfill. And so, she buried herself in preparations, in fittings and formalities, in endless rehearsals of a future she could barely imagine living.

Until now.

Now, she stood in her bedroom, staring at her reflection in the grand, gilded mirror.

The wedding dress was beautiful. Flawless. A masterwork of silk and embroidery, the fabric flowing around her like liquid moonlight. The delicate lace trailed down her arms, the shimmering gold thread woven through the bodice catching the light just so.

It was everything it was supposed to be. She was everything she was supposed to be. And yet, she felt nothing.

Her hands smoothed down the front of the gown, fingertips ghosting over the expensive fabric, the careful stitching. Every bead, every intricate detail had been meticulously chosen to represent her family’s status, to showcase the elegance and refinement expected of her.

But nowhere in its perfection did she recognize herself.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, staring, searching for something she could hold onto—some part of herself that hadn’t been erased.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

She turned, her pulse quickening, half-expecting—half-hoping—to see him standing there.

But it was only a servant, their expression neutral, their posture straight and rehearsed as they bowed slightly.

“It’s almost time, my lady.”

Y/N nodded, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “I’ll be down soon.”

The door shut softly behind them, leaving her alone once more. She turned back to the mirror, her breath catching in her throat.

This is it. This is my life now.

Then why did it feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall?

Her hands curled into fists at her sides, the smooth silk of her gown bunching beneath her grip. She wanted to move. To breathe. To run.

And then—her gaze drifted, landing on something out of place. Something small, something familiar. Sitting on the edge of her vanity was a small mechanical trinket, a delicate little thing made of brass and silver, shaped like a blooming flower.

Her breath hitched.

She knew this. Jayce had made it for her.

It had been one of the first things he ever gave her—a little prototype he had tinkered with absentmindedly one night, spinning gears and polished metal forming an intricate, delicate design. When he had handed it to her, he had laughed softly, almost embarrassed.

"It doesn’t do much," he had said. "But I thought you’d like it. You always seem like you’re waiting for something to bloom."

Her fingers trembled as she reached for it now, brushing against the cool metal. A small, hidden switch along its side clicked under her touch, and with a quiet whir, the petals slowly unfolded, revealing a tiny gemstone at its center.

A heartbeat. A memory. A promise.

"Then don’t let them decide for you."

Her pulse roared in her ears. She couldn’t do this.

She couldn’t walk down that aisle, couldn’t stand beside a man who wasn’t Jayce, couldn’t trade away the last fragments of herself for duty and expectation. She would fall off that cliff. So she had two choices.

Fall.

Or jump.

The decision came before she could think. Before fear could creep in and stop her.

With shaking hands, she grabbed the hem of her dress, yanking it up as she turned toward the window. The air outside was thick with the scent of rain, the streets below dimly lit, quiet—waiting.

Her heart pounded as she unlatched the window, the cool night air hitting her like a shock. The silk of her gown pooled around her feet, beautiful and useless, not made for running.

She didn’t care. She climbed onto the ledge, looking down, looking forward. Then—she jumped.

And she ran.

The wind howled through the empty streets of Piltover, carrying the distant echoes of the grand celebration she had abandoned. The laughter, the music, the clinking of crystal glasses—it all felt like a cruel mockery now. Y/N’s wedding dress, once a masterpiece of delicate embroidery and flowing silk, was tattered from her escape, the pristine fabric now marred by dirt and grime. Her heart pounded as she ran, breath coming in sharp gasps, the weight of her decision pressing down on her chest like a vice.

She had fled.

A grand engagement, an extravagant future, a husband chosen for her by duty rather than love—she had left it all behind.

That was the moment she knew there was no going back.

Now, she pressed herself into the shadows of a narrow alley, her golden bracelet clinking against the stone wall as she hugged herself, trying to steady her shaking breaths. It was the last relic of the life she was meant to have. A symbol of her betrothal, of her father’s expectations, of the cage she had just broken free from.

She should have taken it off. She should have thrown it away.

But she couldn’t.

Not yet.

Because the part of her that had spent years trying to be the perfect daughter, the perfect bride, the perfect pawn—that part still lingered, whispering that she had made a mistake.

The city stretched out before her, its winding streets both foreign and familiar. She had nowhere to go.

No one to turn to.

Except him.

Her feet carried her through winding streets, past towering brass structures and shimmering lamps, until she reached a familiar workshop. Her trembling hand rapped against the wooden door, desperate but hesitant. What if he turned her away? What if he thought she was a coward?

The door swung open before she could dwell on those thoughts. Jayce stood there, shirt slightly rumpled, eyes heavy with exhaustion, but they widened the moment he saw her.

“Y/N?”

She shivered, hugging herself. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

He scanned her from head to toe—her ruined dress, her bare feet, the way she trembled not just from the cold but from the sheer weight of her decision. His jaw tensed. Then, without a word, he pulled her inside, shutting the door behind her.

Jayce grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair, draping it over her shoulders. His touch was warm, grounding. He was always warm.

“You ran away.” It wasn’t a question, just a quiet observation.

“I couldn’t do it.” Her voice cracked. “I couldn’t marry him. Not when I—”

She hesitated, but she didn’t need to finish. Jayce already knew. His expression softened, and for a moment, the world fell away. There was no arranged marriage, no expectations, no family breathing down her neck—just Jayce, looking at her like she was something precious.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Y/N…” He took a step closer, tilting her chin up so she met his gaze. “You should’ve told me.”

Tears burned in her eyes. “And what would you have done?”

“Anything. Everything.” His hands slid down her arms, his grip firm but gentle. “I wouldn’t have let them take you away from me.”

A sob broke free, and she collapsed against him. Jayce caught her easily, wrapping his arms around her. He held her like she was something fragile, but also like he had no intention of ever letting go.

“I love you,” she whispered into his chest, finally saying the words she had swallowed for too long.

Jayce stiffened for only a second before he let out a shaky laugh. “You really know how to throw a guy’s life into chaos, huh?”

She managed a small smile against his shirt. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. “You chose me, Y/N. You walked away from everything for me. I think I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you.”

The weight of the night still hung over them—the uncertainty of what came next, the inevitable fallout of her decision. But right now, none of it mattered.

Right now, with Jayce’s arms around her and his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek, she knew one thing for certain.

She had made the right choice.

VIKTOR

Viktor had always been good with words. They bent to his will, formed theories, solved equations, built a bridge between ideas and reality.

But not with you. Never with you.

He had known you for years—since the very first time he had stepped foot in Piltover, a hopeful boy with a cane and too many ideas. You had been kind to him when others turned up their noses, when they saw only his limp and his shabby clothes. Where others muttered about a Zaunite who had no place among them, you had offered him a seat beside you.

And ever since, you had been at his side.

You were at his side now, sitting in his lab, idly flipping through one of his research notes while he worked. The warm glow of the lamplight cast golden highlights on your skin, and every so often, he caught himself watching you instead of his work.

He shouldn’t.

But gods, he couldn’t help it.

"Viktor," you said suddenly, breaking the silence. You stretched, groaning softly before tossing the notebook aside. "How long have we been friends?"

He stilled, fingers tightening around the piece of machinery in his hands. "A long time," he murmured.

"Years," you agreed, leaning back against the desk, watching him with a lazy smile. "Feels like forever."

It did. Viktor could hardly remember a time without you. Your laughter echoing through the halls of the Academy. Your voice teasing him when he forgot to eat. The way you looked at him—not with pity, never with that—but with something softer. Something kinder.

Something he would never deserve.

"You ever think about what life would’ve been like if we hadn’t met?" you mused, tilting your head toward him.

His throat tightened. "No."

You blinked. "No?"

Viktor exhaled, setting down his tools. "I do not wish to imagine such a thing."

Your smile faltered slightly, something unreadable flickering across your face. "Me neither," you said softly.

His heart ached.

He had loved you for as long as he could remember.

From the moment you had spoken to him like an equal, when no one else would. From the nights spent in the lab, when the world outside disappeared and only the two of you remained. From every touch, every glance, every moment where he let himself believe—just for a second—that maybe, maybe, you could feel the same.

But he would never tell you.

Because what good would it do? What life could he offer you? A man like him, with a failing body and a mind consumed by work? A man who could barely stand without his cane, who grew weaker by the day?

No. He would not ruin this.

Instead, he reached for his cane and stood, offering you the closest thing he could to the truth. "I am glad we met, (Y/N)."

Your eyes searched his face, as if looking for something. As if you knew. But if you did, you didn’t say.

You only smiled, gentle and warm. "Me too, Vik."

And that would have to be enough.

Even if it wasn’t.

The gala was suffocating.

Golden chandeliers bathed the grand hall in warm light, reflecting off crystal glasses and polished marble floors. The air was thick with perfume and wine, and the hum of conversation blended with the soft strains of a string quartet.

Viktor hated these events.

But you were here, and that made it bearable.

You stood beside him near the edge of the ballroom, where it was quieter. Your dress shimmered under the light, a thing of silk and elegance, and yet, you still looked like you—soft, warm, and a little out of place, just as he was.

"You look miserable," you teased, sipping from a glass of champagne.

He smirked, shifting his weight onto his cane. "Ah, yes, because these gatherings are simply my favourite pastime."

You laughed, light and familiar, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, as it always was. For a moment, he could pretend.

Your hand brushed his sleeve as you leaned in. “I’m glad you came, though.”

His breath caught.

“I—” But before he could finish, a voice cut through the air.

"(Y/N), dear!"

Your body stiffened, and Viktor turned just as your parents approached. Your mother was smiling—pleased, eager—but your father’s gaze was calculating as he flicked a glance toward Viktor before settling on you.

"Come," your mother said, wrapping an arm around yours. "There's someone we'd like you to meet."

Viktor saw it then—the flicker of hesitation in your eyes, the way your fingers tightened slightly around your glass.

You didn't want to go. But you let yourself be led away. And he let you go.

Viktor watched as they guided you toward a man standing near the centre of the room. He was tall, well-dressed, handsome in the way that Piltover high society admired. A man of wealth, of power. A man who could give you everything Viktor could not.

Something twisted in his chest.

You turned your head, just for a moment, catching Viktor’s eyes from across the ballroom. And in that fleeting second, he saw it—an unspoken plea, a silent wish.

But what could he do? What could he say? So, Viktor did what he had always done. He said nothing.

And he watched as the world took you away from him.

The lab was quiet at this hour, save for the soft hum of machinery and the distant rumble of Zaun beneath Piltover’s pristine streets. Viktor sat hunched over his desk, fingers absentmindedly tapping against his cane as he read through a set of schematics.

He hadn’t seen you much in the past few weeks.

Not like before. Not like the days when you’d linger in his lab, curled up in a chair beside him, teasing him for forgetting to eat while he worked. Those moments had become rare now, slipping between the cracks of time and obligation, buried beneath the weight of your engagement.

But you still came. Sometimes in passing, sometimes under the guise of checking in, sometimes just long enough to share a look—one that said all the things neither of you dared to speak aloud.

And yet, when the knock came—three soft raps against the door—his breath still caught.

For a fleeting second, he considered not answering. If he ignored you, maybe you would leave. Maybe you would walk away and let him fade into the background of your life, where he belonged.

But then your voice came, quiet, hesitant.

“Vik… it’s me.”

His resolve shattered.

Slowly, he set his work aside, gripping his cane as he pushed himself up. The floor creaked as he made his way to the door, and when he opened it, there you stood.

You looked different.

Not in a way the world would notice, but Viktor did. He always noticed. There was something hollow in your eyes, something weighed down by exhaustion, as if you had been carrying a burden too heavy for one person alone.

His throat tightened. “(Y/N)…”

Your lips parted, but for a moment, you said nothing. Just looked at him—looked through him—like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground.

Then, you whispered, “I need to show you something.”

The city was quiet this late at night, but the air inside your dimly lit bedroom was heavy with something unspoken. A single candle flickered on the nightstand, the glow casting jagged shadows against the walls. Viktor sat beside you on the edge of your bed, still as stone, his golden eyes locked onto the figure before him.

You.

Dressed in your usual clothes, but before you, draped over the vanity chair like a ghost of your future, was the dress.

It was exquisite—delicate lace embroidery, pearls sewn along the bodice, the softest silk cascading onto the floor in an endless train. A gown fit for the life that had been chosen for you. One you never wanted.

The gala. When your parents led you away. When you met him. The man they had chosen for you.

“That was what it was,” you had murmured earlier, when you first appeared at his lab, voice shaking with something exhausted, something broken. “When they introduced me to him that night… it wasn’t just pleasantries. It wasn’t just some nobleman. That was my fiancé, Viktor. That was the moment they decided my future for me.”

The moment they took you from him. And now, here you were. The dress draped over your chair like a cage waiting to be closed. The proof of your impending fate.

And you, sitting beside him, looking at him, as though he was the only thing keeping you from drowning. He should not be here. He should have let you go, let you slip through his fingers like all things meant for better men.

But he had let you take him

And now, sitting in the dim glow of your bedroom, with only the weight of what would never be between you, he found himself incapable of looking away.

You swallowed hard, eyes still fixed on the gown. “I can’t do it, Viktor.”

Silence stretched between you.

Viktor’s gaze flickered between you and the dress, something unreadable crossing his features. After a moment, he spoke. “They will be looking for you. If you leave, you know this, yes?”

“I know.”

“They will not let you go easily.”

You turned to him then, desperate. “I don’t want their life.”

A bitter chuckle left him. “And you think I can give you something better?” He shook his head, looking away. “I am no safe haven, Y/N.”

His words stung more than you expected. You had spent years at each other’s sides—laughing, talking until sunrise, lingering in spaces too small for two people who shouldn’t have been so close. And yet, despite everything, despite how much you knew he cared, he still wouldn’t say it.

Your throat tightened. “I would rather be ruined than live without love.”

His breath hitched, and when his eyes finally met yours again, something in them cracked.

Because he had spent years convincing himself he was not enough. That he had nothing to offer you but friendship. That the idea of keeping you was selfish.

And yet, sitting beside him with your whole future crashing down around you, you had never looked more his.

But still, he shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “I will not let that happen.” His fingers curled tightly around his cane. “You have to go through with this, Y/N. It is the only way.”

Your stomach twisted. “So that’s it?” Your voice wavered, sharp with disbelief. “You won’t even fight for me?”

Something flickered in his gaze—pain, hesitation, longing so raw it nearly shattered his restraint.

Then, abruptly, he stood. The floor creaked beneath his uneven steps, and for a brief, fleeting moment, his fingers ghosted over yours. A touch so light, so hesitant, that it almost wasn’t there at all.

“You deserve more than stolen moments in the dead of night,” he murmured, his words cracking at the edges. “You deserve more than someone who cannot even stand at your side without a cane.”

Your breath caught.

Viktor’s jaw clenched as he forced himself to take a step back, his expression unreadable—locked behind the same walls you had spent years trying to break down.

And then, softer, more broken than before—

“You deserve more than me.”

You didn’t try to stop him this time. You just stared at the dress, at the life suffocating you, as silent tears began to slip down your cheeks. Your shoulders trembled, and then, all at once, the weight of it crashed down.

A sob broke past your lips.

Viktor stopped. His fingers twitched against the head of his cane, nails pressing into the wood. He could feel the way his body ached to turn back, to wipe your tears, to whisper that he loved you, that he had always loved you, that you didn’t have to go through this alone.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Because if he turned around now, he would never let you go.

And so, he forced his feet to move, each step heavier than the last, until the door clicked softly behind him, leaving you alone with the dress.

Leaving you alone with everything.

The cathedral was suffocating. The air was thick with the scent of incense, curling through the vast stone chamber like a phantom, and the weight of a hundred expectant stares pressed against your skin.

You stood before the altar, the silk of your gown pooling around you like a cage, heavy and inescapable. Your fiancé was beside you, his grip firm yet impersonal, like he was securing a business deal rather than taking a wife.

The priest spoke, his voice steady, rehearsed. You barely heard him. The walls felt like they were closing in, the candlelight flickering against the stained glass, casting eerie halos around the saints above.

Your fingers trembled in your fiancé’s grasp. This was wrong. All of it was wrong.

Then came the question.

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

The world went silent. Your lungs constricted. Your pulse pounded in your ears.

This was the moment—the point of no return. You saw the years stretched ahead of you, a life not your own. A home devoid of warmth, a man who would never understand you, a bed that would always feel cold.

Your lips parted. “I—” Your breath hitched. Your gaze flickered to the grand doors of the church. And then, clarity struck like lightning.

"I'm sorry."

Run.

You didn’t think. You didn’t hesitate. You ran.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, shocked murmurs rising like a wave. Your mother’s voice, sharp and furious, pierced the air, but her words barely registered. Your father called your name, and then the stunned, outraged shout of your fiancé cut through the chaos.

But you didn’t stop.

You lifted your gown, your legs burning as you sprinted down the aisle, past the horrified nobles and scandalized whispers, past the heavy wooden pews and the golden altar that was meant to seal your fate.

The moment your feet hit the marble steps outside, you gulped in the cool air like it was your first breath in years.

And then, you really ran.

The streets of Piltover blurred around you, your slippers slipping against the cobblestones, your dress catching on debris, ripping at the hem as you pushed forward, desperate, breathless, free.

People stared. They gawked at the runaway bride tearing through the city like a ghost fleeing its grave, but you didn’t care.

Because you knew exactly where you were going.

Viktor’s workshop was dimly lit, the glow of his blueprints casting flickering shadows against the cluttered walls. The scent of oil and parchment filled the air, the steady tick, tick, tick of his mechanical work the only sound.

He sat at his desk, hunched over his latest project, fingers curled tightly around his cane, as if he had been sitting there for hours—waiting, thinking, regretting.

And then—

The door slammed open.

His head jerked up, golden eyes widening at the sight of you standing in the doorway, breathless, wild, your wedding dress in ruins.

For a long, frozen moment, neither of you spoke.

The fabric of your gown was torn, dirt-streaked from the streets, and your chest heaved with exertion. Loose strands of hair clung to your damp skin, your hands trembling at your sides.

Viktor’s fingers tightened around his cane, knuckles white.

"Y/N," he breathed. His voice was hoarse, disbelieving.

You took a shaky step forward, and then another, and suddenly your knees buckled beneath you. Before you could fall, Viktor was there—his cane abandoned, his arms catching you before you hit the ground.

You collapsed against him, gasping, gripping at his vest as though you were afraid he would disappear. His scent—books, ink, something faintly metallic—was familiar, grounding. The world still felt like it was spinning, but in his arms, it didn’t matter.

His breath was uneven against your hair, his heart hammering beneath your palm where it pressed against his chest.

“You absolute fool,” he whispered, but there was no malice in his words. Only something raw, something breaking. His hands clung to you, one pressed firm against your back, the other gripping your waist as if he feared you would be torn from him.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your vision blurred with unshed tears. “I had to.” Your voice was barely a whisper, fractured and desperate. “I couldn’t—not without you.”

Viktor’s throat bobbed. His hands flexed against you, hesitant, as if part of him still thought this was a dream.

His golden eyes searched yours, wide and aching, as though trying to memorize every part of you—every piece of this impossible, reckless choice you had made.

“You left everything,” he rasped, his fingers ghosting along the curve of your jaw. “For me?”

Your breath hitched.

“For us,” you corrected.

A shuddering exhale left him. His forehead pressed against yours, his fingers threading into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer.

“You are going to be the death of me,” he murmured.

And then, finally, finally—

He kissed you.

It was desperate, trembling, inevitable. A kiss that tasted of longing and missed chances, of too many almosts and a love buried under years of silence. His lips were warm, unsteady, but when you sighed against him, when your fingers tangled in his curls, he broke.

A quiet sound escaped him, something fragile, something relieved, and suddenly, he was clutching you—one hand cradling the back of your head, the other gripping your waist like you might disappear if he let go.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips, voice trembling. “I have always loved you.”

Viktor sucked in a sharp breath, his grip tightening. When he spoke, his voice cracked.

“You are insufferable,” he murmured, a wry, breathless laugh escaping him. “Brilliant. Infuriating.”

He kissed you again, slow and lingering, as if he could pour all his unspoken words into the space between you.

And then, softer—softer than you’d ever heard him—

“I love you too.”

Your chest tightened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of the world didn’t feel so heavy.

You had run. You had abandoned everything for this—for him.

And Viktor, who had spent years convincing himself that he was undeserving, that he was less, held you like you were the only thing in the world that had ever mattered.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you dared to let go. Because for once—just once—this moment was yours.

And neither of you would let it slip away.

JAYVIK

The first time she met them, she hadn’t expected them to change her life.

She had been wandering through Piltover’s academy halls, drawn by the quiet hum of machinery and the occasional burst of laughter echoing through the corridors. The walls, lined with polished brass plaques and intricate blueprints, seemed to breathe innovation, whispering of endless possibilities. It was a place where minds far greater than hers were shaping the future, molding science into magic. And yet, despite knowing she didn’t belong among these scholars, she couldn’t help but be fascinated by the impossible things that could be created with just ingenuity and the right materials.

She didn’t mean to intrude. She told herself she’d just peek, just steal a glance before moving along. But curiosity had a way of rooting her in place, of pulling her toward a partially open door where the glow of warm lamplight spilled into the dim hallway.

Inside, two figures stood in the midst of an animated discussion.

One was broad-shouldered, gesturing with an easy confidence as he spoke, his voice rich and full of conviction. He had a presence that commanded attention without effort, his movements fluid and expressive. The other was leaner, more reserved, standing with the aid of a cane, his brace visible beneath the folds of his coat. He twirled a small mechanical piece between long, dexterous fingers, golden eyes flickering with sharp intelligence. He followed the conversation with the kind of quiet calculation that suggested he was always three steps ahead.

Jayce and Viktor.

She barely had time to process before Jayce turned, catching sight of her lingering in the doorway. His dark brows lifted, but rather than irritation, his face lit with curiosity. “Hey, you lost?”

She froze, caught between the urge to flee and the realization that she didn’t want to. The warmth in his tone, the lack of immediate dismissal—it was enough to keep her rooted in place.

“No,” she said quickly, smoothing down the fabric of her sleeves. “I just—was passing by.”

Viktor tilted his head, assessing her with quiet interest. He was less overt in his scrutiny than Jayce, but his sharp gaze missed nothing. Adjusting his weight slightly on his cane, he studied her, his expression unreadable. “Passing by,” he echoed, his accent thick around the words. “And yet, you stopped.”

She felt her face heat under his watchful stare, suddenly hyperaware of how out of place she must seem. “I guess I got curious.”

Jayce’s mouth curved into a grin, arms folding across his chest. “Curiosity’s a good thing. You interested in tech?”

Her instinct was to downplay it, to say she was just a casual observer, but something about the way both men looked at her—expectant, open, intrigued—made her hesitate. She didn’t want to sound foolish, not in front of people who clearly lived and breathed this world.

“I mean… I don’t know much,” she admitted, “but I like watching how things work.”

Viktor’s lips quirked, an almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “An observer,” he mused. “That is often where all great minds begin.”

There was something about the way he said it—something validating, something that made her feel less like a trespasser and more like she belonged here, in this space filled with half-finished blueprints and sparks of invention.

Jayce stepped aside, nodding toward their workspace. “You want a closer look?”

Viktor shifted slightly, leaning more on his cane, waiting for her response with a quiet kind of patience.

She hesitated for only a moment before stepping through the doorway, crossing the threshold into a world she didn’t yet realize she would never want to leave.

And just like that, without even realizing it, she had taken the first step toward falling in love with them.

Time passed, and she kept returning.

At first, it was sporadic—an occasional visit, a fleeting conversation. But each time, she lingered longer. Jayce’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Viktor’s mind was an endless puzzle she longed to understand. They welcomed her as though she had always belonged there, offering explanations, demonstrations, and challenges that sparked something deep inside her.

It was Viktor who first noticed the way her eyes lingered on the complex schematics pinned to the walls, the way her fingers itched to trace the fine lines of the designs. One evening, after watching her hesitate by the worktable for too long, he slid a half-finished mechanism toward her without a word.

She blinked at him, startled. “What?”

“Try,” he said simply, resting his weight against his cane. “You are watching so intently. Perhaps your hands should do more than that.”

She hesitated only a moment before picking it up, feeling the cool metal under her fingers. Jayce leaned in, watching with interest as she studied it, testing the small gears with careful movements.

“You’re good at this,” Jayce noted, a grin forming. “You sure you’re not secretly an engineer?”

She scoffed, but there was warmth in her chest, a kind of pride she hadn’t expected to feel. “I just… pick things up quickly.”

Viktor hummed. “Quick thinking is valuable.” He nodded toward the blueprint on the table. “But understanding why it works—that is more important. Here.” He handed her a pencil and tapped the paper. “Explain how you think this functions.”

It started as a test, but soon, it became something more. With each visit, she grew bolder, speaking her thoughts aloud, questioning their designs, offering her own theories. And each time, instead of dismissing her, they encouraged her. Viktor would challenge her ideas with sharp precision, his golden gaze alight with intrigue. Jayce would grin, offer counterarguments, and praise her insight with genuine excitement.

She found herself thriving in their presence, her mind stretching in ways it never had before. They saw her not just as an observer, but as someone capable, someone intelligent.

And slowly, she began to see it, too.

The lab was unusually quiet that evening. The hum of machinery filled the space, but neither Jayce nor Viktor spoke. They worked, side by side, as they always did, the rhythm of their movements familiar, comforting. Y/N had always found peace in this—watching the two of them lost in their world of creation, a world she had slowly, unwittingly become a part of.

But tonight, that peace felt fragile, as if her words might break something irreparable.

“I have something to tell you both,” she started, voice careful.

Jayce looked up from his blueprint first, brows knitting together. “That sounds serious.”

Viktor didn’t glance up immediately, but the way his hand stilled over his notes told her he was listening.

She took a deep breath. “My parents arranged a marriage for me.”

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Jayce’s jaw tightened. Viktor slowly set his pen down, finally lifting his golden gaze to hers. “Arranged,” he repeated, his accent making the word feel heavier, as if he were weighing it, turning it over in his mind like an equation he couldn’t solve.

She nodded. “It’s… tradition. My family believes in securing beneficial ties. He’s from a respectable background. Kind, polite—he’s never been cruel to me.”

Jayce let out a sharp exhale, his fingers flexing against the table’s surface. “And you’re just supposed to accept that?” His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

“I don’t know,” she admitted honestly. “He’s sweet, Jayce. He’s not a bad person.”

Viktor hummed, though there was no amusement in the sound. “That is convenient,” he murmured, tilting his head. “If he were cruel, it would be easier to refuse.”

She swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. “I just… I don’t want you to think this is some nightmare for me. It isn’t.”

Jayce crossed his arms, his expression stormy. His dark eyes locked onto hers, as if searching for something—an answer, a reassurance, anything. “That doesn’t mean it’s what you want.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. Because, deep down, she wasn’t sure.

Viktor exhaled slowly, tapping his cane against the floor as he leaned forward. His gaze was unreadable, but something flickered beneath the surface—something unspoken, restrained. “And what do you want, Y/N?” His voice was softer now, as if he already knew the answer but needed to hear it from her.

She looked between them—the two people who had become so important to her, the ones who had never looked down on her, never doubted her mind or her place among them.

The ones who made her feel alive.

She knew. She had known for a long time. But the words refused to form.

Jayce had always been warmth and fire, his passion as boundless as his belief in her. His confidence made her feel like she could do anything, like she belonged in this world, in their world. He was the one who had laughed with her, challenged her, made her feel like she was more than just a name, more than just a duty to her family.

And Viktor… Viktor, with his sharp mind and quiet, steady presence. He never underestimated her. He saw her—truly saw her—not as a curiosity, but as an equal, someone with thoughts worth sharing, ideas worth hearing. When he spoke, it felt like he was unraveling pieces of her she hadn’t even known were tangled.

They were everything she had ever wanted, and yet, none of them had ever dared to say it.

Because how could they?

How could she?

Her throat tightened. She forced herself to meet their gazes, to hold onto this moment for just a little longer before reality crushed it.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, the words a betrayal to everything she truly felt. But then, softer—so quiet she wasn’t sure if they heard—she admitted, “But I don’t think it’s him.”

Jayce let out a breath, his posture shifting as if he wanted to say something, anything, but couldn’t find the words. Viktor’s fingers tapped soundlessly against the edge of the table, his golden eyes lingering on her as though memorizing every detail of her face.

None of them spoke the truth that hung between them.

But they all felt it.

Weeks later, the academy hosted a grand gala, an event filled with Piltover’s finest minds and most influential figures. It was here that she introduced Viktor and Jayce to her fiancé.

He was charming, well-mannered, and impeccably dressed, with the kind of polished refinement that made him fit effortlessly into Piltover’s elite. At first glance, he was everything a suitor should be—kind, attentive, even engaging in light conversation with Jayce about Hextech advancements.

But there was an edge to his words when he spoke to her. Subtle, almost imperceptible, but there nonetheless.

“You always did have a fascination with tinkering,” he remarked smoothly, offering her a practiced smile. “It’s sweet, really. Like watching a child take apart a clock and pretend to understand it.”

Viktor’s grip on his cane tightened ever so slightly. Jayce’s easygoing expression faltered, his jaw clenching.

She forced a smile. “I’d like to think I’ve learned more than just pretending.”

Her fiancé chuckled, as if amused by her response. “Of course, darling. But some things are best left to those who truly understand them, don’t you think?”

Jayce’s grip on his drink tightened, while Viktor’s golden eyes darkened. They exchanged a glance—silent, but telling.

She exhaled, the warmth and acceptance she had found in Viktor and Jayce’s lab suddenly feeling like a stark contrast to the cold, condescending words of the man standing beside her.

And for the first time, she truly questioned whether this was the future she wanted.

A week before her wedding, she hesitated before bringing up the idea to her fiancé. The weight of it sat heavy on her chest, suffocating. But she wasn’t afraid—at least, not yet. Up until this point, he had been nothing but kind to her, always polite, always well-mannered. There had been comments, little things that didn’t sit right, moments that made her pause.

You’re so bright for someone who never studied formally.

It’s adorable how passionate you are about things you don’t really need to understand.

I admire your determination. Even when it’s misplaced.

But he had never been cruel. Never raised his voice. Never done anything to make her fear him.

So she smiled as she brought it up, thinking nothing of it.

“I want to invite Jayce and Viktor,” she said lightly, swirling her tea in its porcelain cup. “They’ve been such an important part of my life these past few months, and I just know they’ll be thrilled. I was thinking we could seat them right up front.”

She looked up at him, expecting him to nod, perhaps even chuckle at her enthusiasm.

Instead, his entire demeanour shifted. His fingers stilled against the rim of his glass, his jaw tightening so subtly she almost didn’t notice.

“No.”

The finality in his tone sent a shiver down her spine.

She blinked. “What?”

His eyes were unreadable, his expression calm—too calm. “No,” he repeated.

Her smile faltered. “Why not? They’re my friends.”

He sighed as if she were being difficult, setting his glass down with deliberate care. Then, he reached for her wrist. The touch was gentle at first, the way he had always been with her.

But then his grip tightened.

“Because I said so.”

A strange, heavy feeling settled in her stomach. His fingers, once reassuring, were firm now, like steel wrapped in silk. She let out a quiet laugh, confused. “That’s not a reason.”

His grip hardened. Not enough to bruise—not yet—but enough that she felt the warning beneath it. A subtle, possessive force pressing into her skin.

“You spend too much time with them,” he said, his voice lowering. It was still smooth, still perfectly controlled, but there was something beneath it now, something sharp. “I see the way you look at them. The way they look at you.”

Her breath hitched. Had she been careless? Had it been that obvious?

“They’re my friends,” she repeated, her voice smaller now, unsure.

His thumb traced over her wrist, deceptively soft. “Stay away from them.”

The air in the room suddenly felt too thick, pressing against her lungs. “You don’t get to tell me—”

She didn’t get to finish. His fingers clamped down harder, yanking her forward with a force that stole the breath from her lungs. Her pulse spiked. Panic flickered in her chest like a warning bell.

“Do you understand me?” His voice was quieter now, more dangerous, more intimate in its threat.

She swallowed, her throat tight. “Yes,” she forced out, nodding quickly. Her heart was hammering so hard she thought it might burst.

He stared at her for a moment longer, his gaze sharp, assessing, searching. Then, as if nothing had happened, his grip loosened. He brushed his fingers over her wrist in a slow, mocking caress, as if smoothing over the damage.

“Good,” he murmured, before turning away.

She stood frozen in place, skin burning where his fingers had been, breath coming in short, shallow pulls.

The moment she was alone, she staggered back against the nearest surface, clutching her wrist. She could already see the faint bruises forming—shadows of his grip, a physical mark of the line she had dared to cross.

She should have fought back. She should have said something.

But all she felt was the overwhelming sensation of being trapped.

For the few days, she didn’t speak to Jayce or Viktor. Whenever they approached, she found an excuse to leave. It felt like she was constantly running, ducking out of hallways, slipping past the lab doors before they could call her name. Avoidance became second nature, but she could still feel them watching, waiting, their concern growing with every passing day.

Jayce was the first to try, his voice warm and inviting, the way it had always been. “Hey—Y/N, wait up!” He caught her just outside the Academy, his broad frame blocking her way. His smile was softer than usual, hesitant, as though he already knew something wasn’t right. “You’ve been avoiding us.”

She forced a laugh, shaking her head as she hugged her arms close to herself. “No, I’ve just been busy. Wedding preparations, you know how it is.”

Jayce frowned. “Right,” he said slowly, eyes flickering down to where her sleeve had slipped just enough to reveal the faintest glimpse of a dark bruise on her wrist.

His expression shifted in an instant. The easy warmth in his features drained, replaced by something hard, unreadable. “What happened?”

She quickly pulled her sleeve down, heart hammering. “Nothing. I—” She swallowed, forcing a breathy chuckle. “I fell. It’s not a big deal.”

Jayce’s frown deepened, skepticism clear in his dark eyes. He reached out, gentle but firm, fingers brushing against her wrist before she jerked away, stepping back as if burned.

“I have to go,” she blurted, turning so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet. She didn’t look back as she walked away, feeling the weight of his stare follow her long after she disappeared into the city streets.

The next day, it was Viktor.

She had thought she could avoid them both, but Viktor had always been patient. He waited, watching, until the moment was right.

He found her alone in the archives, tucked between tall shelves of books, pretending to be absorbed in a text she wasn’t even reading. She barely had time to react before his cane tapped against the floor beside her, his voice quiet yet firm.

“You are hiding from us.”

She inhaled sharply but didn’t look up. “No, I—”

“Lying does not suit you.”

She flinched. His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was something about the weight of his words that made her chest tighten. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his, and there was no mistaking the way his golden eyes settled on the faint bruise peeking out from under her sleeve.

Viktor didn’t reach for her, didn’t crowd her the way Jayce had. Instead, he simply stared, his mind clearly working, calculating.

“What happened?” he asked, softer now, but there was no missing the steel beneath it.

She forced a smile, trying to make it seem convincing. “I fell.”

There was a beat of silence between them, long and heavy.

Then Viktor tilted his head. “You are not clumsy.”

She let out a shaky breath. “I—”

“Do not insult my intelligence,” he cut in gently, but there was an unmistakable sharpness in his tone, a warning. His fingers tapped against the head of his cane, his gaze never leaving hers. “Tell me the truth.”

Her throat tightened. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to spill everything, to lean into the safety of his presence, to hear Jayce’s reassuring voice tell her that everything was going to be okay. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t.

She stepped back, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Viktor’s expression darkened, something unreadable flashing behind his eyes. He inhaled as if about to speak, but she didn’t give him the chance.

“I have to go.”

And then she walked away. She felt his gaze burning into her back, the sound of his cane against the stone floor echoing in her mind long after she was gone.

The wedding day arrived, a day she had once thought would bring stability, duty, and an end to the expectations pressed upon her. But now, as she stood at the altar, her fiancé’s hand clasped over hers, all she felt was dread.

The grand hall was filled with polished faces, people dressed in their finest, murmuring their approval at what was meant to be the perfect union. Golden chandeliers bathed the room in warm light, but she felt none of its glow. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, suffocating. She had always imagined weddings to be filled with love, with warmth.

Instead, all she felt was cold.

Her fiancé squeezed her fingers, hard enough that it stung, forcing her to meet his gaze. His smile was as practiced as ever, but there was a sharpness to it, an edge only she could see. He leaned in, voice low, meant only for her ears.

“Pull down your sleeve,” he murmured, his grip tightening slightly. “Cover those bruises. They’re disgusting.”

Her breath hitched, the words slamming into her like ice water down her spine. A chill crept into her chest, spreading outward, paralyzing. Her fingers trembled, the fabric of her dress feeling too tight, too restrictive.

Disgusting.

The bruises he gave her. The marks left behind from nights of soft-spoken cruelty, from fingers that gripped too hard, from reminders that she belonged to him. Disgusting.

She had lied to herself. Lied and convinced herself that this was just a duty, that she could endure it. That she had no other choice.

But she did. She always had.

Her heart pounded, blood rushing in her ears as she pulled her hand from his grasp, stepping back. The air shifted, whispers rippling through the crowd, but she didn’t hear them. All she could hear was the sound of her own breath, the way her pulse hammered as realization crashed over her.

She had to go. Now.

And then she ran.

Gasps followed her, voices rising in confusion, in outrage, but she didn’t stop. She lifted the hem of her dress and sprinted down the aisle, past rows of stunned guests, past the weight of expectation and control.

Someone called her name—her fiancé, maybe. Or her parents. But she didn’t listen. She shoved through the grand doors, bursting into the open air, the cool wind hitting her face like a slap.

She didn’t know where she was going.

But she knew exactly who she was running to.

The silk of the wedding dress clung to her like a ghost of a life she never wanted. A gilded cage of ivory lace and expectations. Her breath came fast, fogging the cool night air as she ran, the hem of her gown dragging through the grime of the streets. Her veil had been lost somewhere along the way, but she didn’t care. She was free. Or at least, she was trying to be.

Behind her, she could still hear the distant shouts of guards searching for their missing bride. The weight of her arranged marriage had pressed down on her for months, a slow suffocation, until she couldn’t take it anymore. Not when her heart belonged elsewhere—to two brilliant minds who had captured her in ways her fiancé never could.

Viktor and Jayce.

The thought of them made her chest ache, hope and desperation twisting together as she reached Piltover’s academy entrance. Her fiancé had always known of her affections, and that’s why he had forbidden it. Locked her away with threats of what he could do to them if she disobeyed.

But she was never the obedient type.

She pounded on the door to the lab, her fingers trembling from both the chill and adrenaline. Her lungs burned from running, her body aching under the weight of exhaustion, but she didn’t stop. She had nowhere else to go.

For a horrifying second, she feared they weren’t inside, that she had escaped one nightmare only to be stranded in another. But then—hurried footsteps. The familiar creak of the door swinging open.

Jayce stood in the doorway, his usual vest and rolled-up sleeves now slightly rumpled from hours of work. His eyes widened in utter disbelief as they landed on her.

“Y/N?”

She barely had time to speak before he pulled her inside, shutting the door firmly behind her. His warmth, his presence—it was a stark contrast to the cold, suffocating weight of her wedding day. His hands hovered near her shoulders, hesitant but protective, as he took in her dishevelled state. The torn fabric of her dress. The bruises peeking out from her sleeves.

“You—what the hell happened?” he asked, voice wavering between concern and panic.

She swallowed, shaking from more than just the cold. “Where’s Viktor?”

“I’m here.”

Viktor’s voice was softer, but no less urgent. He emerged from the back of the lab, his cane tapping lightly against the floor as he approached. His golden eyes swept over her, taking in every detail—the ragged breaths, the way her arms clutched at herself, the marks on her skin that shouldn’t have been there. His jaw twitched, his fingers tightening around the handle of his cane.

“You ran,” he said simply. But there was something behind those words. Something raw. Something furious.

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t marry him.” Her voice cracked. “I needed to be here. With you two.”

Jayce exhaled a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, Y/N. He’s gonna come looking for you. He won’t just let this go.”

“I know,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “But I didn’t care. I had to take the risk.”

Viktor stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until he was within arm’s reach. He didn’t touch her—Viktor was always careful with his affections—but his presence was steadying, grounding. His eyes searched hers, looking for something, anything that would tell him she was safe now.

“You are hurt,” he murmured, his voice measured but tight. “Did he do this?”

She hesitated for only a moment before nodding. A barely-there movement, but enough. Enough for Jayce to curse under his breath, his entire body tensing beside her. Enough for Viktor’s grip on his cane to tighten so hard his knuckles turned white.

A thick silence settled between them, heavy and crackling with restrained emotion. Jayce’s breathing had turned unsteady, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he didn’t know what to do with the rage simmering inside him. Viktor, though quieter, was no less affected—his eyes burned with something dangerous, something deadly.

A sudden, violent crash shattered the fragile peace as the lab’s door was nearly torn from its hinges. The force sent sparks flying from the broken lock, the heavy metal door groaning as it swung inward.

Y/N’s breath caught as her fiancé strode in, flanked by armed guards, his expression twisted with fury.

“Y/N!"

Her fiancé. His voice carried the weight of humiliation, of wounded pride, of a man who had never been denied anything—until now.

Jayce was already moving, stepping in front of her with his hammer gripped tightly in his hands, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to strike. Viktor, though slower, lifted his cane just slightly, his golden eyes sharp with calculation.

“You think you can just run away from me?” Her fiancé’s voice dripped with venom. His gaze flickers between the two men before settling back on Y/N “Like some common whore scurrying off to her filthy lovers?”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the insult, but she refused to flinch.

“Let me guess,” he sneered, taking a step closer. “You couldn’t wait to spread your legs for them, could you? You always were a little harlot, always chasing after men who have no future, no status. Do you really think they love you, Y/N? Or are you just a game to them?”

The sound of metal scraping against stone filled the air as Jayce shifted his hammer in his grip, his knuckles white from how tightly he held it. His entire body vibrated with restrained fury, muscles coiled as if he were moments away from striking. The air in the lab felt charged, humming with the tension of a battle waiting to unfold.

"Say one more word," Jayce warned, his voice low and lethal, each syllable laced with the promise of violence. "I dare you."

Viktor, though eerily calm beside him, was no less sharp. His golden eyes gleamed under the dim workshop light, his fingers flexing subtly against the head of his cane. When he spoke, his tone was smooth, his words cutting like a finely sharpened blade. "Your insecurities are showing," he observed, adjusting his grip with measured ease. "It is not a good look."

A laugh echoed from the doorway, but there was no humour in it, only bitter amusement masking barely-contained rage. Y/N’s fiancé took another step into the workshop, his sneer curling with contempt as he eyed her and the two men standing between them. His confidence, shaken but not yet shattered, dripped from every venomous syllable.

"You really think you can keep her?" He scoffed, his voice gaining a manic edge. "You think you can protect her from me?"

Y/N took a slow, deep breath, steadying herself before stepping forward, placing herself between Jayce and Viktor before either of them could make a move. Her pulse pounded in her ears, the weight of the moment pressing against her chest like a vice. She felt the heat of Jayce’s fury behind her, the quiet steel of Viktor’s presence beside her, but she did not waver. She would not let this man dictate her fate any longer.

"I was never yours to begin with." Her voice was steady despite the tremor she felt deep in her bones. Her eyes met his, unwavering, unflinching, burning with a conviction she had never spoken aloud before. "I belong to no one but myself. And I chose them."

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, stretching unbearably as the weight of her words settled over the room.

And then—

"Enough."

The single word cut through the tension like a knife, sharp and commanding.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as the guards at the doorway stiffened, stepping aside to make way for the man who had just spoken. A tall, imposing figure emerged from the dim light of the street outside, his heavy coat swirling as he stepped into the lab. His expression was unreadable, his face set in the kind of cold composure that sent a chill through the room.

Her father.

Her mother followed close behind him, her usual poise slightly cracked, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as though trying to hold something together. The air shifted, the power in the room subtly tilting. Even the guards hesitated now, caught between their orders and the unspoken authority of the man before them.

Her fiancé, the arrogant, entitled man who had spent the night throwing insults like knives, suddenly found himself at a loss for words. His mouth opened, then closed, his gaze flickering between the older man and Y/N, realization dawning like a slow, creeping poison.

They had heard everything.

Her father’s gaze swept over the scene—the shattered door barely hanging on its hinges, the guards standing rigid at attention, Jayce and Viktor poised to defend Y/N with every ounce of their being. And finally, his eyes landed on his daughter.

"Y/N," he said, his voice calm but firm, betraying nothing of what he might be thinking. "Come here."

She did not move.

The command that once would have sent her falling into line now barely made her flinch. She was not a child anymore, not the obedient daughter who would bow her head and step forward simply because duty dictated it.

Her father studied her carefully, his sharp gaze piercing through the heavy air of the lab, and then, after a long pause, he let out a slow breath. His next words caught her completely off guard.

"Is this truly what you want?"

It was not a demand. It was not an accusation.

It was a question.

A choice.

Her hands clenched at her sides, not from fear, but from the overwhelming weight of the moment. She swallowed hard, turning her head slightly to look at Jayce, at Viktor, at the two men who had risked everything for her, who had given her a chance at something real. Jayce, all fire and passion, his heart too big for his own good, his unwavering belief in her stronger than anything she had ever known. Viktor, all quiet brilliance, his mind a fortress of calculated logic, but with a depth of understanding in his golden eyes that told her she was not just something to be protected—she was something worth standing beside.

She turned back to her father and lifted her chin. "Yes," she said, her voice steady and certain. "This is what I want."

Her father exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting away from her for the first time, moving to the two men at her side. And something in his expression—subtle, but undeniable—changed.

Because these were not nameless, lowborn men from the undercity.

Jayce Talis, co-creator of Hextech, the man who had revolutionized Piltover’s future, stood before him with an unrelenting presence, a man who had carved out his own legacy, who held power not just in name, but in action. Viktor, the brilliant mind behind it all, carried himself with quiet certainty, a man whose intelligence had shaped the very foundations of Piltover’s progress.

These were not insignificant men. They were innovators. Visionaries. Men of status. Men who had power in their own right.

Men who would protect Y/N from anything and anyone.

Her father turned back to her fiancé, the young man now pale and rigid, his confidence crumbling under the weight of the shift in power.

"The arrangement is off," her father stated coolly, leaving no room for argument.

Her fiancé gaped at him, his entire body going taut with disbelief. "You can’t be serious! She belongs to me—"

Her father’s gaze snapped back to him, sharp and unwavering. "She belongs to no one."

A tense silence filled the space, thick with the weight of finality.

Her mother finally stepped forward, her voice softer but no less firm. "You have embarrassed yourself tonight," she said plainly, her eyes sweeping over the room before she addressed the guards. "Escort him out."

There was hesitation—just for a moment—but then the guards moved. One by one, they turned on their heels, the power of status winning out over the remnants of loyalty.

Her fiancé’s face twisted in fury, his lip curling as he cast one last glare in Y/N’s direction. "You’ll regret this," he hissed, his words a desperate attempt at control.

Jayce stepped forward, his hammer still in hand, his body coiled like a predator ready to strike. "Try to come near her again and see what happens."

Viktor didn’t move, but his voice, soft and deliberate, held an edge sharper than steel. "I assure you, it would not end well for you."

The last flicker of arrogance drained from her fiancé’s expression. He had lost. He knew it. With a growl of frustration, he turned on his heel and stormed out, his boots echoing loudly against the stone floor.

The moment the door shut behind him, the room seemed to exhale.

Y/N’s knees felt weak, but before she could stumble, Jayce was already at her side, steadying her with a hand on her back. Viktor exhaled beside them, adjusting his grip on his cane, his expression unreadable but not unkind.

Her mother reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear. "You always were stubborn," she murmured. "You could have just told us."

A breathless laugh escaped Y/N’s lips. "Would you have listened?"

Her mother did not answer. But the silence spoke volumes. As her parents turned away, Y/N looked up at Jayce and Viktor. Relief, exhaustion, love—all of it tangled together inside her.

She had won.

She had chosen her own future.

And she had no regrets.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane angst #arcane fluff #reader insert #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #viktor x you #jayce x reader x viktor #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader #mel x reader

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deansbeer · 2 days ago

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off limits ・ JASON TEAGUE. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ library

eighteen plus. minors do NOT interact.

୨୧ synopsis. you visit jason at his first football game as an assistant coach, and after his team wins, he takes you in his office—reckless, desperate, and forbidden. but when lana finds out, everything shatters. now, caught in the fallout of your affair, you and jason must face the consequences.

୨୧ word count. 1.5k

୨୧ kari notes. listen, i don't condone cheating !!! but when it comes to lana … it's justifiable. so save the bitching, i'm entitled to my own opinion and have my reasons for disliking her <3 now that we got that out of the way! this is my first ever jason teague fic and i'm down astronomically bad for him.

the friday night lights shine bright over the smallville high football field, the crowd buzzing with energy as the game wraps up. the crows just won—another victory under assistant coach jason teague's belt.

you watch from the bleachers, arms crossed, a small smirk playing on your lips as you spot him down on the field. he's all confidence, shaking hands with players, clapping them on the back, his spiky sandy blonde hair slightly damp from sweat.

he invited you tonight—nothing unusual, just a casual you should come watch the game when you last saw him.

but there's nothing casual about the way his eyes find yours through the crowd, lingering just a second too long before he turns away.

nothing casual about the way your stomach tightens, your skin prickling with heat.

because jason teague isn't just anyone.

he's your good friend. nothing more.

not to mention, he's also dating lana lang.

but that doesn't stop the way your body reacts when he pulls you aside after the game, leading you through the halls of smallville high, past empty classrooms and dark corridors, until you're standing in front of his office.

"you coming in?" he asks, voice low, gaze heavy.

you should say no.

but you don’t.

the second the door clicks shut behind you, he's on you.

his hands are firm, gripping your waist, pulling you against him, and his mouth crashes against yours in a kiss that's all heat and hunger.

"fuck, i've been thinking about this all night," he mutters against your lips, hands sliding down to grab your ass, pressing you harder against him.

you let out a soft gasp, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling just enough to make him groan.

"jason," you breathe, "someone could—"

"don't care," he cuts you off, lips trailing down your neck, teeth scraping lightly against your skin. "you think i could focus on that game with you sitting up in the stands lookin' like that?"

your head tilts back as he kisses his way down, his hands already tugging at your tank top, pushing it up, exposing more skin to his touch.

"knew i had to have you the second i saw you walk through those gates," he murmurs, voice rough, "knew i wasn't gonna be able to wait."

you shiver at his words, at the sheer desperation in his tone, and then he's lifting you onto his desk, pushing between your legs, his mouth claiming yours again.

the kiss is messy, all tongue and teeth, years of restraint snapping like a rubber band stretched too thin.

"this is wrong," you whisper against his lips.

"doesn't feel wrong," he counters, hands sliding under your denim skirt, fingers tracing the lace of your panties.

you bite your lip, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

"lock the door."

he smirks, reaching back blindly, twisting the lock until it clicks.

and then he's back on you, pushing your skirt up higher, fingers slipping beneath the lace, finding you already soaked for him.

"fuck," he groans, "all this for me?"

you don't answer—not with words. instead, you reach for his belt, unfastening it with quick, eager fingers, pulling him free from his jeans.

he's hard, thick, the tip already leaking, and the sight alone makes your mouth go dry.

"tell me, baby," he urges, voice low and rough, "tell me you want this."

you meet his gaze, your breath shaky but sure.

"i want this, jay."

that's all he needs.

he pushes your panties aside, lining himself up, and then he's sinking into you, stretching you open inch by inch until he's fully seated inside you.

you both let out a low groan, his forehead dropping against yours, hands gripping your thighs as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust.

"shit," he mutters, "you feel so fuckin' good."

you clutch at the sides of his neck, nails digging into his skin, your body already trembling from the intensity of it all.

"move," you whisper, "fuck—please."

he doesn't make you beg twice.

his hips pull back, then snap forward, setting a deep, steady rhythm that has you gasping, your back arching against the desk.

the room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the quiet creak of the desk beneath you, the wet, obscene sound of him fucking into you.

it's reckless. desperate. like you both know how wrong this is, but neither of you care enough to stop.

"so tight," he grits out, "so perfect. my perfect girl."

his hands grip your hips, guiding your movements, pulling you down to meet each thrust.

you bite your lip, trying to hold in your moans, but he notices—of course he does.

"don't hold back, baby," he murmurs, "wanna hear you."

his words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you let go, moaning his name as he fucks you harder, deeper, hitting that perfect spot that has you seeing stars.

"jason—mm—fuck—"

"that's it, sweetheart," he groans, "love hearing you say my name."

you're close—so close you can barely breathe, your body tensing, your nails now dragging down his shoulder blades, the dip in his back.

"gonna come for me?" he teases, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing tight, precise circles.

you nod frantically, clinging to him, overwhelmed by the pleasure building inside you.

"then come," he commands, voice rough with need. "wanna feel you squeeze me, baby."

his words push you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave, your whole body trembling as you cry out his name.

he follows moments later, burying himself deep, groaning against your skin as he spills inside you, his grip on you tightening like he never wants to let go.

for a moment, there's nothing but heavy breathing, the sound of your racing hearts.

then, reality starts to creep back in.

he pulls back slightly, brushing hair from your face, his thumb tracing your cheek.

"you okay?" he asks, voice softer now.

you nod again, having trouble forming coherent sentences, still catching your breath.

he smirks, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

"damn good thing we locked that door."

you laugh, shaking your head, but you don’t move—not yet.

because despite everything, despite knowing this was probably a mistake, there's a part of you that doesn't regret it.

not one bit.

BONUS.

it was bound to happen.

smallville was too small, too full of watchful eyes and nosy mouths.

but you weren't thinking about that the next time you found yourself in jason's office, pressed up against the door, his mouth hot and insistent against yours.

"missed you," he murmurs against your lips, hands already pushing beneath your shirt, fingers rough with need. "been thinking about this all damn week."

you shiver, arching into him, your own hands tugging at his belt.

"you saw me three days ago," you tease, but your voice is breathless, betraying just how much you missed him too.

"not enough," he growls, spinning you around, pressing your front against the door as he grinds against your ass, letting you feel just how hard he already is.

you bite your lip, anticipation thrumming through your veins.

"then don't waste time," you whisper.

he doesn't.

his hands yank down your jeans, your panties, just enough to free you, and then his own zipper is undone, his cock pressing against your slick heat.

"fuck, baby girl," he groans, "always so ready for me."

you barely have time to brace yourself before he's sliding inside, stretching you open in that perfect way that makes your head spin.

"oh, jay—"

"shh," he murmurs, kissing the side of your neck, "gotta keep quiet, sweetheart. wouldn't want anyone hearing, right?"

but that's exactly what happens.

because just as he starts to move, the door handle jiggles.

"jason?"

a voice.

her voice.

lana.

you freeze.

jason stills behind you, his body tense, his grip tightening on your hips.

there’s a single, agonizing beat of silence.

then—

"why is the door locked?"

you barely have time to react before jason is pulling out, his hands quick as he tugs your jeans back up, fixing his own pants in record time.

your heart is hammering in your chest, panic rising fast.

"shit," you whisper, but jason is already moving, already composing himself.

he unlocks the door, cracking it open just enough to slip out, blocking the view inside with his body.

"hey," he says, voice calm, controlled, like he wasn't just buried inside you seconds ago. "what are you doing here?"

"i was looking for you," lana says, her voice soft but suspicious. "why was the door locked?"

"just… needed a minute," jason says smoothly. "long day."

there's a pause.

"who's in there with you?" lana asks, her voice sharper now.

your stomach drops.

jason hesitates—just enough for her to push past him, stepping into the office.

and then her eyes land on you.

her face shifts in an instant—confusion, then realization, then pure devastation.

"oh my god," she breathes.

you don't move.

"lana—" jason starts, but she's already backing up, shaking her head.

"don't," she cuts him off, her voice trembling. "don't you dare, jason."

the silence is suffocating.

then, she turns, storming out of the office without another word.

you exhale, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once.

"goddamnit," jason mutters, dragging a hand down his face.

you swallow hard, looking at him.

"what now?"

he looks back at you, his jaw tight, his eyes unreadable.

"now," he says, "we deal with it."

but the real question is—how?

៸៸៸ special tags. @titsout4jackles @bluemerakis @daylighted @beausling @jasvtsc @honeyryewhiskey ⎯⎯ if you wanna be tagged in any jason content, do let me know !!!

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mina-org · 2 days ago

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Messy concept

This is pure smut no plot just like smut, like a most to least messy I guess, Taskforce 141, Alejandro, rudy, Valeria n graves. Fem reader and it’s smut there’s mention of kinks and stuff

I think gaz and johnny are both messy, so messy.

୨୧ Gaz is over eager, all pent up from being away and his hand just isn’t enough:( slopping kisses and desperate dry humping as soon as he gets home, he’s stumbling over to the couch with your legs wrapped around his waist, he can feel heat radiating from your core, so close but so far:( he also loves seeing your pretty face covered a facial, oh so faithfully delivered to you by him.

୨୧ This post changed my life. Being messy is apart of Johnnys character for me like in every area of life he’s chaotic and messy, he’s truly out here playing games while the two of you make out, and it’s not just kisses. This man is not afraid to ride the red wave and when he eats you? If his beard isn’t saturated with your juices he’s not stopping. He’s adores seeing how far he can push you, obsessed with finding ways to make you squirt. Overstim king for real

୨୧ Valeria redefines cruelty. She wants to push and push and push until you break and gets to do it all over again! Those fuck machines? She has one and she’ll set you up and have you live stream it for her if she’s not able to watch in person. Not necessarily messy but she loves seeing you squirt but of course will reprimand you for it because you didn’t use your words:(

୨୧ Now Alejandro? Alejandro messy Vargas? Another man who’s ideal tonight in is seeing how many times he make make you come. Alejandro loves mess, happy to get messy with you. Your oh so gentle hands pumping him, so nice after a mission left him alone with his rough calloused hands. He’ll come fast after being deployed for a while, his own essence landed on his torso but he knows his pretty girl will clean him up so nicely, won’t you? And you know Alejandro will do the same, he loves cleaning up that pretty pussy, slowly licking up your combined juices

୨୧ Graves is messy, all the photos you send him while he’s away? Ruined, he says water damaged but the white stains from his and his top shadow says otherwise. I think he loves sharing, treating his men after they did well on a mission and his pretty girl is the perfect treat, but he’s the only one who’s allowed in that pretty pussy.

Price and rudy are less messy I think, but they’d always indulge you<3

୨୧ With simon? Really depends if you’ve been good or bad. If you been needy all day? He’ll make you beg. If you don’t beg? He’s getting messy and degrading you, it’s a choose your own adventure! Simon does loves seeing you on your knees, all teary eyes and pouty lips, and of course precum at smeared across your cheek.

୨୧ Rudy’s sweet and so slow it’s almost tournament but so perfect. I think he’s a big fan of mutual masturbation but he always begs to finish inside.

୨୧ Price isn’t messy, he’s coming deep inside that pretty pussy and fucking it back in there, you’re gonna give him pretty babies won’t you?

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ivyues · 2 days ago

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Chauffeur Duties | 4 | - Seungmin

Seungmin x Lee Know's sister

After a sudden downpour, your brother picked you up, leading to a confrontation with your boyfriend, Seungmin.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A/N: many thanks to 🩵 for the ideas! <3

The rain came out of nowhere.

One moment, you were walking home, minding your own business, and the next, the sky had cracked open, drenching everything in sight. Your hoodie was no match for the sudden downpour, and within minutes, you were soaked to the bone.

Instinct took over, and before you even realized what you were doing, your fingers were already pressing your brother's contact.

"What?" Lew Know's voice came through the line, already laced with annoyance.

"Can you pick me up?" you asked, shivering slightly as you ducked under a bus stop for minimal cover.

A sigh. "Where are you?"

You sent him your location, and he grumbled something about you always being a hassle before hanging up. You knew he’d come, though. That was just Lee Know's way of showing he cared – through mild exasperation and reluctant acts of service.

Fifteen minutes later, his car pulled up, and you scrambled inside, dripping all over his passenger seat. He clicked his tongue but didn’t say anything about it, instead tossing a towel onto your lap as he pulled away from the curb.

"You better not get my seat all gross," he muttered, eyes on the road.

"I'll clean it later," you promised, toweling off my hair. "Thanks for picking me up."

"Yeah, yeah." His voice was gruff, but then he added, "You’re lucky I wasn’t busy."

You bit back a smile, choosing not to argue with him.

The ride was mostly quiet except for the hum of the engine and the occasional swish of the windshield wipers. But as you paid more attention to the streets he was taking, your stomach twisted.

He wasn’t driving towards your home. He was driving in the direction of Felix's and Seungmin’s dorm.

Panic crept in, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral.

"Where are we going?" you asked, feigning curiosity.

Lee Know gave you a side glance. "Thought you’d want to see your lap dog of a boyfriend."

You blinked at him, your grip tightening on the towel. He said it so easily, so nonchalantly, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he actually... cared?

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the timing of it all. On any other day, you would’ve been ecstatic – your brother showing even the slightest support for your relationship with Seungmin was nothing short of a miracle. But today? Today was different.

Because Seungmin and you had argued earlier. It wasn’t a big fight, but it left a strange weight in your chest, and you weren't ready to see him yet. Not like this, not soaking wet and emotionally scrambled. And if Lee Know knew you’d argued? Oh, he’d definitely have some choice words for Seungmin – words you weren't in the mood to mediate.

"I, uh—" you scrambled for an excuse. "I don’t want to bother him. He’s probably busy."

Lee Know snorted. "He’s probably just playing games. You’ll be fine."

Of course, Lee Know would be difficult about this. You glanced out the window, your pulse picking up as the dorms came closer. You could tell him the truth. You could tell him that you weren't in the right headspace to see Seungmin right now, that you’d had a disagreement, and you just wanted to go home.

But then he’d press for details. And if those details even slightly painted Seungmin in a bad light, Lee Know would hold onto them like ammunition. He’d never say it outright, but you knew he was protective of you in his own way, and you didn’t want to give him reasons to be wary of your relationship.

"Actually, I think I just want to go home," you said as casually as possible. "I really just want to dry off and sleep."

Lee Know side-eyed you but didn’t say anything at first. His fingers drummed against the wheel as you stopped at a red light.

Then, without a word, he changed lanes and turned towards your home instead.

Relief flooded you, but you didn’t dare let it show.

"You’re weird," Minho muttered under his breath.

You smiled slightly, hugging the towel closer. "Thanks for the ride."

He just rolled his eyes and kept driving.

-----

The next morning, you woke up to a string of messages from Seungmin. Your stomach twisted as you hesitated before unlocking your phone.

Mong Mong (10:34 PM): Hey, are you home safe?

Mong Mong (10:35 PM): I heard it started pouring. Did you get caught in it?

Mong Mong (11:49 PM): …You could’ve called me.

Mong Mong (11:51 PM): I know we argued but—

The last message trailed off. You stared at the screen, biting your lip. Guilt gnawed at you as you scrolled through his words again.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to call him. You just… You didn’t want to burden him after your disagreement. And part of you had assumed he wouldn’t have wanted to hear from you anyway.

Clearly, you’d assumed wrong.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you tapped on his contact and hit call. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

“You’re awake,” he said, voice groggy with sleep.

“I am,” you answered softly. “I saw your messages.”

There was a brief pause. “Yeah. I figured you did.”

You swallowed, gripping your phone tighter. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

Another pause. “Why didn’t you?”

You sighed, closing your eyes. “I… I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me after the argument. And I didn’t want to make things worse.”

A soft exhale came through the speaker, and when Seungmin spoke again, his voice had lost some of its sleepiness. “Did you really think I wouldn’t care? Even if we fought, I would’ve come to get you. I wanted to.”

Your heart squeezed at his words. “I know,” you murmured. “I just— It was stupid. I called Minho.”

Seungmin made a sound, something between a scoff and a chuckle. “Of course you did.”

You shook your head, though he couldn’t see it. “The one time he actually supports this relationship – driving me to you without even asking – he picks the worst timing.”

Seungmin was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was different. “Wait. You were on your way to me?”

You bit my lip. “Yeah.”

“But… you obviously didn’t come over.” Another silence. But this time, it felt heavier.

He sounded genuinely surprised, and you could tell his mind was working through the implications. Something in his stomach tightened uncomfortably, immediately thinking the argument had cut deeper for you than he originally believed.

“It wasn’t about that,” you reassured him quickly. “I just… didn’t feel like seeing anyone. I just wanted to go home.”

“I get that,” Seungmin said, and for the first time since you answered the call, his voice held nothing but sincerity. “But next time, don’t assume I don’t want to be there for you, okay?”

Your chest ached in the best way. “Okay.”

“Good.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the tension from last night slowly dissipating. Then, after a moment, Seungmin spoke again.

“We still need to talk, you know. About the fight.”

Your heart stilled for a moment before you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “I know.”

“Not now,” he said, almost as if he was reassuring himself as well as you. “But soon.”

You exhaled softly. “Yeah. Soon.”

“So… did you talk to Minho about it?”

You hesitated. “No. Maybe he suspects something but I didn't tell him.”

Seungmin sighed. “Should I be prepared for something at practice? He’s gonna beat me up if he finds out.”

You bit your lip, considering. “I don’t think he’ll bring it up unless he’s sure. He’ll get over it.”

Seungmin groaned. “Great. Just what I need.”

You chuckled softly, amusement lighting up the mood. A comfortable silence filled the air as the weight of the conversation eased.

Then he muttered, almost like an afterthought, “I just… I don’t want to disappoint him either.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Minho?”

He let out a quiet, almost sheepish sigh. “Yeah. I know he acts like I annoy him, but… I think he actually kind of— I don’t know. Approves of me? Or at least tolerates me as your boyfriend. If he found out we fought and thought I messed it up, he’d never let me live it down.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips. “Oh, so that’s why you’re worried.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled. “I just don’t need him looking at me like I kicked his cat or something.”

You laughed. “You’ll survive.”

“I better.” Seungmin huffed a laugh.

-----

The rhythmic echo of sneakers against the polished floor filled the practice room as Seungmin wiped the sweat from his forehead, rolling his shoulders to shake off the fatigue. Practice had been tough, but at least it gave him something to focus on. He took a long sip from his water bottle, letting the cool liquid soothe his throat.

Then, just as he was starting to catch his breath, Lee Know sauntered over with an unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Guess who I saved yesterday," he drawled, tossing a towel over his shoulder.

Seungmin didn’t take the bait. He casually screwed the cap back onto his bottle and gave a nonchalant shrug. "I don't know. A stray cat?"

Lee Know smirked, undeterred. "You could say that – It was your dear, helpless girlfriend."

Seungmin finally turned his head, meeting Lee Know’s gaze with a carefully neutral expression. "Oh? Is that so?" he said, voice even.

Lee Know let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying himself. "Yeah, well, pouring rain, drenched hoodie, shivering at a bus stop… It was a whole dramatic scene. They must’ve really needed help. Funny how their first instinct was to call me instead of you."

Seungmin exhaled through his nose, resisting the urge to react. He knew Lee Know was testing him, poking for a reaction. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, stretching out his legs as if completely at ease.

"Makes sense," he said smoothly. "You do have a car, after all."

Lee Know squinted at him. "That’s all you have to say?"

Seungmin lifted a brow. "What, did you want me to throw a fit?”

"A little jealousy would be nice," Lee Know mused, crossing his arms. "or do you not care whether she’s safe?"

Seungmin let out a breath of laughter. "Sorry to disappoint. But I already talked to her about it. We’re fine."

Lee Know clicked his tongue. "Boring. Can’t even get some kind of reaction out of you these days."

"And I was hoping practice would be over by now, yet here we are," Seungmin quipped, pushing off the wall and heading back towards the center of the room as the others began trickling in.

Lee Know watched him go, tilting his head slightly before calling after him, "You know, if she ever needs saving again, I’ll be ready."

Seungmin glanced back over his shoulder, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Good. That means I don’t have to worry."

Lee Know blinked, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected response. Then he shook his head, mumbling something about ‘not being your fucking chauffeur’.

Just as Seungmin turned away, though, Lee Know’s voice came – quieter this time, almost too casual.

"You two are good, right?"

Seungmin paused for half a second before glancing back. Lee Know wasn’t looking at him anymore, already grabbing his water bottle and stretching like it was just an afterthought.

A small smile tugged at Seungmin’s lips. "Yeah. We’re good."

Lee Know didn’t say anything else, just gave an acknowledging hum before walking past him.

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.5 | masterlist

#seungmin imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #seungmin scenarios #stray kids scenarios #seungmin #stray kids #skz #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #skz fluff #seungmin fluff #stray kids x reader #seungmin x reader #stray kids fluff

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spiderlot · 14 hours ago

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at the world's end, forever together (. o O) 🦌💭

HEAVY SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3 EPISODE 4! DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE SPOILED. you have been warned.

thinking about being the one to find lottie.... sure, she's been acting a little 'off' since she got out of the facility, but you assumed she would be a little different after nat's death. but she's almost cheerful in a way. you didn't know it would end up like this.

you were there when she emptied her bank account but she made you wait in the car. she just told you she was going to take a few grand out for this apartment you guys have been looking at. she drives you back to the hotel you share and makes love to you, spending as much time as she can with you before telling you that she needs to go somewhere.

thinking about getting a text message from her after she's been gone a few hours. it's a location. you didn't know at the time, but it was a scheduled message for you after killing herself. she wanted you to be the one to find her first.

thinking about getting to the warehouse and immediately your stomach starts to knot up. thinking about walking down the corridor to those stairs, thinking about how similar it is to the dream she described to you a few days ago. thinking about seeing her dead body on the ground, blood leaking from her head.

when you rush down the stairs and touch her, she's almost as warm as the last time you touched her. it was only a few hours ago. she kissed you goodbye, asking if you wanted to come with her. you were busy with work and declined. part of her wanted you to go with her. she wouldn't have told you what she was doing until she got to the warehouse; she knew she could convince you to let her do it then.

thinking about shouting her name over and over again, constantly checking her pulse for any sign that she might still be alive. but nothing. every time. thinking about crying into her hair so much that your snot ends up mixing in with her blood. your throat hurts so much from screaming for her to wake up that you can barely even get your words out when some guy frantically enters the warehouse to see what's going on.

trying your best to smash the candles surrounding her after he calls the ambulance. you already know what they're going to say about her. you can't handle it. you can't handle knowing she went through all of this just to end up dead. you can't handle living without her. you hate her.

riding in the ambulance with her, holding her now cold hand and believing that she has to wake up. she just has to. she can't be dead. even despite the paramedics saying she was dead on arrival. fighting with them when they try to take her body because now it means facing reality. thinking about fighting tooth and nail to get her things back. going back to your empty hotel and crying into the fur coat she was wearing just a few hours ago.

thinking about waking up the next day with all the money she took out in your bank account.

#lottie matthews thoughts 💭#lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews x you #my fics

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pepshee · 2 days ago

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Jealousy, or Jealous Hee: Second First Dates

⋆˙ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Pairing - ex!heeseung x fem!reader Genre - smut, a bit of fluff, angst Synopsis - After you hooked up with you ex-boyfriend, Heeseung, who had broken up with you out of the blue you didn't know what would happen afterward. Will you finally get your answer as to why? Word Count - 5.4k Warnings - cursing, mentions of alcohol, a bit of angst towards the end, smut, reader is insecure, mentions of manipulation and peer pressure, heeseung is an asshole in the first half, some cringe (oops), mentions of Jake & other idols, mentions of possessive heeseung, heeseung is desperate and begs for forgiveness, a little fluff, cream pie, fingering, p in v, plot twist-ish?, lmk if I missed anything!! MDNI 18+ A/N: thank you guys for the love on the first part i really appreciate it 😭 i didn't expect ppl to actually like it but im really glad you did! also if you have c.ai, i make bots over there too! my invite code here! also.. please keep in mind this is only my second time ever writing a fanfic so if it's ass in your opinion then idk what to tell you... i hope you do enjoy tho thank you in advance for reading !! <3 (even if you didn't like it)

PART ONE HERE

Waking up in your own dorm after you had hooked up with your ex at a house party last night wasn't what you expected. You thought you'd be next to him, but of course, that was crushed. At least he was a gentleman and brought you home, right? There was one question that lingered in your mind, what happens now? It was disappointing not waking up next to him, but then again, what did you really expect?

You get up out of your bed seeing your roommate's bed is empty, but then the smell of bacon hits you, she must be cooking. After getting dressed you make your way to the kitchen, you are so glad your university was at least prestigious so they had bigger dorms than the average one. You had a raging headache, as expected from the alcohol. "Hey Giselle," your voice a bit scratchy due to having just woken up.

Giselle turns around, you can see the slight concern in her eyes but also a hint of a smirk. "Y/N, you're up," she says softly, however, you still had a ton of questions in your mind. "What happened last night?" You're a bit embarrassed at the fact you had to even ask that question.

"Well.. After we went to the party we all split up and I assume you went to drink alcohol, cause the next thing we knew you were being brought out of the party by Heeseung. You were completely asleep, nothing woke you up," your face heats up a bit at the memory of getting drunk and hooking up with your ex-boyfriend who fucked you over. "Right.. and did he tell you any details about anything..” You hoped that he didn’t because it would be even more embarrassing for your friends to know you had sex with your ex who fucked you over.

Those hopes are immediately crushed by Giselle’s reply, “Y/N you were so drunk you had sex with Heeseung, your fucking ex and you don’t even remember it,” she chuckles at the end of her sentence.

Damn.. Well, now your friends know you hooked up with your ex-boyfriend.

“It was an accident..”

“Y/N it’s okay to want him back, but..” she paused for a moment emphasizing the word ‘but.’ “You shouldn’t let him get it so easily,” she continued.

Then an idea hit you, seduction.

“Giselle holy shit,” she perked up at your words while she plated the breakfast she just finished making for the two of you.

“What'd you think of girl?”

“I’m gonna post slightly revealing photos of myself on my Instagram story with little subtle jabs at him like he does to me, I’m gonna get back at him by showing him what he made himself lose,” you couldn't stop the grin that formed on your face.

“You mean you’re gonna ‘show him what he’s missing?' Isn’t that super cliché?” she might be right.. But he did it first.

“Well he’s been posting his new girls to make me jealous, so why don’t I try seducing him, and if he messages me I just play hard to get. Like you said, I shouldn’t let him get to me so easily,” you relayed your reasoning for the idea and you see Giselle think for a moment considering your words. “Okay you know what, maybe it is a good idea, after all, he fucked you over,” she almost started grinning.

After having eaten the breakfast Giselle cooked, you ran to your closet to pull over any sort of revealing clothes you had. You find a slightly-too-small black tank top, and grey shorts. You had originally planned on being comfy today since you were still hungover—you were wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, but you quickly change into the tank top and the shorts and then did your makeup.

You decided to take a selfie in bed, and so you lay down and grabbed your phone. You swiped right to open your camera, and you positioned it in a way where it would show your cleavage just enough so that it's not obvious.

It took you a bit to get the perfect one, but when you did, you open Instagram and thought of a caption to put.

'i miss you. missing you is hard, but i bet missing me makes you hard'

You knew it was definitely cringe, but it got your point across so you could live with the cringe right?

You'd clicked the 'Add to story' button almost too fast. You and Heeseung don't follow each other anymore but you know he stalks your account. He uses his friend's account to do it without it being suspicious, which you can't blame him because why else would you have Giselle's password if not to stalk your ex-boyfriend cause he stalks you?

After logging into Giselle's account you tapped on Heeseungs story to see what he had posted. You immediately regret your decision because you're met with a photo of him and his friends, with alcohol, snacks, and of course, Heeseung is with a girl. He even had the audacity to put 'this could've been you' god this asshole doesn't know when to stop does he?

He was just being nice to you last night after you hooked up, why does he keep doing this to you? Once again with the taunting...

You were so lucky not to have Saturday classes, it meant you could go anywhere you wanted to. Believe it or not, you were actually majoring in dance, and even though you didn't have to go to classes, you still at least wanted to go to the studio.

────୨ৎ────

Dancing was therapeutic to you, everyone told you not to do it as your major because it wouldn't take you anywhere they said to just leave it a hobby. However, before you even graduated college you had offers from Idol companies trying to scout you. Usually, you would have celebrated that with Heeseung but that obviously wasn't an option.

You had spent a few hours dancing and you were getting really hungry and tired so you sprayed some perfume and reapplied deodorant before grabbing your bag and leaving the studio.

You didn't want to go out to eat so you decided to settle on the on-campus cafeteria which thankfully makes decent food. It was just about lunch time so it was quite packed there. You walked up to one of the counters and looked at the menu, but you still couldn't quite see so you took a couple of steps back until you felt your back hit something... or was it, someone?

The hands that flew to your waist were a clear indicator of who it was without even needing to turn around, it was him.

Too petrified to turn around, you just stand there frozen, not knowing what to do.

"You think you're slick huh? I saw what you posted on Instagram, it's about me, isn't it? In that case, you may be right," It's like your whole body failed to react, it didn't know how to. "I will say, whatever you're trying to do, it's working," he leaned down to whisper that into your ear.

Before you can respond he lets go and walks away, finally turning around to watch him leave. What is his problem?

You ordered your food, which was tteokbokki and kimbap.

Throughout your lunch you keep thinking about what had happened with Heeseung, did he do it on purpose? There's no way he was just coincidentally there right?

Whatever his reasoning was, you didn't care, he was trying to get to you.

When you finished your lunch you didn't know what else to do today so instead you figured you'd at least hang out with your friends so you took out your phone.

────୨ৎ────

It didn't take long for you all to agree on the mall, and you're currently waiting for the others to arrive. You and Giselle had gone together since you're roommates so you were just waiting for Karina, Yujin, and Moka. Minnie wasn't able to make it since she had a test to study for.

A little while longer the other three finally arrived, the five of you walking through the mall and looking through various stores.

You decided to take this as an opportunity to buy more clothes to fuck with Heeseung. The clothes you were buying were either the slightest bit too small, making them tight so they cling to your curves, or showed some sort of skin, some a lot, some just enough that would make him crazy.

You see, one thing about Heeseung is while you two were dating he was such a sweetheart when you two were in public, but as soon as you got home is when his possessive side would show. He'd recount all the times a man looked at you a bit too much or too closely and he'd fuck your brains out.

That was one of your favorite things, how good he'd fuck you when you wore crop tops, skirts, shorts, or tank tops. He didn't control what you'd wear, he let you do whatever, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't wear revealing clothes in public on purpose cause you were horny for him to fuck you at home.

Any other time he was a sweetheart, he was perfect, he wouldn't hurt a fly but when you had sex that all went out the window.

Now, however, you're buying revealing clothes to piss him off, to make him break, to get revenge, to make him beg for mercy.

You felt as if this revenge plan was a bit bland, but you couldn't think of anything else but to just drive him insane.

You and the girls had a lot of fun, and got told to shut up a few times from laughing too loud... but at least you have had fun.

It was 8 PM by the time you and Giselle made it back to the dorms. You made it just in time for curfew so you wouldn't get in trouble. You'd always thought it was stupid for a university to give adults a curfew, but it was pretty influential so you guess the university just didn't want its reputation ruined by their students dropping out to take care of babies.

Curfew didn't do anything anyway, you just couldn't leave your specific dorm building after 8:30 PM, you didn't know what would happen if you did it anyway but you honestly didn't care enough to find out.

────୨ৎ────

That morning when you woke up you immediately thought about what to wear to make Heeseung jealous, to make him mad.

You reached over and grabbed your phone and opened Instagram in order to check Heeseungs story, of course, he has a new one. You tap on it and see a video, clearly taken by a friend of his and it's him, with a new girl—because of course it is who fucking else could it be—the video was Heeseung and his new girl, who you identified as Julie Han. She was in your dance group, and she was really good and she's really pretty. You've always admired her beauty, but also felt a bit insecure. You wanted to be like her so badly. Heeseung didn't know that, or maybe he did considering you two broke up before you even had the chance to meet your classmates.

Seeing this rubbed even more salt into the wound, the girl you'd admired, and wanted to be friends with, and that made you feel insecure. Obviously it wasn't her fault you were insecure, she was super nice to you, and she didn't say anything to make you insecure it was just all in your head.

Seeing the video of him with Julie, he had his arm around her, and they were clearly flirting. It made your blood boil, but at the same time made your eyes water. You didn't know if you should be angry, or if you should cry.

You didn't know if it was on purpose, or if he was just doing his usual girl-to-girl shit. If he did know then he was a complete asshole for using her against you.

The truth is, he did know.

Yesterday, when you were walking to the cafeteria for lunch, you were recording a voice message to send to your friends. You had run into Julie while leaving the studio. That reminded you that you hadn't even told your friends about her so that's why you were recording a voice message.

Heeseung was with you, well not with you, rather.. behind you. He was walking with his friends, and he hadn't even realized it was you until you started speaking. He couldn't stop himself from eavesdropping and when he heard what you said about Julie, he knew exactly what to do.

He wanted you back, desperately, he knew you wouldn't easily accept him back into your life so he decided to try and make you desperate, just as much as he is. He used Julie, he wanted to make you as jealous as possible so you crawl back to him. When he saw your first story with the subtle jab at him and the cleavage he knew you were trying to clap back at him, you were trying to give him a taste of his own medicine. He'd be a liar if he said it wasn't working because it was. He hated that you had posted that, that you were revealing yourself to others. He knew he fucked up, and he knew he needed you back.

After you had seen the story of Julie and Heeseung you knew you had to strike again. You got out of bed and went to your closet grabbing one of the bags of new clothes you'd gotten yesterday. After dumping the clothes on your bed you finally picked out an outfit you knew would rile him up. It was a pair of white shorts, with a dark blue top. The top was pretty much a bralette, it's not something you'd wear out, but you bought it for the purpose of making Heeseung jealous—also in case you decided to go to the bar or another party—you went to your bathroom to do your hair and makeup before taking the photo.

After you finished those you posed in front of your mirror with your phone in hand. You tried doing poses that would show off your ass or would maximize the amount of skin you show in the picture.

Finally, after about 5-10 minutes you got the perfect shot, and you went straight to Instagram to post it.

With a small filter added, all you had to do was add the caption, but what should you even put? You had no clue honestly, you weren't as witty as you had originally thought.

Maybe posting it without a witty caption would be better, making less noise will create more noise.

So that's exactly what you did. You uploaded the photo to your story and waited. Waited for Heeseung to see it., until he did.

Heeseung went onto Instagram after he hung out with his friends, plus Julie, and he saw that you had posted on your story. He clicked on it and what he saw was something he expected, but also didn't. He hated that you were posting shit like this. He couldn't take it anymore, he slid up and started typing out a reply to your story.

It was about three hours after you had posted it when you got a notification while you were scrolling through tik tok.

'heeseung.lhs69 replied to your story: Y/N can you knock this off?'

Seeing the notification shocked you, first off why does he have '69' in his username? Is he serious? Since when did he have 7th-grade boy humor? It was probably the fault of his dumbass friends.

You didn't really know how to reply to him, but what matters is your plan worked. He fell for your bait finally.

you: what're you talking abt ?

hee: you know what I'm talking abt y/n

you: no i don't think i do heeseung

hee: we should talk in person y/n

you: ykw fine when and where

hee: ice cream place where we had our first date, 6 pm, today

you: k i'll see you then ig

Although it didn't seem like it, you were really nervous. He seemed serious even if it was just over text. It was only 4:30, so you had about an hour and thirty minutes to get ready or contemplate your choices, probably both.

You started getting ready, you didn't know how to dress really. You went for simple baggy jeans, a grey tank top, and a zip-up sweater. It was now 5:30, and so you left your dorm and started walking to said ice cream place.

After entering you saw him.. he was sitting at a booth. He looked quite nervous actually which is a big contrast to how you've been seeing him for two and a half years.

You slid into the seat in front of him and he immediately looked up from the table to look at you. "Hey," his voice was soft and gentle. You looked into his eyes, his soft, big doe eyes.. Looking into his eyes was your favorite activity when you were together, they were so beautiful. "Hey," you replied, also in a soft and gentle tone.

"I think we have to talk Y/N, I just want to explain myself," you let out a sigh knowing that he's right, you do have to talk. How could he leave you like that? "Explain it to me Heeseung, explain to me why you left me like the way you did," he was immediately saddened when you raised your voice a little at him.

"Y/N, I'll explain.. Please just calm down. I don't have a good reason.. Jake, my roommate, well we were talking and he told me about all the girls he's been with, and he asked me about how many girls he and I told him we've been together for five years and he started laughing. He then told me he was gonna invite a couple of friends, which he did," you didn't interrupt him the whole time. You just listened as he continued to talk.

"When they came over, it was four of them, Jake told them what I said about you and then they all started going on about how I'm too young to be tied down like that, I should live a little. I originally shot it down but they started giving me alcohol. The more they talked about the benefits of being single, and the more they talked about all the fun they have I started to believe them. I felt as though I was tying you down, I was a burden, that you'd be better off without me," you didn't know if you should be pissed off or pity him, he was influenced by his 'friends.'

"I started to believe what they were telling me, and they were telling me I should just let you go because you're probably getting bored. I was scared of the future, I was scared you'd break it off cause you were bored, and so I broke up with you first. I started doing all the things they did, hookup, smoke, drink, party and I did it all to move on from you," his story was making sense, that's 100% something his friends would do but you were still pissed at him.

"That doesn't explain to me why you didn't just think to talk to me and express your feelings to me. We could've talked this out, but you didn't even bother to text me," he sighed knowing you were right, and he didn't even have an excuse.

"I don't have an excuse, I'm an idiot Y/N. I love you so much and I wasn't thinking, they manipulated me, and I believed it all.. It was selfish of me and I know what I did was wrong. I hurt you and I'm just realizing it. It took me this long to realize how much of an asshole I was, my actions weren't okay," he looked back down at the table like he was in shame.

"Why would you post girls in your story though? I know it was to make me jealous, your story makes sense but that part doesn't add up," honestly you believed his story. He's always been quite gullible and pliable. Obviously, you never used that as an advantage, you'd never take advantage of him.

"Well... I wanted you back but I didn't know how to contact you.. How to communicate it, how to get through to you. When you posted that on your story earlier I couldn't hold back. I know you've been using Giselle's account to view my story, and that's not exactly relevant, but I've been doing it cause I miss you, and I want you. My new persona, it's all fake. I don't like doing this stuff. I just wanted to fit in and forget about you, I was depressed and vulnerable when Jake started doing what he was doing. I love you, I miss you, I want you, and I don't have any good excuses."

He's right, his excuse isn't exactly good, he knows he fucked up, and did you wrong. He had no actual good excuse, he had no actual reason for the thing with the girls.

"You should've just talked to me Heeseung," you were disappointed in him, and you resented him. "I know Y/N, I'm an idiot, and I made a selfish, vulnerable mistake. Please, I want you to forgive me, I want to be with you again, I want to be with you forever," those last few words were kind of shocking to you. Did he mean that? You both had discussed marriage and the future briefly and that ended in a big argument so it was never brought up again.

"What are you even saying?"

"I'm saying I see a future with you, and I know we had a huge fight about the future which also led to our break up, but I'm serious. I want you back. Please," he didn't stutter, not one bit and that solidified his point. He was serious.

"Okay, but you still hurt me, you still did all these bad things that made you an asshole. I can't just forget what you did to me," he was so, so desperate for you, so desperate to get you back to him. "Please."

He kept repeating himself,

"Please Y/N,"

"Please,"

It was almost pathetic how he was begging, how he was so desperate, but at the same time, it was so sexy. You had never seen him beg you before, he'd always been the top. You looked into his eyes, and he was staring right back at you waiting for a response.

It was difficult, you didn't know if you should forgive him, after all, he happened to fall in with the wrong crowd, he was manipulated, he was molded.

"Heeseung, you still fucked me over, you still ruined me, and broke my heart. Don't you know how hard this is?" he nodded, he knew you'd be hesitant. He never expected you to give in immediately and he knew he would have to convince you. However, there was one detail he left out, one that would change everything.

"Y/N, there was a detail I left out, and it seems that you completely forgot that you also played a part in this. You're not completely innocent," you were confused, how could that even be?

"When Jake was giving me alcohol and convincing me of all these things, I texted you, I needed you, I needed your support in that moment, and I know you weren't busy either. You ignored me, ignored me when I needed you most. That, plus all the manipulation, it broke me, it made me send that text, made me spiral into who I am now," holy shit. He was right.

Nearly three years ago, two days before your first day as a college freshman, you were decorating your dorm. You and Giselle went shopping for decorations and you weren't busy at all that whole day which Heeseung knew.

You had seen the notifications coming in, you read them and you didn't reply. You remember the texts, you remember it all.

'y/n i need you rn'

'babe pls reply'

'i need you please im serious y/n pls respond'

You were so caught up in your dorm decorations, and shopping you ignored Heeseung when he needed you the most, when he needed you to save him.

You weren't busy, you just simply didn't reply.

It was partly your fault.

"Heeseung.." now it was your turn to beg, to ask for forgiveness, and it didn't feel very good. "I'm so sorry, it's my fault. I saw the texts and I just ignored them, and I don't know why. You needed me, you needed help, and I wasn't there.. Holy shit," you wanted to reach for his hand, to hold him, but you knew you didn't have the right to.

"Y/N, I needed you, I really did, and you weren't there. We both fucked up, we both contributed to the end of our relationship. What matters is that I realized what was happening, that I changed for the worst, and that I realized that they had manipulated me, and peer pressured me. We both messed it up, and I want to fix it, please," his words resonated with you and he was absolutely correct. You both fucked up.

"What do we do? Do you mean you want to get back together?" you were hoping he would say yes, you did want to get back with him, I mean that was literally the whole goal.

"Yes, I want you to be mine again, I still love you, I never stopped," you immediately nodded in response telling him you also wanted to be back together.

"I missed you, babe," the nickname had always made your heart flutter but hearing it after all these years that's not in the context of a one-night stand made your cheeks heat up.

It felt like your first date all over again, you're even in the same place, a second first date.

"Let's go back to my dorm, Jake isn't there, and he won't return till like the afternoon tomorrow," you nodded and got up. He grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the ice cream shop and back towards campus.

After you arrived at his dorm he couldn't hold himself back and immediately crashed his lips to yours. You instantly started kissing him back. It felt more real this time, it was filled with love, passion, and longing.

You felt your back hit the wall as his hands grabbed onto your hips, and your fingers got lost in his hair.

He broke away from the kiss before grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it off of you. "You've been driving me insane, you know, with those revealing photos of yours. Especially the one of your cleavage. I missed your tits so bad baby," his hands grab your clothed tits. You can feel him reach behind your back and make quick work of the clasp he was clearly skilled.

When he got it off you could feel his mouth attach to one of your nipples. You let out a small moan which just egged him on. "Hee— please," he let go of your nipple and looked into your eyes, but that didn't last long because he immediately started kissing your neck, and biting it gently while he unbuttoned your jean shorts.

"Shit I missed this so fucking much Y/N," you clenched around nothing at his words, you could feel that your underwear was ruined, and how drenched they were, and so could he.

Once he got your shorts off he threw them somewhere in the room, it didn't even matter. You felt his hands trace your underwear and touched your clothed pussy. He let out a groan at the feeling of how wet you were, "holy shit Y/N, you're so fucking wet already," he took your hand dragging you to his bed. He debated doing it on Jake's bed for revenge, but he didn't want any more problems or misunderstandings, he just wanted you.

Now you were lying on his bed with him hovering above you. This time it felt more real, it felt more passionate rather than when you were drunk and stupid.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and pulled it off, and when he did you got shy and tried to close your legs but he wouldn't let you. He gripped your thighs and pulled them apart again giving him a view of your bare, dripping pussy. The look of pure hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

He ran one of his hands down your thigh, then to your inner thigh, and finally reached your core. He ran a finger through your folds teasing your entrance. You were so desperate you couldn't help but moan.

The wetness of your cunt made him groan, and his pants tighten. He stuck one finger in, and then a second. The intrusion made you moan and squirm, but that only made him smirk.

He thrusted his fingers in and out of you slightly curling them to hit that spot that makes you scream.

"Fuck— Right there Heeseung!" You moan out.

"Yeah? You like that baby?" He chuckled a little, and the smirk on his face grew.

He continued to move his fingers and started going even faster. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach start to tighten and you knew what was coming. "Heeseung.. Shit," he nodded slowly and spoke "Come on, cum on my fingers baby," his words made you clench around his fingers before you finally reached your limit with a moan loud enough you were sure the neighboring dorms could hear.

Both yours and his breathing were fast and heavy. He was still hovering above you while he looked at your face which was covered in a thin layer of sweat. "Can you take my cock, or are you completely spent?" He asked the question in a soft tone not wanting to hurt you or overwhelm you.

"I need your cock Heeseung," the softness in his eyes instantly left now replaced with a look of desire, and lust. "Then that's exactly what you're gonna get baby," he started removing his clothing starting with his shirt, then his belt, his pants, and finally his boxers.

When he took his boxers off you couldn't stop staring at his dick. The thick, long, veiny shaft was one you had missed in these past years. "I can see you staring my love," you couldn't even stop yourself and you just kept staring.

He gave himself a couple of pumps spreading the precum along his shaft. He then lined himself up with your entrance, he hesitated for a moment looking at you, "Do you want it rough, or slow?"

"Please give it to me rough," he didn't give you a second to think before he pushed inside of you quickly, and immediately bottomed out.

"Fuck!" You moaned out at the feeling of the stretch of your hole from his cock.

He grabbed your thighs tightly allowing him to thrust into you more efficiently. You felt him hit your G-spot every time he moved in and out. You felt your climax approaching and you bucked your hips as he groaned feeling you clench around him.

You finally went over the edge and came onto his cock, while you felt him release into you. His thrusts slowed to help you ride out your orgasm before he slowly pulled out, making you whine at the empty feeling.

He kissed your lips before lying down next to you. You turned to look at him and you stared into each other's eyes, a soft smile forming on his lips. "Goodnight my love, I missed you so much. I won't fuck this up."

You were going to respond but the exhaustion caught up to you and you fell asleep in his arms, for the first time in years as his girlfriend.

TAGLIST : @clandestineself @kittympirty @azzy02 @wemalyri @jayhoonvroom @hwangswife4

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kenzan-brainrot-mp4 · 3 days ago

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Idk more random small details about the pyih ending that make me insane because I can't shut up about this stupid game:

Idk how deliberate this was from the translation team (and I have my own mixed feelings about the caption translations from more recent rgg games) but I really like the (potentially unintentional) double-meaning from Saejima saying "Guys our age are supposed to be smart enough not to go chasin' legends." You'd think that because the entire conversation revolves around and constantly repeats the words "dream/yume" (cough cough Yakuza 5) he'd say "not to go chasin' dreams", but I think by using the word "legend" instead he's able to refer to not only the legend of the treasure that everyone's been pursuing the whole game, but also the living legend himself, Kiryu Kazuma (in jp and eng he is referred to very often as a legend/legendary ("densetsu no ryuu/yakuza" - "legendary dragon/yakuza")). Not only was Majima chasing after the legend of some miracle treasure but he's also been chasing the "legend" that is Kiryu himself (something something idolization, something something Majima always wanting to bring back that strength and vitality Kiryu had at the peak of his "legend" days (see: yakuza 1 with Majima trying to fight Kiryu constantly to help him regain his strength, trying to especially hard to support him since yakuza 3), even as the chance of that happening dwindles, even if reality is literally telling him to his face that they can't go back to those days, that everyone's getting older and not what they used to be). Which imo makes Majima saying "Well, still just a dream in the end." all the more heartbreaking. It's resigned, not only to the fact that he'd never find that miracle fix to save Kiryu's life but also the fact that he can't, no matter how hard he tries, keep Kiryu around forever, that he can't keep up the image of the legendary Dragon of Dojima up for him forever. Idk I just think that was very cool and sneaky as hell if intentional, especially since they don't switch out the word "dream" for "legend" anywhere else in the conversation.

Saejima mentioning how Daigo said "Majima's runnin' around like he's forty again". Okay honestly I'm just putting this because I think it's funny that even while Daigo was going through his emo era and pissed off at Kiryu for "killing" his dad, he still remembers how enthusiastic/energetic Majima was over Kiryu all the way back in ~y1, even though we never saw him in that game. I mean it's painful as hell to think about now, considering the present day in-universe and what would end up becoming of that enthusiasm as the years went on but uh, hey.

Majima being so god damn deflective while Saejima's in the middle of revealing all his motivations for going to Hawaii. He says 3 whole lines during that part of the cutscene but it's all so Majima-like it hurts (this part's gonna be Long):

• "Told him that, huh?" (responding to Saejima recounting what Majima told Shigaki about not wanting to go to Hawaii) - Majima trying to act nonchalant/aloof while knowing what Saejima's about to start bringing up, trying to act that way even though we all know damn well that he remembers perfectly (and probably painfully) well how he acted/what he said before going to Hawaii, considering the circumstances surrounding the whole situation. His body language also starts to change from here; he turns his head to look directly at Saejima when talking to him less often, spends more time looking ahead/up/down/avoiding direct eye contact in general even when Saejima turns to look him while speaking multiple times/for prolonged periods of time (istg I could talk about Majima's body language in serious moments like these literally forever but I'll try to keep it brief) • "Kid's always been a ball breaker" (lmao) - Paired with the line before this one (Daigo's reaction to Majima). He tries to sidestep the actual point of mentioning what Daigo said, (directly exposing just how much Majima changes when Kiryu is around/involved) with feigned exasperation, and once again does not actually acknowledge Saejima's point. His body language also changes again to something more restless; (adjusts his posture from the previously relaxed way he was leaning against the car, looks away from Saejima completely, starts tapping his foot/bouncing his leg, lifting his cigarette without actually taking a drag from it) • And then of course the big one: "Well, still just a dream in the end. Stupid or not." Up until this point, Majima hasn't said anything of any actual substance until Saejima directly namedrops Kiryu. It's about the most he actually says of any worth regarding his feelings towards Kiryu himself, but that line alone reveals so much about his feelings not only in that moment, but likely the feelings he's had throughout the series towards Kiryu. It's totally unfiltered, for once, showing off his resignation from not only his inability to help Kiryu by the end of this game but likely also the weight of chasing after Kiryu all these years (again, "Guys our age are supposed to be smart enough not to go chasin' legends." Cue Majima always chasing after Kiryu/what Kiryu wants for literal decades). It's a Singular straight answer after two deflections but it says so damn much, especially coming from Majima himself. • I also just wanna note the quick range of expressions Majima's face goes through when Saejima says "Yeah, too bad about that 'elixir of eternal life.'"

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‎

Apart from the different expressions he makes themselves, I think it's so fucking interesting (read: painful) how this occurs when Saejima (who, by the way, is at that moment not looking at Majima) is technically supposed to be the one that the player's eyes are focused on in that moment, since he's the one speaking. The camera doesn't try to manipulate the focus of the shot to hide Majima's expressions/feelings, they don't cut him out of the frame, they don't actually do anything to directly hide Majima's face at all, but most people (including Saejima himself) would miss this regardless, because it's done in a moment where, theoretically, nobody would or should be looking. Hell, even when the camera gives us a Direct close-up shot of Majima's face when Saejima mentions Kiryu ("Kazuma Kiryu. You never could give up on that one.") his expression doesn't betray too much of how he feels, but it's only once focus is finally taken away from him that he becomes most expressive. (rgg has always been so good with showing off characters' feelings with microexpressions and I feel like this applies to Majima especially. the same kind of thing happened in y0 when he saw Makoto at the end of the game (another scene that I could analyze for hours). The times when he doesn't speak and just. Reacts subtly and potentially subconciously with his face are ironically some of the moments where he says the most about himself. Go off king don't openly express your thoughts or feelings at all 🔥🔥🔥) • And then after all that (when Saejima looks at Majima again) Majima changes the topic to Noah. You could argue that Saejima, with bringing everything before that up, was trying to open up the opportunity for discussion on Majima's part about his behavior/feelings towards Kiryu, however this was largely unsuccessful. He only succeeds in this when he finally just says Kiryu's name outright (which, by the way, surprised me so much when I first watched the cutscene. I thought they were going to keep dancing around saying Kiryu's name directly/only implying him for the rest of that conversation, but I straight up gasped when Saejima said his whole name like that. It was significant, and Saejima wanted it to be, too), and even then that success is only marginal. It's enough for Majima to finally give away one of his "real" thoughts, completely unfiltered, about as straightforward as it's gonna get, just Once in that whole part of their conversation, but after that he immediately goes to pivot the topic of the conversation to something else. Which like, damn. Damn. That's pretty crazy.

The final detail I wanna mention, (this one I think mostly everyone got) was the way that Majima repeats his line from the beginning of the game "Where do I begin? That's right… (etc)." I love how they decided to have Majima say that line again differently, because the differences say so much. The version from the beginning of the game is said in a deeper more "intimidating" tone. The whole point of it is for story-telling drama, the theatrics, specifically to entertain/pique the interest of an audience, but the way he says it to Kiryu is much more easy-going and authentic. Ironically, it's once he leaves the player's sights and once he's with Kiryu that he discards the theatrics, where he simply shows off his fully genuine self re-telling the story. (One thing I will note is that the eng sub/dub translated that line so it would be different in the beginning and end ("Alright -- let's set things straight." (to player) -> "Where do I begin? That's right." (to Kiryu) even though he says the same thing twice in the japanese audio. I know that this is so that they can match up Majima's audio with his animations in the english dub, and they reuse the eng dub captions even for the japanese dub, and while I do not neccessarily. Like that. It does hammer in the tone difference between the way he speaks to the player vs. to Kiryu further (again, trying to be more intimidating vs. more easy going), which is an okay consolation if nothing else). I just think it's crazy to hear him talk like that with Kiryu after all this time, considering that he usually only talks this directly with Kiryu in fleeting moments. No high-pitched voice/fluctuating tones, no "Yo, Kiryu-chan", just being straightforward and to the point. Man. God.

It's been 4 days since I beat this game and everytime I see someone post about it or think about it for more than 10 seconds I die and explode into a million pieces. At some point I want to 100% this game so I can get as much dialogue/as many details as possible (also the game's just really fun lol), but for now I am just rotating this cutscene in my head forever and ever in an endless cycle. I am so sorry for posting about this game like everyday but I am so unwell over it it's not even funny I hope you can forgive me </333

#yakuza #rgg #ryu ga gotoku #like a dragon pirate yakuza in hawaii #pirate yakuza in hawaii #pyih #pirate yakuza spoilers #man i still don't know what tags to use for this game there's too many #majima goro #txt #feeling extremely physically unwell (i am fucking Dying) so i am channeling that into mental unwellness through this game instead <333 #this is probably all obvious but like you know what i don't even care these details still make me SICK and majima makes me SICK augh #i think i'm still undergoing shock #can't believe touto hospital made yakuza yaoi history Twice and the people working there don't even know it. Crazy #anyways if you have any other thoughts or things you noticed let me know :)))#that or tell me to Please stop yapping i'll accept either honestly #sorry i'm extremely normal about this game. Clearly orz

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thefairiesinthegarden · 1 day ago

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I’m tired of trying -pt3

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Hey guysssss this is parttttt 3

Lemme know if a part 4 is needed

I just wanted to say that this part gets really dark and has themes of suicide and depression and really dark thought so please read with caution

Word count: 2500

Azriel x reader

Warnings: suicide and attempts, depression, dark thoughts

Please read this is caution

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The Summer Court’s gentle breezes and soft warmth felt more like a prison than a paradise. Every day in this perfect realm was a reminder of the life you once had, a life that seemed impossibly far away now. The palace’s beauty—its glittering walls and lush gardens—did nothing to ease the weight in your chest. Instead, the brightness only seemed to mock the darkness inside you.

You had been here for what felt like months, though you knew it was only a few weeks. Time no longer had meaning when every day was spent in a haze of numbness and pain. Your body had grown weak from the lack of food and movement, your mind lost in an endless cycle of sorrow and hopelessness. Nothing mattered anymore.

The healers who visited you daily became more insistent, their soft voices urging you to eat, to drink, to take the potions they offered to ease your pain. But their words washed over you like the wind—present, but meaningless. You had nothing left to give. Every ounce of energy you had was spent on merely existing.

And then there was Azriel.

He had come to you again and again, his presence a constant shadow in the room. Sometimes, he spoke in that low, rough voice of his, trying to apologize, to make you see how sorry he was. Other times, he simply sat in silence, his golden eyes filled with regret and sorrow. But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how sincere his words, it was never enough.

You couldn’t feel anything for him anymore. You were too tired to feel.

He had broken you in ways you didn’t even know were possible. The things he had said to you that day—those cruel, cutting words—had shattered something inside you. You had fought for him, for the love you thought you shared, and it had never been enough. It would never be enough.

And now, here you were, in a beautiful palace, surrounded by caring people, but utterly alone in your pain.

Tarquin had been patient with you, more patient than you deserved. He checked on you often, his voice soft with concern, but never pushing you beyond what you could handle. Yet even his presence—his kindness—felt like a burden. You didn’t want kindness anymore. You didn’t want anything.

Your hand absently traced the delicate veins of your wrist, where the skin was thin and pale. The thought had been circling in your mind for days now, a whisper in the back of your mind that grew louder with each passing hour.

There’s a way out.

You don’t have to feel this way anymore.

The thought was seductive, offering you a kind of peace that you hadn’t felt in so long. The pain could end. The weight of your heart could finally be lifted. All it would take was one moment—one decision—and it would all be over.

But something held you back. Some small part of you, buried deep beneath the layers of pain and hopelessness, still remembered who you used to be. That part of you still wanted to live, still clung to the idea that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back.

But it was growing weaker every day.

Azriel hadn’t left the Summer Court in days. Not since he had seen the state you were in, the way you had looked at him with so much pain and loss in your eyes. The guilt had consumed him from the moment you left the Night Court, but seeing you like that—so broken, so fragile—had nearly destroyed him.

He had tried everything he could think of to make it right. He had spoken to you, apologized over and over, poured his heart out in ways he had never done before. But no matter what he said, no matter how much he begged for your forgiveness, it never seemed to reach you.

Every day, you grew weaker. Every day, you slipped further away from him.

Azriel sat in one of the Summer Court’s grand balconies, his hands resting on his knees as he stared out over the glittering ocean. The sunlight reflected off the water in golden waves, but he felt no warmth, no peace. His mind was consumed with thoughts of you, of the life you used to share, and the devastating realization that he might never get you back.

Rhysand had told him to give you time, that you needed space to heal. But how could he give you space when you were unraveling before his eyes?

“Azriel.” The familiar voice of Tarquin pulled him from his thoughts. The Summer Court’s High Lord stood a few feet away, his expression troubled.

Azriel turned to face him, his jaw clenched. “Is she…?”

“She’s the same,” Tarquin said, his voice soft. “Physically, she’s holding on. But emotionally…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen anyone this broken.”

Azriel’s heart tightened. “Is there anything I can do?”

Tarquin sighed, his brow furrowing in sympathy. “I don’t know. She’s shutting everyone out—even you. And I fear if she continues like this…”

Azriel didn’t need him to finish the sentence. He knew what Tarquin was trying to say. If you kept going down this path, there was only one possible outcome.

And it would be his fault.

That night, you stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection but not really seeing it. Your once-bright eyes were dull, dark circles etched beneath them. Your skin was pale, almost translucent, and your hair hung in limp waves around your face.

You didn’t recognize the person in the mirror anymore.

Your hand shook as you reached for the dagger that Tarquin had given you for protection when you had first arrived in his court. It was a beautiful blade, crafted from pure silver, with intricate designs carved into the hilt. You had barely touched it since you arrived, but now, it felt like the only thing in the room that made sense.

The blade gleamed in the dim light as you held it in your trembling hand, your fingers wrapping around the hilt. The weight of it was oddly comforting, as if it could finally bring you the release you had been craving.

You took a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. This was it. This was the moment. The pain would end. You would finally be free.

But as the blade hovered over your wrist, something stopped you. A voice, soft but insistent, echoed in the back of your mind.

This isn’t the way.

You can still come back from this.

The voice sounded like Azriel’s. And for a moment, you hesitated.

But then you remembered the way he had looked at you that day—the cold, dismissive words that had cut deeper than any blade ever could. He had broken you, and there was no coming back from that.

With a sob, you pressed the blade to your skin.

Azriel had been unable to sleep that night, his mind too restless, too filled with images of you—your broken form, the pain in your eyes. Something felt wrong. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, the cold, sinking feeling that had been building all day.

He couldn’t shake the thought that you needed him. That something terrible was about to happen.

Without thinking, he rose from his seat and moved swiftly through the palace, his shadows curling around him as he made his way to your room. The guards didn’t stop him this time—they knew better by now.

As he approached the door, that cold feeling intensified, a sickening dread settling in his chest. His heart pounded in his ears as he reached for the handle, pushing the door open without knocking.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

You were sitting on the floor, the silver dagger in your hand, pressed against your wrist. Blood was already welling up, dark and red against your pale skin.

“No!” Azriel’s voice was hoarse, desperate, as he rushed toward you, his shadows flaring in panic.

You didn’t seem to hear him. You were lost in your own world, your body trembling as you pressed the blade harder against your skin. Tears streamed down your face, but your eyes were distant, unfocused.

Azriel reached you just in time, grabbing your wrist and pulling the blade away. You struggled weakly against him, your body too weak to put up much of a fight.

“Let me go,” you whispered, your voice broken, tears streaming down your face. “Please, just let me go.”

Azriel’s heart shattered at the sound of your voice, at the sight of you so lost, so hurt. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you sobbed against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

But you shook your head, your sobs turning into gasps for breath. “It’s too late, Azriel. I’m already broken. You can’t fix me.”

His arms tightened around you, his wings curling protectively around your fragile form. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “You’re not broken. You’re not. I won’t let you go.”

But you didn’t respond. You just cried, your body shaking with the force of your sobs, as if you were trying to cry out all the pain that had been festering inside you for so long.

Azriel didn’t let go. He held you through it all, whispering apologies and promises, vowing to do whatever it took to make things right.

The following days were a blur of healers and potions, of Tarquin’s quiet concern and Azriel’s constant presence. He never left your side, not even for a moment. He watched over you as you slept, as you fought through the waves of despair that crashed over you. He refused to leave, even when Tarquin suggested that space might be best. Azriel didn’t care. He wasn’t going anywhere.

The wound on your wrist was healing, but the deeper wounds, the ones that had been carved into your heart and soul, were far from mended. You rarely spoke, rarely ate, barely moved. And though your body was growing weaker, it was your spirit that worried Azriel the most.

He had tried everything to bring you back—to get you to talk to him, to react, to do anything other than lay in that bed, staring blankly at the ceiling or curled in on yourself. But nothing worked.

Each passing day was another weight on his shoulders, the crushing realization that he had done this to you—that his words had driven you to this breaking point.

He had never felt so helpless. The shadows that had always been his allies now seemed like enemies, swirling around him in confusion, mirroring the chaos in his own heart. He couldn’t fix this with a sword or a plan. He couldn’t strategize his way out of this. This was something he had no control over.

And that terrified him.

One night, after hours of silence, you finally spoke. Your voice was so quiet, so broken, that Azriel almost didn’t hear it.

“I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Azriel’s heart lurched in his chest, and he leaned forward, his hands shaking as he reached for yours. “Y/N… don’t say that.”

But you didn’t look at him. Your eyes were distant, your face pale and gaunt from days of neglect. “I can’t keep doing this. It’s too much.”

His grip tightened around your hand. “I know it feels like that now, but you’re stronger than this. You’ve always been stronger than this.”

You shook your head weakly. “Not anymore. I’m tired, Azriel. I’m so tired.”

The tears that Azriel had been holding back finally spilled over, hot and painful as they streaked down his face. He had been trying to be strong for you, trying to hold himself together, but hearing you say that—hearing you give up—was more than he could bear.

“You can’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Please. I can’t lose you. I love you.”

You flinched at the word. It was as though the very sound of it hurt you, and Azriel’s heart shattered all over again.

“I loved you too,” you whispered, and the past tense of your words cut deeper than any blade ever could. “But you didn’t want me. You said it yourself.”

“That’s not true,” Azriel said quickly, his voice thick with desperation. “I never meant what I said. I was scared, and I said terrible things, but I didn’t mean them. You’re everything to me, Y/N. You’re my everything.”

You didn’t respond. You just turned your face away, closing your eyes as if you were too exhausted to even speak anymore.

Azriel stayed by your side, holding your hand, his chest tight with fear and guilt. He didn’t know how to bring you back from this. He didn’t know if he even could.

Two more days passed in the same unbearable silence. You refused food, only drank the water Tarquin’s healers forced upon you. Your once-vibrant eyes were dull, your skin growing more fragile, your strength slipping away. The healers tried everything they could to coax you back into health, but nothing worked.

And Azriel—Azriel was drowning in his own guilt.

He couldn’t stop replaying that last argument, couldn’t stop hearing the cruel words he had thrown at you in his anger, couldn’t stop imagining how different things might have been if he had just told you how much he loved you, how much he needed you. If he had just been honest instead of pushing you away out of fear.

Azriel watched you closely, his golden eyes filled with fear as each second passed. It was unbearable—seeing you like this, wasting away because of his mistakes. His hands trembled as he reached for your face, gently brushing the stray strands of hair from your forehead. He leaned in, his voice low and rough, thick with emotion.

“Please, Y/N. Just tell me what to do. I can’t lose you like this.”

You didn’t respond right away, your gaze still fixed on the ceiling as if you were far, far away. The quiet hum of the Summer Court’s night breeze filled the room, mingling with the soft crashing of distant waves. But your heart… it felt as though it was miles beneath the surface, buried so deep you weren’t sure it could ever be reached again.

Azriel’s hands, usually so steady, so sure, shook as they held yours. His shadows curled around him in confusion, sensing the depth of his despair. You could feel his presence, his warmth, but it only reminded you of how cold and numb you had become.

He had broken you. And yet here he was, still trying to put the pieces back together.

“I don’t know if I can come back from this,” you finally whispered, your voice fragile, almost inaudible. “I feel like there’s nothing left of me.”

Azriel swallowed hard, his throat constricting with emotion. “That’s not true. You’re still here, Y/N. I know you are. You just need time, and I’ll give you all the time in the world. But don’t… don’t leave me like this. Please.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, a tear slipping down your cheek. His words sounded sincere. They sounded desperate. But how many times had you believed him before? How many times had you thought that things could change, only to have it all fall apart again?

“Why now?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “Why are you fighting for me now, after everything?”

Azriel didn’t hesitate. “Because I was a coward. I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it. I didn’t realize how much I loved you—how much I needed you—until I pushed you away. And I hate myself for that. But I’m here now, Y/N, and I’ll fight for you every day, for the rest of my life if I have to.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, torn between wanting to believe him and the overwhelming doubt that had built up inside you. You had heard words like this before—had thought that love could fix everything. But love hadn’t been enough. It hadn’t been enough to stop him from saying those terrible things, from pushing you away when all you had wanted was to be close to him.

“I’m so tired,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “So tired of hurting, of trying.”

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. “Then let me try for you. Let me be the one to hold you up this time. You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, for the first time in days. His face was drawn with worry, his eyes rimmed with exhaustion. He looked as broken as you felt, as if your pain was his own. The guilt etched into his expression was raw, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw the man you had fallen in love with—the man who had once made you feel safe and cherished.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But… I hope you can try for me, Azriel.”

His breath hitched at your words, the smallest spark of hope lighting in his eyes. “I will,” he promised, his voice shaking with emotion. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Y/N. I swear it.”

You gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, and though it was barely a gesture, it was enough for him. It was enough to make him believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to save what had been broken.

But as you lay there, staring up at him, the weight of the past still heavy on your chest, you couldn’t help but wonder if love alone would ever be enough. Would it be enough to heal the wounds he had caused? Could you truly let him back into your heart after everything?

As Azriel leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a tear slipped from your eye.

And somewhere, deep in the recesses of your heart, you felt the beginning of a new ache—an ache that whispered, What if it’s too late?

The thought lingered in the air between you, unspoken, but undeniable.

What if love would never be enough?

Azriel pulled away, his hand still gripping yours tightly as if he feared that if he let go, you would slip away forever.

And maybe… just maybe… he was right.

———————————————————

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#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #rhysand #cassian #angst #depressing shit #shadowsinger x reader

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emsdevs · 2 days ago

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birthday celly prompt list - William Nylander

a/n: i promise i'm getting back on my writing grind 🙏 i don't have an ask for this one bc i just wanted to write for willy so i asked kirby to pick a prompt for me 🧍‍♀️ enjoyyyyy!! 🧡

Prompt 3: "I've always wanted this."

masterlist | Birthday Celly 2025 Masterlist

You’d known William since you were a teenager. You were neighbors with the Hughes boys, and Quinn had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. You were a year older than him, but that didn’t stop the two of you from being inseparable. When you went over to his house one summer day and found a strange boy you didn’t recognize, you didn’t expect it to change your life the way it has. The entire time William stayed with the Hugheses, you admired him from afar, telling yourself that having a harmless little crush on the older boy wouldn’t hurt anything.

At the time, it didn’t, but when you ran into William after moving to Toronto a few months ago and all of those feelings came rushing back, you started to regret it. He’d been quick to ask you to meet up for coffee one day, catch up with one another. You let yourself agree, and ever since then, he’s been your closest friend in Toronto. You’d hang out with him whenever he got a free moment. He’d let you dogsit when he had roadies. You two had gotten so close that you talked on a daily basis, but those feelings were still creeping into the back of your mind.

You felt your heart race any time his hand brushed against yours. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach when he looked into your eyes just a bit longer than what could be considered normal. You found yourself thinking about him more often than you cared to admit. You’d see the most random things, and your mind would find a way to connect them to Willy. Needless to say, you were in deep, and you weren’t sure how much more you could handle.

When Willy invited you over for dinner, you couldn’t say no, so you headed straight to his place after work. He didn’t have a game tonight, so you two would have plenty of time to hang out. When you arrive at his place, you’re surprised to see the fancy setup he has for you. Usually, the two of you would just order some takeout and watch a movie while you ate, but this looks like some kind of Valentine’s or anniversary dinner or something. It definitely doesn’t look like a dinner for two friends.

Willy clocks the confused look on your face, and he’s quick to make his way over to you. He grabs your hands, guiding you closer to the dinner table, loaded with food.

“Will- I- What is all this?” you stammer out. You were still shocked, unsure of how to act now.

“Well,” he trails off a bit, “I just- I don’t know. I mean I might’ve read this wrong, so just let me know if this isn’t something you want. But, you know, we’ve been getting a lot closer recently, and I was kinda getting a feeling that this might be something more than friendship. I mean, I know that’s what I want, but I was getting the feeling you want that too.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so nervous. Your heart jumps to your throat, and the weight of the feelings you’ve been pushing down for years is lifted off your shoulders. A relieved smile finds its way onto your face, and you let out the breath you’d been holding since you walked into his apartment.

“I’ve always wanted this,” you squeeze his hands, trying to get your point across with something other than words. He smiles, letting out a breath, before removing his hands from yours in favor of placing them on your cheeks. He pulls you in, placing a soft, long-awaited kiss. Teenage you would be freaking out right now, and if you’re completely honest with yourself, adult you is freaking out too. You spent years of your life pining over William, and just like that, he was yours now. Apparently, he had been for a while.

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#em's birthday 🥳#em's writing #william nylander #william nylander x reader #wn88 #toronto maple leafs #leafs hockey #nhl #nhl x reader

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charmed-asylum · 1 day ago

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And just like that snap she hook. 🫰 🫰 🫰 also idk why but song so this is love was playing in my head as I read this chapter. SUE ME OKAY I CANT HELP IT!!!! Kinda cute well let’s be realistic what the reader does is always cute. How she kinda excited but nervous about this ride ( third encounter btw) but second ride and she nervous something we all know about. But she so blunt and still innocent. I can’t like was your day good , No hehe. Buttttt the way he responded idk how I want to describe it , “ He tsk’d. “Alright, I know when to back off.” Like he kinds disaponted but also like if I ask you a question you need to answer but he aware and in this chapter you can tell how he slowly molding it to fit what he wants or make it easy to deal with . I have words but I don’t want to use them so oops 😅 on me.

Then way he calls her sweet names I mean he got bless with this one. Like the pretty girl comment talk was so 🥺 and I’m like damn we need to protect her or even the future chat like he got so lucky with her . I mean once again I wonder what he thinks like does he feel excited but again once inch closer to his girl of his dreams or disappointed that no one see what he see and reader poor thing she stuck she been so use to away that she truly doesn’t know how to deal with anything different.

Way he spoke to her huh idk what it is I think she said it best way , “ the way his voice lower made you agreed …. He sounded drunk. Like the men in your office at the end of the day sometimes. His voice felt like it was seeping into your bones, like you couldn't move” I can’t I would be just like her especially being he like close talking all that sweet talk like they haven’t done anything but sniff kiss talk and touch and she already dripping and sweetie I be real I am too huh I can’t. And that kiss if there was a chair I would slip out of it . If I had a wig I toss it off . Huh way he slip that in girl oh he knew he got jackpot way he made her feel huh huh huh and wow fact mom saw that when she got home and had her wash up and she was upset dang 3 time a charm I say!!! And how intimate without even more than a touch at this point at this point, they only kissed and touch and spoke to each other and even with those simple three things what it did to her and me as a reader OMG and I’m pretty sure Lee lost his damn mind.

I do ask about this comment on what he meant by it: “God, look at you. You're feeling real nice, aren't you, sweetheart? I am going to be a gentleman, though, and bring you back so you can be a good girl to your mommy and daddy. No need to rush. But who knew you'd be so responsive? I thought I was going to have to try harder, but it turns out you're just as affected by me as I am about you huh? 🤔 like I know he a soft dark you can tell with way he speaks to her or acts or even facial expression but what does he mean by this. Also our girl is deprive sadly shit I sagged too . Also cute way how he “ hold back “ mmmm we know you Lee Le.

Dream Of A Girl

Part 2

Summary: Lee continues to pick his girl up from work

Warnings: things are heating up a little, touching, kissing, Lee being eager

18+, minors DNI, the usual

Word count: 2949

Notes: I love this story!! I really really do! Please let me know if you enjoy it too 💕

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Previous part

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

The next day you finished work on time and looked around outside. Your eyes felt tired because you hadn't slept well. Thoughts kept running through your head, and no matter how much you tried to settle you just couldn't. You knew Sheriff Bodecker was going to pick you up today, and you were worried about what you were going to say to his questions. What you needed to ask him. Maybe you should just talk about his job. Your mother did that with your father. And then he asked her what she did that day, even if the answer was always the same. But they seemed happy together, so it was obviously working for them.

His car was waiting for you a few meters away and you Walked towards it. He opened it from the inside again and you took a seat.

He smiled at you and you awkwardly smiled back.

“You had a good day?”

“No.”

He seemed surprised, but recovered quickly. “ Oh? Anything you want to share?”

“No.”

He tsk’d. “Alright, I know when to back off.”

Back off what? You started sweating a bit, he looked…a bit annoyed? You should ask him about this day, right? That was a good start.

“Did you? Have a good day?”

He turned to look at you again, with a smile again. “I did. Nothing beats knowing you have a pretty girl waiting for you.”

Did he meet someone since yesterday? He told you he was alone then.

“That's nice,” you told him.

“I meant you,” he clarified.

You started sweating some more. “I.. I -”

He chuckled. “No one ever told you you were pretty before?”

You shook your head. No. Maybe only your parents. But that was it.

“They're so blind,” he murmured softly. “Well, their loss.”

It stayed quiet, you didn't know how to respond. Should you compliment him back?

“You want to hear about my day, sweetheart?” he finished the silence.

You shrugged. “Okay.”

And so he started taking about the crimes he prevented, the paperwork that was never ending, how he was looking to get re-elected.

“That would be easier with a wife by my side.” He glanced at you, while you kept your eyes firmly pointed straight ahead of you. “I hope I have that soon.”

You nodded. You gave up hope a long time ago, but you understood for other people it was a normal thing to do.

“You ever dream of marrying? Finding someone who give you his bite and a few pups to look after?”

“Not anymore,” you lowered your voice, too ashamed to admit.

“Why not?”

“No one wants to. With me.” You said, feeling anxiety course through you.

“Hey, hey, don't worry. I can smell your distress from here. Hold up.” He pulled over to park the car to the side and turned to you. He reached out his hand but you flinched, so it froze in the air until he lowered it by his side.

“It's okay, sweetheart, we're just talking. It's just me. You're safe, right?”

You nodded. He was the sheriff. He would protect you. But he couldn't protect you from your fears and feelings.

“So why did you get all scared, honey? Can you tell me?”

“Not scared,” you said, trembling. “Just not…I don't like talking about it.”

“But if you don't talk about it, I can't help you.”

Your eyes shifted, trying to look at something calm, something neutral. “You can't help.”

“Try it. Maybe I can." He watched you the whole time and you wished he didn't. “Sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know as well. I'm not going to judge you. People tell me all sorts of things. I witnessed even more. No matter what you tell me, it won't surprise me, alright?”

You thought about it. And there was a suspicion he wasn't going to let go so easily anyway. You sighed.

“I'm not like the rest. They don't like me. They don't want me. So…I know I'm going to be alone. It's alright. I've accepted it. My parents want me, it's enough.”

“I like you.”

You looked at him quickly, surprised. “You don't know me.”

“I know you enough. I know your parents, they love you. I can tell. They're good parents. You're polite, you're smart and hard working, you never get into any trouble. And you seem very sweet.”

You felt a little warm with every word he said. It was too much. You brushed imaginary wrinkles out of your dress that didn't exist, just to be able to do something.

“You're so pretty. And your smell…” he groaned.

You felt heat shot through you. That was…it wasn't proper was it? You don't talk about smell. You.. kept it to yourself. Until you.. you mated. Why was he telling you this?

He leaned in a little. Sniffing. “You smell so good.”

His head was too near you, and you were trapped in the car, surrounded by his smell.

And it wasn't.. bad. He smelled nice even. But he shouldn't. He didn't have to be this near.

“Everytime you're near me, and I get a whiff of you, it feels right, ya know? Feels like home.”

You blinked. It did? You did?

“I just want to bring you flowers, and take you out. Maybe to the movies.”

“Too crowded, too much noise,” you piped up.

He chuckled. “Then for milkshakes, or a walk. Anything you'd like. I'll treat you so well. You'd want for nothing.”

You breathed him in. When you did, you felt less nervous. His scent making you feel something you hadn't before. You didn't understand why it did that.

“You'd like that sweetheart? Me taking you out? Showing you how good you are? You'd be making me so proud if you’d let me. Being around such a pretty girl.”

He talked like it was an honor. Like you were a price he wanted to show off. Like others would be jealous. You wanted to laugh. It would be the opposite. People would talk about him. Wonder why he'd show you interest. That he could do better.

“I don't…. I've never, I mean, you can't.”

“Why not? Are you telling me no?” His jaw tightened and he looked a little colder.

“You can do better than me. You're the sheriff. I'm not.. I'm not good.” You whispered, tears pricking in your eyes, having to confess that.

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” He moved nearer, almost touching you. “How could I not like you? You're always kind to everyone, I see you're great with kids, they love you, you’d make such a good momma.”

You felt warm all over. It was burning you from the inside.

“With your pretty dresses, always looking so good, so beautiful. You should see yourself when the sun shines and your hair lights up. Beautiful. I’d be so proud walking beside you, knowing I'm your man.”

His finger touched the fabric of your dress and your eyes followed it as it rubbed softly against it.

“They would all look at us, and they'd see what a great wife you would make. You’d be good for me right?”

The way his voice lowered made you want to agree. You struggled to keep it inside. His hand moved to your leg, warmth seeping through your dress and you trembled again.

“I know you'd be such a good girl. And I would be good for you too. I would spoil you. Anything you'd want. I would treat you real nice. Give you kisses whenever you wanted.” He sounded drunk. Like the men in your office at the end of the day sometimes. His voice felt like it was seeping into your bones, like you couldn't move.

“Fuck it.” He murmured, he put his hands on your jaw to turn you toward him and before you knew it, he pressed his lips against yours.

A thrill went through you. You wanted to struggle. You didn't like to be touched. But he was being gentle, and he smelled even better now, thick syrup, fresh lemon, spicy cinnamon…all the good things. His mouth was full and he moved it gently against yours. You didn't know what to do, but he didn't seem to mind. He let out a noise in the back of his mouth like he was in pain.

You were burning up. You felt so warm.

He pulled away shortly after, eyeing you carefully. Your eyes locked on his this time, like you couldn't even think to look away.

“Your first kiss?” He guessed. And you nodded.

“That's a real honor, sweetheart. I feel very happy to be your first.”

You looked down quickly, too overwhelmed to keep looking at him. You wanted to touch your mouth. Let your fingers touch the flesh and memorize the feeling of his lips on yours.

“You liked it?”

You hesitated, then nodded.

His scent thickened, heavy in the air, delicious.

“Good. Because I might just kiss you again.”

Oh God, you pressed your hands to your heart, it felt like it was beating out of your chest. He was going to kiss you again, maybe. And you didn't think you'd mind.

You laid awake that night, again, thinking over and over about that kiss. His scent was on you. Your mother widened her eyes when you stepped inside, but one look at you and she kept quiet, even if you thought she wanted to ask about it. Maybe she knew it was too soon. Maybe she feared you would get overwhelmed. Or perhaps she knew you wanted to keep it to yourself a little longer.

“Go freshen up before your father gets home,” she simply told you, and her hand carefully touched your shoulder briefly, like she wanted to fuss over you.

You were disappointed to remove his smell off you. But your father would want to know whose it was. And you didn't know what to say if he questioned you. The sheriff talked about dating, but he hadn't asked you out. You didn't know how serious he had been. Maybe you should ask him next time you saw him?

You could still remember what he smelled like later, in your bed, and you felt yourself heat up again thinking about it.

His mouth and his eyes. He was an attractive man. And he called you pretty!

Squeaky noises came out of your throat and you couldn't help it. It was all too much. But it was good. You hoped. You thought.

He picked you up again, and asked if you wanted to go for milkshakes, but you shook your head. You had started to get a headache. The office was especially loud that day and you felt the noise still throbbing in your head.

You pressed your hands against the side of your face, trying to squeeze out the pain until you felt him grab your wrists and remove them.

You wanted to pull away, but he wouldn't let you. He pulled you against him, ignored your struggling and shushed you.

“Hey, hey! Sweetheart. It's okay. Shh, just smell me…here, come on.”

He pushed your face into the crook of his neck, right where his gland was. As soon as your nose was pressed against it, you sagged a little. His scent enveloping you completely. A whine escaped you.

“That's it. Feels better right? you don't have to do anything, or think of anything but now. You're safe. Just relax.”

And you did, taking big whiffs of his scent, eyes closed, trying to relax.

“You're being a good girl aren't you? Letting me take care of you like this.” You heard his voice murmur in your ear, felt the rumbling in his chest. Your hands gripping his shirt, not caring if you wrinkled it. “It feels mighty fine having you trust me to help you. You're making me feel real good sweetheart.”

No one had ever spoken to you like this. Like you were worthy. Like you mattered. Like they cared. You made him feel good? You made the most pathetic noise.

“I know. It's a lot. But you're doing so well. You like my scent sweetheart?”

You nodded. You did. You liked it a lot. You could stay here forever, blocking out the rest of the world.

“I'm so pleased, sweetheart. I like yours too…will you let me scent you as well? I've been thinking about it all night. I would love to carry you with me. It will make the lonely nights better.. You can do that for me right?”

You nodded, mumbling something unintelligible, but he seemed to understand. He pushed your face up, gently, his hands holding your head up as he stared into your eyes, while you tried to focus but felt too dazed to manage, until he pushed his face into your neck.

His nose against your gland made your shiver. It was like your mind stopped functioning. You felt the most pathetic whine bubbling up your throat, but you held onto his shirt for dear life, afraid to fall if you let go.

His mouth…he moved it over your skin, something wet moved over that special spot and you spasmed.

He pulled back in surprise and watched you carefully. One you stopped trembling, and his face came into focus, he looked…you couldn't place how he looked.

“Did you just..?”

You blinked owlishly. What?

“Oh God, okay, it's okay baby. You did so good,” he quickly told you, but he sounded off. He looked tense.

Maybe you made him mad.

“Nature’s calling, honey, I'll be right back okay. You watch the car for me.”

He practically ran out of the car and went into the nearest shop. You sat there, stunned. Had you done something wrong? But what he did felt really good. It felt like you got lifted out of your body and pulled back in. Like an elastic snapping back into place.

You didn't know what happened, but he didn't seem to like it. You hung your head, hiding your face in shame. He was angry. You were sure of it. You didn't know what you were going to say when he came back.

Maybe he didn't want you to be in the car once he got back? But he had told you to watch it for him. So you stayed.

It took a while before he returned. His cheeks were rosy and he had a smile around his mouth. Maybe things were okay? Maybe he really did need to use the bathroom?

He stepped inside again and smiled at you. “There we go. Sorry. Sometimes you can't hold it, can you?”

You nodded, hesitant.

“Aaw, sweetheart, are you shy? You don't have to, I liked it.”

Liked it? You didn't know what it was, but he wasn't mad that it happened?

You gave him a glance, to see how he was looking and he seemed relaxed and good natured. He licked his lips.

“Can I get a kiss, sweetheart? I've been thinking about it all day.” He stared at you expectantly.

You pondered, but you had liked it yesterday, and you were relieved he wasn't angry, so you nodded.

“Come on then, kiss me,” he said teasingly.

Oh. You moved over to him, unsure if how to do this, but just decided to press your lips against his. Upclose he smelled very intense. His scent thicker than before, so you gasped. When you did that, his tongue was suddenly in your mouth, and his hands moved against your face holding you in place.

It was wet. And weird. But his smell was so overpowering that it wasn't the worst. His tongue tried to coax yours into moving as well but you didn't know how. You just let him move and tried to move as well.

You had expected to hate it. The kissing, the touching. But it didn't feel bad. You liked it. He felt nice, he smelled nice. He said nice things. He made your body float, like you were in the water. Weightless.

His hands stroked your cheeks, moved to your neck, and suddenly pressed on your gland. You moaned and sagged into his chest.

“God, look at you. You're feeling real nice, aren't you, sweetheart? I am going to be a gentleman, though, and bring you back so you can be a good girl to your mommy and daddy. No need to rush. But who knew you'd be so responsive? I thought I was going to have to try harder, but it turns out you're just as affected by me as I am about you huh?”

You couldn't do much more than run your nose on his neck, so close to his gland again.

He sighed. “I’ve kept you long enough, don't want your parents to worry. I want them to like me, show them I've got good intentions. Can't do that when you're coming back all ruffled. Come on sweetheart, back in your seat you go.” He moved you carefully as you blinked at him.

“It's alright, just some space, honey, we need to both calm down a little, huh? I still need to drive, and you have to fix your hair. I might've messed it up a little. You look good though,” he smiled tenderly at you.

You touched your hair. He was right, it had come out of its pins, you tried to make it presentable again.

“I would really like to take you out in the weekend, would you like that? Maybe we could take a walk in the park, or go for ice cream.”

“I, I like ice cream,” you admitted.

He smiled happily, “Then ice cream it is.”

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