#I also love Knuckles' program

[kewrnage]

high infidelity

ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ✶ ─── sylus had taught you to protect yourself from the things in the world, even from himself. that leads you questioning, doubting him.

pairings. sylus x fem! reader.

genre. sfw. angst. bad ending. surprise ending. bittersweet ending.

t. warnings. female reader. intelligent/smart reader. cheating. reader is not mc. slightly rushed ending. based on the card, night of secrecy. references to other cards like; abyssal mark and abyssal blossom. mephisto is our buddy, periodt. mystery ml in the ending.

word count. 5.3k

noir’s memoir. i’ve finally outdone my procrastination in writing, whoa. this is such a feat for my indecisive ass to stick to one idea. non mc reader because life with no drama in fiction is boringg. also tried to make sylus as annoying as possible 🙈

— plus, can my socmed feeds shut the fuck up with the night of secrecy card content because i feel like i just had a divorce with sylus, like the hell did i do to y'all?? 😭 jk. but i had to quit the game because i have no commitment to gacha games but enjoys being enraged in league lol.

— but i might open it again in summer after uni. 😩 your compliments and criticisms are appreciated tho! <3

— tagged y'all! in case i missed yours, pm me and i'll write your username on the tag list. pls don't hesitate to approach me! 🙏🏻

"Do you love me?" You'd ask, the words a familiar melody between you, a question that whispered on the wind of your shared intimacy. Each time, it seemed to brush away the dust of doubt, leaving only a lingering warmth in its wake.

You'd feel his rough hand, calloused from battles, graze your skin, a silent affirmation of his devotion. He loved every inch of you, flaws and all, your beauty, a canvas he cherished, a masterpiece in his eyes.

His thumb traced a path across textures of your skin clears any hint of insecurity within you as he paid no mind in those details, a touch that also spoke volumes of his affection.

Love. Almost three years ago since you have felt the romantic one aside from your family and friends, is when you met Sylus. Not only have you experienced it, but you learned things that have never entered your mind before.

He taught you things you didn't know. Baking, a little bit of programming- it wasn't easy, but love has the power to turn surrenders into miracles.

You somehow one day learned how to program Mephisto, because that mechanical crow is one of the little things that are part of him- that also you insisted on him to advise you.

There were many more lessons, such as when his knuckles scooted forward into the wind with force, eventually meeting your palm as your fingers enclosing his hand and he smiled proudly, his eyes reflecting the joy of that moment of that spar.

Or when he had a way of dealing with your emotional outbursts. One brush of his hand soothes your seething ardor towards frustration.

He would tell you to breathe in and out, He'd whisper, "Breathe in, breathe out," his voice like a soothing balm. You learned, slowly but surely, to think before reacting, to find calm amidst the chaos. He was intimidating, his red eyes like a blood moon, yet he was an angel you could turn to for guidance, a safe haven where judgment never crossed his mind.

After all, love isn't just all about affection, it is a journey and a path to clarity.

He surprised you one day with a statement that chipped away at your unwavering admiration. "I needed to teach you to protect you," he said, his voice low and tender. "From many perils, sweetie. Even from myself." The words were unexpected, unsettling even.

He usually spoke with a sense of calm certainty, but there was a lingering smirk on his lips, a hint of longing that you couldn't quite comprehend. It was a longing that made you wonder what secrets lurked beneath his unwavering presence.

Yet lately, his answer to that question was, "Of course, sweetie." Was his response before he left you in your bed, for a business rendezvous, he said.

Just like countless other days. The words were there, but the tone of his voice was flat, the warmth missing. It was as if he was going through the motions, his answer a hollow echo of his usual sentiment. The unease gnawed at you. Was it your mind playing tricks, conjuring up worries where there were none? Perhaps.

But these feelings weren't fleeting moments of anxiety. They had settled deep within you, a persistent unease that had lingered for almost a month. Something had changed, you were sure of it.

The piles of unanswered calls and unread texts served as a constant reminder of his transformation, a stark contrast to the man you once knew. Each unanswered call, each unreturned message, confirmation that he had hidden agendas he's unable to tell you.

.

It was difficult to push him from your thoughts despite his growing distance, his newfound frigidity. He was the one who'd always been there for you, a constant in your life, a safe harbor amidst your storms. He'd made sure that your comfort zone wouldn't crumble, that the cracks in your facade wouldn't widen into gaping wounds.

He’d bandaged your anxieties, reassured you of his love, trying to make sure that your heart, so fragile, wouldn’t ever break. But now, with each passing day, those bandages seemed to be loosening, and the wounds that had been so meticulously concealed began to bleed through.

Love takes many forms, including distraction, not to be confused with destruction.

The unraveling of your comfort zone forced a forgotten lesson back to the forefront of your mind. You had to know the truth. It wasn't easy. The path ahead was bound to be rocky, riddled with doubts and uncertainties, but you had to find your way, even if it meant facing the inevitable verdict you so desperately hoped was false.

Love had a way of clouding judgment, blinding a person to the cracks that were beginning to appear. He thought that massive alterations to Mephisto would go unnoticed, but you noticed.

You noticed the crow's new commands were convoluted as you tried to decipher its new system, its obedience reserved only for its Onichynus master. It was as if he’d put two steps between you, but you weren't one to be outsmarted.

You saved up, pooling your resources, and bought two small, unobtrusive tracking devices. It was a small step, a ripple in a sea of uncertainty, but it was a step nonetheless.

You gambled one day, a desperate act fueled by an insatiable hunger for truth. It was a risky play, a leap of faith, but you had to know. You began to wrap a collar around Mephisto’s neck, the mechanical bird squawking and thrashing in protest, its wings a blur of metal and feathers.

It was a struggle, a desperate dance of resistance, but with the help of your faithful butler, you secured Mephisto in your grasp. You felt a pang of guilt, you'd grown fond of the bird, but the truth, the need for answers, outweighed your remorse, but you can barely handle Mephisto's saddened, quiet caws as he grew fond of you as well.

You didn't know what sorcery Mephisto can sometimes able to feel on his own, nonetheless, it was a sacrifice you had to make in the name of love and the pursuit of truth.

With the leash secured firmly to the edge of your desk, you plunged the room into dim light, a measure to protect the camera from unwanted attention. Then, you turned to your butler, a man of technical prowess, the one who’d always understood the intricacies of Mephisto’s mechanisms. With steady hands, he began the delicate process of disassembly.

With the practiced hands of a seasoned craftsman, your butler begins. The silver cog atop its head, a key to its mobility, must be carefully detached. The delicate wires leading from it, intricately woven like a spider's web, must be disconnected, halting the flow of energy that animates its movements and vision.

It had been some time since that night, yet the memory remained vivid, etched into your mind like a scar. Now, you sat on the couch, your limbs restless, unable to find solace in the familiar comfort of your home. Sylus's actions, his growing distance, his secretive behavior, all gnawed at your mind.

You weren't sure what to think. Mephisto rarely visited you anymore, but sometimes, in a fleeting glimpse of its little figure from the sky, you'd catch sight of him, the collar you’d placed around his neck gone.

You knew, somehow, that Sylus had removed it. The knowledge made your teeth clench. Your doubts grew stronger, fueled by the certainty that he was hiding something.

But luckily, your butler managed to insert the other small tracking device inside Mephisto when the crow was dissected- as you anticipated your lover's potential actions. It was cleverly disguised, blending seamlessly with the crow's black metallic interior, just in case Sylus was trying to take a glimpse inside as well.

He thought he'd completely erased any trace of your sleuthing, but you always had a backup plan. He'd underestimated you, perhaps a mistake born from teaching you to be just as sly as him.

You sighed, a breath of grim determination, and unlocked your phone once more. The map glowed with Mephisto's location, a bright red circle on a backdrop of digital darkness.

The tracker, a nigh-perfect beacon. Dread, anticipation, determination, and anxiety—a cocktail that made your steps wary, every step made you so hesitant. You raced out of your lavish house, into the night, and into your car, following Mephisto's trail, the glowing red circle leading you deeper into the mystery.

Your car zipped past the city lights, the rush of wind against your face a testament to your mounting impatience. You were close, the revelation looming like a storm cloud on the horizon. The building came into view: an architectural masterpiece, a testament to opulence as you parked— it could be Mephisto perched on here somewhere.

Those elegant golden lights illuminating its windows and intricate designs adorning its exterior. As you entered, the grandeur of the interior, even more breathtaking than its exterior, momentarily stole your breath.

But this was not a time for sightseeing, for reveling in luxurious aesthetics. You were here for a different kind of revelation, one that could shatter your world. And for that, you couldn’t afford to draw attention to yourself.

You braced yourself, put on a mask of composure before approaching the reception desk. You couldn't let anyone see the turmoil within, the fear, the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm you. "May I ask something, ma'am?" you inquired, your voice attempting nonchalance, though its slight tremor betrayed your façade.

The receptionist, a charming woman with a smile that could lure you into a sales pitch, smiled warmly. "Yes, how may I help you, young lady?" she inquired, mistaking your bundle of nerves for being shy.

A wave of relief washed over you. "May I know if a man named Sylus is currently staying here?" you asked. It was a simple question, but it held the weight of your anxieties, the culmination of your fears and suspicions.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow, her smile faltering slightly as she noted the urgency in your voice. But she was a professional, and she quickly recovered, her smile returning. "One sec, miss," she chirped, leaning over the counter to slide open a drawer. She pulled out a logbook, its pages filled with names and dates, and began to search, her eyes scanning quickly for Sylus's name.

The receptionist's eyes scanned the logbook, her finger tracing the lines of names, dates, and numbers. Finally, her finger paused, a smile lighting up her face. "He's on the fifth floor, young lady," she said, her voice warm and helpful. "Room 506. You can find this person on one of the doors." She handed the duplicate of the room's key to you.

A shimmer of hope ignited within you. "Thank you so much," you murmured, your heart swelling with a rush of emotion.

You bowed to the reception desk, then, with a swift move, placed a small bill on the counter. The receptionist’s eyes widened in surprise. She had been happy to help, but this small token of appreciation was unexpected, a pleasant surprise. You couldn't have imagined a quicker, smoother retrieval of information.

The elevator hummed its silent ascent, a slow, steady climb that seemed to amplify your anxieties. The brief wave of relief you'd felt at the reception desk dissipated, replaced by a chilling dread. Each floor you passed seemed to deepen the shadows, casting a foreboding weight on your shoulders. As the elevator doors slid open, revealing the fifth floor corridor, your heart hammered in your chest.

You moved slowly, cautiously, until you reached the door you were seeking. An oblong golden plaque, embossed with the number 506, confirmed the location. You braced yourself, your fingers trembling as they reached for the knob as you unlocked it and hiding the key to your pocket, a silent twist that opened the door, a secret whisper in the symphony of this opulent space.

The once blurring luminescence of the white in seconds as you opened the door you take it in, blurring your irises in seconds until the path ahead becomes clearer. You take a silent stroll to mask your presence and make the dangers of the room unaware. You passed through a couch and several pieces of furniture until you stopped in front of a bed- but you kept your distance a few feet away.

The sight that greeted you made your anger and despair collide, a violent storm of emotions that weakened your legs, the blood draining from your face.

Sylus was there, sitting with his back to you, his arms wrapped around her, kissing each other comfortably, tongues grazing the other. The silky red sheets of the luxurious bed crinkled beneath their combined weight, and their bodies, slick with perspiration, were a testament to the hours they'd spent entwined.

His hand rested possessively on her ass, a lingering touch, while the other brushed the back of her thigh, a gesture that spoke volumes of their intimacy. You were certain, with sickening clarity, that they had been entwined for hours.

“Syl…?” You mumble as you try to lift your head up, loud enough for him to hear. But they were lost in their intimacy, a tableau of forbidden pleasure that made your stomach churn with a mixture of jealousy and disgust.

Both were so immersed into the rhythmic pulse of jazz music thrumming its spell over them, while their arms and legs waltz on each other's skins, your voice could barely register into the room especially to Sylus.

The only thing that broke the immersion was the sudden, urgent caw of Mephisto recognizing you. The mechanical crow, perched on the window sill, had spotted you, its red eyes fixed on your figure. Sylus's head snapped up, his eyes widening with a flicker of surprise.

“Sweetie,” he breathed, a lazy, affectionate drawl that grated on your nerves. He had the audacity to use that pet name, a term of endearment that had once held meaning for you, now laced with irony, a mocking echo of a past that felt worlds away. He was now aware of the storm brewing in your eyes, the silent rage that pulsed through your veins.

“Which one of us is that, Sylus?” You questioned. The tension in the room crackled, palpable, a force that seemed to draw every atom toward the heart of this forbidden encounter.

It was a tense standoff three-way, a collision of love, betrayal, and a simmering rage that threatened to boil over and tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

Sylus remained unnervingly calm, a stillness that bordered on arrogance. As if this situation, this blatant betrayal, was simply another day at the office.

He sighed, a melodic exhale that seemed to underscore his control, and gently eased miss Hunter down beside him. His hand remained intertwined with hers, a possessive gesture, a subtle reminder of his power, his control over her.

You remembered how he once taught you to think before reacting. But this was not applicable to this unjustified situation.

Sylus’s smirk held a trace of begrudging admiration. “How did you find me here? I made sure you wouldn't have any traces of me in my devices,” he remarked, a subtle challenge laced within his words.

He was impressed, not by your intrusion, but by your proficiency, the sheer brilliance of your tracking skills as little to no criminals, compared to you, barely achieved this feat.

The shock was evident in his eyes, a hint of something akin to awe, but he covered it with a façade of casual admiration. "You're two steps ahead of me huh,” he conceded, a grudging acknowledgment of your resourcefulness. “I should have known.” He tried to inject a false, affectionate tone into his words, but it was a poor attempt to disguise his unease. “you're indeed amazing for that. I'll give you the credit, sweetie.”

You surged forward with no explanation for that matter, fueled by a cocktail of anger and betrayal. You lunged, your palm connecting with his cheek with a resounding slap. The force of the blow sent a wave of shock through him, a crimson flush blooming across his cheek.

"Bastard!" you screamed, your voice raw with fury. "You betrayed me! How could you do this to me, after everything?"

Mephisto, sensing the eruption of emotions, flew out the window. The mechanical crow, a silent witness to your heartbreak, had sensed the shift in the atmosphere and retreated, leaving you in this charged space.

Sylus's hand flew to his cheek, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he felt the sting of your blow. He looked up at you, your eyes burning with a heat that threatened to consume him. He saw the inferno of pain, the charred remnants of your trust smoldering within them.

But he reacted with an unsettling calm. As if your fury was but a minor inconvenience.

"What happened to you?" His gaze, unwavering, held a glimmer of something akin to amusement. "I made you a strong woman and you're supposed to react like one." he had a small but bitter chuckle.

You stood there, face to face with him, the raw fury in your heart threatening to spill over. His figure, once a beacon of comfort, now seemed tainted, sinful in its betrayal. His calm, his audacity, ignited a fresh fire in your soul.

"Is this..." you began, your voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and heartbreak, "Is this...what you meant when you taught me to protect myself from things… including yourself?" You finally completed your sentence, but the struggle to get there was visceral, an agonizing process of grappling with the raw truth.

"Sweetie," he purred, his voice dripping with honeyed sweetness, even as his hand remained possessively intertwined with his mistress's. He raised his head, meeting your gaze with a calm that bordered on a disturbing indifference. His casualness, his ability to betray you with such ease, was both maddening and bewildering.

"Yes," he said, his voice smooth and steady, "I needed you to know how to protect you from myself."

The words struck you like a blow. You were grasping for some semblance of logic, some explanation, some shred of comfort. But the situation was too complex, a tangle of emotions that defied reason.

How could this man, the man who had shaped your world, the man you had believed loved you, be capable of such a betrayal? You knew, you felt, you were certain that he loved you. His teachings, his unwavering support, they had all felt so heartfelt.

Sylus saw the whirlwind of emotions in your eyes, a mix of confusion, disbelief, and hurt. This was not the reaction he had anticipated, a vulnerability that made him feel a twinge of guilt, a brief flicker of mercy.

He took a deep breath, his voice tinged with a mixture of sincerity and uncertainty. "I'm going to be honest, sweetie." He averted his gaze, the weight of his confession a heavy burden. He wasn't a coward, he would always tell you the truth, just as he had taught you to embrace even the most uncomfortable truths.

"I have loved you," he confessed, his voice low and remorseful. "But you need to know, that this woman," he gestured towards the woman beside him, "is the one I love the most. Ever since… Eons ago, as a dragon, she has been with me. Even in the moment of my death," he finished, his voice trailing off.

The revelation struck you with the force of a thunderbolt. The anger, the hurt, the realization that you were, in fact, the other woman—it all washed over you, drowning you in a sea of despair.

This woman, this woman who had been with him for eons, their story, their world, had existed long before you, before your love, before your dreams. You were the one who had been tricked, the one who had been used, the one who had been left behind in the wake of their enduring love.

He turned away from you, his gaze settling on the woman beside him. She seemed flustered, embarrassed by the messy scene they had created, and you felt a wave of pity wash over you. You, too, were a victim in this twisted game of love and betrayal.

Sylus looked at her with an adoring gaze, the same affection he had once showered upon you. It was a sight that stabbed at your heart, a reminder of the love you thought you had shared, now gone, swept away by the tides of time and a love that had existed long before you.

"I remember, clear as day," he continued, his voice smooth, his gaze turning back to you, "Our adventures in Tarus City. The very first mark I placed on her skin." He was painting their courtship, a romanticized narrative that painted a vivid picture of their shared history. He was trying to make sense of it, to justify it—but it was hard for you to listen.

Each detail he shared—the caved city of treasures, the gold that glittered everywhere, how he'd held her waist with his dragon tail, the playful way he snaked up behind her to mark her neck—they were all memories you desperately wished were yours.

He continued,  "And when I laid on the field of crimson flowers, it was the only special place I would let her know and stay and she was on top of me..." It was a scene straight out of a fairytale, a love story that had begun eons ago,  a love that transcended time and death. And you were the outsider, the one who had been fooled, the one who had been left behind.

"In the moment of my death," he said, his voice laced with a profound sadness yet a sense of serenity. "She cursed me before my once more waking life, that I could never die again. I could only disappear in her will and her hands." He says, explaining the curse that the female hunter embedded onto her.

His words, laced with an undeniable truth,  were crushing. You could feel your own heart breaking into a million pieces. You were not part of their story, their love, their world. You were simply a footnote, a brief interlude in a grand romance that had begun before time had even begun.

"I thought I moved on," he admitted,  a trace of guilt in his voice. "But when I felt her newfound presence being around this world,  I couldn't abandon my true love.  It was a promise we made to each other, sweetie."  He was trying to make sense of it all,  to explain it. But it was too late.  The damage was done. His words were like daggers, twisting and turning inside of you.

"Did you think for a second that you used me!?" You choked out the words, your voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and betrayal.  The realization hit you like a tidal wave—you weren't just the other woman, you were a pawn in a game you didn't even know you were playing.

"I didn't— but it is my responsibility..  to make amends. But you already know who I chose." Sylus replied, with a calmness that enraged you further. His response, devoid of remorse, was a slap in the face of the earth in yours.

You could no longer hold back the torrent of emotion, of hurt, and humiliation.  Tears streamed down your face. "You used me!" you cried,  your voice hoarse from anguish. You raised your hand, a fierce anger fueling your movement, and slapped him again.

This time, the force of your blow was fueled by the crushing weight of your shattered heart. Your slap resonated with the quiet despair that echoed through the room.

He remained silent, his face stoic, his eyes filled with a grim understanding of the wreckage he had created. He didn't flinch from your blow, nor did he offer any further words of explanation. The silence that settled between you was a testament to the profound devastation he had caused.

You knew then, with a terrible clarity, that you had been a mere chess piece in a game of love, passion, and betrayal,  played by two souls bound by a love that had lasted eons. You had been seduced by his charm, his intelligence, his strength. But you had been blinded by your affection,  blinded by the illusion you had built around him.

"I trusted you…" You choked out the words, the realization of your betrayal heavy on your tongue and the tears breaking down from your etes.  You stumbled back, needing to escape the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you.  Your hand flew to your chest, clutching at the wound of your broken heart. 

"I looked up to you— I loved you!" You felt your voice crack, the weight of your shattered dreams cascading down upon you. "Then you're just leaving me to dust because you found your ancient ex-girlfriend! To deal with this on my own! Do you know how much I told my parents and my friends your loyalty— and you pull this shit out to my face!" The words were a torrent of anger, frustration, and betrayal, pouring out of you like a tidal wave.

"Yes, sweetie, I appreciate all the things you've done for me, too," Sylus conceded, his voice laced with a hint of regret.  It was a rare moment of vulnerability, a glimpse into the man you had once loved. He sounded a little rueful too from his disheartening deed.

But even as he spoke, his hand remained entangled with Miss Hunter's hair now, a constant reminder of his choice, his loyalty to the love that had endured throughout eons.

"But I simply chose what my heart desires and whom it beats for," he continued, his voice a smooth, steady murmur.  His words were a testament to his resolute decision,  a confirmation of his commitment to the woman beside him on the bed.

"It may have skipped for you as well," he added,  a faint flicker of acknowledgement in his gaze. 

"But not in the leaps way beyond mountains she has over me. " His words held a subtle undercurrent of  pride, a hint of boasting,  a reminder that his love for Miss Hunter was a force that defied time. It was as if he was comparing the intensity of his love for you to the enduring passion he shared with Miss Hunter, suggesting that yours was fleeting, while hers was undeniable,   unwavering and endless.

Your back slammed against the ornate, velvet-covered wall and, sending a wave of pain through your body. The rustling of the fire in the chimney heightening the tension.

But right now, nothing can be compared to the crushing pain in your heart. The silence of this opulent room now echoed with the hollow emptiness you felt within. You were stranded, alone,  lost in the wreckage of a love you once believed in, a love that had been a lie.

You had nothing more to say. It was all so clear, so horrifyingly simple. The pieces clicked into place, revealing a picture of betrayal so complete.

You gritted your teeth, tears cascading down your cheeks. "I just hope you won't make attempts to appear in my life again," you said, your voice hoarse.

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a ring, a symbol of the future you thought you were building together.  

The ring, a precious gem that once held so much promise, now felt like a poison in your hand.  With a final, desperate action, you flung the ring towards him, the metal clanging against the floor, the impact echoing the shattering of your heart.

"I'm sorry, y/n..." Sylus said, his voice tinged with regret. But it was a regret that felt hollow, a  mere echo of the love he had once professed. His actions spoke louder than any words he could utter, and it was clear that his remorse was only a shadow of the love he held for the woman beside him.

A fire ignited within you, a blaze of fury fueled by heartbreak. You pointed a finger at him, your voice trembling with barely controlled rage. "Fine! We're done, that's what I want too!" You shouted, your words a declaration of war against the man who had betrayed you,  the man you had once loved.

You left him there, the image of his betrayal seared into your soul. You stepped into the elevator, the metal walls closing in on you, pressing down on you like the crushing weight of grief. The silent hum of the elevator felt like a dirge, a mournful symphony for a love that had died.

The lobby with its bustling crowd felt like a blur. You walked past people who were happily chatting,  laughing,  living their lives as if nothing had happened. You felt like a ghost,  moving through a world that had suddenly lost all its color.  It was too much. The dam of your emotions finally broke.

You raced to your car, a blur of movement and tear-stained cheeks. Slumping into the driver's seat, you rested your forehead on the steering wheel,  your body racked by sobs.  It was a quiet grief, a silent scream trapped in a world that no longer made sense.

The barrage of missed calls and texts suddenly made sense to you. Each one, a silent echo of your foolish trust, now felt like a searing reminder of your heartbreak. You kept crying, the weight of your grief feeling like a boulder, a heavy strain on your shoulders. You longed to break free from the torrent of your emotions,  but it felt like you were drowning in them.

But eventually, exhausted from the relentless sobs, you slumped back against the driver's seat, your head resting against the headrest. A quiet sigh escaped your lips, a testament to the depth of your despair.

Then, you heard it. A gentle, unhappy caw. You recognized the distinctive sound, the crimson eyes that peered through the darkened window. It was Mephisto. You unlocked the car window, and he flew in, settling on your finger, his metallic eyes shimmering in the dim light.

“Oh, Mephisto..” You sighed as you stroked his smooth, metallic feathers. Something about his presence, his silent understanding, brought a flicker of warmth to your heart.

“You're such a good friend, you know that?” He cawed softly, and you smiled, the first genuine smile you'd managed since you found out the truth.  It was a small comfort, but right now, it was all you needed.

The fact that he was Sylus' mechanical crow didn't diminish your fondness for Mephisto.  He had become more than just a possession, more than just a tool. Mephisto, as of now, had become a quiet companion, a silent witness to your heartbreak, a source of comfort in a world that had suddenly felt cold and unforgiving.

Life, in its own strange way, had offered you a measure of mercy. You haven't crossed paths with Sylus, not in any of the unexpected places where ex-lovers tend to bump into each other. It was as if fate had conspired to keep you apart, allowing wounds to heal without the added pain of an unwelcome encounter.

Mephisto, somehow, became your regular visitor, a silent observer of your healing process. Sometimes he would arrive with a sense of frustration, his metal eyes flashing a bit brighter, likely due to some altercation with Miss Hunter. 

She probably had a beef with him for being a spy dog, a relic of Sylus' traces. But you always greeted him with a smile and a gentle stroke to his head, the quiet comfort of his presence a comforting touch on your bruised heart.

Time, as it often does, had begun to mend your broken heart. The sting of betrayal still lingered,  a faint echo of the pain you had endured.  But  you were moving forward,  finding solace in  new experiences,  new connections.

You found yourself at a museum,  a haven of quiet beauty and wonder.  You wandered through the halls,  admiring the exhibits,  until you stopped before an aquarium,  captivated by the vibrant underwater world.  A particular fish, a mesmerizing glow emanating from its scales, caught your eye.   You pressed your hand against the glass,  intrigued by the creature’s hypnotic beauty.

"You seem to like that one too, miss? You have good taste,"  a voice said behind you.

You turned,  your heart skipping a beat as you met the gaze of a beautiful stranger.  His soft features had a hint of rebellion,  his  short, wavy indigo hair adding a touch of  charm. He  was  classically handsome,  dressed in  a  crisp white polo with  slightly puffy sleeves that  accentuated his physique,  and a glittering golden necklace adding a hint of  elegance. 

His smile was warm and inviting, and his gaze held a genuine interest. The  initial  hesitation you felt quickly melted away as you found yourself drawn to his charm and  ease. He spoke about the fish, sharing his  expertise, his passion for aquatic life filling  his voice.   

It made you giggle and discovered a shared love for the beauty and complexity of nature, and you found yourself laughing, sharing  stories, and  discovering a connection that  surprised  you.

Your banter with the mysterious man continued, a delightful mix of shared laughter and playful teasing. His initial charm was quickly evident, his playful teasing a welcome change from the dull routine of your days.

He was passionate about aquatic life, but he could be a bit pouty when you touched on sensitive topics. When you mentioned the idea of catching fish from the ocean to sell, he became visibly deflated and pouted a bit at you.

"Oh, please, you can't be serious?" he asked, a snarky tone creeping into his voice.

"It's not right to take creatures from their home just to line your pockets. The ocean is a sacred place, a source of life, and we need to protect it, not exploit it. It's not just about the fish, it's about the whole ecosystem," He defended and you only shrugged just to get him riled up again. Although he did have a point.

Somewhere in the throngs of visitors,  you  failed to notice a familiar pair of crimson eyes. Sylus, he was with his woman as usual, his presence a dark shadow casting  a  subtle regret across his handsome features, had witnessed  this brand new you.

tags. @yukithestar @babygirl-panda19 @rainkissedberries @aetherscribit @athanasia-day

[playboysaleen]

Through Ash and Iron (5)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.(She/her)

Word Count: 6.6k

A/n: Gonna give yall two chaps today cause im cool like that- mind you this a very long fic and just hang on for the ride lol. Enjoy<3

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The dimly lit underground space smelled of sweat and leather, the rhythmic sound of fists hitting the heavy bag the only thing that filled the silence. Vi’s movements were sharp, precise, every punch an expression of her frustration and focus. Her usual intensity was replaced with something different today—something unresolved. She grunted as her knuckles hit the bag, sweat dripping down her brow. But then the door to the training room creaked open, and Jinx stepped inside with Isha at her side.

Vi paused, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Her eyes fell on Jinx first, noting the tension in her stance, how her usually wild energy seemed subdued, tightly wound up. Isha stood quietly beside her, confusion and concern written all over the girl’s small face.

“Jinx,” Vi said, her voice low, though her eyes were focused on the two. “What’s going on?”

Jinx didn’t answer right away. She walked toward Vi, and as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, Isha’s hand brushed her arm—silent, but a comforting touch. Jinx glanced down at the child, and then, with a heavy sigh, she spoke.

“Caitlyn shot her,” she muttered under her breath, her words dripping with raw emotion. “She tried to kill her… and I—”

The words caught in her throat. The rage she felt toward Caitlyn bubbled under the surface, threatening to overwhelm her. Her breathing grew shallow as she gripped the nearest surface, trying to steady herself.

Vi’s face contorted with confusion. “Caitlyn did what?”

“She shot her, Vi. I… I couldn’t stop it in time,” Jinx’s voice cracked, and the vulnerability in her tone took Vi by surprise. She wasn’t used to seeing Jinx like this—so raw, so exposed.

Isha, simply stared, her eyes flicking between Vi and Jinx, her face scrunched in confusion. She had heard bits of the conversation, but there was so much she didn’t understand. Why was Caitlyn shooting at someone she cared about? And why was Jinx so shaken?

Vi let out a long breath, trying to process what Jinx had just said. “That doesn’t make sense,” she muttered. “Why would Caitlyn shoot someone she… she cares about?”

The words that followed slipped out of Vi’s mouth before she could stop them. “She’s in love with them, isn’t she?” The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and unexpected.

Jinx’s breath hitched, and Isha’s eyes widened, her hands curling in confusion.

“You’re telling me Caitlyn is in love with her?” Jinx’s voice trembled, though there was a fire burning in her chest now. It was as if everything was unraveling before her eyes, but she couldn’t piece it together.

Vi froze, her mind suddenly catching up to her words. She looked up at Jinx, realizing the weight of what she had just said. “Wait, I—what I meant was, you know, she’s always… you know, been protective of her. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The way she—” Vi stammered, suddenly realizing she had just opened a door that was better left closed.

Jinx stood there, her body rigid, her gaze fixed on Vi, her thoughts racing. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to release the anger she had buried deep inside, but instead, her fists clenched at her sides. Caitlyn’s in love with you? Her mind couldn’t wrap around it. It didn’t make sense. Not with everything that had happened.

Why didn’t you tell me, then? Jinx thought, the question gnawing at her. She felt a wave of confusion and betrayal surge inside her—betrayal from herself and from Caitlyn.

Isha, still standing silently, seemed to pick up on Jinx’s turmoil, her hands reaching up to gently tug at her sleeve. It was as though Isha was trying to anchor Jinx, to bring her back down from the storm swirling in her mind.

Jinx couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Her chest tightened as she began to speak again, her voice raw with emotion. “She—Caitlyn—could’ve killed her, Vi. And for what? Because she’s in love with her? Or is it because she was willing to do whatever it took to keep me away from her? How could she do that to someone she loves?” The words seemed to burn in Jinx’s throat, every sentence an accusation, every breath filled with fury.

Jinx’s mind was a hurricane now, swirling with conflicting emotions. Love, betrayal, fear—all of it was tangled together, and she couldn’t untangle it. Her heart pounded in her chest as the pieces began to fall into place, each one slipping deeper into a pit of confusion. How could you do this to someone you love, Caitlyn?

Vi, seeing the storm in Jinx’s eyes, tried to calm her down. “Look, we’re going to figure this out. Caitlyn’s going to come by later tonight. She wanted to talk—”

Jinx’s eyes narrowed, and before Vi could finish, she shook her head, cutting her off. “I don’t care about what she wants to say, Vi,” she snapped. “I need to find her, and I need to find her now.”

Her words were heavy with urgency, with a primal rage that burned through her. She needed answers. She needed to confront Caitlyn, to demand an explanation. But she wasn’t sure what kind of explanation she wanted—or how she’d react to it.

Vi stood there, stunned by Jinx’s outburst. She hadn’t seen this side of her before, not in such an intense way. It was more than anger—it was the raw vulnerability of someone who had been hurt, who had been betrayed by the person they trusted.

Jinx’s chest heaved as she tried to control her breathing, the emotional storm still churning within her. She didn’t want to feel this way—didn’t want to be vulnerable. But everything had changed. And now, standing here, with the truth slamming into her all at once, she couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“I need to find her,” Jinx repeated, her voice softer now, but the edge was still there. She was scared—scared of what she might do, scared of the confrontation, scared of what it all meant. But more than that, she was afraid of the one thing she could never have: the truth about you, Caitlyn, and herself.

“I’ll go with you,” Vi said, placing a hand on Jinx’s shoulder, her tone serious but understanding.

Jinx nodded, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, though she wouldn’t let herself fully break. Not now. Not until she had answers.

Isha’s small, silent presence remained at Jinx’s side as they prepared to leave. And though she couldn’t speak, Jinx could feel the weight of her support, her silent reassurance. But it didn’t stop the storm inside Jinx from raging.

𓇢𓆸

The air was thick and oppressive in the interrogation room, a suffocating silence that hung heavy in the grim, windowless space. The harsh lights overhead buzzed like they were hungry for something—or someone. You had no idea how long it had been since they’d brought you here, or how long you’d been enduring the blows. The only thing you were sure of was the pain, throbbing in every part of your body, and the blood that coated your skin, sticky and warm.

The last time you’d lifted your head, you’d found yourself met with Rictus’s massive fist, the world spinning as your skull cracked against the cold concrete. Your body barely reacted anymore to the pain—it had become numb to it.

The questions were simple at first, each one cutting through the haze of exhaustion and confusion. “How long have you worked on the weapon to blow up Piltover’s tower?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you gasped, breath shallow, heart pounding. You weren’t lying. You had no idea what they were accusing you of.

Another punch. Another wave of pain.

“How long have you worked with Jinx?” Rictus’s voice was like gravel, sharp and rough as he leaned closer, his breath foul as it hit your bruised skin.

“I’ve never worked with Jinx on anything like that!” you shouted, your voice barely audible, but it didn’t matter. The truth didn’t matter. Each denial only seemed to fuel his rage. Each “I don’t know” earned you another strike, another bruise, until you were sure your face was unrecognizable. Your lips were swollen, your eyes almost swollen shut, and blood ran down your neck, pooling on the floor beneath you. But you kept fighting it, kept holding onto the truth.

More hours passed—or was it days? Time didn’t seem real anymore. It was just you, the unrelenting blows, and the questions that wouldn’t stop. But then, a door creaked open, and you heard footsteps approaching. Your head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, but somehow, you managed to lift it, squinting your eyes through the pain.

Caitlyn stepped into the room, her expression as cold as the stone walls. The silence between you was thick, suffocating. You saw the anger in her eyes before she even said anything—cold, betrayed. And there was something else… something that felt like it could break both of you.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” Caitlyn asked, her voice eerily calm, though you could feel the undercurrent of something darker beneath it. “Do you understand the betrayal you’ve caused? After everything… everything I did for you.”

Her words sliced through you, deep, cutting. Betrayal. The word felt like a jagged rock lodged in your chest.

“I didn’t… I didn’t do anything!” you croaked, your voice hoarse and weak. “You have to believe me, Caitlyn. I don’t know what’s going on, I—”

She cut you off with a sneer, taking a step closer, her eyes narrowed in pure contempt. “You played me, didn’t you? All this time… You were playing me. I trusted you. I cared for you. I loved you, and this is how you repay me?”

The word love hung in the air between you like an accusation. Caitlyn’s face twisted in pain, her emotions raw, but she still wouldn’t let go of her anger, not yet.

Your bloodied face turned toward her as much as you could, and with the little strength you had left, you looked up at her through swollen eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t do this… Please, Caitlyn, you have to believe me.”

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. It felt like the weight of the world was bearing down on both of you, suffocating the air in the room.

And then, the violence returned. Caitlyn’s anger flared, and with a fury that made your insides twist, she lashed out. Punch after punch, each one landing with more force, her hands shaking with the force of her betrayal. The blows were relentless, each one pushing you further into the abyss. You were wheezing now, gasping for air, your vision blurring from the pain.

But then, it stopped.

You could feel her presence lingering, but the blows had ceased. Your head rolled back, your consciousness fading in and out as you struggled to stay awake.

Caitlyn was looking at you now—her blue eyes softening as they met yours, catching something she hadn’t seen before. Her gaze lingered on you, and in that brief moment, something in her shifted. She saw you. And it broke her.

Her hands trembled, and the air around you grew thick with her conflict. She stumbled backward, unable to hold it together. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She turned on her heel, walking out of the room without another word, leaving you there, battered, confused, and alone.

The door slammed behind her, and you let out a shaky breath, trying to hold onto some shred of awareness.

But that was when you heard the voices. From outside the room, muffled voices.

“She’ll make a fine leader,” Ambessa’s voice was low, calculating. “This will only make her stronger.”

Rictus’s voice answered, gravelly as ever. “She’ll do whatever it takes. We’ve given her the papers she needs, the lies we’ve fed her… Caitlyn is already on her way to being the perfect weapon for Piltover.”

“She won’t see it at first,” Ambessa replied with a smirk that was audible in her voice, “But soon enough, she’ll understand. You just wait.”

You could feel your body going numb, slipping in and out of consciousness, but what echoed in your mind wasn’t just pain anymore—it was a sinking feeling of betrayal.

This wasn’t over. It couldn’t be. You refused to believe this was your end. But Caitlyn… Caitlyn had seen you, seen your truth, and it hadn’t been enough.

𓇢𓆸

The cool metal of the interrogation room felt like a distant memory as you were dragged through the back of the building, your limbs weak and your body a mess of pain. You had no idea how much longer you could hang onto consciousness. Every breath felt like it was being ripped from you, and your vision was fading in and out. The cold air hit your face as you were roughly thrown into the alleyway behind the building.

An enforcer stood nearby, holding a rifle, his eyes cold as he stared down at you.

“Ambessa said to dispose of her,” the enforcer muttered, a cruel smile on his face as he looked at you, barely more than a broken body lying on the concrete. “You’re nothing but a liability now.”

The cold, emotionless words sent a chill down your spine, but you had no strength left to fight. It was over.

But just as they were about to end it all, a shadow moved swiftly across the alley, and then you heard a voice, dripping with sarcasm.

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to be impressed?”

Before you could react, Sevika swooped in, her powerful form effortlessly dispatching the enforcer in a blur of movement. The harsh laughter that followed made your broken body feel like it was being carried by pure instinct. She was pulling you up, holding you steady in her strong arms.

“Good to see you’re still breathing. Can’t say the same for the guy who was just about to get you killed, though,” Sevika muttered, her voice tinged with something resembling care, though it was buried beneath layers of sarcasm.

She carried you swiftly through the shadows, and with a sharp, decisive motion, she slipped into the hidden pathways that led to Sevikas hideout. Her heavy boots echoed off the walls as she moved, but you barely had the strength to stay conscious. Your head lolled, your body numb.

“Jinx’s gonna love this,” Sevika grumbled under her breath, as if speaking to herself. She didn’t stop moving, and before you knew it, you were placed gently—if you could call it that—onto the worn couch in the corner of the rundown place.

You managed to force your eyes open just enough to catch a glimpse of her. Your voice, hoarse and barely a whisper, escaped your cracked lips. “Are… are Jinx… and Isha… okay?”

Sevika paused, her expression unreadable as she looked at you. “They’re fine. You’re the one who’s a mess.” But there was a flicker of something in her eyes, something soft. “You should rest. You’ve had a hell of a day.”

And with that, your body finally gave in, and darkness claimed you.

𓇢𓆸

The tension in the room was electric, Caitlyn’s voice trembling as she poured out her anger. “She’s the reason my mother is dead, Vi. She helped make the weapon that destroyed the tower. She betrayed us, betrayed me!” Her pacing stopped abruptly, and she spun to face Vi, her blue eyes blazing with pain. “You knew her, didn’t you? You must have seen it—how could you not?”

Vi’s brow furrowed, her voice calm but tinged with confusion. “Cait, you’re not making sense. Y/n? She’s not the person you’re making her out to be.”

Caitlyn’s hands clenched into fists, her anger bubbling to the surface. “She fooled me, Vi! I cared about her, trusted her, and she betrayed me. I thought she was different.” Her voice broke as she added in a bitter whisper, “I loved her.”

The weight of those words seemed to hang in the air, startling even Vi. From her vantage point in the shadows, Jinx’s fists tightened, her nails digging into her palms as her anger simmered. Her heart ached at Caitlyn’s confession, but it was drowned out by her fury at the accusations.

“She made me believe in her, Vi,” Caitlyn continued, her tone sharper now. “And she helped make the weapon that took everything from me. She deserves to pay for what she’s done. Death is the only way—”

Jinx lunged from the shadows, her voice a feral roar as she tackled Caitlyn to the ground. “You don’t know a damn thing about her!” she yelled, her fists colliding with Caitlyn’s arm as the enforcer tried to shield herself. “You don’t get to say you loved her! Not after what you’ve done!”

“Jinx, stop!” Vi shouted, grabbing Jinx by the waist and attempting to pull her back.

Caitlyn, struggling beneath Jinx, spat back, “And you’re one to talk? You’re the one who turned her into this! You’re the reason she’s like this—broken, twisted, yours!”

The words struck a nerve. Jinx stilled for a brief moment before snarling, “You don’t get it! She was never part of your tower bombing! I didn’t even know her back then, and she sure as hell didn’t know me.”

Caitlyn froze at that, her breathing heavy. “What?”

Vi stepped in quickly, placing herself between them. “Jinx is telling the truth, Cait. Y/n wasn’t a part of that. She’s been with us for months now, but she wasn’t anywhere near you or the tower back then.”

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed as her mind raced to make sense of what she was hearing. “But Ambessa… She told me Y/n was involved. She gave me the reports. She told me—”

Vi’s voice was firm as she cut her off. “And you trusted her?” She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing. “Think about it, Cait. Ambessa’s not exactly known for being trustworthy, especially when it comes to Zaun. You’ve been fed false information. She wasn’t involved in any of it.”

The room went silent as Caitlyn stood there, stunned, her world unraveling. “False information?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Jinx wiped at the blood on her lip and glared at Caitlyn. “Yeah. All lies. You shot her, tortured her, all because you believed what they told you. And you almost killed her for something she didn’t do.”

Caitlyn’s knees felt weak as the weight of her actions crashed over her. “No… that can’t be… I didn’t—”

“You did,” Vi said gently, but firmly. “You’ve been played, Cait. And now you have to make it right.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, tears welling in her eyes as she grappled with the truth. “What have I done?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Jinx stepped back, her rage simmering into bitter silence. She turned to leave, her mind racing with thoughts of you. Meanwhile, Vi stayed by Caitlyn’s side, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not too late,” Vi said softly. “But you need to face what you’ve done—and figure out how to fix it.”

Caitlyn nodded faintly, but her heart felt hollow. The realization of what she had done to someone she claimed to care for would haunt her for a long time.

The knock at the door came sharp and urgent, cutting through the heavy silence in Vi’s apartment. Caitlyn, still reeling from the earlier confrontation, stepped outside to meet the enforcer. The man saluted her briefly before leaning in to speak in a low voice.

“Commander, we’ve got a situation,” he said, his tone grim. “A group of our enforcers was found unconscious near the termination bins in the industrial district. We believe it’s connected to Y/n.”

Caitlyn’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching. “And? Did they—” She hesitated, unwilling to finish the question. “Did they go through with it?”

The enforcer shifted uncomfortably. “We… don’t know. When we arrived, there was no sign of her. The enforcers on-site were too disoriented to confirm anything. As far as we can tell, She wasn’t there anymore, dead or alive.”

Caitlyn’s heart sank as a cold wave of guilt and dread washed over her. The thought of you being terminated—it was unbearable. Yet a flicker of hope sparked in her chest. Could she have escaped?

“She’s not… anywhere?” Caitlyn asked, her voice wavering slightly despite her effort to sound composed.

The enforcer shook his head. “No, Commander. We’ve launched a perimeter search, but there’s no trace of her.”

Caitlyn clenched her fists at her sides, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through her—guilt, relief, and uncertainty. She dismissed the enforcer with a curt nod and turned back toward Vi’s home, her mind racing. She knew in her gut you were alive. You had to be. But how? And where?

From the corner of the room, Jinx had been listening, her body stiff and tense as the conversation played out. When she heard the words no trace, it hit her like a freight train. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor, clutching her arms around herself.

“No, no, no,” Jinx murmured under her breath, her voice trembling as her mind spiraled. The fear clawed at her chest, suffocating her. “They… they took her. She’s gone. I should’ve—”

Vi was at her side in an instant, crouching down and gripping her shoulders. “Jinx. Look at me.”

Jinx didn’t respond, rocking slightly as she hugged herself tighter. Tears pricked her eyes, and her breathing grew uneven.

“She’s alive,” Vi said firmly, shaking her slightly to break through the haze. “You hear me? Y/n’s alive. I know she is. You know how tough she is.”

“She’s not tough enough to survive this,” Jinx whispered harshly, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. “I wasn’t there. I should’ve been there for her.”

Vi pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly as Jinx broke down in her arms. “This isn’t on you,” Vi said quietly. “We’ll find her. But right now, you’ve gotta hold it together. For her. For Isha.”

At the mention of Isha, Jinx’s grip on Vi tightened, and she slowly nodded against her sister’s shoulder. But the tears didn’t stop, her mind replaying every worst-case scenario. Deep down, she knew Vi was right. If there was even a chance you were still out there, Jinx wasn’t going to stop until she found you.

And when she did, she’d never let anyone take you from her again.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

The weeks passed slowly in exile. Sevika had taken you to an abandoned outpost far from the reaches of Piltover and the Undercity, a place quiet enough to let you heal but restless enough to remind you of what you’d left behind. She tended to your wounds with surprising care, though her sarcastic jabs never waned.

“You’re lucky I’ve got a soft spot for strays,” she’d muttered one night as she rewrapped the bandages on your ribs. “But don’t get used to this. I’m no nurse.”

Still, there was something unspoken in her actions—a tenderness she wasn’t willing to put into words.

Two weeks later, with your body still aching but functional, Sevika finally deemed you ready to move.

“Piltover’s ruled you dead,” she said as the two of you boarded a rickety transport bound for the Undercity. “Most of Zaun thinks the same. Guess that makes you a ghost now, huh?”

Her tone was teasing, but her eyes carried weight. She wasn’t the only one who believed you were gone—Jinx did too.

“Ghost or not,” you muttered, adjusting the hood over your head, “I can’t hide forever.”

Sevika chuckled dryly, lighting a cigar as she leaned back. “Not with that stubborn streak of yours. But hey, your ‘death’ did something. Piltover and Zaun are at each other’s throats again, and Jinx? She’s not the same.”

You looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

“She’s got the whole damn Undercity behind her now,” Sevika said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Murals of you are everywhere—walls, streets, even the rooftops. You’re some kind of martyr to them. And Jinx? She’s their voice. Every raid, every speech, it’s in your name.”

The idea made your chest tighten. “That’s not what I wanted.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sevika said bluntly. “That’s what you got. Your death hit her hard. Hell, it hit me hard.”

You turned to her, surprised by the rare vulnerability in her voice. She didn’t meet your gaze, focusing instead on the glowing tip of her cigar.

“You remind me of someone I used to know,” she admitted quietly. “Someone I—” She stopped herself, shaking her head as if dismissing the thought. “Point is, don’t get yourself killed for real. I’d hate to have to paint your mural next.”

You offered a faint smile, though the weight of her words lingered.

When the two of you arrived at Jinx’s lair, the air was thick with tension. The familiar hum of her gadgets and the faint scent of gunpowder filled your lungs. Sevika turned to you before you parted ways.

“Look, I’m not one for speeches,” she said, crossing her arms. “But if you’ve got something to say to her, don’t wait. People like us don’t get second chances often.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you adjusted the straps on your gear.

“Thanks, Sevika,” you said, pausing before you entered. “For everything.”

She smirked, her usual bravado returning. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Leaving Sevika behind, you climbed the rusted beams of the lair to reach the old storage room. The shadows were familiar, comforting even, as you positioned yourself to watch the main floor below.

Jinx was pacing, her chaotic energy unmistakable even now. Isha sat nearby, quietly doodling on the floor, her small form a contrast to the tension in the air.

You inhaled deeply, steeling yourself for what came next. This wasn’t going to be easy. But you’d faced death, betrayal, and exile. Surely, you could face her too.

As you watched her from above, the world seemed to slow, the weight of your return pressing heavily on your chest. It was time to step out of the shadows.

Sevika stood at the edge of Jinx’s lair, leaning against the wall as she lit a cigar. She was about to speak, but Jinx’s glare cut through her like a knife.

“Where the hell were you?” Jinx growled, pacing like a caged animal. Her wild blue hair swayed with each furious step.

“Jinx, I—” Sevika started, but Jinx cut her off with a shout.

“No! Don’t you dare give me excuses!” Jinx’s voice cracked, the usual manic energy replaced by raw pain. “You left me. You left us.” She gestured toward Isha, who was watching from her spot near the corner, her quiet presence a stark contrast to the chaos.

“I had to keep my head low,” Sevika said firmly, though there was a hint of guilt in her tone. “You don’t think I wanted to be here? I couldn’t exactly waltz back into Piltover or Zaun with every damn enforcer looking for me.”

“That’s not good enough!” Jinx’s voice trembled as tears welled up in her eyes. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like without her? Without—” Her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands, trembling.

Sevika’s expression softened. “Jinx…” she said gently, taking a step forward.

Jinx dropped her hands, her face flushed and tear-streaked. “I—I’ve been losing my mind,” she whispered, her voice almost a whimper. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her. I hear her. And then I remember she’s gone. That it’s my fault. I should’ve stopped her, or—”

Her words dissolved into sobs, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself fall apart.

Sevika hesitated, unsure if Jinx would let her get close. “You loved her,” Sevika said softly, more a statement than a question.

Jinx nodded, choking on a bitter laugh. “More than I even knew. And now she’s gone, and I—” She crumpled to her knees, clutching at her chest as if it would ease the ache. “I can’t breathe without her.”

Sevika knelt beside her, reaching out to place a hand on Jinx’s shoulder. “You’re not alone,” she said. “I know it feels like you are, but—”

Isha, who had been quietly observing, stood and stepped forward, her wide eyes catching something in the shadows. She froze, her gaze fixed on the spot where your grey eyes glimmered faintly before disappearing into the darkness.

Her hand twitched toward you, her quiet confusion etched across her face. But before she could take a step, you were gone.

Outside, shouting broke through the stillness. You climbed to the rooftop, your boots quiet against the metal as you surveyed the scene below. A group of enforcers had invaded a small square, their harsh voices clashing with the somber gathering of Zaunites.

The mural at the center of the square caught your attention immediately. It was breathtaking, painted with bold strokes of color and light. You were depicted standing tall and defiant, your gray eyes vivid and piercing. Beside you was Jinx, her wild energy perfectly captured in vibrant blues and pinks. The two of you stood back to back, symbols of hope and rebellion intertwined. Candles and flowers surrounded the mural, their soft light flickering like stars.

Your chest tightened at the sight, but the peaceful moment shattered as enforcers began shoving the crowd back. Below, Jinx and Sevika were already there, trying to stop the chaos.

Jinx was in her element, her taunts sharp and biting as she darted around the enforcers. But her recklessness caught up with her when one of them struck her in the head with the butt of a rifle. She stumbled, dazed, and they quickly handcuffed her.

“Let her go!” Sevika roared, lunging forward, but another enforcer held her back.

You paced back and forth on the rooftop, your heart pounding. Every instinct told you to stay hidden, to keep your cover. But when the enforcer grabbed Jinx by the arm and hissed your name with disdain, something inside you snapped.

Jinx, handcuffed and bloodied, tried to lunge at him despite her restraints. “Don’t you dare say her name!” she screamed, only for the enforcer to hit her again, sending her to her knees.

Your hands clenched into fists. For a moment, you turned away, ready to retreat into the shadows. But then Jinx’s name echoed in your mind, her laughter, her tears, her voice begging you to stay.

Before you could think twice, you sprinted toward the edge of the roof and leaped, landing in a crouch between Jinx and the enforcer.

The sudden appearance made everyone freeze. Your hooded cloak concealed most of your face, but when you straightened and your gray eyes met the enforcer’s, his expression twisted with fear.

“You—” he started, but he didn’t get a chance to finish.

You moved swiftly, disarming him with a calculated strike before turning to the others. One by one, you incapacitated them, your movements precise and unrelenting. The enforcers never stood a chance.

When the last one hit the ground, you straightened and turned toward the mural. The crowd behind you murmured in awe, their whispers growing louder.

“Could it be…?”

“Is it really her?”

You stopped in front of the mural, staring at the image of yourself and Jinx. Slowly, you reached up and pulled back your hood.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as you turned, your face fully revealed.

“It’s her…” someone whispered.

Jinx, still kneeling on the ground, stared up at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. Tears spilled down her cheeks as her lips parted, but no words came out.

You stepped toward her, the world around you fading into silence. It was just you and her now.

The square was eerily quiet after the chaos. You turned to Jinx, her wild blue hair disheveled, her face streaked with dirt and blood. Kneeling in front of her, you gently reached for the cuffs around her wrists. Your hands worked quickly, the click of the lock releasing breaking the silence between you.

As soon as the cuffs fell to the ground, Jinx lunged forward, wrapping her arms around you so tightly it was as if she feared you’d disappear if she let go. Her body trembled against yours, her breaths shaky and uneven.

You froze for a moment, surprised by the force of her embrace. Then your arms came around her, pulling her close as if trying to make up for all the time lost. She buried her face in your shoulder, her tears soaking into the fabric of your cloak.

“I thought I lost you,” she choked out, her voice muffled against you. “I thought—” Her words faltered, replaced by quiet sobs.

You closed your eyes, resting your chin against her head. The weight of her grief, her relief, was almost overwhelming. “I missed you, Jinx,” you whispered softly, your voice warm and steady. “Every second I was away from you, all I could think about was getting back to you.”

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. Her violet eyes were wide and glassy, searching your face for any sign this wasn’t real. Her hands came up to touch your cheeks, as if she needed to feel you to believe it. “You’re real, right?” she whispered. “You have to be real.”

A smile tugged at your lips, faint but genuine. “I’m real,” you said. Then, with a playful glint in your eye, you added teasingly, “But if you need proof, I could always show you.”

Before she could respond, you leaned in and captured her lips with your own. The kiss was sudden, fierce, and full of all the longing and emotion you’d both been holding back. Jinx froze for a split second, her breath hitching, before she melted into you, kissing you back just as passionately.

The world around you seemed to dissolve. There was no chaos, no danger—only her. Your hands slid up to cup her face, your thumbs brushing away the tears on her cheeks as her fingers clung to your cloak like a lifeline.

But then, the square erupted into cheers and applause. The sound hit you like a wave, pulling you both out of your moment. You pulled back just enough to rest your forehead against hers, both of you catching your breath as laughter bubbled up from the crowd.

Jinx blinked at the noise, her cheeks flushed as she glanced around. ��Well,” she muttered, her lips quirking into a half-smile, “I guess we put on a show.”

You laughed softly, about to respond when you caught sight of a small figure sprinting toward you.

“Isha!” you called, opening your arms as she reached you.

She crashed into you with such force that it nearly knocked you over. Her arms wrapped tightly around your waist as her small frame shook with sobs.

“I’m here, Isha,” you said softly, scooping her up into your arms. You held her close, your hand cradling the back of her head as she buried her face in your shoulder. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her tears soaked into your cloak, and you felt her little hands clutch at you as though she feared you’d slip away again.

Jinx stood beside you, her hand reaching out to touch Isha’s back in silent reassurance. Her gaze returned to you, her eyes soft and full of a fragile kind of hope.

For the first time in weeks, you all felt whole again.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Caitlyn’s office was a shadow of its former self. Once immaculately organized, it was now a chaotic mess. Papers were strewn across the floor, half-empty mugs of stale tea cluttered every available surface, and the scent of ink and exhaustion clung to the air. The curtains were drawn, casting the room in a perpetual gloom lit only by the dim glow of her desk lamp.

In the corner, Caitlyn sat hunched over a pile of paperwork, her hair disheveled and her uniform crumpled. Her once-crisp blue jacket hung loosely from her shoulders, the brass buttons dulled. Her eyes, ringed with shadows, scanned the documents in front of her with a mechanical focus, a mask for the turmoil beneath.

The sound of hurried boots on the wooden floor snapped her attention toward the door. An enforcer stumbled in, his mask cracked and barely clinging to his face. His breathing was ragged, his shoulders heaving as if he had sprinted the entire way.

“Commander Kiramman,” he gasped, gripping the edge of the doorframe to steady himself.

Caitlyn straightened, setting down her pen with a clatter. Her brows furrowed at the state of him. “What is it?” she asked, her voice sharp, clipped—more out of reflex than true energy.

The enforcer stood tall despite his battered appearance, his words tumbling out in a rush. “At the square near the Undercity border. The mural… it was attacked by enforcers, but…” He hesitated, his breath catching.

“But what?” Caitlyn pressed, her eyes narrowing.

“Y/n,” he said, the name hanging in the air like a thunderclap. “She’s alive, Commander. She—she fought the enforcers and… she revealed herself.”

For a moment, Caitlyn stared at him, her expression unreadable. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her desk until her knuckles turned white. “What did you say?” Her voice was low, trembling with barely contained emotion.

“Y/n,” the enforcer repeated, his voice steadying. “She’s alive. She fought them off single-handedly and disappeared before we could track her.”

Caitlyn’s heart pounded in her chest, a storm of emotions threatening to overtake her. Relief, disbelief, anger, and something deeper—something she wasn’t ready to name—all churned within her.

She shot up from her chair, sending it rolling backward. “Alive,” she muttered under her breath, pacing to the window as if she could catch a glimpse of you out there in the night. She pressed a trembling hand to her temple, her mind racing.

The thought of you—breathing, fighting, alive—stirred something deep within her. But with it came a rush of cold fury. You had humiliated her, made her question everything she thought she knew. The betrayal still burned like an open wound.

She turned sharply back to the enforcer. “Get me every available squad. I want checkpoints at every exit of the Undercity and Piltover. Leave no stone unturned.”

The enforcer nodded but hesitated. “Commander, with respect… do we capture or eliminate?”

Caitlyn froze, her jaw tightening. The words hung in the air, the weight of the decision pressing on her like a vice.

“Capture,” she said finally, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “I want her alive.”

The enforcer saluted and turned on his heel to carry out her orders, leaving Caitlyn alone once more.

She stared at the scattered papers on her desk, but her focus was gone. Her chest heaved with each breath as she leaned heavily against the edge of the desk. “Alive,” she whispered to herself, the word laced with longing and wrath.

Her hand slowly reached for the rifle mounted on the wall, her grip tightening around it as she pulled it down. If you were truly alive, she would find you. And when she did… she wasn’t sure whether she would embrace you or destroy you.

__________________________

Hey lol, thank you guys for reading! it means alot and if you read this little A/n then youll get a better understanding of this fic. So it is long, there are actually two points in this fic. TWO big like main ( i cant find the words- like the main plot) things. The moral of the book is you choosing between Zuan and piltover (the women running it...wink wink) so stay for the ride cause boy does it get stupid crazy. I'm talking about clutching the phone and having to side eye the screen like 'oh?...ohhhhhhhh' so! hehe enjoy!

[pullupinarari]

Request, can u do one where yn and lewis have just got home at night, have gone to sleep, but he can’t sleep so when yn wake up and he ‘wakes’ up he’s all grumpy basically like a toddler. Yn kinda ignores him etc cause he’s in a mood then later in the day he apologies and falls asleep cuddling yn.

Something along those lines, change it how u want to. Also love ur work xxx

a/n: me posting at 1 am, really surprising 🤧 thank you so much for your words, love!! and thank you for sending me this, I loved writing it. ps: this is not proofread so I apologize for any typos beforehand. hope you enjoy!! 🩷

It was just a regular night. You and your husband had gone out to have dinner at your favorite place, missing some time for yourselves after work had taken a toll on both of you this week. 

Dinner was lovely, filled with light chatting, blushed cheeks, enamoured smiles - truly feeling like you were reconnecting with each other after some dreadful days. Lewis would softly kiss your knuckles from time to time, his hand would reach across the table just so his thumb could caress your cheek gently. 

As much as you were loving the environment surrounding both of you at the restaurant, you are both tired, in much need of a night filled with soft touches, warm cuddles, falling asleep entangled in each other. 

But it wasn’t a normal night for Lewis. It was one of those long, draining nights for him - no matter how hard he tried, his body wouldn’t just fall asleep. At first, when the two of you got into bed, he hugged you as he always does, holding your body close to him while you laid your head in his chest, breathing in his scent as you felt your body immediately relaxing at his touch, his hand soothingly rubbing up and down your back. 

However, his body feels electric, his mind fully awake as if he had two spotlights pointed directly at his eyes, just to keep him up. He tried changing his position, once he realized that you were already fast asleep in his arms, carefully lying you back on your pillow, trying his best not to wake you up. 

Once he succeeds in his mission, he sees how your figure absently wraps itself around the sheets, getting cozier in your place. A soft smile plays on his lips at the sight of his loving wife, having a deserved rest after falling asleep in his embrace.

Then, he tries to turn to his side, in search of a much more comfortable position, hoping it could send the message to his brain that it’s sleep time. But no, to his brain, it’s 2 pm and it’s time to read an entire book, run a marathon, cook the entire menu of a masterchef program, everything that his mind could possibly come up with - except for sleep. 

Lewis tosses and turns, his side of the bed becoming way too hot due to the exaggerated movements of his body. He uncovers his figure from the sheets until he feels his limbs cooling down, just to end up covering himself again after a while. 

It’s a game of cover, uncover, cover again, turn to the left, turn to the right, on his stomach, on his back - but nothing seems to help him fall asleep. His eyes hurt already, burning with tiredness, his yawns grow more and more frequent, and still, there’s not a chance for him to drift off to a peaceful slumber. 

Your husband keeps admiring how the hours pass by on the bedside clock, feeling like they are passing by so fast, the more he feels anxious and unsettled, desperate to get some rest. Looking at the time again, reading 4:57 am, Lewis decides to get up from his place on the bed, his feet dragging his tired figure to the kitchen, preparing some tea to see if it can make his insides feel more comfortable, hoping the warm drink would lull him to sleep. 

But every attempt to fall into a deep sleep seems to be in vain. Even after the tea, he feels his body calming down, but never falling asleep. So the man decides to give up, feeling defeated by his own system, not really knowing who or what to blame: could be the jet lag from his last trips, could be the way his braids feel too tight around his scalp. He even catches himself thinking that it could be the influence of retrograde mercury - something that he can’t really wrap his head around, but a topic that you keep talking about. 

Whatever it is, just makes him close his eyes, the only thing preventing them from hurting even more as he notices how his mind feels like a puddle of nonsense at this point, it’s like his brain is just jumping rope to keep him awake. 

Lewis notices the sun rising, analyzing how the light slowly creeps through the curtains, installing itself on your room, making the space look lighter, just to make it even harder for him to eventually get some rest. 

The hours keep passing by and when the sun starts reaching for your side of the bed, your husband feels you slowly moving, your limbs reaching for his body, trying to cuddle his figure as you’re still in a sleepy state. 

He opens his arm to welcome your frame in his, still with his eyes closed. Lewis knows that you are possibly going to wake up in a good mood - of course you will, you slept an entire night, the most peaceful of all sleeps, he could tell by the way you were so comfortably wrapped on the bed covers, sleeping like a baby. 

On the other side, he feels grumpy. REALLY grumpy. He can feel the irritability running in his veins, creating a pool of bitterness in his chest just because of how he feels so desperate to close his eyes and feel his body getting lighter with rest.

You wake up, looking up at him with a smile as the first sight your eyes catch is your husband’s features illuminated by the sun softly hitting his face. However, you notice that he doesn’t look back at you with a kind, warm smile. His lips force themselves to give you somewhat of a ‘smile’, but they just turn into a narrowed line after a second. 

- I haven't even fallen asleep yet. - he simply informs you as your fingers caress his beard softly, frowning at his words. 

But instead of giving into your touch, your husband just decides to finally get up from his sinuous stay on the mattress, walking to the bathroom with a closed facial expression on his face. 

Turning the water on, he prays that a nice, warm shower might help his muscles get rid of all the tightness surrounding them - his body feeling sore from the sleepless night. But the more he moves, the more he feels tired, irritated with every single thing surrounding him, hating the way the shower door doesn’t seem to close correctly now, or the way his shower gel splattered to his eye with his thoughtless movements. 

Loud sighs escape his lips, one after the other as he stomps around the house, his bad mood emanating from his body into the air. He finds you in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the both of you. 

- Feeling any better? - you ask in a sweet, quiet tone. - No. It’s not even worth it. Nothing seems to work. - Lewis replies in a monotone, keeping an emotionless expression while he speaks, not even making much eye contact with you, just sitting on his chair and silently eating his food.

Every tiny snort and huff is very noticeable by you, sitting right by his side, realizing that he is feeling annoyed even by the most insignificant thing in this world now. The sight of him sulking while silently complaining about everything that comes to his mind, makes him look like a toddler - the pouting on his lips is still the cutest in your eyes, but you won’t take his bad mood personally. God only knows how unbearable you act when you have a sleepless night yourself. 

You understand, and you don’t want to push anything right now, so you decide to give him some space, peace and quiet, watching how he goes to lay on the couch after eating. The groans leaving his throat are still perceptible in the atmosphere, his loud sighs evident as he covers his eyes with his arm, huffing as not even a small bit of rest seems to cradle through him.

Staying silent, ignoring his mood, you decide to spend the rest of the morning focused on getting some work done on your laptop, sitting at the table on the opposite side of the living room. Still, by the corner of your eye, you could see his figure moving around over and over again on the sofa - and it genuinely concerns you how he doesn’t seem to be able to quiet down and sleep. 

When you notice, you hear your husband’s voice calling for you. He slowly lifts his head, his eyes looking for you with a pleading look in them. You get up from your seat, meeting him on the couch, sitting down beside his lying figure, attentively watching how he takes your hand in his, his fingers caressing your knuckles. 

- I’m sorry for my terrible mood, baby. I know I am being a pain in the ass, but I am just so, so exhausted. I can’t seem to fall asleep, no matter what I try, and I desperately need some rest. - his voice sounds more calm now, looking into your eyes with his chocolate ones, that seem smaller on his face due to all the sleep that’s laced in them. 

A gentle smile shows up on your face, letting him know that everything is okay. 

- Do you want me to cuddle you, love? - you suggest, your smile growing as you see the way he nods his head immediately, moving his body to meet yours as you lay on the sofa.

You open your arms to welcome your love, that so desperately needs you right now. He needs you to work your magic on him, your touch to make waves of relief wash over his tired frame, shutting his energetic brain so he can finally sleep in your embrace. 

Lewis lays his head on your chest, landing a few kisses on your collarbone before settling down, his arms wrapping around you securely. 

Your lips leave a few kisses on his forehead, as your fingers reach for his braids. Instead of just caressing his scalp, you decide to undo his braids, freeing his hair from the possible tension that might be involving his head. Your husband lets out a small groan at your actions, and you know what he means - they were freshly made just two days ago. But it’s okay - tomorrow, you’ll braid his hair again. 

The tips of your digits slowly work to remove the elastics from his hair, trying your best not to hurt him by pushing on them a bit too much. But as he grows silent, you know you’re doing a good job. 

After freeing his curls from the braids, your hands massage his scalp gently, making him almost moan - it does feel good after feeling his scalp burning from the tightness of his hairstyle.

Lewis can feel his figure melting into yours, your touch making his insides feel warmer already, your massages on his head making him feel like his brain is relaxing as well. His heavy eyes start to close after a while of feeding himself off of the actions that you’re enduring on his body, ducking his face deeper into the crook of your neck. 

Your loving kisses, your sweet touch is everything that he needs to feel so his body can know peace, lying with his home in human shape, his heart out of his chest, telling his body that it is, in fact, time to rest. 

And he finally falls asleep, feeling so grateful to have such a wonderful wife like you, the only one who knows him for who he is, that knows all the tricks to help him, to solve all his problems, his salvation in a carnal world. It’s you, and it could only be you - and even in his sleepiest form, he has no doubt that you are, indeed, the one for him.

[cursedcola]

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul (here!), Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. I've been thinking about maybe programming a small fan-made mini-otome using these ideas. Just for some practice for school while also being self indulgent hehe

Riddle Rosehearts

Very traditional, but this is expected. He asks your closest of kin (a cat, to his horror) for permission to propose. Regardless of Grimm's answer, there is already a ring that's been purchased. This is merely formality

He comes up with an elaborate plan to execute the 'perfect' proposal. Riddle maps it all out and runs multiple drafts by his childhood friends. Everything must go perfectly - or else you might not accept. Is it likely that not presenting you with exactly 12 red roses with the spikes trimmed and arranged with 6 sprigs of baby's breath will be the reason you decline? Likely not. Will he chance it though? No.

Despite all his planning, he is a nervous wreak. Our red prince is great at masking it though. He plans an entire evening down to the last detail. You both go to a upscale restaurant that serves your favorite cuisine under the pretense that you're celebrating an amazing jab offer Riddle received the day prior. There's dinner, dancing, a romantic atmosphere, and delightful conversation (he prepared conversation topics in advance in case he felt nervous).

Oh look, there just so happens to be an outdoor garden to take an evening stroll through. Would you like to go?

Of course you would, and he asks you to wait outside as he visits the restroom. After you pass through the back door, a nearby waiter slips him the bouquet of twelve roses that he dropped off in the morning. He counts them, checks the stems, the ribbon holding them together, and with a relieved sigh he reaches into his pocket.

Riddle nestles the engagement ring within the core of the center rose, and for a moment his anxiety quells. He looks through the outside door's windowpane, and sees you patiently waiting for him while admiring the garden lights. The anxiety returns, but he's ready. With a knuckle-white grip on the flowers, he passes through the doors.

"My Rose...My apologies to have kept you waiting. There was a matter of great importance to attend to - pardon? No! Not that- ugh. I was not in the restroom! Only you would make such a childish remark on such an important day...No, do not apologize. I was not referring to my career. Perhaps these flowers will provide some clarity? I hope they are to you liking."

When you notice the ring, he gently takes it and gets down on one knee. Riddles heart rattles against his ribcage, and his the mask of calm falters. He holds out the ring with one hand, and the other lightly trembles as it reaches for yours.

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my spouse? I promise that you will be cared for dearly, and that I will work tirelessly to become a husband that you will be proud of. I swear this vow to you on the Rosehearts name."

{Riddle's ring is a mix of new and old. Tradition dictates a diamond for a wedding ring, but he knows better. Riddle wants you to think of him every time you see this ring, so he chooses to stray. Three rubies sit nested in diamonds. The color of his hair, which you love to poke fun of so much. It represents how he is willing to consistently change while still holding on to his core values, all so he can become a husband worthy of you}

Trey Clover

A simple man, and therefore takes a simple approach. The depth of his proposal lies in the timing. He does not know when he will be ready to commit, or how to tell if you are ready to as well.

Trey puts proposing off for the longest time. He acts in baby steps. The idea toys with him for months, until one day he convinces himself that he is ready. After that he slowly begins to look at rings, and think of ideas. He wants to be original, but would that overwhelm you? He would sooner die than do something tacky like a public proposal at a concert or event...but is that something you might want?

If there is one thing Trey is certain about, its that rejection would break him. He knows that your relationship would never be the same if he proposed too early, or if he managed to royally screw it up. He's not a fan of attention. This is awful. Oh Great Sevens it's a pressure that he never dreamed of having to undergo.

But if he doesn't propose...would you? Are you waiting for him? what if you're thought process is the same as his?

Completely out of character for Trey, he ends up proposing on impulse. He woke up one morning and saw the ring tucked away in his sock drawer. For the millionth time he had to face the "I should just do it," thoughts and decided to act on them

The day is new, neither of you had work, and a quick glance over his shoulder proves that you would be soundly sleeping for at least the next hour. So what's he do? Trey puts on his nicest casual clothes. Nothing formal, but also nothing that is sloppy. Then he marches downstairs and starts to make breakfast. He decides to prepare tarts, a reminiscence of your days as students and where you first met. As he arranges them on a platter, he places the ring inside one made with your favorite flavor. It peaks out just enough for anyone to notice, and with a huff Trey steps back to admire his work.

His hands are slightly clammy, and quickly moves to busy himself in fear he might chicken out. It helps for a time, until he hears your footsteps approach the kitchen, followed by a sleepy 'good morning' and arms wrapping around his torso

He steels himself, and turns over in your arms to kiss the top of your head. With a nervous laugh, Trey gestures to the platter of fruit tarts and smiles at how the sight of food causes you to perk up. Like clockwork, you reach for your favorite flavor and quickly notice the metal chunk inside

He reigns in panic as you dig the ring out and eye it with a quirked brow. A moment of silence passes before it clicks, and you whip to gawk at him with the largest bugeyes he has ever seen. Wordlessly, Trey takes the ring, wipes off any crumbs with his shirt, and takes your hands in his

"I'm sorry to spring this on you so early in the morning. It must be quite the wakeup call, huh? Haha...The truth is, I've wanted to give this to you for such a long time. I simply did not know how. I had a burst of courage this morning, and am honestly running on pure adrenaline. I love you...I want to spend our lives together. Will you marry me?"

{Trey's ring is a single pearl on a gold band. He feels that the ring should reflect it's wearer, and you are one of the most naturally beautiful people he has ever seen. There is beauty in simplicity - in seeing things as they are with no modifications. You do that for him, and he loves how your relationship is authentic}

Cater Diamond

Marriage? Huh. See, in the past that was a no-go. Very constricting and he didn't enjoy the idea of getting linked to someone in that regard. An s/o with no legal binding? Sure. It's just a title anyways, right? That kind of thing shouldn't matter in the long run.

Except it did end up being relevant, and now Cater wants to beat himself up because he explicitly told you once things were getting serious that he wasn't interested in marriage. You were fine with doing either and left the decision up to him. Very nice of you to be so nonchalant , and now he knows that marriage isn't 'off the table'. There is a chance.

A chance that requires him to both propose and take back his initial stance. Which is kind of humiliating. The take back part, not the proposal. Cater is confident that he can blow you away. He doesn't need shoddy internet advice, or to to do extensive research to be perfect. Nope. It's all in his noggin. He knows you like the back of his hand and therefore can concoct a speech to woo you easily.

So what comes first, the chicken or the egg? Does he try to casually tip you of that he's interested in getting married before trying to propose? No. That would be incredibly dull and ruin the element of surprise. Cater always hated those crappy half-baked romance films where the loser male lead is all 'oh honey I promise I will propose. Just give me time,' because hello???? You spoiled it??? Also don't make promises that you don't plan to keep, douchebag. How dull.

He decides that it's all or nothing. Cater spends an entire night online shopping for a ring. He already knows all of your sizes...don't ask how or why. Anyway, ordering is a cinche. Just ignore his eyebags the next day and his snappy attitude. He can't even whine about how tired he is because that would mean he has to say why he didn't sleep and -EUGH. He is torn between his two loves. Complaining for attention, and wooing you for attention. It's rough.

It comes in the mail, and after checking the package he decides to seal it back up again. It looks untouched thanks to his skills. Then, he sets up the living room to look like he is filming a video for his magicam. Specifically an unboxing video, and makes sure to let you know that it's from one of your favorite companies.

You take the bait, and he asks you to join him. Even if your camera shy, he insists that for just this one video you hop on. He might be a bit tricky and give you ideas about the product in the box (making sure to align them with a hobby or fandom that you're into). He sets the camera to record, plops down casually at your side, and hands you the box cutter. Go crazy.

Cater can't help but giggle when you open the box - just to pull out another small box. You eye it cautiously, now suspicious that this might be a prank. He urges you to open the box, and you do so while holding it at arms-length away from your face.

The ring's gem sparkles in the camera light, and he watches amused as you pull it closer. With a shaky hand, you take it out of the box and inspect it. With the way you side-eye him, Cater can tell that you're wondering if this situation is a cruel prank...

"Tada~~ You like? -- WAIT! Before you get upset just let me explain! There is no video. That was a lie, and I'm sorry for it. I surprised you good though, right?...ahem, uhm. I'm not pranking you. If you feel the same, then I want for us to get married! I know what I said before, and I take it back. The time we have spent together made me realize that I only felt that way - well, because I was unable to imagine liking someone enough to share my life. At least until I met you. So...do you want to marry me?"

{A diamond for a diamond. Diamonds are reflective. They glitter, and are clear. They are also viewed as the best choice for a ring, but in actuality they have are not. They're only considered perfect because of marketing. In actuality, they're quite the opposite. This same reasoning applies to Cater - and you understand. Yet, you still love him. The diamond represents himself, and the heart shape is to remind you how much you mean to him}

Deuce Spade

He may be young, but he is not stupid...alright. Deuce is not always stupid. Sometimes? Yes. He makes poor decisions and lets his emotions get the better of him.

This? Not a poor decision, and he will never EVER think twice about it. From the moment the idea entered Deuce's head, it was decided. HE would become your husband. Nothing would stop him.

It began during his final year at Night Raven College. Graduation approached, and everyone was excited. Everyone, except for one person. You. He didn't notice it at first, being too hung up over how he actually managed to do well in school. Get this, he even became Heartslabyul Drumhead after Riddle graduated! What an honor! His mother was proud of him, and he was proud of himself! He had career aspirations, plans to get a home back home, and even a lovely s/o to flaunt. Life was great.

What...do you mean? That you're not going back with him? The Queendom of Roses is such a beautiful place! He's certain that you'll love it and can become adjusted. Why do you want to stay at this academy? Was three years not enough?

Deuce has never gotten mad at you before. A little miffed, sure, but never frustrated. He didn't like it. Not these feelings, or how he failed to notice that you planned this from the start. He was so wrapped up in his own happiness, that he failed to see that you felt troubled over his assumptions. It stung. In a moment of weakness, he left you alone, scared that he might raise his voice at you.

He needed to think. Alone. Thankfully he moved past sharing a room with Ace when Deuce became Housewarden. His phone rang many times. Some calls from you, Ace, his mother...for once, Deuce didn't think her advice could help him. Not when he was so confused.

He thought over his dreams for after college. They were the same that he had since prior to enrolling. Nothing changed...except for you and the other unexpected friends he made along the way. It began to settle within him that the unpredicted parts were more important to him than what he initially planned. The image of him as a successful worker, on his own, and being successful were all hollow if they didn't include you. Deuce wasn't upset that you planned to stay at NRC, he was upset that you didn't plan to stay with him.

Or did you? He interpreted it as such in the moment, but he's not so sure. All Deuce knows is that you're his best friend and the love of his life. If you stay here without him, will that change? He doesn't want to find out.

The next day, he's determined. It's impulsive, this he knows. Yet it's what feels right in his heart and Deuce has always trusted his gut instinct. This choice is entirely on him. No one's advice to excuse it if you don't reciprocate, and yet he isn't afraid. He might not have a ring, or fancy offerings. All he has is his love to offer, and a willingness to work around any obstacle. The hurt from the night prior sill aches in his chest, but he has done difficult things before. The pain merely serves as a reminder for how he hurt you, and what his future might be like if he doesn't act.

He finds you before breakfast. When the first rays of sunshine peak over the horizon and the air is still moist with morning dew. You lingered in the hall of mirrors, specifically near the portal to Heartslabyul Hall. Your presence startled him, and he nearly headbutt you from the speed he was going through the portal. Were you...planning to visit him? His heart shuddered in a mix of guilt and happiness. Even after the way he behaved, you still cared.

Upon closer inspection, you appear just as disheveled as him. He must have caused you a great deal of worry...damn it. He can't even be mad at himself. Not with things as they are.

Before you have a chance to speak, he hushes you. Deuce's jaw sets in determination and he reaches into his uniform pocket. He pulls out a paper ring. One that children often give each other on the playground when playing family. He then gets down on one knee, and holds it out with both hands.

"I am sorry. I never intended to hurt you, or push my ambitions on to you. I simply love you more than anything else, and was afraid that you did not want to be together anymore. I was afraid...that being apart would take away what we have. I realize that I was wrong. I didn't see it happening, but being with you has caused me to develop dreams beyond what I initially planned. Nothing I imagine feels right, unless you are in the picture. I don't have a proper ring prepared just yet...but will you marry me? I promise that no matter where we are - for better or worse, I will make you happy. I swear it!

{Your initial ring is made out of his most recent homework assignment. It's frail, and one drop of water will break it. However, he meticulously folded it and it is the byproduct of many imperfect prototypes. The paper ring truly represents who Deuce is. It's rushed, fragile, and full of love}

{He chooses a vintage ring. With both of your initials engraved on the center, he hopes that this ring attests to a promise no matter where you both are. It's rose-gold, not as bright as pure gold but still beautiful. The mixed color represents the different worlds you both come from, as well as your melded life}

Ace Trappolla

Ace tends to get comfortable, and when that happens it is difficult to ignite change. However, he is also headstrong. More than many give him credit for. So once the problem is identified, it's only a matter of time until he does something about it. What he does isn't necessarily always the best solution, sure; however, when threatened he will indeed act.

Initially Ace did not plan to find love. For a long time, he rejected it and passed his feelings off as a small crush. You're attractive, he's a man, a lil of this and a lil of that - who wouldn't feel a little heart throb once in a while? It only became an issue when you became one of his best friends. It felt like he was betraying you with these thoughts. They became a problem.

His first solution was to repress them further. Like stated, he noticed a problem and so he acted. Was this the best choice? No. It ended in a dumpster-fire. Any time another student even remotely expressed interest in you, Ace felt threatened. He couldn't spend time at your side without indecent thoughts popping up. Not like 'that' (geez, get your mind out of the gutter people), but more so domestic. Ick. What was happening?!

He couldn't hold it in, and his confession will forever be known as a feels-dump that started with you sharing half of your grilled-cheese with him because he missed lunch.

Yeah. Humiliating. Ugh.

Now you're his partner, of a long time. A very, very, very long time. Years post graduation. You both have settled into life together, so why tack a title? It's not like those mean anything, right? Everything was perfect as is, and weddings are expensive. You never brought it up either, so why worry?

Well, those titles do mean things in the eyes of the law. Ace never thought to get documentation about emergency contacts and whatnot updated. So when hit his head and got a concussion when jogging? The hospital wouldn't let you in. Not until he woke up, which was the longest four hours of your life.

You didn't express how much it bothered you, but words weren't necessary. The muted panic that you tried to hold back was enough. He expected you to enter his room angry, but instead all he got was defeat. That sight alone hurt worse than the leg.

The event got Ace thinking about things he hadn't in a long time - like marriage. He got too comfortable after letting the thought go once. To him, you were already irreplicable. Years do that, and he's certain that you feel the same way about him. If his young self could see him now...pah, he was such a turd. All 'I don't need anyone,' and empty words to play tough-guy. Little did he know that the person he would need the most in life was only a dimension-hop away haha.

It's that simple, really. No panic or nervousness. Ace decided definitively that he was going to marry you, and it only took years of being an airhead to figure it out.

He spends the night in the hospital for surveillance, and the staff is kind enough to prove you with a cot to sleep on. He stubbornly drags it next to his bed, and once you're sleeping soundly he 3slips a bandage over your ring finger to take the measurement

He planned to go buy the ring instantly after being discharged, but you wouldn't leave his side. Nagging about bed-rest and taking it easy...ugh! He needs to do this thing! No, he can't tell you about it. It's a secret!.....ugh, fine. One more day. Just because he loves the attention.

The next morning after, he's excitedly going to the nearest jewelers. He doesn't have a particular ring in mind, but he's done some research! It's the idea behind the ring that's important anyways....alright. Maybe he'll call up Cater.

Ace does nothing extravagant. He sticks to comfort. You, him, both eating dinner while watching a movie on the TV that evening. He quickly scarfs down his meal within the first 10 minutes and runs to your shared room after ditching his dishes. Stashed in his wallet, he pulls put the ring and hides it in his palm.

Ace tries to be smooth. He dims the living room lights, and sits down closer to you than before. He moves to take your hand with the one holding the ring, and sneak it on to your finger.

It fails, obviously. Who wouldn't notice someone trying to shove a piece of metal on their finger? You pull away on instinct, and the ring falls between the couch cushions. He freaks out for a moment and sifts through them as you continue to eat between giggles. Only when he holds the ring up in triumph do you quiet down.

"Not so funny now, is it? - Nah, just kidding. It was pretty funny....although I wanted this to be a bit more romantic. Eh. It's fine. From the look on your face, I'm guessing that you know what this is?...Uhh. Yeah. I thought it was a good time, y'know? We've been together so long that I already do think of you as my partner. I think you feel the same? Feel free to jump in if not....but, yeah. I love you. A lot. I'd really like to make it official, and I'm sorry it took me so long to get the guts to ask. Will you marry me?"

{Tradition is for chumps. Ace wanted to get something fun and eye-catching. Many suggested otherwise, but this felt right. Your relationship has never been conventional and never will be. Hell, screw 'conventional,' because it's perfect as it is and so is this ring. He knows that this ring will draw your attention, and that's all he cares about}

End Note: None of the ring pictures are mine. I pulled them off of google images because - well, I had ideas and tried to find rings to match them. I write fanfic, not weld jewelry.

[its-hitoshi]

modern! sevika au [low income edition]

Hi I’m also going to be using the last name ‘Jain’. It makes me think of that pretty girl at a summer program I went to that had that same last name and like Sevika, I can’t get her pretty eyes out of my head now. Setting is a general big city. Think of Los Angeles or New York or Toronto

ANYWAY FIRST GEN LOW INCOME SEVIKA REP LETS GOOO. I'm trauma dumping onto Sevika. No one can stop me.

-

Sevika Jain, who grew up on food stamps, always looking forward to that one snack her parents would buy her at the end of their grocery hauls. Some days it was bubblegum and shrimp chips the next. Her favorite was always roasted peanuts though. But none of those ever compared to the snacks her mom would make after she helped carry inside bags of fresh vegetables and gallons of water [from the local water store of course]

Sevika, who’s never had the privilege of having her own bed. Or her own room for that matter. Her entire family – mom, dad – lived in a one bedroom apartment. Growing up, she’d snuggle between them during cold nights under that one thick, flower-patterned blanket.

Having fun was playing on the jungle gym or sports with other kids at a local park. Her baba always took her. It’s how she would spend her summers. She still had asthma though. The air quality wasn’t good.

Sevika, who grew up speaking fluent Hindi, only being able to understand her dad now when he speaks to her. All the words she used to know, she can’t say them anymore. She remembers how they felt on her tongue, how they sound. But when she tries, it all comes out wrong. She doesn’t speak Hindi anymore. [Perhaps in a few years, she’ll try to learn again. Duolingo. Mangolanguages. Maybe she’ll meet someone who’s also having difficulties with their own language. Maybe together, they can try.]

Sevika, whose parents loved her, but still felt the sting of their palms. Or sometimes it was a stick. They said they did it because they loved her. Look at all they haven’t made her do, like other kids. Back in their homes, in their childhoods, she would have been working so much. Doesn’t she see how much they’re doing for her? Why can’t she behave?

Sometimes, when her parents fought, she’d see a flash of silver as their voices rose and things got… violent. Sevika wonders if it was just her childish imagination that saw the window rattle or if they actually did it.

Her father sobbed the day her mother died, nonetheless. All the fighting and all that screaming. The doctors had said it was a stroke. Her mama had been complaining about fatigue. Her head was throbbing the morning she walked out the door to go work. Sevika had had school. Her dad also had work. Sevika didn’t know until her dad pulled her out of school one day, white knuckles clenched around the steering wheel as he says quietly that her mother is dead. They park outside of the hospital, and this is the first and last time she sees her father cry. He still had to go into work the next day.

Sevika, who’s older and seen more of the world now, remembering those who weren’t able to. She went to a Title 1 school. Underfunded, in an area that might have been described as ‘ghetto’ in the past – gentrified now, of course. She wouldn’t be able to afford to live there now. The low-income apartment towers she used to live in were remodeled into luxury apartments, marketed to savvy college graduates who wanted to live close to the heart of the city. She walks past the streets she used to call home and tries to recall where the memorial for her classmate had been. They left flowers and candles at the corner he died at. There it is.

And there, she recalls, another shooting happened. There wasn’t a memorial, but there was a death. School had just been dismissed. It was a drive-by. They weren’t a student, but she had been. Her school’s been shut down now. Low enrollment, low performance, and the like. It’s been merged with another school a few streets down.

She wasn’t the best at school, but she wasn’t the worst. She could do fractions in high school, which was better than some of her fellow students. What she did do, was get into a decent amount of fights. She was tall for a girl. Quiet. Also couldn’t stand it when some bastard was running his mouth with no bite to match up his bark.

She graduated, solid middle of her class. She stayed near the neighborhood as others left for better or for cheaper lives. It was already starting to get expensive.

More deaths started rolling in. A drug overdose here or there.

Girls her age becoming pregnant. Having kids. Sevika wondered if there was ever anything wrong with her. She never wanted a guy like they did. Maybe what they said during high school was right. Maybe she is a lesbian. [in time, she comes to understand that she is. Also, that her desire for people is a little different from others. It’s all okay.]

Sevika walking past a recreation center. They’d given her a scholarship one summer, when she wanted to take lessons. Her baba had told her no, but they said they’d take her anyway. Free. They’d give her a scholarship. Sevika, who usually always spoke in low tones, not just because it was comfortable, but because it would get people off her back, was allowed to sing.

Her baba had recorded it. It’s in a flash drive somewhere, but Sevika also had it uploaded to her computer. It captures the moment she ran down to her baba to give him a big hug. He’d said she was amazing.

Late at night, when she’s in her apartment far from the heart of her city, far from what was home, but still home, Sevika is cooking a curry. Her kitchen, though small, is filled with little plastic sachets of herbs and spices bought from her local grocer. She has a pestle and mortar to grind up her spices as coarsely or as fine as she’d like. The scent of home blooms in the air. She found a playlist of old songs someone compiled on Youtube. Her parents liked these songs. She hums the melody, mouthing some of the words as she cleans her chicken. Her baba is dead now. Been so for quite a few years. She’s grown. Her college degree is hung up on the wall, a nod to him and his dreams for her. She did it, even if it was a little late. Even if it wasn’t at some big, fancy college where she knew she’d be the odd one out. He’d have a conniption if he knew she lost her arm in an accident. She got a decent settlement from her workplace at least. Kept her from being off the streets.

 If she ever bumps into them, she’ll buy her classmates and their kids something from the food stall at the corner of the street – churros, freshly made by a nice woman who she can’t really communicate with, but food is food, and money is money. Their kids aren’t kids anymore. Teenagers, plucky and ready to take on the world.

She doesn’t need to be on food stamps anymore. She might not be rich, but she’s stable. This curry will last her for a few days. Silco might work her to the bone in his NGO, but she has her sick days. And vacation days that he not-so-subtly asks her to take with his Do I work you hard enough to not visit Vander’s bar? He’s been complaining about me barring his best customer.

Vander and Silco have two girls between the two of them: Powder and Violet. Violet has her mother’s face. Powder reminds Sevika of how Felicia was like when they were all kids together – when they first met. And somehow, Vander finds enough time to volunteer with two more boys. Mylo and Claggor. Sevika’s met them all at this point.

She takes them to the park when Vander and Silco need a break. She watches them play in the apparatus and muses at how… green the playgrounds are nowadays. No more blacktop. Grass and trees and flowers. There’s even music playing from a radio somewhere. Whoever that person is, they have good taste.

So do the kids, apparently, when they eat up the curry she brought them for lunch. She smirks as she knows for certain that she’s given Vander a run for his money now.

(Vander’s also doing the dishes for her in that nice dishwasher he has in his bar)

[ataleofcrowns]

Hey! I love AToC and have been following its development for a few years now. But whenever a new chapter was released, and I sat down to read it, I often found it hard to carve out time to do so. So, it got me thinking - if it’s hard for me to read it consistently, how much more difficult must it be to write it consistently? It is admirable the act of writing this takes, And while I’m sure there are slower periods in the whole process, it’s inspirational how you dedicate time to writing. I write sometimes, definitely not a lot, and I want to dabble in a few short stories. So, how do you put in that time or really cultivate that habit of writing - especially when pesky "IRL logistics" get in the way? Are there any specific rituals or routines that help overcome such circumstantial challenges? I’ve been in a bit of a rut with the pen lately, and honestly, hearing anything - whether it’s how you approach sitting down to write or just your thoughts on the process - would be incredibly helpful at best and, at the very least, really interesting to hear! Appreciate you sharing your thoughts if you’re able :p

I take an ice bath, chug 6 cans of energy drink back to back, sit down and white knuckle my desk while yelling "LOCK IN" and write 10k words in one hour-

Ok but seriously, I appreciate the ask!! 💖

And honestly it's just a matter of forming the habit, at least for me. I try to write at the same time every day. For me that's in the evenings since I'm more productive at night, but other people might feel more productive in the morning or the afternoon, it all depends! Once it becomes a habit it's much easier to switch your brain to Writing Mode around the same time every day.

When you first start trying to form the habit, don't be down on yourself if you don't get a lot of writing done at first. Try to write things that pique your interest, even if the scenes or snippets aren't in chronological order. Getting something on the page is what's most important!

Also, don't be too hard on yourself while writing, and try not to edit while you write either. This is a bad habit I used to have that I had to unlearn because of my perfectionism, but it's perfectly fine to have a bare bones first draft that you can return to filling out later. Your first draft is not supposed to be perfect, so just focus on writing it first, and evaluating it later.

And write what you feel inspired to write! Like, sometimes I can't be bothered to write out descriptions or character actions, but I get inspired to write a certain conversation between characters, so I literally skip all the descriptive words and only write out the dialogue. Other times I feel inspired by worldbuilding that I want to add, or an environment that I really want to describe, so I write snippets for that, etc.

I also like setting wordcount goals for myself because I get a dopamine boost when I hit the target and it feels like I accomplished something. If you go that route, start out small! Like 250 words every day for example, and as you get into it, bump it up little by little. It also feels good if you go over your wordcount goal, at least for me.

Some other minor things that have helped me: putting on background music (ymmv), removing all potential distractions by closing everything on my pc and fullscreening my writing program, ensuring I have a place where I can write uninterrupted, drinking my favorite tea, motivating myself with rewards for once I hit my wordcount goal (snacks/video games/watching a show).

I hope any of this is useful for you!!

[luveline]

jadey - HONEY - listenlistenlisten, so I feel like you said you'd write for hopper?? but if not (because he's not on the official list) please ignore this request! BUT would you be able to write something about hopper visiting reader in the hospital after she was almost posessed by vecna?? whether this is still early stages of relationship or already established, you pick, gorgeous!! (also ik this means no hopper/joyce but personally I prefer hopper/me??) xoxoxo BIG SMOOCHES

ty for your request, love u! ♡

Nobody would ever believe you, but you know it's Hopper from the smell. You've missed him for months, and though the scent of him wore away from his sweatshirt before you thought you had time to memorise it, you know without opening your eyes that it's him sitting beside you. 

Your heart monitor beeps loud and erratic. 

"Don't," he says quietly. "Don't freak out." 

It won't listen to him, how could it? Not even the oily fog of painkillers can dull the reality of him being here, right here, this close. 

"You're supposed to be dead," you croak, peeling your eyes open achingly slowly. 

"Aren't you a little old for teen angst?" he asks. 

He's real. He's real, you're exhausted, you almost died, but he's alive. Tears well in your eyes of their own accord, not a lick of choice in it as Hopper takes your arm into his hand. 

"You look sick," you say tearily. 

"Nice. You look worse."  

"Where's your," —you gesture to his body— "everything?" 

He's lost a dramatic amount of weight, hollows sunk under his eyes. He grins despite your insult and leans back in his chair, hand sliding down toward yours, fingers pushing between your knuckles to twine them together firmly. "Russian weight loss program. Like it?" 

You're honestly not sure. Maybe when the shock has worn off you'll feel strongly either way, but right now it's his obvious alive-ness that takes centre focus. 

"I missed you," you say. You've not even a syllable into 'missed' when your voice disappears, the agony of your admission knocking the air from your lungs in one callous blow. "I missed you so much." 

He squeezes your hand. "I know. I'm sorry." 

You start to sit. Hopper stands and slips his hands behind your shoulders, helping you up with a tenderness you've dreamt about every night since he disappeared. There was no time to define what you were to one another, all these months you've been grieving a maybe, but you know the connection you had was more than real when he reaches down the millisecond you reach up. His lips smashed to your forehead and his big hands spread and searching like he's trying to stop you from falling away from him, you splutter as the air is knocked from your chest again. 

"Sorry I wasn't here to look after you," he says.

He hugs you for so long you figure you must be dreaming. There's a familiarity to his embrace even if the feel of him has changed, security with a little less padding. "What happened to you?" you ask hesitantly. 

"What happened to me? You just had something– someone in your head. You almost broke your neck, you could've died." 

"I'm lucky. I am. It could've been worse." It was worse for others. Your voice wobbles embarrassingly. It doesn't put Hopper off. You used to worry that being younger than him would make you too different; you aren't a kid but you haven't lived a life as agonisingly detailed as he has. You're scared there won't be room in his head for your weight, too, but there always is. "You're back," you say, relieved.

"I'm back." 

You breathe out. 

"Let me see you," he demands, drawing away to check you over. 

Your skin is clammy and has been for days, you weren't sleeping —sleeping meant dreaming. Hearing the toll. You've chased sleep with coffee and caffeine pills and bad TV, each day going a little more insane with wanting Hopper back. There were moments when you knew for sure he was dead, and moments you hated yourself for entertaining the idea. Whatever you deserved, he's here, wiping your sleep crusted eyes with a careful thumb. 

"Well, you're still a sight for sore eyes." 

"Yeah?" you ask, laughing until you cough. "I look good in the gown, right?" 

"Better out of it," he suggests, kissing the top of your head. He lingers there too long. You can read his mind for that single moment. 

He's not happy with himself for letting you face it alone. Which begs the question. What kept him away?

"Hop, where have you been?" you ask gently. 

"I'll tell you everything after you eat something." 

"Me?" 

"I almost forgot how rude you are," he says, rubbing your cheek fondly. "Shit. Like I could forget a thing about you." 

You take his hand from your face to clear a path. "That's romantic. Hit your head while you were gone?" He nods, hangs his head, lets you cover the back of it with your hands. You pull him forward, searching for hair he doesn't have. "What did they do to you?" you murmur sadly. 

"Don't say that. The neck up is as good as it gets." 

"I don't believe that for a second," you say, though you worry about what he means. "You better go find me something to eat. I want to know everything that's happened." 

"Got a waiting room full of people who aren't gonna like that," he says, lifting his head.

"I really, truly don't care," you say, still so softly. "I've been waiting to see you again for a long time. They can… they can walk a mile in my shoes." 

"Whatever you want." Hopper clasps your elbow. "Anything you want." 

[penny-anna]

hi everyone guess what time it is THATS RIGHT its fic rec time

Slowly but Also Like All at Once by putaposyinyourhair

"Any sign of Knuckles?” He huffs out a soft breath of air, mentally cycling through the answers that are starting to feel almost programmed by this point. Kris, he ain’t coming back. Kris, he’s gone, man. Kris, stop asking me shit I don’t have the answers to, dude. Instead he goes with something a little more sensitive. “Negative.”

AU based on the ending of Rise of the Beasts. tragically not updated for over a year but MUCH to chew on here & i must share this excerpt:

“Look, man, I can explain—” “Noah,” Reek begins again, tentatively— like he’s about to ask something that even he can’t quite believe he’s going to ask. “Did you fuck that car?” Noah damn nearly chokes on his own tongue.

Personal Space by Neon_Honeycomb

“Are you okay?” Cool, smooth metal presses against his face before he can even register Mirage moving, shattering the memory that’s slowly engulfing him until it dissipates entirely. He’s left staring again at the metal beams above, the backdrop of yellow clouds far behind them, and the movement of a single tree branch swaying just within sight. “Only you would have a roof fall on you and then ask if I’m the one that’s okay.” Noah and Mirage get trapped under a pile of rubble together. While waiting for someone to come free them, they get... comfortable.

its ur classic premise <3

lose my mind by Donts

“Do I turn you on, Noah?” Mirage murmurs lowly. Noah sucks in a breath, dropping his hands and opening his eyes, gazing at Mirage’s optics with surprise. Mirage is looking at him with a smug grin, and oh fuck. or 5 times Noah masturbates because of Mirage, and 1 time Mirage helps him out.

ohhh thats the good filth!!

A flickering spark, his unwavering spirit by caelleth

“We were… friends, weren’t we?” The words left his vocals before he could quell them, and Noah considered them before he could regain his wits enough to take them back. “...Yeah. We were friends.” His head turned, and he tore his gaze away from the mech, leaving Mirage to stare at his dust-fettered curls, struggling to find any words in this planet’s limited language that could ever hope to describe the unbearable mix of guilt and yearning and grief and above all that, unyielding hope that bubbled through his chassis. But it seemed no amount of words ever could, Cybertronian or otherwise. “I can see why,” was all he said to the human. (Or, the trials and tribulations of repairing a Cybertronian.)

another AU based on the ending of the movie. ohh this was a great time. the first Mirage POV chapter is a particular highlight.

Manhandled by SadVibez

Mirage picks Noah up to grab something on a shelf. Things quickly turn not so PG-13.

manhandling :)

An Old Mech Worries For A Human by SadVibez

During the fight in Peru, Noah was hurt after being dropped by Scourge. He hasn't told anyone and with Mirage to not fret over him, no one has noticed. Well, almost no one. Optimus notices Noah in pain and the two have a small talk.

a rare non-shippy fic. ohh i love a 'this character should have been injured let's talk about that' fic

Tactile Intimacy by BunnyFair

When Mirage makes an expected engine noise, Noah has to investigate and give his friend a thorough check up. Popping his hood, he soon discovers the world of tactile interfacing.

tactile interfacing for u!!!

human junk by Secretkept (KaiNinjagoo)

After a few nights of Noah sleeping in the garage, Mirage notices something he hasn’t seen before (PENIS)

firstly can i just say, summary of all time, i've been thinking about (PENIS) for weeks. secondly: great series feat. sexless robot Mirage & Noah navigating their relationship. love the realism of this one. great time.

Exposure Therapy by Neon_Honeycomb

“You’re not made of metal. I— I don’t know the limits of what you’re made of. I don’t know how much is safe contact, and when it turns into— when you— when I—” This is the part where Noah is supposed to get it. The part where he’s supposed to understand the depth of what Mirage has just told him, where he realizes the danger he’s in if Mirage so much as simply moves wrong at the wrong moment, the moment where he lets go and never comes near him again. He waits; waits for it all to click into place in that biological processor of his, waits for the moment he pulls his hands back to himself, waits for his face to morph into entirely justified fear. “I could break you, Noah, I could…” He’s not prepared for Noah’s expression to go soft. There's only one way for someone to learn how much strength to use when handling something, and that's through experience.

screaming yelling throwing up wailing sobbing:

Noah doesn’t break. He doesn’t immediately start leaking red, his face doesn’t even pinch like Mirage has seen him do when he gets hurt. And somehow that makes it so much worse when Noah looks up at him, looking just as good as he had a moment ago, completely fine, only for him to say, “Right there. That’s how hard it takes to start hurting.” like it’s no big deal at all.

[mama-qwerty]

Not sure how deep a dive you can go for this one but one scene I haven't really seen discussed much is Ivo literally getting dropped by Gerald and then the epic save by Tails & Knuckles. And everything that follows on during that brief time where we get redeemed Robotnik + Tails and Knuckles. It was kind of adorable watching them team up. Goes from the lowest low to a new high with Robotnik.

It's the old "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" thing.

All Ivo ever wanted was to be accepted. He wanted a family, to be loved. The more he denied it, the more he tried to declare himself better than everyone, the stronger that desire burned.

He surrounded himself with robots because he could program them to obey him, to stay with him and not abandon him, no matter what he did. He could tell himself he was fine, this was fine, he was happy because he could control the bots and feel like he was important.

Stone was just another bot to him, someone to order around and converse with if he was feeling particularly chatty. But I don't think Ivo really saw Stone as anything more than a sycophant for the longest time. The toady he kept on to do the menial tasks that Ivo himself was 'too important' to do.

Ivo isn't someone who's what you would call 'in touch' with his emotions. He's spent his entire life keeping others at arm's length, because he'd always been picked on and hurt because of his intelligence. He's got this wall built around him, and he always told himself that was good, that was fine, he didn't need love, didn't need to form attachments to any other person. The bots were all he needed, because he could 'love' them, and they would 'obey' him, and they wouldn't hurt him by walking away from him.

Enter Gerald.

Suddenly here's this blood relative, a grandfather who was also a genius, also someone with a good dose of animosity toward the human race, also with aspirations to teach the world a lesson.

And suddenly Ivo's walls came down.

He threw all his hopes and desires to be loved, to be accepted, onto Gerald, and for a while it seemed like Gerald actually did love and accept him. They worked together to break into GUN hq, had a nice little dance number, and reveled in their upcoming victory.

Until Gerald revealed his true intentions.

And even Ivo thought it was insane.

He never wanted to destroy the planet, he never wanted to kill every living person, he just wanted them to love and respect him, obey him, like his bots did. But Gerald didn't want to hear it, didn't want to listen.

Because Ivo was no Maria.

And that crushed Ivo's heart.

You could see that it did. He thought he'd found someone who was like him, who loved and accepted him. But it was all a trick, and he couldn't even measure up to his dead cousin in his grandfather's eyes.

And maybe he realized in that moment how Stone felt when he'd kicked him to the curb. Maybe he remembered how Stone had tried to warn him, but Ivo had been so excited to be with his grandfather, he didn't listen.

So he turned on Gerald, and even in that last moment, right before Gerald sent him to his certain doom, he wanted so badly for Gerald to love him.

And maybe he saw Tails and Knux on their way up. Tried to buy some time so they could reach the ARK. And when Gerald sent him falling, he likely had a moment when he wondered if they'd catch him, or if they'd let him fall, because of how he'd treated them.

But they caught him. They helped him. His enemies had been kinder to him than his own flesh and blood.

So he helped them.

And he made amends with Stone, in a way only Ivo Robotnik could, before he (seemingly) sacrificed himself to keep the world safe.

Ivo Robotnik, at his core, is a little boy who just wanted to be loved. Gerald saw that, and used it against him. And it wasn't until the end that Ivo saw Stone had cared for him all along.

Ivo saved the Earth not because he cared about all the people on it, but because he cared about just one.

~~~

Check out my other Sonic 3 analysis posts

[gyutopia]

dried flowers | park jongseong

ꕤ DESCRIPTION:  it’s always been jay, even all those years ago when you were fresh out of a relationship with your first love hueningkai. it was jay who was always there, the man who helped you find yourself again and showed you your worth, the man you could clearly picture a future with, the father of your twins. so why are you now having doubts about your marriage? it’s always been jay...hasn’t it?

ꕤ GENRE: fluff, nsfw, angst….

ꕤ WORD COUNT: 13.3k

⟶ WARNINGS: mean dom!jay, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), p in v intercourse, no protection, degradation, possessiveness, jealousy,, jay gets his heart broken, the park family is in shambles, mentions of cheating, slut shaming, knets hate u lol, mentions of depression and therapy.

❥ 𝑎/n: she’s been in the drafts for a while, decided to post while i work on my jake fic!

12:39am

There was a time in your life when you felt free and the world was full of possibilities...and him, especially him. You love your husband, you always have and you always will but a part of you can’t help but wonder if your life would be different had you given your first love a second chance. The circumstances surrounding your relationship with Hueningkai were far from ideal, an overly busy boyfriend who could never seem to make time for you and a short stay for your study abroad program. The odds really were never in your favor.

It also didn’t help that the two of you had completely different ideals and aspirations. You wanted to settle down at some point and have kids, you wanted the big wedding and the house at the end of the cul de sac but Kai wanted you and his music, nothing more. He didn’t believe in marriage, claiming he didn’t need a piece of paper to show you just how much he loved you.

He also wasn’t big on kids, coming from a somewhat big family himself and seeing how his parents marriage didn’t last and the pain he and his sisters endured when the divorce was finalized, he came to the conclusion he wouldn’t ever want to put someone he loves through that and swore off kids for good. His focus was his music career before anything else and he expected you to simply adjust to his hectic life and be content with being kept in the shadows. Your relationship really took a turn for the worst when he brought you to a party his label mates were throwing, everything went to shit that night.

The party resulted in a broken relationship, bloody nose and bruised knuckles and you pulling out of the SNU study abroad program the following week and returning back home to the states.

You don't even know what you’re doing thinking about Kai, it’s been years and you’re content with the life you lead now. You’re married to an amazing man who shows you each and every day just how much he loves you and the children you have together. Jay has never given you any reason to not trust him or even doubt him. So why are you now?

Jay is the kind of guy who actually enjoys dinners with your mess of a family, he stands on the train no matter how many seats are empty and somehow manages to be the most handsome yet humble man in any room. He’s your all time favorite person and you want to live a hundred years and die at the exact same moment so your souls can find each other on the other side as soon as possible and fall in love all over again.

So maybe you don’t regret picking Jay, you’re glad you did. Really, but you just can’t help but think: what if it had been Kai?

Would you be as happy as you are now? Would you have kids? Would you still be his dirty little secret or would he have told the press about you eventually?

You sigh in frustration and rub at your forehead. “It’s too early for this,” you mumble to yourself before standing from your bed and exiting the room.

You slide on your bedroom slippers and slip out of the master bedroom to head downstairs. You stop by the twins room and open the door just a bit to make sure they’re still sleeping. You smile softly when you find them passed out in their respective beds.

You shut the door and continue to pad down the hall and stairs into your kitchen to grab a mug and tequila. You pour yourself a cup and head into the backyard to sit on the hammock chair Jay had set up a month prior to you giving birth to the twins.

You place the tequila bottle by your feet and cradle your mug to your chest as you overlook your backyard. It’s a mess, there are toys scattered about and the play set Jay had installed with the help of his members sits proud and tall right smack dab in the middle of the mess.

You lean your head against the wood of the hammock and pull your phone out of the pocket of your robe. You can feel your eyes water as you scroll through your contact list searching for one specific person. Yujin.

The phone rings for a few seconds before she picks up.

“Hello?”

You let out a shaky laugh, “oh. Hi, you’re still up?”

She laughs. “Do you know who you’re talking to? My sleep schedule doesn’t exist. But I will say I’m surprised that you haven’t passed out yet. You know, being the mother of one year old twins can be very tiring.” You hear some commotion in the background before you hear the gentle shut of a door. “Why are you still up?”

You bite down on your bottom lip and play with the rim on your mug. “I can’t sleep.”

She hums, “hey, has Jay ever choked you? Because if he hasn’t he really should.”

You let out a scandalized gasp, “oh my gosh! You were with heeseung weren't you?”

She giggles and sighs into the phone, “he might have spent the night.”

You kick your feet and allow the hammock to swing, “oh wow. Was it that good?”

She hums eagerly, “yes it was. Maybe we should get married? Then he could do it for the rest of our lives.”

You nearly choke on the sip of tequila at her words. “I love that it takes asphyxiation to get you to settle down.”

She laughs as well, “please, you’re acting as if you didn’t marry Jay because of his, your words not mine, ‘monster cock’,”

You shrug your robe off and place the mug down, finally getting comfortable. “I don’t recall.”

She snorts, “of course you don’t. But moving on, are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”

You clear your throat and stare off into the distance. “I’ve been doing some...thinking..?”

You trail off as you try and think of how to phrase your next sentence. “A lot of thinking actually. About...him.”

Yujin hums in amusement, “ouu, who?”

You sigh and place your head in your hands. “Come on Yujin, you know who.”

Silence follows after your statement and you hang your head in shame.

“Are you kidding me?” Yujin takes a seat at her dining table and reprimands you. “Do not fuck up your gorgeous family.”

You shake your head adamantly, “I’m not.”

“You better not! Jay is such a good guy, _____!”

You sigh, “I know that!”

Yujin scoffs, “then appreciate it for a second, how lucky you are to have found him. Do you know how many millions of women would kill for what you have with him?”

“Look, I know that. B-but I just can’t stop thinking about how different things used to be!”

Yujin lets out a confused hum, “with Kai?”

“No...with me. I was different...I- I don’t know what happened.”

Yujin sighs, “you said yes, moved to the suburbs and had kids. This is what you wanted, _____. It was your choice.”

You groan in frustration. “I know that, Yujin! But I just, I-I need to feel it again!”

“Feel what?”

“Some small piece of that interconnected love rush you know? It was just-- it was such a high!”

“_____...I get it, Kai was out of this world for you but that kind of love is a fickle bitch. It hurts, it betrays and is ultimately unsustainable but what you have with Jay will go the distance. He really is the one for you.”

You close your eyes and lean back in the hammock. “I know.” You softly say, “I know it with everything in me.”

Yujin nods, forgetting that you can’t see her. “So what are you gonna do?”

You open your eyes when you hear Jay’s car pull up in the driveway. “I don’t know.” You properly sit up and collect your mug and tequila off the floor, “I have to go. Jay’s home.”

You don’t give her a chance to respond before hanging up and entering the kitchen through the back just as Jay walks in through the foyer. You dump the remaining liquor and place the bottle back in your drink cabinet.

“Hi, my love.” You feel Jay wrap his arms around your waist from behind and place a kiss on your collarbone. “Why are you still up?”

You finish washing up the mug and place it on the drying rack. “My mind won’t shut off.” you turn in his arms and wrap your own around his waist. He smiles at you and leans down to place his lips on yours for a quick peck but you pull him back in for a longer more meaningful kiss.

Loosely, his hand moves to grip your neck, as you lift your chin higher - so you can press your lips harder into his - while your hands fist into his shirt. His free hand drops to wind around your waist, and in one swift movement, he pulls your body flush against his. Gasping at the motion, Jay uses the opportunity to slip his tongue between your teeth, your lips parting further in response. Indolently, his soft appendage swipes across yours, curling around your tongue and gently massaging it.

Electrified by his kiss, you moan into his mouth, your chin lifting higher as you press your lips harder against his. Mouths moving in tandem, you lose yourself into the intoxicating feel of his lips against yours. The soft petals of his mouth are soft, and as pillowy as you remember; albeit a little chapped, but you don’t mind so much. No - because the slight abrasion only adds to the feel of your kiss.

When you feel his tongue flick against yours, your hands uncurl from his shirt - only to wind up his chest, along his throat, towards the nape of his neck. Further and further, you sink into Jay: his body pressed flat against yours, his saccharine taste coating your tastebuds, and his warm breath wafting over your face. You can’t help but find yourself drowning into him - his entire presence encasing your senses as you lose yourself deep into his entire being.

Both of you lose track of time, your tongues gliding and sliding against each other, both of you consumed wholly by the other. Lost in your own selves, you feel nothing but each other - want to feel nothing but each other - and soon, the rest of the world fades into the background. There’s a soft ache in your lungs - your chest aching from the lack of oxygen, but you don’t care. No - right now, breathing is the last thing on your mind. In fact, the only thing you can think of is Jay, and the intoxicating sensation of his tongue against yours.

Nonetheless, eventually, your lungs begin to burn - the lack of oxygen searing through your chest. When the sweltering ache grows too much to be ignored, the two of you pull away - breathing harshly against each other. Your eyes stay closed as you gasp for air, both your breaths mingling together and circulating the air. Your lips are slightly swollen, and as you flick out your tongue to soothe them, you can’t help but whimper at the aftertaste of his essence on your mouth: the flavor only deepened by his breath fanning your face.

With your eyes closed, you still feel him linger around you - his calming presence washing over you and soothing your earlier hurt. Swallowing thickly, the two of you gradually open your eyes - coming face to face with each other. You’re still only a hair's breadth away, his mouth ghosting against yours in tender brushes. Gaze meeting his, you search his eyes for something - anything - even just an inkling of the emotions you feel for him. And as usual, Jay doesn’t disappoint.

He smiles gently at you, the soft tip of his nose brushing yours as he repetitively presses affectionate kisses to your lips. “Not that I’m complaining but, what was that for?”

You place your head against his chest and lowly whisper into the night, “I love you.”

You wake up with a headache and the muffled sound of voices echoing from your living room all the way to the master bedroom. Groggily, you push yourself up off the bed and stare at the empty space beside you, realizing one of the voices belongs to Jay.

You vaguely remember him coming home last night after his meeting with his producer, your moment on the kitchen counter. How he carried you back upstairs and tucked you into bed beside him.

You hoist yourself off the bed and throw on the silk robe you had in the bathroom as you begin your morning routine of brushing your teeth and taking a shower. Trudging along the hallway to the living room after freshening up, you stumble upon a woman rounding the corner and walking up to you.

You think your eyes are deceiving you when you finally recognize who the jet black hair pulled up high into a sleek ponytail belongs to. “Oh sweetheart! You’re awake! Good morning.”

It’s Jay’s mother.

She pulls you into a hug and you blush. “I-I didn’t know you were visiting today.” You return the hug, “If I knew, I wouldn’t have—“

“Don’t be silly! We’re all allowed to drink once in a while!” Her eyes sparkle with her words, making you smile. She’s always been fond of her and was quite vocal about it. “Let’s get you some coffee, okay?'' Jay's mom leads you down the hallway, past the living room where you see Jay and his father engaging in what seems to be a serious conversation, and into the open kitchen where she ushers you to sit down. “The twins haven’t woken up yet, I was about to get started on their breakfast” She informs you when she catches you looking around. You hum and stir your still hot coffee.

Before you get to take a sip of the morning brew, you feel someone kiss your temple.

“Good morning, baby.” Jay whispers, placing his phone by your coffee mug, “Are you okay? Do you need aspirin?”

“I’m fine.” you sigh, stretching your neck to kiss his cheek before he straightens his back. His mother sets down another plate, filled with eggs and bacon, before ushering the men to sit.

“Let's eat!”

┕━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┙

Brunch goes by fast, small talk about your father in-laws' business is shared and pictures of your kids go around the table before goodbyes are bid with promises of lunch sometime soon. Retreating back into your home, Jay takes a seat on the couch and massages his temples with two fingers.

“Jay?” You worriedly ask, sitting beside him and placing your hand on his knee. There’s something unsettling about how it takes him a second to reply, staring at the glass coffee table with a stoic expression. You begin to retract your hand until he sighs and grabs it gently

He closes his eyes and smacks his lips together, “This morning… your previous relationship was broadcasted all over the news. I don’t know how they got the information but I’m doing everything I can to take it down.”

“Oh.” You blink, unsure of what to say or how to react. If anything, the headache you woke up with starts acting up again as you try to process what your husband had just said. The world knows about Kai. Even more, the world knows about your past relationship with him. You can only wonder how the media is painting you.

You think it’s something along the lines of a gold digger. First you get swept up in a whirlwind romance with an international superstar just to break things off and marry the son of one of South Korea’s biggest chaebols who just so happened to not only be friends with your ex but work with him as well. There’s definitely no saving your image now.

“I’m sorry.”

He frowns at your apology, tilting his head to the side. “What for?”

“About this mess, I’m sorry this is interfering with your image.”

“You did nothing wrong, love. I just hate how even after all these years Kai is still associated with you. It’s almost like you won’t be able to ever fully leave him in your past where he belongs.”

You want to reassure him that while yes, Hueningkai played a major role in your life, he’s the past. You want to tell him that it doesn’t matter because he’ll stay in your past but you can’t bring yourself to lie to your husband.

The truth is you don’t know where Hueningkai stands in your life at the moment and as sick and twisted as it sounds, if he were to show up at your doorstep right at this moment….you don’t know what you would do.

Jay turns to face you. “I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, _____. That isn’t it, I swear. I just...I guess I just need the reassurance that Kai isn’t coming back. I’m secure with our relationship and I just want to know what you’re thinking, please don’t shut me out.”

You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out, “u-uh...I-'' You're soon cut off by the wails of your twins over the baby monitor. You close your eyes and thank God for the distraction. “-I should probably go get them ready for their day and feed them. They have a playdate with Chaeyoung’s kids''

You abruptly stand and turn in the direction of the nursery. “You should get dressed for work, I’ll stop by the studio with lunch later for you and the guys.” You hesitate before turning back around to place a quick kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

After dropping off the twins and making a quick trip to the grocery store, you’re talking to Yujin over the phone about her taking her relationship with Heeseung to the next level when your phone chimes with a message from a number you should have blocked and deleted a long time ago. It’s Kai.

You block out Yujin’s words about her current issues and shakily reach for the device, scared to read the contents of his unprompted message.

2:33pm [hueningkai]: i’m sure you’ve seen the articles by now and i really am sorry if it put you in a difficult position with jay. i know you told me to delete your number and never reach out again but i don’t want you to hate me anymore than you already do _____.

2:33pm [hueningkai]: i’m not the one who sold the story to the press, i don’t know how it got out and i’m working really hard to get them taken down so please be patient and wait for me a little longer.

2:35pm [hueningkai]: i’ll make things right.

“I don’t want you to hate me anymore than you already do.” Your ears ring and your breath hitches as the phase catapults you into the past.

“_____.” he called in a breath.

He felt the panic rising. He wasn’t ready to confront you. From what Yeonjun had told him, you weren't doing great when you left the party last night. He told him how you had cried your eyes out on your way back home. Hueningkai had never seen you cry - apart from that time the two of you watched All The Bright Places together - you were always so cheery all the time, always in a good mood. In the past months you’ve been together you’ve never had a fight - you bickered continuously, yes, but never fought. You were always in sync, as if you could read each other’s minds. Hueningkai never felt such a connection with anybody else. 

You were still looking at him. you looked at him and you saw the beautiful man you fell in love with tremble with fear. He was afraid of you. And in some way, you were scared of him too. you were scared of who he was, who he really was - because last night you had come to one conclusion: you don’t know Hueningkai. You thought you did, you thought you had learned enough of him in these past months, but you were wrong. He wasn’t the great, responsible and loving person you thought he was - because the man you thought you knew wasn’t capable of breaking your trust.

If there was something you were sure about it’s your worth. Your pride and tenacity were the qualities that allowed you to be where you were. You're intelligent, independent and determined. You had your moments, but you were strong, and you knew it. You knew that you didn’t do anything wrong to deserve his deception. You had cried your tears and felt the pain, but no more. 

“I just want to know why.” you said, your voice a little bit too shaky for your liking.

Hueningkai closed his eyes hard, his head pounding. “_____ …”

“how long?” you pressed on.

The boy shook his head and took another shaky breath. He stood up and walked to her desk, trying to get some space between the two of them. He couldn’t think clearly. 

Your eyes followed him without wavering. “You’re not going anywhere until you speak.”

Hueningkai was biting hard on his lower lip in the hope to cover up the pang in his chest. He didn’t want this. He cared about her. He loved her. But he knew, deep inside, that there was no going back from what he had done. There was no turning back from this terrible mistake.

“I ended things with her.” was all he could say.

“You clearly haven’t.” you responded in almost a clinical manner. “How long?” you repeated. “How long were you seeing her behind my back?”

The boy shook his head again, letting himself fall on the chair. “I wasn’t.”

The girl sighed, slowly getting angrier and impatient. “I saw you kiss each other yesterday. Please, be honest.”

“I-” he mumbled, struggling to find the words. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Very cliché of you to say.”

“It really wasn't,” Hueningkai exclaimed, finding the courage to look at you before cowering back, seeing the disdain on your face. “It- It was after your first day back to classes after winter break.” he finally admitted.

You furrowed your brows, going back with your memories. “The day I learned I failed my bio final?”

He looked up to the ceiling, wishing he could turn back time. “Yes.”

You thought back to that day, the same day you noticed Yeji for the first time. They hugged, you remembered that day too. You didn’t think anything of it when it happened. It didn’t seem important to you. 

Were you too naive?

“Did you have sex with her?”

He shook his head. “I...I don’t remember, I was drunk.”

“You were drunk.” you repeated. “Does it sound stupid only to me?”

“No.” he gulped. “It was stupid.”

You suddenly came to a realization. “The day after my math final,” you remembered. “You weren’t yourself …”

“You told me you fought with Bahiyyih.” You murmured in recognition.

“I didn’t.” Hueningkai responded, fingers through his hair. He wanted this torture to end.

You were feeling slightly nauseous. You were worried about him that morning, but he was fine only hours later. He had laughed with you during your lunch break. “And you decided it wasn’t worth … it wasn’t important enough?” you asked, your anger rising.

“I didn’t want to ruin anything!” the boy exclaimed in fervor, looking back at her again. “You still had three more finals to take and I didn't want t-”

“So you went on with it.” you interrupted. “As if nothing had happened.”

“I didn’t want to-”

To what?” you raised your voice. “To what Hueningkai? To lose me?” you laughed a cold laugh that made the boy quiver. “That’s bullshit and you know it. And then what? You continued seeing her? Those weeks we couldn’t see each other because of your schedule, you were with her, weren’t you?” you accused him in one breath, thinking about how distant he had been. 

Hueningkai was petrified. He was unable to speak against your claims, he wanted to but his throat was constricted. He could feel you slipping away by the minute and he was unable to stop you. He was losing something important, and it was all his fault.

Your breath had turned labored with the realization of how foolish you had been. Four months of lies. You couldn’t believe you fell for all of it, that you fell for him. 

What was it _____? Was it his looks? Was it his personality? What about him rendered you so stupid?

Hueningkai couldn’t stop looking at you now. You were sitting on the edge of your bed with your head down and your hands on your knees, your knuckles taught. He wished he could avert his gaze again but something inside him wanted to masochistically remember this moment. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his own hands trembling inside the pocket of his jeans, where he had hidden them. If he didn’t know himself better, he could swear his eyes were starting to sting. What happened to him? 

You finally take a trembling breath, as if you were trying to compose yourself and not cry. You looked him in the eyes with all the courage you could gather and finally spoke the words he had been secretly preparing himself to hear. “I never thought I could hate someone as much as I hate you. I hate you, Hueningkai. With all my heart.”

“_____? Are you even listening to me?”

You shake your head as the memory comes to pass, trying to get your head out of the daze. “Y-yeah, sorry. Chaeyoung sent me a video of the twins but I promise you have my complete undivided attention.” You lie. Why did you feel the need to hide this from your best friend?

“Oh, it’s okay. I have to go anyway, gotta wrap up my thesis.”

You bid her goodbye and wish her luck with her thesis for her PhD program before hanging up. You stand in silence in the middle of your kitchen as your mind cooks up every reason why texting Hueningkai back is wrong and downright disrespectful to Jay but a part of you itches to see what would happen if you did. Would the part of you you feel is missing come back?

2:40pm to: [hueningkai]: i believe you.

You quickly exit the messages app and shut off your phone to finish packing the boys lunches. You individually wipe down each lunch box and place them neatly in the large lunch bag you had found at Costco a while back. You make sure to pack a few snacks and a sealed platter of fruits for them as well.

You’re back in the car with a few minutes to spare from the time frame you gave yourself, the members warmed up tteokbokki perched on the passenger seat as you pull out of the driveway to your destination. You’re there in no time; there wasn’t much traffic around 4PM.

You park the Mercades in the assigned spot for workers and their family members. You make sure to grab your purse and lunch bag before you enter the elevator to head to the main floor. You greet the security guard; who had remembered you from your previous visits, greeting you as ‘Mrs. Park.’

Bashfully, you bow to him as he lets you pass and make your way to the elevator and ride up to the 10th floor.

Jaebeom, the group's manager, recognizes you the second you step out of the lift and stands up from his seat, “_____! Perfect timing! The boys just wrapped up their dance practice.”

“amazing!.” You beam as you follow him down a corridor. Some employees look up from their work to glance at you; recognition in their eyes.

Enhypen’s practice room is such a large space with multiple glass windows allowing you to see all over. He’s sat on the floor beside Jake, fingers supporting his forehead as he reads something off a piece of paper.

Jaebeom knocks on the open door and pokes his head in, “boys, you have a visitor.”

You watch as their heads snap up simultaneously to see who has stopped by.

Jay puts whatever he was reading down and stands up, “_____? What are you doing here?”

Jaebeom quietly excuses himself and you whisper words of gratitude as he leaves before stepping further into the dance room.

“I promised to drop off lunch,”holding up the lunchbox you made for them. “I can’t have my husband and dear friends starving.”

The boys all cheer and abandon their previous work to come crowd you by the door. Sunoo takes the heavy lunch bag off your shoulder and happily skips to the middle of the practice room with the members following behind. Jay walks up to you, kissing your forehead, “You really didn’t have to. We could have ordered-”

“But you weren’t, were you?” You scowl, “Come on, let’s fill that belly up.”

He leans forward to whisper in your ear, “I’d rather eat you.”

You gasp, instinctively reaching your hand out to hit his shoulder, but he catches it instead and interlocks your fingers together. “Stay and eat with us?”

Your heart melts at the gesture and you inwardly chastise yourself for even ever thinking about someone else when you have a husband as caring and loving as Jay.

You shake your head gently, “I already ate, plus I have to go pick up the twins soon.” You stand on your tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on his lips, “you should go join the boys before they eat your half as well. I’ll see you at home?”

He whines and leans in for one more kiss, “at least let me walk you to the car?”

You shake your head firmly this time. “I can walk myself to the car, Jay. Go enjoy your lunch, I’m sure your body’s dying for some nutrients. I’ll call you as soon as I get back home.”

You kiss him goodbye and say your farewells to the members before exiting the large dance room. You walk down the corridor not paying attention to your surroundings, you’re in your own little world thinking about how your life has seemed to turn to shit overnight when you hear the faint calling of your name.

Your eyes wander about until they fall onto a lone male standing in front of the lift. Blinking at him, you couldn’t believe your eyes when his profile registers in your head.

Your lips have parted in a mixture of dread and astonishment. You haven’t seen him in almost a decade since you left and returned to Korea. All at once, the memories you’ve shared together come flooding back and you don’t notice you’re staring at him; not even when your phone starts buzzing in your hands.

Your eyes meet and in those few seconds you’re able to see that he’s out of his awkward puberty stage; that he’s finally matured into a man his label had been shaping him up to be. He wasn’t scrawny like before, but he wasn’t ‘soft-looking’ either; he looked lean and in good shape. The faintest shadow under his eyes tells you that touring and practicing must have been shit to him but he was still handsome as ever.

“_____?” The way he says your name hits you with nostalgia. He’s still soft-spoken, but you can’t really imagine him having such a stern voice.

Finally coming to your senses, you take a deep breath and fake a chuckle. “Kai,” You gulp, “Hey.”

“It’s been so long! Wow, you look great.”

It takes a second for his compliment to register in your head as you’re still in shock at seeing him again. “Y-yeah, you too. H-how are you?”

“I’m good, the group’s doing well so not much to complain about.” his eyes shift a bit as he clears his throat. “Congratulations, by the way. I saw on the news, and overheard the other members talking… about your wedding and twins.”

Instinctively, you look down at your hand; to your wedding band. “Ah, yeah. Thanks.”

“I’m glad you’re happy, _____.”

Not knowing what to reply, you nod your head, “Uhm, so what about you?”

He lets out a sad chuckle, “No luck. Touring the world doesn’t really give me that much time to socialize. I’m always on the go.”

“Not even groupies?”

“I guess I'm just not interested in them.” Kai shrugs with a half smile on his face, displaying how chiseled his face was. “Still caught up on an ex.”

You shiver at his words, “still caught up on an ex.” were you by any chance said ex? You slightly shake your head. It shouldn’t matter if it’s you. You’re married and a mother, you can’t betray your husband like that and put your family at risk. Whatever lingering feelings you’re holding on to need to be dealt with and put aside. Kai isn’t someone worth losing your family over.

Before you can reply, suddenly, someone steps beside you, pressing a kiss on your temple and wraps their arms around your waist tightly, making your blood run cold. Looking up, Jay smiles sweetly at you but gives the complete opposite glance at Kai. “You dropped your wallet, love.”

You clear your throat and nod, “thank you.” You unravel his arm from your body and take your wallet from his free hand. “I should really get going now. It was nice seeing you again Kai.” You offer him a tight lipped smile and move to walk past him but Jay grabs onto your hand and intertwines your fingers. “Let me walk you to the car.” You turn to look at him ready to tell him it’s not necessary but the way he says it makes it sound like a command and the way he stares at you shows there’s no room for disagreement. He nods his head in acknowledgement at Huening before walking past him, purposely bumping shoulders with him. You outwardly cringe at the clear jealousy in his eyes and show of masculinity. The two of you enter the elevator in silence, you hate how tense the atmosphere has become. Jay squeezes your hand one last time before releasing it.

He lets out a deep sigh, nodding, “do you still love him?”

You blink up at Jay, hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. Do you still love Kai? You always thought you did during your freshman year, but never really thought about it again when you left. When Jay came into the picture, you knew you loved him - probably more than you did Kai, but were you just going to disregard your entire past with Kai?

“He only meant something to me before, you know that.” You could hear your own heartbeat thumping from your chest as you anticipate his next words.

“You look at him the way I look at you.” He turns his head to face you, “you look at him the way I wished you would look at me when we first started dating. Like he holds the whole universe in his eyes.” He gulps as he clenches his fists, “you look at him like you’re in love with him.”

You wipe your clammy hands against your jeans as Jay's words ring in your ears. Do you really look at him like that?

“You’re not even going to deny it?” he scoffs and glares down at your shorter figure. “This morning you couldn’t even tell me that he’s a part of your past, G-God! I should have known!”

You shake your head, “Jay..”

He only speaks over you. “Why are you still hung up on that piece of shit? Are you forgetting everything he put you through? Why aren’t I enough for you? No- fuck that, why isn’t the life we’ve built together enough?”

You reach out to grab his hand, praying he doesn’t pull away. To your relief and mild shock, he doesn’t. “It is! It’s more than enough, Jay! I-I love you, and the twins. I can’t picture my life without the three of you!”

He nods and grips your hand back with the same ferocity you’re holding on to his. “Okay, then look me in my eyes and tell me you don’t love him anymore.”

You lick your lips and look down at the ground. You know what your answer should be yet that’s not what it is and you’ve never lied to your husband. You’re not going to start now.

“I-I don’t know what I feel for him.”

You’re heartbroken by your own admission, but even more so with how Jay releases a deep sigh and your hand; brows meeting at the middle of his forehead as he rips his gaze away from you. You could see his hands ball up into fists against his sides. His breathing is deep and slow; his tongue slowly licking across his bottom lip.

You should say something; explain it further to him. “J-”

The elevator dings and the doors separate. You sniff to hold in your tears as new people enter the lift.

“You should go. The twins are waiting.”

Your head snaps to look at Jay but he makes it a point to avoid your gaze. “B-but you said you would walk me to the car.”

He slowly shrugs. “It’s not like you wanted me to. Besides, being around you right now is too painful. I’ll see you at home.”

The elevator doors close with one last ding and your husband is whisked back up to the 10th floor leaving you all alone in the middle of the reception area crowded by HYBE staff. You try your best to contain your tears as you rush back to the parking garage. You shoot Chaeyoung a text to let her know you’ll be late to pick up the kids, when she lets you know that it’s alright you toss your phone and book it out of the parking lot.

You know you shouldn’t be driving while so high on emotions but you can’t stay anywhere near that fucking building.

Not wanting to go home to silence, you drive to your second safe place. Where you know you won’t be judged and your worries seemingly just melt away.

You frantically knock on the door to Yujin’s home, wondering what the fuck was taking her so long to open the damn door.

“Who is it?”

You choke on a sob and seize your rapid knocking, “i-it’s me”

“_____?”

You nod and resume your knocking, “just let me in!” You hear the click of the lock coming undone before the door swings open and Yujin steps aside to let you in. She takes in your frantic appearance and takes cautious steps towards you, not wanting to set you off even more.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

You place your right hand over your chest as you wheeze, finding it hard to breathe. “I really fucked up.”

You slap a palm over your mouth when a loud sob comes out of your mouth.

Before your body starts to fold as you fail to control your sobbing, Yujin’s arms are around you, encasing your frame against her chest. There’s no point in pushing her away. You’re tired in every aspect and it feels like the only thing to relieve you of that stress is to cry it out.

Your knees give in so suddenly, catching her off guard that she stumbles back a little; balancing your weights until she has both your bodies settled on the floor with her back against the white wall.

“It’s going to be okay,” she shushes you gently and strokes at your back as you sob into her clothes. She allows you to cry to your heart's content and calm down before asking you if you’re ready to speak on what’s caused you to break down.

“I should have listened,” you whine, shaking your head in disbelief. “I should have listened to you when you told me to leave it alone, I-I don’t know why I didn’t!”

“What happened, _____?”

You look up at her with watery eyes. “I really fucked up Yujin…” She sighs and adjusts the way she’s sitting.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong, love.”

You sniff and play with the hanging thread on your shirt. “I...I saw Kai today.” You timidly look into Yujin’s eyes, searching for any judgment in them but her face is passive. “I went to drop off lunch for Jay and the boys and ran into him on my way out.”

“Was that...the first time you’ve seen him since what went down?” Yujin softy asks.

You nod, “it was too painful to face him when I came back and Jay just hated me being near him so I guess I always made it a point to avoid him at all functions I knew he would be at.”

Yujin nods, “did something else happen?”

You close your eyes and bite down on your bottom lip, “an article dropped this morning about my past relationship with Kai and Jay asked me if Kai really was in my past but I dodged the question...he also saw Kai and I together and asked me privately if I...if I still love him.”

Yujin’s eyebrows shoot up, “...and what did you say?”

You scratch your neck and open your eyes, “I told him I don’t know what I feel for him.”

A heavy silence falls over the two of you as Yujin goes over your words. “What the actual fuck, _____?”

You sigh. “I know, I know I fucked up, okay? But Yujin these past few months I haven’t felt like...like myself.” You wipe your nose and try to find the right words. “I’m not saying I don’t love Jay, because I love that man with everything in me but when I think back to Kai-before everything went to shit it feels like everything’s normal again.”

“When I saw him today, it’s like something clicked. I felt like the old me again, for a brief second everything seemed clear and like the haze that I’ve been in ever since the twins turned six months just- vanished!”

Yujin waits for you to finish your rant before she gives you her opinion on the topic. “I don’t think this was ever about Kai.”

You look at her questioningly, “what..?”

Yujin sits up and reaches for your hands. “I should have paid more attention to you when you called me that night, _____. Everything you said then and now...it’s clear. This isn’t about Kai, you don’t miss him or your past relationship with him. You miss the person you used to be when you were with him.”

You shake your head, “n-no.”

Yujin cuts you off and goes on, “-Everything you’ve said- reminiscing on the past, who you were, feeling like a part of you was missing? _____, you’re so focused on Kai and what could have been because you never got the proper closure for what happened. He betrayed you in one of the worst ways and left you with so many unanswered questions. Now that you’ve moved on and experienced a new you, you’re finally having the chance to reflect on the version of yourself that you lost and never got to properly say bye to.”

She reaches for your hand, “...it also sounds like you might be dealing with postpartum depression. It doesn’t kick in until 6 months, maybe even a year after birth. And before you disagree, it’s not just not being able to bond with your kids, it’s feeling lost and hopeless, heightened anxiety...wishing you were someone else.”

You feel as if a weight lays heavy on your shoulders as you process her words. Postpartum depression? The way she gingerly explains it makes it easier to understand and process. It makes everything you’ve been dealing with more clear, your conflicting thoughts and feelings for Hueningkai finally seem to fall into place.

“I-I think you might be right, I definitely need to sort things out with Jay and schedule an appointment with my therapist but thank you for being here for me.”

Yujin softly smiles, “I hope you do actually schedule that meeting with your therapist. Don’t prolong this, and I’m sure Jay will come around. Just explain everything and be truthful. You know he can’t stay mad at you.”

You open your mouth to correct her but your phone buzzes in your pocket before you get the chance. You take it out and see a notification from Sunoo. You open the message and see a link to a website. The header for the article leaves you winded.

Hueningkai of TXT issues a personal letter regarding his past relationship stating he’s still in love with his ex.

You don’t bother reading the attached message Sunoo sent and slap Yujin’s arm to get her attention. She looks over your shoulder and gasps as she skims the article as well.

Hueningkai’s apology:

Moa~ recently it has come to light about a past relationship of mine. I’m sorry for belatedly relaying news of said relationship now but I can not apologize for being a normal teenager and wanting to experience the thrill of a relationship.

I don’t know how the media was able to get a hold of such private information and I sincerely apologize to those who were caught in the crossfire.

It’s true that my past lover is Park _____, the wife of my label mate. If there’s anyone who deserves a sincere apology, it’s her. She has done nothing to warrant the hate she has been receiving, people have been making attacks on her morals, character and parenting skills. All of which have nothing to do with the situation at hand, she is an exceptional being and an even greater mother.

We have not engaged in an affair of any type, I have only met with her once, today being the first in nearly eight years.

However, I can not lie and say I haven’t missed her. Seeing her in person today reinforced my feelings, I never once stopped loving her.

I’ve caused her an immense amount of pain and a lifetime worth of trust issues and I can only hope one day she forgives me. But until then, I’ll do everything in my power to right my wrongdoings.

-Hueningkai.

“What the fuck.” You whimper, how could he do this? His ‘apology’ did nothing but add more fuel to the fire. You can only imagine how Jay is reacting to this. You pray he hasn’t made any reckless decisions.

You scroll down to the comments to see how it’s being received by the public.

omo he’s so brazen 💀 +366

she’s a married woman with children...this is a bit…. +987

she’s really been passed around 😭 -217

i wonder just how many more hybe men she’s slept with +38

he’s only made her seem cheap ㅠㅠ -21

i wonder what her husband is thinking… +765

it sounds as if he cheated… +92

i wonder why they called things off if he’s still in love with her 🤔 +10

8...years..? (°_°) -65

“The internet thinks I’m a whore.”

Yujin reassuringly pats your back, “they don’t know anything and you don’t owe them an explanation.”

You shut off your phone, “that’s not the point, Yujin. i’m being slut shamed and vilified because my ex doesn’t know when to keep private information private and my husband’s pissed off with me and this probably made it worse!”

“Then talk to him, _____. He’s rightfully upset because you still don’t know how to properly communicate with him even after all these years. It’s not too late to fix things with Jay and this whole Kai situation will work itself out once you work things out at home.”

You sigh, maybe she’s right? “I should get going, I still have to pick up the kids and make dinner. I’ll let you know how things go once I talk to Jay.”

You say your goodbyes before leaving to go to Chaeyoung’s home to pick up your babies.

It isn’t until 9:30pm do you finish with your household chores. You made sure to feed and wash up the twins, cook dinner for both you and Jay, clean the kitchen and catch up on laundry. You even made it a point to clean Jay's home office for him.

He doesn’t get home for another three hours. He walks right past you and barely acknowledges your presence. He checks in on the twins who are fast asleep and gets himself ready for bed. You try and get him to talk to you, to say anything but he only tells you he’s tired and falls asleep facing away from you for the first time ever in your relationship.

┕━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┙

Three days pass by of the cold shoulder from Jay. He makes it a point to wake up before you and leave early in the mornings for work. On the rare occasion you happen to wake up before him however, he takes his time in getting ready to avoid having to sit down for breakfast with you and simply kisses the twins goodbye before murmuring out an I love you in your direction and leaving.

Simply put, you’re over it. You want your clingy and loving husband back. Luckily for you, today’s Sunday The one day you know is promised for you. He doesn’t have studio time on Sunday’s because you all go to your in-laws to have a family brunch and come back home for a weekly reset. Granted he slept in today and you missed brunch but you still have a chance to make things right. You asked your parents to babysit for you so you would have the house to yourselves for a bit. That way all the pent up anger can finally come out without the fear of upsetting the kids.

“Where are the twins?”

You look up from your tablet where you have been outlining points you want to make during your conversation with him.

“I had my parents come get them while you were sleeping.”

He sighs, “why?”

You fiddle with the apple pen in your hands, “because we need to talk and we can’t do that if we have to censor our words because our kids are in the house.”

He stares at you blankly for a second before shaking his head. “I don’t have much to say to you, _____.”

You sigh and push aside the iPad, “yes you do. Just get it off your chest Jay! This marriage won’t work if you keep avoiding me and keep your emotions bottled up!”

He slams his hands down on the kitchen counter and huffs, “what the fuck do you want me to say, _____?” He looks at you furiously, chest rising erratically. “That I’m pissed off with you? That I feel like I can’t trust you anymore? That I feel like you never even loved me?” Your heart breaks as you listen to his rant but you don’t stop him, you need to let him get it off his chest in order to actually heal and move on from this.

“I was the one who was there for everything, I’m the one you came to when you returned to Korea! Hell I’m even the one who put everything on the line for you when I found out what he did to you! And yet, you were still in love with him. You couldn’t even pretend to be half as in love with me as I was with you when we first started dating. So yeah, I’m pissed off that now, years later- as my wife, you still can’t open up to me the way you opened up to him within four months of dating.”

You sniff and nod. “I do love you, Jay. I always have and y-yeah, maybe I wasn’t upfront with my feelings for you when we first got together but that doesn’t change anything!”

“But it does! It does change everything, _____! Do you know what it feels like to know you’ll never be enough for the person you love? It feels like fucking hell! And that stupid article didn’t make things any better!”

You stand from your seated position to embrace him but he only shakes his head and backs away. “J-jay, that article has nothing to do with what I feel for you! I’m sorry I keep hurting you, I’m sorry I’ve put us in this position but you have to trust me when I say that Huening really is in my past!”

“How am I supposed to trust you when you’ve given me every reason not to.” He blinks away his tears and clears his throat. “I need to work on some lyrics for our new album. I’ll be in my office.” Jay exhales, walking around the counter and past you.

“B-but it’s Sunday.” 

Both of you promised each other that as much as possible, Sundays are days off. Unless it’s extremely urgent, neither of you are allowed to work.

“It’s still Saturday in Seattle.” And without another word he retreats to his home office

Confused and guilty, you don’t know what to do in your own home. It takes about ten minutes for you to gather your bearings and finish up the dishes from breakfast. You can’t even think of coherent thoughts, mindlessly doing the chore until you’re finished and feel lost again with what you could do. After another five minutes pass, you decide to head to the bathroom and sit in the bathtub for an hour.

Once you dry off from your bath, you apply your usual skincare and opt out of putting on any makeup aside from some lip balm. You spritz on a little perfume and get dressed in some gym shorts that hug your butt and a loose fitting top before heading back downstairs to the kitchen to make Jay a plate of food to bring to him, praying that by now he’s cooled off a bit.

As carefully as you can, you quietly walk over to where his home office is and peer through the crack. You want to roll your eyes at what you see; Jay slumped back on his couch, his game console controller in his hands, and an annoyed, but focused expression on his face as he stares at the fifa game he had going on.

“lyric writing, my ass.” You mutter, knocking on the door to alert him before opening it. “I brought you some lunch.”

“Thanks. Just leave it there.” Jay mumbles, still concentrating on his game as he nods his head towards his coffee table. 

Your heart drops; he didn’t even spare you a glance. You set the plate to where he gestured and start making your way out until he grabs your hand. You flinch at his sudden action, turning your head to meet his piercing gaze.

He blinks up at you, anger clearly in his eyes, he slowly stands up and discards the controller on his seat. You’re starting to feel small when he’s towering above you. After a long stare-off, he breaks the silence, “Where’s your ring?”

You look down at your hand and it only hits you now that you forgot to put your ring back on after you finished your skincare. “In the bathroom; I took it off to do my skincare.”

He’s breathing deeply; the strength of his hand around your wrist varies.

You take this as an opportunity, while his attention is on you. “Jay please” You don’t know what it is you want from him so you do what seemed like the best choice; you step closer and kiss him.

He doesn’t respond though; just closing his eyes in response. 

“Jay.” You whine, running your hands up his arms and tiptoeing to kiss him once more, but his hand comes up to your neck and holds you in place, making you gasp in shock.

“How far did you two go?”

You grow flustered with his question; wanting to run away but his gentle hold on your neck keeps you planted. “Jay…”

He dips his head down, ghosting his breath over your cheek. “Surely, you two kissed. Probably made out, right? Was he any good?”

“Not as good as you-”

Jay scoffs and pulls away, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip deliberately, “You don’t have to stroke my ego sweetheart so answer my question.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I-I don’t know. I guess?”

He purses his lips briefly before clicking his tongue. His eyes drag down your body, tracing a path with his palm, “Did you ever get touchy with each other? Any below the belt touching?”

You can feel your arousal growing as he applies a bit of pressure to your neck, “Jay, I-”

“Just answer the question, baby.” He hushes, racing his free hand up to your chest, palming one of your breasts. “Did he do this to you?”

“Yes.” You whimpered, arching your body towards him; desperate for more.

“And being the little slut that you are,” He pulls you closer to growl into your ear, “I bet you liked it, doll?”

He flips you around, pinning you to the door and presses his erection into your ass. He still has a hand on your right breast, kneading it a little more roughly now. You loudly moan at the sudden turn of events, putting your hands flat against the wall to stop him from completely crushing you against it.

His left hand begins to travel dangerously low on your stomach while his hips are still rutting against yours, “Did his hands ever touch you here?”

“No.” You resolutely denied, “you’re the only one.”

He hums in approval, but his hands are back on your breasts, which makes you whine again.

“Please touch me.”

Ignoring your request, he kisses your neck, “So that’s all you did?”

You moan and nod your head adamantly. Jay steps away from you, cold air intruding the warmth his body provided. You impatiently look back at him, wondering why he pulled away.

Jay releases you completely and kneels before pulling down your shorts causing you to gasp at the cold air that hits your clit. 

Jay lets out a hum of approval. “Spread those legs for me, Kitten,” he says - though from the domineering tone, you know it’s more of an order. Without question you obey. The moment your legs are splayed wide. Large hands spread your thighs further before Jay presses his head between - then, he tentatively presses his tongue to your clit.

“Ah-” you gasp out, your hips automatically bucking into his face at the roughness of his tongue. Once again, he chuckles before licking a swipe from your cunt all the way to your ass. Your back automatically arched, pushing your hips further into his face. Jay teases you with a couple more kitten licks before pushing his tongue into your dripping hole, swirling his tongue around and collecting all your arousal on his tongue. He laps deep into you, thrusting his tongue in and out, palming his cock as you ride his face. Gently suckling on your clit, Jay presses his nose to your clit, expertly locating your g-spot and causing vibrations of pleasure to strum along them. Your vocal cords strained, voice cracking as you let out another cry. You feel your pussy walls ripple, abdomen twisting into a wrenching knot inside of you as he continues lapping your clit.

You simply can’t catch your breath, your head lolling helplessly to the side as your shoulders slump. You quickly feel your orgasm approach, the knot in your stomach twisting even further as Jay drives you to the brink of pleasure. Your hips move instinctively, grinding your pussy against his eager face as Jay buries it deeper between your thighs.

“I’m- oh gosh I’m going to cum” You warn, voice raspy and throat raw. You breathe deeper, gasps turning into low moans as your body seizes up, eyes rolling deep into the back of your skull as you come around his skillful tongue. Jay feels you gush around his mouth and lets up a bit to catch his breath before diving back as he licks and swallows up all of your cunt juice. You try to push him away, thighs still quivering as he continues eating you out. You squeal, the overstimulation of your orgasm paired with his continued ministrations driving you wild.

You feel him pull away, exhaling as your pussy finally has some relief. However, it doesn’t last long before suddenly Jay stands and grabs the back of your neck to pull you into a sloppy kiss, all wet from your saliva. You respond immediately; hands flying to his shoulders and hoisting yourself up on his body, prompting him to carry you by your thighs.

“You’re so fucking spoiled.” He groans. He reaches from below to push his pants down and slips his shaft in.

A moan erupts from your throat; his length slipping in easily with your arousal. You cling onto his shoulders, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he starts pounding into you with immense force. You’re moaning in pleasure when his hands are practically clawing at your hips, ramming himself deeper and deeper.

Jay slowly makes his way out of his office making his way to what you assume is your bedroom but stops at the foot of the staircase and gently places you down on the first few steps, his dick not once leaving you. He puts you down to spin you around and enters you from behind; you’re convinced that your hips are bruised at how his fingers are digging into them to help him control the pace 

“Jay.” You moan, barely holding yourself up by your forearms. You reach beneath you to try and stimulate your clit, wanting just a little more something to climax.

He stops you from touching yourself, grabbing both your wrists and holds them behind you. He’s pushing all of his weight up into you, practically lying on top of you. His skin is hot and sweaty, sliding against your back.

It’s almost too much - the pleasure, the emotions, and the love you feel. Your heart begins palpitating in your chest, beating so hard and fast that your chest begins to ache. “Jay,” you whine, the sound high-pitched as you squeal from his ministrations, “I’m cumming,” you whimper though, Jay doesn’t need the warning. He already knows your orgasm is impending, from the way your thighs begin shaking and the way your walls clamp around him.

“Ah. AH- AH! Jay!” you finally sob. Your peak hits a crescendo, and your orgasm ricochets through you with more force than you expected. Jay groans, feeling your pussy ripple uncontrollably around his cock before tightening. Your walls contract rhythmically, and suddenly, his hips still as he begins cumming.

Rope after rope of Jay’s cum slowly fills you. His warmth practically burns inside you, coating your walls white and claiming every single piece of you as his. His cum spills out of you once he pulls out and he rests his forehead on your shoulder as both of you catch your breaths, rolling off of you.

Soon, you’re turning to face him. You lean in and place a kiss on his lips, this time he responds to it; opening his mouth so you could slip your tongue in.

Without breaking off the kiss, he sits up and cradles one side of your face with his hand.

“I’m sorry.” He quietly says in between kisses.

“I’m sorry, too.” You curl up into his chest as he leans back on the bannaster. “I should have just been honest from the start. You deserve to know.”

Jay combs back your hair for you, “You don’t have to talk about it today.”

“No. I don’t want to put it off any longer.”

“Okay, let’s get cleaned and dressed first.” He kisses your cheek before standing, helping you up as well.

Jay helps you clean up and carries you up the stairs to bring you into your shared room, he wipes you down with a warm cloth and dresses you in his boxers and oversized graphic before leaving to enter the bathroom to clean himself up as well to get dressed.

Five minutes later, Jay is back and clothed; sporting another plain tee and boxers. Sitting beside you, he patiently waits for you, angling his body to face yours.

“When you asked me if he was a part of my past I should have told you what I was thinking instead of avoiding the topic,” You pick at the bedsheets, “Kai and I were always complicated, and I can’t say I miss that or him but I do miss who I was before I lost him.”

You sigh, “these past few months have been hard and I should have told you when I first started feeling less like myself. I guess I thought it was all in my head and I didn’t want you to think it was you… I love you and what I feel for Kai-”

Jay tips his head at your sudden pause.

“What I felt for Kai, is nowhere near what I feel for you. He’s a part of my past and..,” You shake your head, “and I’m sorry for being so shady about it. I don’t look at Kai the way I look at you, I never can because I don’t love him. And it’s something that’s taken me time to realize but, I don’t miss Kai. I miss who I used to be when I was with him, before he ruined that.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you in the process of trying to figure out my shit but I can assure you that no part of me is in love with him. I’ve been feeling differently and it’s not because of anything you did or said,” You nervously laugh, “I talked to Yujin about it and she totally went all psychologist on me, but she thinks this is all stemming from a larger problem… she thinks I might have postpartum depression..”

He lifts his hand to your cheek to wipe away a stray tear you didn’t even know fell from your eye. “Postpartum depression?”

“Mmmh. My issues are stemming from my inability to let go of who I used to be to allow myself to be who I am now.” You inhale as deep as you can and exhale with an awkward laugh, “I booked a therapy session with Dr. Lee for Tuesday, we’ll know more then.”

Jay pulls you to him, kissing your forehead, “I’m sorry for not paying closer attention. I’m even more sorry that I’ve been such a jackass to you recently.”

“I should have communicated better.”

“Yes, you should have but as your husband I shouldn’t have missed the signs. I’m so sorry baby.”

You lean into him, slinging your arms over his shoulders. “Are we okay?”

He smiles softly and nods. “Of course we are.”

He grins, nose scrunching at how you curl up like a cat to cuddle his chest. You run your fingers over his hair, slowly and repeatedly, reciprocating the little smile splayed on his face. His lips are on your shoulders and neck, softly sucking on patches of your skin and murmuring sweet nothings.

“I love you.”

You’re sat on the couch in your living room with Jay and his publicist with a random kdrama playing faintly in the background while the twins take their afternoon nap upstairs. It’s been a week since Hueningkai’s apology dropped and the press and fans are still raving over it.

There are protests outside HYBE demanding Hueningkai be pulled out of further TXT promotions indefinitely while some fans are still shading you and your integrity on Twitter. You never imagined your life would become such a hot topic yet here you are.

“We need to satiate the media,” Jay’s publicist, Jaemin, places down his coffee on the coaster in front of him and clears his throat, “I’ve talked it over with your manager, members and the CEO himself. We believe a statement from the two of you and the third party is a good way to clear the air and show to the public that there is no animosity or anything scandalous going on.”

You feel Jay squeeze your hand as he mulls over what has been said. “Why a statement? Where would it be posted? Is this really the best option?”

You pat his knee and chuckle at him, “what is this? 20 questions? At least let the man get a word in.”

Jay sighs and turns to face you. “I’m sorry, it’s just… the press has been slandering you all week and I don't want this statement to fuel that fire.”

Jaemin nods. “I understand your want to protect your wife from the malicious comments being made online and I can assure you that we will be reading all drafts and making edits as needed so it can’t be interpreted in a different way.”

Jay wearily looks at Jaemin before looking back at you. “I...I’m all for it only if you’re comfortable with it, love.”

You look at the two boys and ponder the possible outcomes. “I think we should do it. It’ll clear any and all tension and we can all finally move on.”

Jaemin smiles and stands, fixing his suit he says. “Great. I’ll leave you two then, send your final drafts to me and they’ll be revised, sent back over to you to read one last time before being posted on Weeverse. Your manager should be in touch soon, Jay.”

You and Jay stand as well to see him out. You thank him for his time and watch him drive away before going back inside.

“You’re awfully quiet… Do you want to talk about it?” You ask once you’re seated back on the couch. Jay spares you a glance before sighing and placing his hands on his knees.

“I know I said I would support your decision no matter what it was but.. are you sure you can handle this, _____? That it won’t be triggering for you?”

You purse your lips as you stare at his side profile. “I’m not on the verge of a mental breakdown, Jay. I’m stronger than you think.”

He turns to face you and takes your right hand in his. “I know you’re strong, _____. Your strength is a part of why I fell in love with you to begin with. I’m just thinking about what Dr. Lee said.”

You sigh as you think back to your joint therapy session with Jay two days ago. You opted to attend the first one alone, you didn’t think you could be completely upfront with your therapist had your husband been there in fear he would be disappointed with himself and blame himself for your actions and emotions. Once you had gotten the initial meeting over with, you scheduled a joint one with him for Thursday. It went better than you anticipated.

Jay takes a seat on the lounge chair beside you and peeks at you, letting out a sigh when he sees your face, “sweetheart, you being nervous is making me nervous.”

“I’m sorry.” You shake your head, “I just know things will be different once the hour is over.”

It breaks his heart more than it scares him that you think it’ll be that way. He squeezes your knee to stop it from bouncing. “Different isn’t always bad, I’ll better know how to care for you. This is what we need my love.”

There’s a knock on the door before it opens. A slender female walks in, wearing a black skirt and a baby pink blouse, and smiles brightly at both of you. “Ah, so this is the infamous Jongseong! A pleasure to finally meet you.”

He stands up to shake her hand and offers a smile, “likewise.”

She smiles once more at you as she sits down on the armchair and taps her finger on the clipboard she brought in. “So, shall we begin?”

You look at Jay and he nods at her, easing back in his seat.

She leans forward and crosses her legs.“How have you two been? The twins?”

“We’re doing okay, better than we were last week.” Jay answers, “the twins are good too. They’re spending the day with my mother.”

Dr. Lee nods her head at him. She turns to you, “You must be excited, I know I would be if I got some alone time away from my children.”

You feel your cheeks warm up, “the quiet home is nice, it’s been a while since I could hear a pin drop.”

She hums before looking down at her notes.“During our last session_____ explained to me feelings of loneliness and isolation, has she explained this in any detail to you Jongseong?”

You didn’t think she’d segway into your postpartum so abruptly; your mouth opens, but you shut it immediately. It’s not your turn to speak.

“She has, very briefly though. It was after we had an argument about her ex, I was upset and I also felt…betrayed. I couldn’t understand why she couldn’t just put him and their relationship to rest. I only really became more empathetic when she explained she might be dealing with a mental disorder.”

“I see. _____ did mention an argument during our last session.” Dr. Lee says as she makes some new notes in your chart before returning her attention to Jay, “I’ll get into her diagnosis in a bit but first, I’d like to know something. _____ explained to me the fight you had in the elevator and everything that followed..”

“It might be difficult for you, Jongseong, but I’d like to ask what you were thinking of from when you walked in on Kai conversing with _____, to confronting her in the elevator, until the night ended.”

“I tried calling her before I left to look for her but she wouldn’t answer and when I saw her holding her phone and talking to Kai, blatantly ignoring my call it just made me feel second place to him again. It didn’t help that she couldn’t be clear about her feelings, all I wanted to do after that was go back and punch the smug look off his face.”

“I see. Why were you so mad at Kai? He wasn’t the one who hurt you, so why take your anger out on him?”

Jay doesn't answer immediately, trying to properly think through his response. “He hurt _____ yet she was still hung up on him. I didn’t think it was fair that he continuously got a second chance with her when he never deserved it to begin with, all I ever wanted was for her to love me as much as she loved him...to open up to me like she did with him.”

“Hasn’t she?”

“No. It feels like I always have to argue with her before she tells me how she truly feels.”

Dr. Lee  nods, “Well, what if I told you she has? She might not flat out tell you what she’s thinking like she did with Kai but you can’t expect her to.” She sits up straight and places her chin in the palm of her hand. “The one person she trusted enough to open up to betrayed her trust in multiple ways. It won’t be easy to do it again. While she might not be at the level of completely opening up, she’s doing it in her own way. When she feels as if she’s ready, she comes to you, she takes her time to think her thoughts through so as to not hurt you. There’s no doubt that she needs to work on her communication skills but at the very least, she’s trying.”

You look at Jay to see how he’s receiving the news but his face is blank.

Dr. Lee watches Jay as well, waiting for a beat to pass before she clears her throat, “I officially diagnosed _____ with postpartum depression, also known as PPD. It’s a continuous pattern of mood swings, restlessness and reduced ability to clearly think. People with PPD can go through very intense episodes of emotions, such as anxiety and depression.”

She pauses to let him process the information, seeing his brows furrow ever so slightly.

“Symptoms of PPD,” she continues, “are feelings of loneliness and loss of self. People with PPD will often seek out people or things from their past to prevent this from happening; along with this, because they’re so focused on their past and what feels like is missing they can’t allow themselves to focus on the lives they have now.”

You don’t say anything, even though you feel like you should. But still, you don’t comment on it and nod at her. “This can lead to a lack of bonding with their children. While _____ hasn’t shown much trouble connecting with the twins there’s still a chance it could happen if we don’t properly care for her.”

“Is this treatable?”

“Yes, there are many options such as medication, therapy and even self soothing measures but your wife has elected to not medicate. For _____, this is what we call cognitive behavioral therapy; a type of therapy that tries to identify and change negative thinking and pushes for positive behavioral changes.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to get closure and putting this behind us.”

Jay nods and leans in to kiss your forehead, “okay. If you feel you’re ready then I won’t push.”

Later that evening the two of you sit down to draft your personal statements regarding the current situation before sending them off to Jaemin to revise. The edits are quickly made that night before being sent to you to read. Once receiving the stamp of approval from the two of you both are posted to Weverse and the response is rather surprising. You’re met with sympathy and grace, fans understanding how hard you must have had it these past few days. Engene step up and start trending tags for both you and Jay and you feel relief all over your body.

While Jay wasn’t your first boyfriend, your first kiss nor was he even your first love, he was the only love for you. And that’s the only love that matters, the only one that’ll last and go the distance. It’ll always be him.

[erenash]

Kiss Me on the Mouth, Love Me like a Sinner (JayVik)

Jayce Talis is grieving and goes to a confession booth almost every day to repent and try to heal.

Plot Twist: The Priest is Viktor!! YAY

-------

I don't own any rights to these characters.

Don't like it? Don't read.

Everything I know about this kind of stuff is from Flea Bag edits, so you've been warned.

TW: depression, mild drinking, mentions of grief and dealing with it, mention of the death of a child, religious stuff in here, okay, okay. (also available on my AO3: ashes_to_ash)

------- Part One

Jayce wasn’t sure what could be worse.

The before or the after.

In the before, everything was simple, easy, and drawn out for him. He would have graduated with his master's in Chemical Engineering and worked for Piltover Enterprises as a project manager.  His entire future was sealed with a golden stamp.

That was almost a year ago.

Before the accident. Before he killed an innocent child.

He hadn’t meant for his thesis project to go so horribly wrong.

“Tell me about the accident again, Jayce,” the calm voice on the other side of the thin wooden lattice urged him. “From the beginning.”

The distraught man choked out a laugh. “You already know everything. I’ve been here practically every day.”

“For the last two months, I’m aware.” Then, a soft chuckle before the voice said, “You take up a lot of time in my booth, though I’m not complaining. Not many people come to confession in this city.”

“Are you allowed even to tell me that?”

“What we talk about is between us and God. You can share whatever you wish with me,” the voice promised him.

Jayce never went to church after he moved to the States. His mother would drag him tooth and nail every Sunday to sing, pray, and find community in their small town outside Guadalajara. 

But he never craved that understanding, that sense of belonging, the hope of it all—until Henry died.

“It was supposed to save lives,” Jayce started for the hundredth time, rubbing his unshaven jaw with one hand. “Neutralize toxic waste. Clean up the planet, make things better for everyone…That’s what I told everyone, what I told myself.”

There was a beat of silence before the priest pressed for more. “You always start with this. Why?”

“You already know the reason–why do you make me retell it every time?” 

“Because you haven’t let yourself truly feel all of it, Jayce,” the voice explained. “It’s been almost three years now, and you only just started coming here months ago. You talk and talk, but it’s as if you’re reading a story sometimes. So, let’s try this again—Tell me what happened from the beginning.”

Jayce hoped the priest could feel the burning hot glare he sent through the wooden panel between them. “I’m starting to think you enjoy watching me fall apart, Father.”

There’s another soft chuckle. “If I wanted to watch people fall apart, I would have gone into politics or poetry, not priesthood.” He sighed gently, then tapped the wooden panel twice with one knuckle, his tone lilting with his thick Czech accent that the pained man had grown so accustomed to hearing daily, “Come on, Jayce. Start from the beginning. For yourself, not for me.”

He knew that Jayce knew that it was for himself. It always was. The priest didn’t need to hear this story every time. Jayce knew that.

Logically? Jayce understood grief: the stages, the emotions, the rage, the range of it all.

He’d researched it a few weeks after abandoning his thesis and master’s program, locked away in his room with thousands of calculations for how the accident could have been prevented.

On paper, grieving and moving on was easy, tangible, reachable.

In this small confession booth, with his fingers ink-stained and his heart heavy—Jayce never felt so far from everything.

“Dr. Heimerdinger was all for my project, and the advisor for the department backed him. I threw myself into the work, and I thought it would fix many things wrong in the world.” The words felt bitter on his tongue. “That’s when the cracks first appeared. The compound wasn’t stable. The reactions were violent ones when the conditions were not one hundred percent perfect. I told her. I told her we—I told her I needed more time.”

“Her is referring to?”

“Mel Medarda, the advisor for the department,” Jayce’s stomach twisted as he thought about how it all played out. “She waved off the Doctor, and I’s worries, saying that science works that way—it’s always messy until it isn’t.” His throat felt as if it was about to close up as he choked out, “She called it a ‘calculated’ risk. But it wasn’t her risk to take, was it? It was mine. I was the one in the lab. I was the one who signed off on the demonstration. I was the one who—” A sob cracks under his lungs and bubbles up out of him, cutting his words off.

The voice whispered, “Keep going.”

Shaking his head, Jayce continued. “The day of the demo, I was running on fumes. Stress, guilt, fear—I felt like I was suffocating, but I kept telling myself it would be fine. We’d rehearsed it, controlled everything. What could go wrong, right?” Fingers shaking, he grips his hands into fists, balling up the material of his sweatpants. “But then the sun hit the containment unit. And the reaction—it was so fast. One second, everyone is clapping; the next, there’s this BOOM—and the air turns to poison. Everyone’s running away coughing, and that’s when I saw that boy—Henry.”

“The one with the curly hair.” The voice remembered from when Jayce told him that fact last week.

Another sob rakes through the former golden star of the chemical engineering program. “Curly hair, big blue eyes, he stood there holding his mother’s hand. I didn’t even think to tell them to back up—Now, all I hear when I try to sleep is his mother's scream as she holds her son’s body. The medics couldn’t save him. The press swarmed us.”

The priest asked as if he didn’t already know, “What did Mel do?” 

“She acted as if the entire thing was a freak accident,” Jayce scoffed as he wiped his eyes with his sweatshirt sleeve. “Like it could not have been predicted. And me? I just stood there. Frozen. Watching Henry’s mother scream while I did nothing.”

Another pause. “You feel like you failed him?”

“I didn’t just fail him, Father,” Jayce stated, his hands opening and closing as he shut his eyes. “ I killed him. My hands, my signature, my experiment, my cowardice. And you always drag me right back here, to the scene of the crime, as if reliving it is going to fix me.”

“I’m not doing this to make you relieve it, Jayce,” the priest told him with a heavy sigh leaving his mouth before he added, “I’m helping you carry it. Every time you come here, every time you tell me this story—you’re giving a little bit more to me.  And one day, you’ll stop coming because it won’t weigh you down the same way. But that only happens if you keep going.”

Jayce probably owed this priest his life, and he wouldn’t even know how to start repaying him. “I don’t even know what made me start coming here. I don’t know how to keep going.”

“You come here because part of you believes there's more to your story than this,” the priest said, then let out  a small laugh before he finished with, “And you come here because you don’t have to face it alone, Jayce.”

He didn't respond immediately, but his shoulders relaxed a fraction.

Jayce could feel his eyes begin to pulse with heat, but he blinked the tears away as a tidal wave of vulnerability washed over his heart. “Sometimes I feel like you know me better than I know myself, Father. And I hate it,” He admitted, more to himself than the man listening. 

He’s never even laid eyes on the person behind the wooden lattice. He’s only ever heard his voice through his most challenging moments in the last eight weeks. The confessional booth feels like a second home to Jayce now, though he’s still not sure if that’s comforting or damning. 

“That’s not uncommon. People tend to reveal more in moments of vulnerability than they realize. But knowing you... that’s not my job. My job is to listen.” The priest said it so quietly that Jayce wasn’t sure if he believed him. Leaning forward on the small seat, his palms sweating as his fingers trembled, Jayce said slowly, “But that’s the thing. You do know me. You’ve heard every awful detail of what I’ve done, what I think. And you just sit there, calm and understanding, like some perfect saint who’s never screwed up a day in his life. It’s not fair.”

As if considering his words carefully, the man of God spoke after a few minutes, “Much of life is not fair, Jayce. There’s beauty in knowing nothing is perfect–including me. ”

“Then tell me something real .” “I have never told you anything untrue.” Jayce groaned in annoyance. There was nothing he hated more than a perfect circle. The priest always had a way of bringing him back to the start of everything.

“I just hate feeling like you’re untouchable,” he confessed, running a hand through his messy hair. “You’re truly like God. I’ve never seen or touched you–yet you’re always here. Talking to me, guiding me. It’s infuriating.”

So softly, as if more to himself than to Jayce, the priest professed, “ Untouchable . That’s the last thing I’d call myself.”

“Then prove it. You’ve heard my story a dozen times now. Give me something real about you. Just one thing. Anything .” He was practically begging, one hand flush against the thin panel between them. If he squinted in the dim light of the confession booth, he could make out a figure on the other side. 

Jayce would do anything to feel less like something that was created to hold grief. He always knew his heart was too heavy to carry alone. He never realized it would never get better–he always thought it would get better. That was the promise regarding grief–that it would get better. But it never did. And if this was how it felt because he killed one child he didn’t even know, how was he supposed to handle losing anyone else in his life?

“You think it’s easy, listening to people’s worst moments? Feeling their pain, their anger, their guilt, and not being able to take it away? I chose this, Jayce, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t weigh on me,” The priest shifted, pushing his weight against the back panel of the booth as he sighed heavily.

“That’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking for something real. Not ‘ I carry people’s burdens ’—everyone knows that’s part of the job. I’m talking about you . The person , not the Father. Do you ever let yourself be vulnerable? Or are you just sitting there, soaking up everyone else’s messes while pretending you’ve got none of your own?” He regretted the words before they even left his lips. Jayce was always the culprit for making a mess of the before and the after.

He was about to lose the one person who had to listen to him cry and mourn about the same thing, the same accident, for weeks without complaint. The voice Jayce would crave at the darkest hours of every night finally broke the heated silence, “My name is Viktor.”

------- Part Two

The sound of the door closing behind Viktor echoed softly in his quiet apartment. He set his dark wooden crutch against the wall and leaned his weight on the worn table beside the door. His breath came shallow as he eased the brace from his right leg, the stiff leather straps creaking as they loosened. His hips ached with the familiar throb of a day spent sitting too long, standing too much, and listening too intently.

With slow, practiced movements, he shrugged out of his priest's cassock, draping the black fabric over the back of a chair. The starkness of his pale undershirt against his skin made him feel vulnerable, though no one was there to see. He rubbed his hands over his face, pausing to press his palms into his eyes as if he could block out the intrusive thoughts.

Thoughts of him.

Jayce.

The name alone sent a shiver through Viktor’s chest, like the first note of a hymn he couldn’t resist singing. He hated it, this weakness. This hunger . It was preposterous, of course. Entirely unbecoming of a man who had taken vows of service, of restraint, of devotion to something higher than himself. 

Yet there it was–there he was–gnawing at the edges of his carefully constructed life.

He moved to the small kitchen, flipping on the light and squinting as it illuminated the worn linoleum floor. The apartment was modest but comfortable, provided by the church. He had been content here for years—almost a decade by now. The quietness of his evenings the simplicity of his routines, had once felt like blessings. Now, they felt hollow.

He poured himself a glass of gin, gripping the counter tightly as a fresh wave of guilt rolled over him. He could still see Jayce’s broad shoulders framed in the dim light of the confessional booth, the flush on his tanned cheeks as he spoke with such raw, anguished honesty. Viktor had spent years counseling others, listening without judgment, but with Jayce, it was different.

Drinking was not something Viktor typically did; he preferred to be sober most evenings–it kept the sinful thoughts at bay. When he drank, they’d come to him twicefold, making him doubt everything that’s led him to this life of quiet celibacy. He wasn’t always this reserved person; he hadn’t always dreamed of closing himself off from the rest of the world and stepping up to the high table to sit alongside God and all his disciples.

The shame of his thoughts burned hotter as he recalled how many times he had lingered near the stained-glass windows of the cathedral after Jayce’s confessions. He would stand in the shadows, hidden behind the heavy curtains, and watch as the slightly younger man made his way out to his car.

Jayce always moved with the weight of someone carrying an invisible burden, his shoulders tense, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Viktor’s eyes would trace the lines of his figure—the way his suit jacket stretched across his frame, the unruly strands of his dark hair catching the faint glow of the streetlights.

And every time, Viktor would curse himself for looking.

He sank heavily into the worn armchair by the window, stretching his aching leg before him as he took another drink from his glass. The golden accents on his crutch glinted faintly in the low light, a reminder of the concessions he had made to age and injury. 

He should have been used to this, the dull throb of pain that was now as much a part of him as his breath. But tonight, it felt sharper, more insistent, as if his body were rebelling against the tension coiling in his chest.

He wanted Jayce. Not just in the fleeting, physical way that would have been bad enough. 

No, Viktor’s hunger was deeper, darker, more damning. He wanted to take Jayce’s grief, his guilt, and swallow it whole. He wanted to hold him, to cradle his head against his chest, to promise him that the world wouldn’t always be this cruel.

And more than anything, he wanted Jayce to need him.

It was absurd. Blasphemous. Viktor was a priest—a man who had devoted his life to service, to faith, to God. He had no right to want anything for himself, let alone someone as broken and beautiful as Jayce.

But he couldn’t stop.

Jayce’s voice echoed in his mind, low and rough, filled with a desperation that Viktor had never encountered before. Jayce spoke like a man who had already condemned himself, who believed he was beyond saving. And yet, he always came back to Viktor, day after day, looking for something—comfort, absolution, maybe even hope .

And Viktor? Viktor gave him what he could. But it was never enough.

He leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. His hands trembled as he clasped them together, a gesture of prayer more out of habit than intent. He whispered, his voice cracking with the weight of his shame.

“God, forgive me.”

But as the words left his lips, he wasn’t sure if he meant them. Because some small, selfish part of him didn’t want forgiveness.

It wanted Jayce.

Viktor’s eyes opened slowly, drawn to the faint glow of the church’s steeple visible through his window. He sat there for a long time, staring into the night, trying to convince himself that he could let this go. He could be the priest Jayce needed, not the man Viktor wanted to be.

But deep down, he knew the truth.

He hadn’t felt alive like this in years—not since his college days, not since before the ache in his leg became permanent, not since the walls of his faith became a refuge instead of a choice.

And Jayce? Jayce was a fire he couldn’t seem to extinguish.

Viktor closed his eyes again, the ghost of Jayce’s voice lingering across his heart.

He wanted to save him.

But more than that, he wanted to keep him.

And that was a sin Viktor wasn’t sure he had the strength to resist.

------- Part Three

Jayce stepped through the heavy oak doors of the church, his footsteps echoing faintly in the stillness. The air was cool and faintly scented with beeswax and incense, and the sunlight filtering through the stained glass cast fractured rainbows onto the stone floor. He paused just inside, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets as if he could anchor himself to something solid.

He wasn’t here to confess, not really. He was here for him . For the man who had become an unwelcome fixture in his mind, a name he couldn’t stop repeating to himself in quiet, desperate moments.

Viktor.

It was all Jayce could think about these last few days, tracing the letters into the margins of his bible, whispering the name into the stillness of his apartment, feeling its weight settle deep in his chest. He hadn’t felt this fire to figure someone out in years. It burned through him like hunger, like need, like something he couldn’t control even if he wanted to.

For the first time since going to that cathedral, that church, that goddamn booth–Jayce felt something other than grief raging through his chest.

And it terrified him.

For months, Viktor had been a voice in the dark, steady and soothing, a presence that seemed too solid for the booth that confined him. Jayce had built him in his mind, piece by piece—a broad-shouldered, calm-faced figure with kind eyes and hands that could hold the weight of a thousand sins.

But it wasn’t enough. It never was.

Jayce needed more than the phantom he’d created. He needed to see Viktor, to put a face to the man who had listened to him unravel again and again. He needed to know who Viktor was, not just as a priest but as a person .

He wasn’t sure what he was looking for—closure, maybe, or clarity. But deep down, in the part of himself he refused to acknowledge, he knew the truth. He wasn’t here for absolution or answers.

He was here because he’d fallen for a man he could never have.

Jayce made his way down the aisle, his hands brushing over the backs of the pews as he walked. His legs felt heavy, his heart thudding unevenly in his chest. Instead of heading to the confessional, he slid into a pew near the front, his knees brushing the worn wooden bench as he sat.

The church was empty, save for a single figure at the altar.

Jayce’s breath caught as he took him in for the first time.

He wasn’t what Jayce had imagined. Viktor was more petite and leaner; his frame was a mixture of fragility and quiet strength. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and he moved with deliberate slowness, his hand resting lightly on the wooden crutch propped against the altar. His cassock hung loosely on him, and even from this distance, Jayce could see the lines of pain etched into his face—the faint crease between his brows, the tightness in his jaw.

And yet, there was something magnetic about him.

Jayce’s chest tightened as he watched Viktor light a candle, the flickering glow illuminating his features. He wasn’t handsome in the traditional sense, but there was a calm dignity and a weight to his presence that made it impossible to look away.

This is him, Jayce thought. This is the man who’s been holding my soul together for months. The man I’ve spilled everything to. The man I can’t stop thinking about.

His heart sputtered painfully in his chest, and he clenched his fists against the polished wood of the pew, trying to steady himself.

He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected Viktor to feel so... real .

Jayce’s pulse roared in his ears as he fought to reconcile the Viktor in his mind with the one standing in front of him. He was flesh and blood, imperfect and human, yet the pull Jayce felt toward him was overwhelming.

It wasn’t fair.

You don’t even know him, Jayce told himself. Not really. You know his voice, his words, the way he listens. But you don’t know him.

But Jayce couldn’t shake the truth that had settled in his chest like a sinking ship.

He’d fallen for Viktor.

Not the idea of him, not the comfort he provided, but him . The man who bore the weight of others’ sins while quietly carrying his own. The man who had become an anchor in Jayce’s storm, steady and unyielding.

It was wrong. He knew that. Viktor was untouchable, not because of his title, but because of who he was—because of the walls he’d built, the life he’d chosen.

But knowing it was wrong didn’t make it any easier to look away.

Jayce’s hands shook as he shifted in the pew, the faint creak of wood breaking the silence. Viktor’s head turned slightly at the sound, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on Jayce.

Their eyes met, and Jayce felt his heart thumping erratically, his breath catching in his throat.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, Viktor began to make his way toward him, his crutch tapping softly against the stone floor.

Jayce’s pulse quickened with every step, his chest tightening as Viktor stopped a few feet away, his gaze steady but searching.

Softly, hesitantly, Viktor spoke, “You’re not in the confessional today.”

“I needed to see you.” 

And just like that, the walls Jayce had spent so long building began to crack. Because in Viktor’s eyes, he didn’t see judgment or distance. He saw something much more gentle, something that made his heart ache.

He’s real, Jayce thought again, and it terrified him.

Viktor adjusted his crutch and studied Jayce for a moment, his expression carefully neutral, though his golden-brown eyes flickered with something Jayce couldn’t quite place. Curiosity, maybe. Or wariness. “You needed to see me?” The question echoed throughout the empty cathedral.

Shrugging, doing his best to remain nonchalant, Jayce said, “Yeah. I figured after months of baring my soul to a faceless voice, it was time to... you know, put a face to the name.”

Viktor lets a small smile creep across his mouth. “And? Was it worth the effort?”

“Jury’s still out. You’re not exactly what I pictured.” Jayce’s cheeks burn as he tries to contain his own.

An eyebrow raises in amusement from the priest. “No? Should I be flattered or concerned?”

Letting his body lean back against the pew, the man sighed playfully before answering, “Flattered, I guess. You’re not what I expected, but that’s not a bad thing.”

“ And what did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Someone... taller. Broader. Like you could bench-press the weight of everyone’s sins or something.” The admission was a stupid one, but it was honest. 

A laugh escaped Viktor’s lips and then another, making Jayce grin wider as the priest told him, “I assure you, my strength lies elsewhere. Bench-pressing is not among my talents.”

“Shame. Would’ve been a great party trick.”

“I’ll keep it in mind for my next performance,” Viktor assured him dryly as he sat on the pew a few feet away.

The easy banter caught Jayce off guard. Viktor’s voice, so often calm and measured in the confessional, now had an edge of humor to it, a warmth that made him feel almost... normal. Like they weren’t priest and penitent, but two men having a conversation.

It was dangerous, Jayce realized, how easy it was to talk to him like this.

Shifting slightly, his gaze flicking to Viktor’s crutch before he could stop himself as he said, “So... you’ve got a name, and now I’ve got a face. Guess all that’s left is figuring out the rest of the puzzle.”

Another eyebrow raised in his direction. “I wasn’t aware I was a puzzle to be solved.”

“Oh, come on. You’re a guy who spends his days listening to people’s darkest secrets and still manages to stay calm and collected. There’s gotta be more to you than that.”

“Perhaps. But I’m not sure it’s the kind of ‘more’ you’d find interesting.”

Jayce tilted his head at the priest, his voice lowering slightly as he gave him a look. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

The shift in tone made Viktor pause. He glanced down at Jayce, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to read the unspoken weight behind the words. Jayce felt exposed under that gaze, like Viktor could see every flaw in his carefully constructed armor.

“Why are you really here, Jayce? It’s not just to put a face to my name, is it?” The priest was…nervous. Jayce wasn’t the best at reading everyone, but he could read this. He saw the way Viktor’s fingers dug into his cane, the slight pinking of his pale cheekbones, the glint in his eyes. This was mutual.

Clearing his throat, Jayce looked toward the altar of candles. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe I just... I’ve been carrying this thing for so long, and you’re the only one who hasn’t looked at me like I’m broken. Like I’m... unfixable.”

“No one is unfixable.”

A cold laugh escaped his chest before he could stop himself, “You don’t know that. You don’t know me.”

“You’re right. I don’t know you—not entirely. But I know enough to believe in you, even when you don’t believe in yourself,” Viktor’s words fell over his grief-stricken soul like a warm blanket on a snowy night.

Jayce’s lungs felt tighter at the words, at the calm conviction in Viktor’s tone. He looked away, his jaw clenching as he tried to find something, anything, to say in response. But Viktor, as always, was patient, waiting him out in silence.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jayce repeated his confession from the other day, “It’s not fair, you know. You know so much about me, and I know next to nothing about you.”

“I think you know more than you realize,” Viktor’s face twitched as he gave Jayce another wry smile.

“Not enough.” Jayce figured that Viktor could tell him every molecule about himself, and he would still want more from the priest. Always more.

“What would you like to know?”

Blinking in surprise, Jayce blurted out, “What?”

“Ask me something. Anything. I’ll answer if I can,” Viktor offered, leaning back against the pew.

There had to be some code of ethics about this, didn’t there? Jayce’s mind began to swim rapidly at everything he wanted and couldn’t ask.

The openness in Viktor’s tone caught Jayce off guard. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected Viktor to offer him anything beyond the walls of their usual confessions.

His mind raced, a dozen questions rising to the surface, but only one made it past his lips. “Why do you do this? Why be a priest?”

Viktor’s gaze became distant as if he’d traveled to another timeline. Jayce almost told him to forget it; it was such a personal question, after all. Then the priest responded gently, “Because once, a long time ago, someone listened to me. And it saved my life.”

The simplicity of the answer hit Jayce harder than he expected. He stared at Viktor, trying to piece together the man behind the words, the weight behind the confession.

“Do you ever wish you’d chosen different instead?” Another far too personal question.

“Sometimes. When it’s quiet and I’m alone, I think about what my life could’ve been. But then someone like you walks in, carrying the kind of pain that no one should bear alone, and I remember why I’m here. Why I made the choice I did.”

Jayce thought he saw it for the first time—the breaks throughout Viktor’s calm facade, the quiet pain he carried, the humanity he kept so carefully hidden.

It made him want to know more.

It made him want to stay.

 After a long silence, Jayce responded, his voice softer, “Guess you’re not as untouchable as I thought.”

“None of us are. Not even priests.”

For the first time in weeks, Jayce felt like the weight he was carrying wasn’t his to bear alone.

With another chuckle, Viktor added, “The collar’s just for show, Jayce. Underneath, I’m just as human as you are. Full of doubts, regrets, and questions I don’t have answers to.”

The sunlight began to pour through the stained glass windows, painting the cathedral in a kaleidoscope of shifting colors. The faint smell of incense lingered in the cool air. Jayce leaned forward, hands pressed together as if in prayer, trying to keep his breathing steady though every inch of him felt coiled tight. He turned his head to lock eyes with the priest.

Viktor sat still as a statue beside him, watching him as if waiting for another confession to slip sinfully from his lips. The golden light framed him, catching on the streaks of silver in his hair and the faint lines on his face. Jayce couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He wanted him. God, he wanted him. And not just in the dark, desperate way that kept him awake at night, turning over memories of Viktor’s voice, his patience, his kindness. Jayce wanted to know him, wanted to peel back the layers until he understood every sharp and soft edge of the man who had somehow become his reason to wake up every morning.

What felt like hours later, Viktor finally whispered, “It’s almost closing time.”

“Should I take that as my cue to leave?” Jayce didn’t let himself look away.

“Not necessarily.”

Jayce’s heart stuttered at the response. He raised an eyebrow, trying to mask the way his pulse quickened with sarcasm. “Not necessarily? That’s cryptic, even for you,” He rolled his eyes before meeting Viktor’s once more. He wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but he felt as if he were being challenged, and it excited him.

Pausing, pursing his lips slightly, Viktor said, “I was thinking... you’ve been coming here for months now, spilling your soul in the confessional. Perhaps it’s time for a different kind of conversation.”

Jayce couldn’t help that both his eyebrows shot up his forehead in question, “A different kind? What does that mean?”

The priest shrugged as if it meant nothing, “It means... I live just next door. And I was going to pour myself a drink to end the day. You’re welcome to join me.”

Jayce blinked, caught entirely off guard. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, trying to process what he’d just heard.

A priest. Inviting him over. For drinks.

“ A drink? Are priests even allowed to drink?”

A low, warm laugh tickled Jayce’s eardrums as Viktor stood with a slight groan. “We’re not monks, Jayce. And even monks are allowed wine.”

The snort that left his nose made his cheeks redden as he nodded. “Fair enough. But isn’t this, like... wildly inappropriate?”

Father Viktor’s smile faltered slightly as if remembering the totality of his position in the church. “If you’re uncomfortable, you’re under no obligation to accept. I only thought... it might help.”

Help. The word lingered in the air, heavier than it should have been. Jayce stared at Viktor, at the quiet vulnerability in his expression, and felt something in him give way.

He should have said no. Of course, he should have said no. It wasn’t ethical, wasn’t appropriate, wasn’t safe . But Jayce had never been good at denying himself things he wanted, and he wanted Viktor.

He wanted more, more, more of him, in any capacity he could get him in.

Grinning despite himself, despite the grief that was ebbing fatally around his world, despite the hope he needed from Viktor’s voice, he said, “Well, if priests are allowed to drink, who am I to say no?”

Viktor’s smile returned, small and faintly relieved, and Jayce felt its warmth settle somewhere deep in his chest.  “Good. Then follow me.”

Jayce stood, his heart pounding as Viktor began making his way to the side door of the cathedral. The sunlight glittered on the polished stone floors, casting long shadows as Jayce followed him.

With every step, Jayce felt the weight of what he was walking into.

And yet, he didn’t stop himself.

------- Part Four

The first thing Jayce noticed when he stepped into Viktor’s apartment was how quiet it was. Not the hollow, sterile quiet of a simply empty place, but the kind of quiet that felt lived-in. It was cozy, warm even, in a way he hadn’t expected. The soft scent of old books and faint incense lingered in the air, mingling with the faint creak of the floorboards beneath their feet.

It was nothing like Jayce’s sleek, modern studio in the city. This place had history. 

The walls were lined with shelves overflowing with books, their spines worn and faded, interspersed with small, unassuming decorations—a cross here, a brass clock there, and a single framed photograph on the far table that he couldn’t quite make out.

The apartment reflected the man who lived in it: unpretentious, thoughtful, and far more inviting than Jayce had prepared himself for.

Viktor leaned his crutch against the wall near a small kitchen alcove, his movements slow and practiced as he reached for two tumblers from the cabinet. Jayce watched him without meaning to, his gaze trailing over the measured, careful way Viktor moved, his limp barely noticeable as he crossed the room.

How is this my life right now? Sitting here, about to drink with a priest— He swallowed hard, correcting himself —with Viktor. Not Father Viktor. Just Viktor.

It was strange to think of him like that. Bizarre, and yet... riveting.

Viktor set the glasses on the counter and uncapped a bottle of gin, the clear liquid glinting faintly in the light as he poured. He didn’t skimp, filling each glass nearly halfway before sliding one across the counter to Jayce.

“Is gin okay? It’s all I have, I’m afraid.” The priest looked almost as nervous as Jayce felt.

Jayce let himself grin as he picked his glass up. “Gin’s fine. Hefty pour, though. You trying to get me drunk, Father?”

The man raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into another small, amused smile as he set the bottle down. “First, it’s Viktor. And second, if that’s all it takes, you may want to consider eating more regularly.”

Jayce snorted, but the truth hit a little too close to home. He’d come here on an empty stomach, his nerves too shot to eat before heading to the church. Now, the gin was already warming his chest, the taste sharp and almost medicinal as he swallowed his first  sip.

He leaned against the counter, trying to keep his focus on his drink instead of Viktor, but it was impossible not to notice the way the man moved, even as he shrugged off his priest’s cassock. The black fabric fell away to reveal a simple white button-down, slightly wrinkled; the sleeves rolled up just enough to expose his forearms.

Jayce almost choked on his second sip.

Jesus Christ. He grimaced internally at the irony. How does someone look like that in something so plain?

The man was all lean lines and quiet strength, the crisp white of his shirt making his pale skin and dark hair stand out in a way that was almost distracting. No, scratch that—it was definitely distracting.

 “You, uh... clean up well.”

Viktor glanced at him amusedly as he sat at the small table near the window. “It’s just a shirt, Jayce.”

“Not on you, it’s not,” He muttered into his glass as he took another drink.

Viktor raised a thick eyebrow but didn’t comment, though the faint curve of his lips suggested he’d heard. Jayce downed another sip of gin, the warmth in his chest spreading now to his limbs, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just the alcohol.

After a moment, leaning back slightly in his chair, Viktor smirked. “You’re staring.”

Snapping his head up, his cheeks flushing, Jayce moved his eyes from the priest’s slender neck and shoulders to his golden gaze. “I am not .”

“You are. Should I be concerned?” The man laughed and took a long drink before setting his glass down and running his pointer finger along the rim as he looked at Jayce.

“Only if you don’t like the attention.” He really shouldn’t be drinking with the man he’d been dreaming about on loop the last few nights–or every night since they’d met.

That gave Viktor pause. For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or curiosity. Jayce couldn’t quite tell, but whatever it was, his pulse quickened.

“I’m not sure what to make of you, Jayce. You’re brooding in a pew one moment, and the next, you’re... this.”

Jayce leaned on the table, his elbows biting into the wood as he put his head in one hand. “This? What’s ‘this’ ?"

Tilting his head as if Jayce was playing with him, Viktor said steadily, “Bold. Confident. Flirting , even.”

He let out a warm puff of air. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But he did. Of course, he did. The gin was making him reckless, and Viktor’s quiet, understated charm was making it impossible to keep his head on straight.

Jayce swirled the liquid in his glass, his gaze drifting back to Viktor, their eyes locking incredibly quickly. The man looked impossibly at ease, one hand resting lightly on the table, his crutch within reach but forgotten for the moment.

“I meant what I said, you know. About wanting to figure you out,” He confessed in a murmur across the small table.

Expression unreadable, Viktor asked, “And have you made any progress?” He knocked back the rest of his gin and said, “I think I’m getting there." The priest kept his eyes level as he drained the rest of his glass before grabbing the bottle from between them and pouring them each another glass. Jayce didn’t hesitate to take another long drink, needing the liquid courage to keep sitting here and talking to Viktor as if he didn’t want to fuck into him like it was the end of the world and the beginning of everything.

“You know, for a priest, you’re surprisingly good at keeping secrets. I can’t decide if it’s infuriating or impressive,” He taunted, lowering his glass.

Viktor snickered lightly as he drank. “It is part of the job description, Jayce. I thought you’d appreciate that by now.”

“Oh, I do. But it also makes me wonder... what are you hiding?”

Viktor’s lips twitched into the faintest smile, but his gaze didn’t waver. “I think you already know more than you realize.”

The gin had worked its way through Jayce’s veins, dulling the edges of his nerves but sharpening everything else. The quiet hum of the apartment, the soft clink of Viktor’s glass against the table, the faint scent of cedar and something herbal that clung to Viktor—it all felt too vivid, too close.

Jayce leaned back in his chair, swirling the last sip of gin in his glass as Viktor sat across from him, perfectly composed as always. Except he wasn’t, not entirely. 

Jayce had caught the way Viktor’s gaze lingered for a beat too long, the way his fingers brushed over the rim of his glass as if trying to keep them occupied.

There was tension between them now, electric and unspoken, and Jayce wasn’t sure if it was the gin or something more, more, more that made him bold enough to speak. “Not enough. Not nearly enough.”

The words hung in the air, and for the first time, Viktor didn’t have a quick response. His fingers tightened around the edge of the table, his eyes locked to Jayce’s, and Jayce felt his ribs slink around his lungs like a vice.

The moment stretched, the silence heavy with everything neither of them was saying. Jayce stood abruptly, the chair scraping softly against the floor as he moved closer, unable to stop himself.

Barely a whisper, he held his hand out to the man before him, “Viktor.”

The sound of his name shattered something in Viktor. He stood slowly, leaning his palm into Jayce’s for balance, his gaze steady but masked. Jayce stopped moving, letting his fingers curl around Viktor’s, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might bruise his chest cavity.

He wasn’t sure who moved first—maybe it was him, maybe it was Viktor—but suddenly, the space between them vanished.

Viktor’s lips were softer than Jayce expected, but his grip was firm, one hand curling around Jayce’s jaw as the kiss deepened. Jayce’s breath hitched, the taste of gin and something distinctly Viktor overwhelming him as he pressed closer, his hands fisting in the crisp white of Viktor’s shirt against his lower back.

This is insane. This is wrong. He told himself as he backed toward the couch, gently pulling Viktor with him.

But it didn’t feel wrong. Not with the way Viktor’s hand slid up his back, his touch warm and grounding. Not with the way Viktor pulled him closer as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

Jayce tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his fingers moving to the buttons of Viktor’s shirt without thinking. The fabric slipped under his hands, revealing skin warm to the touch, and Jayce swallowed hard, his breath coming faster as Viktor’s hand traced the line of his spine.

The back of his knees hit the couch cushion, and his lips ghosted across Viktor’s as he spoke, “I’ve never... I’ve never wanted someone like this .”

Viktor’s voice was low, barely more than a growl, “You’re not the only one.” Then he shoved Jayce gently but firmly onto the couch behind him as he climbed on top of him, straddling him slowly to avoid jostling the leg with the brace too much.

The confession sent a shiver down Jayce’s spine, and whatever restraint he’d been clinging to dissolved completely. He surged forward, capturing Viktor’s lips again, their movements increasingly desperate, frantic, like they were trying to burn away the weight of months of unspoken tension.

Jayce’s hands roamed over Viktor’s chest, his shoulders, the sharp lines of his collarbone, every inch of him solid and real in a way that made Jayce’s head spin. 

He’s not untouchable.

Jayce had spent the last few days tracing the letters of Viktor’s name into the roof of his mouth like fucking hymns–but now he had him, in his arms, against his chest, against his heart.

The thought sent a rush of heat through him, and he pressed his forehead against Viktor’s, their breaths mingling as his fingers slid lower, exploring the contours of a body he’d only ever imagined. Viktor’s grip tightened on his waist, grounding him, anchoring him in the moment.

The rest was a blur—heat and skin and the quiet sound of Viktor’s name falling from Jayce’s lips, over and over like a prayer. Viktor, Viktor, Viktor, Viktor, Viktor, Viktor, Vitkor, Vikt-

------ Part Five: Bonus Content

Jayce’s mouth was hot against his as they fumbled their way across the threshold of the two-bedroom apartment they’d just moved into a week ago. Pulling him closer, Viktor felt him kick the front door shut, and a lock clicked immediately after. This was heaven, the former priest decided as Jayce’s fingers slid to undo the buttons on the front of his shirt. He didn’t save Jayce Talis; in fact—Jayce saved him.

Viktor's breath hitched as Jayce's calloused hands slipped beneath his shirt, caressing the chilled skin. He arched into the touch, his own fingers tangling in Jayce's thick hair. The taste of whiskey lingered on Jayce's lips, a reminder of their celebratory drinks earlier that evening.

"Bedroom," Jayce murmured against Viktor's neck, nipping gently at the sensitive skin. " Now ."

They stumbled down the hallway, leaving his cane and a trail of discarded clothing in their wake. Viktor's bare bottom hit the black duvet, and he gazed up at Jayce, drinking in the sight of his lover silhouetted in the dim street lights filtering through the curtains.

As Jayce sunk onto the floor between Viktor’s knees, Viktor's mind flashed to the life he'd left behind—the cold stone walls of the church, the small comfortable apartment that ended up feeling more like a prison the longer he got to know Jayce. Carding his long fingers through Jayce’s hair, it had grown a few inches since their first time sleeping together around two months ago, the man below him hummed happily as he looked up at Viktor through his long dark lashes.

"You're beautiful," Viktor whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Jayce's eyes softened at the words, and he leaned forward to press a warm kiss to Viktor’s inner right thigh. A shiver traveled across his body as heat pooled in his stomach at the sight of the man before him.

"So are you," Jayce replied, his hands tracing gentle patterns on Viktor's calves, minding the brace he still wore on his right leg. "I still can't believe you're here with me."

Viktor's heart swelled with a mixture of love and lingering guilt. He knew he'd made the right choice, but years of indoctrination were hard to shake. "I'm exactly where I'm meant to be," he said, as much to reassure himself as Jayce.

“So am I,” And with that, Jayce dove forward to take Viktor’s half hard length into his slick hot mouth.

Viktor gasped, his head falling back as pleasure coursed through him. Jayce's tongue swirled expertly, drawing out soft moans that echoed in the quiet room. Viktor's fingers tightened in Jayce's hair, guiding him gently.

" Jayce ," he breathed, "Oh, God..."

The irony of invoking a deity he'd renounced wasn't lost on him, but coherent thought was quickly slipping away. Jayce hummed around him, the vibrations sending jolts of ecstasy up Viktor's spine.

Not to mention, having Jayce on his knees as if he were praying as he sucked Viktor off. He’d dreamed of moments like this one for weeks before it finally happened that night he’d asked Jayce to his apartment for drinks.

Viktor's mind swam with memories of that first night, the way Jayce's lips had felt against his own, tentative at first, then hungry and desperate. How they'd fumbled with buttons and zippers, laughing nervously between heated kisses. The guilt and fear that had plagued him for so long melted away in Jayce's arms, replaced by a burning desire he'd never known before.

Now, as Jayce worked him with practiced skill, Viktor marveled at how far they'd come. His hips bucked involuntarily, and Jayce steadied him with strong hands on his thighs. The sight of Jayce's head bobbing between his legs, combined with the exquisite sensations coursing through him, threatened to push Viktor over the edge far too soon.

"Wait," he gasped, firmly tugging Jayce's hair. "I want... I want you to fuck me.” Jayce released Viktor’s cock with a wet pop from his mouth, his chin and lips covered in pre cum and his own saliva. His dark golden pupils blown wide and his cheeks flushed.

Jayce smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes as he slowly rose to his feet. "As you wish," he purred, leaning in to capture Viktor's lips in a searing kiss. Viktor could taste himself on Jayce's tongue, and it sent a thrill through him.

With gentle hands, Jayce eased Viktor further onto the bed, positioning him against the pillows. Viktor's breath caught as Jayce crawled over him, their bodies aligning perfectly. The weight of Jayce above him felt like an anchor, grounding him in this moment of bliss.

"Are you sure you want to tonight?" Jayce asked, his voice husky with desire but tinged with concern. Always so considerate, even in the throes of passion.

Viktor nodded, reaching up to cup Jayce's face. "I've never wanted anything more" he murmured as he tugged him down for another kiss.

One of Jayce’s huge right hands traveled to Viktor’s smaller waist and hips easily as he gripped him obsessively before moving to grab the bottle of lube left on the bedside table.

Their lips continued to move against one another for a moment until Viktor began getting impatient and he tugged on the hairs at the base of Jayce’s neck, eliciting a whoreish moan from the much larger man. It sent a round of pre cum leaking down the tip of Viktor’s cock as he pushed his hips up to Jayce’s, their members sliding together as they ground against one another.

Jayce groaned at the contact, his hips stuttering against Viktor's. With practiced ease, he flipped open the cap of the lube bottle and coated his fingers generously. Viktor spread his legs wider, inviting Jayce's touch.

The first finger slipped in easily, Jayce's movements slow and deliberate. Viktor's breath hitched as Jayce added a second finger, stretching him carefully. The burn of the stretch mingled with pleasure as Jayce curled his fingers, searching for that spot that would make Viktor see stars.

" Jayce ," Viktor moaned, his back arching off the bed as Jayce found his prostate. "Please, I need you inside of me."

“I wanted to fuck that confession out of you, but we never got that far,” Jayce murmured, pressing kisses along Viktor's jawline down to his collarbone as he worked a third finger in. Jayce traced his favorite word with his tongue across the left side of Viktor’s chest a few times as he scissored his fingers to open Viktor up even further. Mine, mine, mine.

Viktor's hands raked across Jayce’s tanned broad shoulders, absolutely digging into the skin, leaving angry red lines.

A hiss left Jayce’s mouth as he moved to tongue over Viktor’s left nipple.

Viktor's mind reeled at Jayce's words, memories of suppressing his desires in the confessional booth as Jayce would pour his grieving heart out. He'd fantasized about Jayce taking him right there, sacrilege be damned. Now, with Jayce's fingers working him open, those fantasies paled in comparison to reality.

"Maybe we can roleplay that sometime," Viktor gasped, surprising himself with his boldness. Jayce's eyes widened, then darkened as he met Viktor’s gaze in the dim light.

" Fuck , V," Jayce growled, withdrawing his fingers. "You can't say things like that and expect me to last."

Viktor whimpered at the loss, but soon felt the blunt head of Jayce's lubed up cock pressing against his entrance.

Jayce paused before he slowly pushed forward until only the pulsing head of his huge cock was locked into Viktor’s heat. And he stayed like that, his large hands coming down to rest on Viktor’s hips before traveling up and playing with Viktor’s hard nipples again.

Viktor gasped, his body trembling with anticipation as Jayce teased him mercilessly. The fullness of just Jayce's tip inside him was already overwhelming, stretching him in the most delicious way. He squirmed, trying to push down and take more of Jayce's length, but Jayce's strong hands held him firmly in place.

" Patience is a virtue, sweetheart," Jayce murmured, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. His fingers continued to work Viktor's nipples as he pinched them sharply, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his groin.

Viktor sent him a stern look, his mouth falling open as he panted in wanting. “If you don’t start fucking me like the entire world is ending tonight I won’t let you look at me naked for a week, Jayce.” Leaning down to bite Viktor’s ear, Jayce chuckled darkly. “As you wish, Father Viktor.”

With those words, Jayce snapped his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt inside Viktor in one swift motion. Viktor cried out, his back arching off the bed as he was suddenly filled completely. The stretch burned deliciously, bordering on pain but quickly melting into intense pleasure as Jayce began to move.

Jayce set a punishing pace, his powerful thrusts driving Viktor into the mattress.

Viktor's heaven and earth narrowed to the exquisite sensation of Jayce moving inside him, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body.

"Oh God , Fuck," Viktor moaned, his fingers digging into Jayce's back. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Jayce's breath was hot against Viktor's neck as he pounded into him relentlessly. "Never," he growled, nipping at Viktor's earlobe. "You're mine now, V. All mine."

The possessiveness in Jayce's voice sent a thrill through Viktor. He'd belonged to the church for so long, but this— this was true devotion.

This was worship in its purest form.

Jayce shifted his angle slightly, and suddenly he was hitting Viktor's prostate with a drive that would put the most devout follower to shame.

Viktor cried out in ecstasy, his vision blurring as waves of intense pleasure crashed over him. Each thrust sent sparks shooting through his body, building towards an explosive release.

He didn’t know sex could be this good until he met Jayce.

" Jayce, Jayce, Jayce, " he panted like a fucking psalm, his voice raw and desperate. "Fuck, I'm close... so close..."

Jayce's rhythm faltered slightly as he groaned, clearly nearing his own climax. "Come for me, sweetheart," he urged, his voice husky with desire. "Let me see you fall apart all over my cock. Let me fill you with my release.” Nodding desperately, Viktor sighed in pleasure, “I want you to fill me to the fucking brim, pretty boy.”

Jayce's eyes flashed with desire at Viktor's words, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. He reached between their bodies, wrapping his hand around Viktor's neglected cock and stroking in time with his powerful thrusts.

The dual stimulation was too much for Viktor to bear. With a strangled cry, he came entirely undone, his release spilling over Jayce's hand and onto his own stomach. His body clenched around Jayce, pulling him deeper.

" Fuck , Viktor," Jayce groaned, his movements becoming inconsistent. "You feel so good, so tight around me."

Viktor gazed up at Jayce through half-lidded eyes, drinking in the sight of his lover lost in ecstasy. "Come for me, Jayce," he whispered the command, voice hoarse. "Fill me up, make me yours."

The man above him let out a guttural moan, his hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside Viktor. The sensation of Jayce's hot release flooding him sent aftershocks of pleasure through Viktor's oversensitive body. But Jayce wasn’t finished just yet, he chased his orgasm, fucking his release into the former priest like his life depended on it. It leaked hot and heavy out of Viktor as Jayce pushed in and out of him slowly. Jayce’s head fell back as he whined at the overstimulation of his cock being milked by Viktor’s tight hole, already half hard again.

Viktor's breath hitched as Jayce continued to move inside him, the overstimulation bordering on painful yet exquisite. He could feel Jayce's release pulsing out of him with each slow thrust, coating his inner thighs. The sight of Jayce over him, head thrown back in ecstasy, was almost enough to make Viktor come again.

" Jayce ," he whispered, voice raw and trembling. "Look at me, love."

Jayce's eyes, dark with lingering desire, met Viktor's. The intensity of his gaze made Viktor's heart skip a beat. Slowly, deliberately, Jayce lowered himself until their foreheads touched, his hips still moving in lazy circles.

"You're so fucking—ugh, you’re everything to me," Jayce murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Viktor's lips. "I love you so much, V."

Viktor's mind swam under the devotion woven throughout Jayce’s tone and actions. He’d do anything the former priest asked of him without a second thought. The power of that kind of love was intense, it almost made Viktor hard again.

Viktor's heart swelled with emotion, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Jayce, pulling him even closer. "I love you," he whispered against Jayce's lips. "More than I ever thought possible."

They stayed like that for a long moment, bodies intertwined, breaths mingling. Viktor reveled in the weight of Jayce above him, the feeling of fullness and connection.

He was sacred , he thought. He was divine.

Eventually, Jayce carefully pulled out, both of them wincing slightly at the sensitivity. He collapsed beside Viktor, immediately drawing him into his arms. Viktor nestled against Jayce's chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

"We should clean up," Viktor murmured after a while, feeling semen leaking from him and coating his backside and legs more, though he made no move to leave the warmth of Jayce's embrace. Church bells tickled against his ribs when Jayce’s laugh thundered around his eardrums like that, and he couldn’t help but smile against the man’s collarbone.

"In a minute," he murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on Viktor's lower back. "I want to savor this moment a little longer."

The former priest hummed contentedly, melting further into Jayce's embrace. The mess between his thighs was sticky, but not enough to make him want to leave the cocoon of heat and affection they'd created.

"Do you regret it?" Jayce asked softly after a few moments of comfortable silence. "Leaving the church, I mean."

Viktor lifted his head, meeting Jayce's golden stare. There was a wash of vulnerability in those dark eyes, a flicker of doubt that Viktor wanted to extinguish immediately.

" Never ," he said firmly, cupping Jayce's face with one hand, his fingers pushing into the tense muscle of his jaw. "Not for a single moment. You are everything I need and more.”

Jayce's face slackened at Viktor's words, a tender smile spreading across his face. He leaned in, capturing Viktor's lips in a sweet kiss, his tongue tasting Viktor’s for a second before pulling back a hair.

"You're everything to me too, V," Jayce murmured against Viktor's lips. "I never thought I'd find someone who understands me the way you do."

Heat washed across Viktor’s body. He traced his fingers along Jayce's jawline, marveling at the man before him. "We found each other when we needed it most," he said softly. "I may have left the church, but I've found a different kind of faith in you."

Jayce's arms tightened around Viktor, pulling him impossibly closer. They lay in comfortable silence for a while, basking in the afterglow and the warmth of each other's embrace. Viktor listened to the steady rhythm of Jayce’s heartbeat and lull of his breathing.

“Don’t ever leave me.” “I will never leave you.” It was the easiest vow Viktor ever made.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 3.2

The thing is Paul just physically can't say what he feels. It's just an impossibility for him. So if he says reading a negative article about himself “doesn't help” or “it's not good” but it “doesn't get home” I just assume he means ‘It hurts, but I can't think about that too hard or I'll go into a self-hate suicidal spiral again’. 

I always love how Paul says Linda. “Linder is er, nature mad.” 

She!!

Hearing Paul talk about watching Mary be born makes me wonder if John was there with Sean? Also I wonder if Linda would talk about the experience so glowingly. Probably. She's tough as nails. I had a lovely experience, personally, after the epidural lol

“Dear friend . . . I'm in love with a friend of mine.” This is such a strange and beautiful song. It's a man who has to apologize to his friend for falling in love with someone else. At least, that's my interpretation. What's everyone else's?

I understand why he's so closed off. I do. But when John is going off every five seconds, we're missing half the picture here and it's turning out warped. They really are such a good study of attachment honestly.

“Nothing will ever break the love we have for each other.” White-knuckling my way through this section with this quote clenched in my fist.

Yoko, talking about John fighting with Paul: any couple will go from swearing to kissing and it's like that. What favors are you doing yourself here, babe? Maybe John's the PR mastermind between the two of them.

I find John's comparison of working with his romantic partner to being ambidextrous very confusing. Does he mean just doing two things at once?

“If I can't have a fight with my best friend, I don't know who I can have a fight with.” -- Intro slutty gender-fluid Wings Paul my beloved -- “Tell me why, why, why do you treat me so bad? So bad? When you're the best friend a man ever had?” I heard on some podcast somewhere. Someone was going on about how forward-thinking the Beatles were to refer to the women in their songs as “friends”. And I was like, nununununu do not give them that credit.

This is just soooo. In this era? 90 minutes in the middle of a recording session?

John: Sorry, my estranged fiance is calling, gotta take a break. Guitarist: again? Drummer: how estranged can they be if they call every three minutes? Yoko: should we just record the other parts or . . . John: (receiver cradled to his cheek, lovesick grin on his face) Hey, how was Heather's school program? Haha, yeah, I bet she was.

Okay, so you've made up with Paul and now you're done being homophobic? *Cardi b voice* well that's suspicious. 

The fact that John's asking Paul to play on stage with him in 1972?? Ugh! If it was just about legalities and money and shit I would be genuinely so pissed at Paul for not going. If only because Come Together sounds incredibly lame without his bass and piano. But also for the obvious fix-it reasons. I have to remind myself of how truly awful Klein was. By being the only one to stand firm against him, Paul actually ended up saving them all from a lot of trouble. But gosh would this have been good!

Things normal people say, for sure, for sure.

Okay in my head it went like this. John calls George and bitches about what an egomaniac Paul is because he won't do anything with him as long as Klein is involved. George gets off the phone and calls Ringo and they make a bet as to how long it is until John decides they should get rid of Klein. 

“Where's your audience, Paul?” “In the theater, Dave.” As he should. The cuntiness is unparalleled. Yeah, maybe people like to see a family friendly eclectic magic pixie sexy hard rock floor show? Ever thought about that, Dave?

Anyway, he seems genuinely pissed when the interviewer even mentions the other Beatles and he refuses to even admit he still talks to any of them. Why? 

John's just so benevolent and selfless. He's completely straight, of course, but he's always offering to do gay shit. You know. To be nice. 

I forget that not only was May their literal employee, but she was ten years younger on top of that. And yet, she managed to do so much good in that relationship. I have so much respect for her. 

There's obviously a lot going on behind the scenes that they don't say in interviews. Duh. But I wonder what it is that caused Paul to be so open and happy in this interview where he's asked about the other Beatles compared to before. I wonder if he and John had a really lovely talk, or if he's heard a demo of “I know, I know.” Or maybe it's just he's so reassured that they've got rid of Klein that he feels safe acting open to a reunion on record. Who knows, Yoko. 

So so smart to pair “In My Life” handwritten lyrics with the matching lyrics of “I know I know” playing at the same time. I forget about that connection (“I love you more”) because it's so overshadowed by the “than yesterday” right after. I seriously wonder if John thought he was being so obvious with this one the way he was with HDYS and half hoped people would ask him if it was about Paul and he could make up for the whole thing. Because it's just so heavy-handed. It's beautiful. I love it. I'm sure Paul loved it. But yeah. John's just beating us over the head with the references here. 

I also wonder (very tentatively!!!) if Paul was maybe a bit more emotionally vulnerable with John than we usually think. I would never think this except for the “you know I nearly broke down and cried” “I'm sorry that I made you cry” and “no more crying!” I don't know. What do we think? 

His little baby smirk. It's so silly and cute. He's being very positive about getting back together, and the interviewer asks if John would initiate that. Just a very coy, “a, well, I couldn't say.” I wonder if at that point if he'd said on live tv that he wanted to get together again if it would've happened. Seems like it might have, but I understand him being scared. 

Elton John taking pictures like a fan and John: I wanna impound all those photos till I get me green card. What a random idea for a commercial. I love it, obviously, it's hilarious. I wonder who thought of it. 

This doc is so good at implication. The smirk as “loving in the palm of my hand” plays. That's not a reference to hand jobs, is it? Certainly not talking to someone with beautiful hands?

Everyone go look up Nineteen Hundred Eighty Five on YouTube. The singing sex is something else, yeah, but I'm always so blown away by the piano part. The fact that he's self taught and doesn't read music and this man will go on to compose symphonies. 

[playboysaleen]

Through Ash and Iron (14)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.(She/her)

Word Count: 3.5k

Im back, but will dive right back into hibernation lol. It was supposed to snow these last 2 days and sadly it didnt hit my side (Texas baby) and i am so upset- i got to see snowfall again after YEARS and me loving nature i cried lol. But enjoy!

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A few days later, your injuries behind you, you found yourself padding through the polished corridors of Piltover’s grand tower. This was Caitlyn’s section, her domain. The enforcers posted at regular intervals straightened at your approach, their eyes flicking toward the scars still faintly visible beneath your shirt, and you offered them polite nods in return. Their expressions held a new measure of respect, perhaps even awe; so much had transpired in so little time.

When you reached the doors to Caitlyn’s office, you gently rapped your knuckles against the polished wood, then slipped inside. She was already mid-conversation with a man you’d never seen before—pressed suit, serious features, and a briefcase clutched in one hand. Tension radiated in the space. Caitlyn looked livid, her jaw set tight as she spoke in clipped tones.

“…I need legal grounds to act,” she was saying. “I won’t jeopardize what we’ve built, but I will not let Mel roam free any longer.”

The man exhaled slowly, turning as you entered. You saw Caitlyn’s eyes soften slightly the moment she noticed you. You approached her, circling an arm around her waist in a gentle but public display of unity, and glanced questioningly at the briefcase man.

He introduced himself formally, explaining, “I’m assisting Commander Kiramman in bringing Mel to justice. But, ah, I’m afraid nothing can be done until… the wedding happens.” His voice wavered at the last part, anticipating your reaction. “Once the vows are official and there are witnesses, your status changes legally and strengthens our case. Until then, our hands are tied.”

You felt a swell of annoyance, rolling your eyes at the formality. “I see,” you muttered.

Caitlyn’s composure snapped back into place. She squared her shoulders, and that familiar Commander presence filled the room. “You have your orders, then,” she said curtly, her voice a razor’s edge. “Make the arrangements. I want every legal thread in place. I won’t tolerate any slip-ups.”

The man gave a clipped nod, gathering his papers and briefcase. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, before stepping out.

Caitlyn watched him go, then let out a ragged breath. Instantly, you pulled her closer, one arm still around her waist as you tilted your head to press a kiss against her temple. She melted, tension easing from her shoulders.

She caught your gaze, worry etched across her features. “I’m sorry about all this,” she whispered, voice so unlike her usual commanding tone. “I know it’s a mess. But after everything… I want you safe. Really safe. And I won’t let Mel walk free to threaten you, Jinx, or anyone ever again.”

You shook your head, letting your forehead briefly rest against hers. “Don’t apologize. I’m just glad I’m alive—glad we’re here. Mel can stay away forever, for all I care.”

Caitlyn’s eyes darkened. “No. That’s not enough for me. She abducted you, tortured you… threatened our future. I refuse to let her slip away without consequence. I’ve never felt this way—this protective—about anyone. And now there’s you, Jinx, Isha… This is my life. I’d risk everything—my rank, my position, everything we built—to keep all of you safe.”

Her voice cracked at the end, trembling with emotion. You cupped her cheek, your thumb brushing over her skin. “And we’ll deal with it,” you assured her. “I trust you.”

She exhaled, leaning into your touch. You felt her trembling slightly. In that raw openness, you wrapped your arms around her, holding her close, fingers tangling in her hair that had come undone from its usual ponytail. Her breath hitched, and you hummed a soft, comforting sound, feeling the frantic beat of her heart begin to steady.

After a moment, she pulled away gently, giving you a tender look. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, her voice still thick with emotion. “I wanted to show you some flowers in the tower’s garden—see if there’s anything you’d like for the… wedding.” Her cheeks colored at the word, but she bravely held your gaze.

You flashed a wry smile. “Are we sure Jinx wants flowers? She might prefer bombs and glitter.”

A hint of laughter crinkled her eyes. “We’ll compromise,” she said, stepping back and straightening her uniform. “Come on.”

The two of you left her office, walking side by side through the tower until you reached the skybridge leading to the gardens. The air here was fresher, a gentle breeze brushing past. But halfway across, you tensed: Mel was there, flanked by a small unit of her personal guards. They caught sight of you and Caitlyn at the same moment you saw them.

Mel’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile as she drank in the sight of you. You felt Caitlyn stiffen, fury emanating from her. Mel took a small step back, her eyes never leaving your form, the desire in her gaze as potent and unnerving as ever.

Caitlyn lunged forward, her face contorting with rage, but you quickly wrapped your arms around her waist from behind, restraining her. “Caitlyn, don’t—” you hissed urgently.

Mel’s expression was calm, almost amused, though the tension among her soldiers was palpable. They shifted, weapons half-drawn. Caitlyn’s enforcers rushed forward, forming ranks at the foot of the skybridge, ready to defend her.

“You,” Caitlyn spat, voice cutting through the air. “Abducted them. Tortured them. Tried to ruin everything we’ve built. You’re lucky I’m using the law first, or Jinx and I would make you pay in blood.”

Mel arched an eyebrow, smirk slipping into place. “So I’ve heard,” she purred. “A wedding, is it? How… quaint. I wonder how Piltover itself will react once they realize their stoic Commander has tied herself to a—” She paused, letting her gaze drift meaningfully to you, then back to Caitlyn. “Never mind. Congratulations, my dear.”

You could feel the tremor in Caitlyn’s body, her desire to rip free and attack. Her strength rose, nearly prying your arms off her. It startled you; you had to muster that advanced shimmer-fueled power in your veins to hold her back. “Easy,” you murmured, eyes still locked on Mel.

Mel’s eyes flicked to you, locking onto your arm around Caitlyn’s waist. “I see you’re healing,” she remarked with a sinister calm. “No matter what I did to you, you come back stronger. I admire that. Perhaps one day you’ll realize we belong on the same side.”

The statement chilled you, stirring that old rage. But you forced your voice to remain level. “Don’t try anything until everything’s in place—legally.” You caught her gaze, letting her see the quiet fury in your eyes. “You know exactly what I’m capable of now that I’m free. And trust me, if you make one wrong move, you won’t get to enjoy the chaos you crave.”

Mel smirked, but her stance betrayed a flicker of caution. “I’m not here to fight,” she insisted in a measured tone, raising her hands slightly to calm her soldiers. “A war would tear Piltover apart, after all… something I hear you’d hate to see.”

Caitlyn’s breath hissed between her teeth, and she snapped, “You’d start a war if it meant controlling them. You can’t accept that they’re beyond your reach now.”

Mel took a single step closer, eyes dancing with dark amusement. “We’ll see.”

You carefully released Caitlyn, stepping in front of her and letting your own presence bleed intimidation into the air. Her soldiers tensed at your motion, but they recognized you. Fear licked at the corners of their resolve.

“I’m no longer chained in your dungeon,” you said calmly, eyes boring into Mel’s. “And I carry a new rage I’m not afraid to unleash. If that happens, your name, your face, your entire army will be wiped from the face of the earth—Piltover and Zaun included.”

A hush fell over the skybridge. Enforcers and Mel’s soldiers alike glanced at each other nervously. Mel herself maintained her poise, but you saw it—the faint flicker of something like fear in her gaze.

Caitlyn parted her lips, a barrage of threats on the tip of her tongue, but you felt her hand tremble against yours. You squeezed it gently, a silent reminder that this needed to remain words, not bloodshed—yet.

Mel exhaled softly, turning to her soldiers. “Let’s go,” she commanded, giving Caitlyn one last mocking half-smile. “Until next time, dear Commander.”

She and her unit withdrew, the tension lifting only when they’d fully vanished into the distant corridors. The hush was heavy as you and Caitlyn remained on the skybridge, your heart hammering, your blood blazing with adrenaline.

Caitlyn leaned against you, the fury in her posture slowly dissolving. “This isn’t over,” she whispered, but her voice was calmer now, resolved.

You nodded, casting a final glance down the empty passage where Mel had disappeared. “No,” you agreed, voice gravelly with intensity. “Not by a long shot.”

With that, you turned together, guiding Caitlyn away from the confrontation. There would be more battles to come, more nights of endless strategy and tension. But for now, the city’s lights glimmered around you—a testament to all you had fought for, and all you still had to protect.

You were in the cluttered comfort of your work area, sorting through gears, ribbons, and tiny shimmering baubles you’d collected in hopes of crafting a strange, mismatched bouquet for Jinx—something that felt like her rather than the typical flowers. The hum of a single lamp illuminated the pieces, and you hummed to yourself, losing track of time as you combined metal bits and bright ribbons into a small homage of your affection.

The door swung open without a knock, drawing your focus. Jinx stood in the doorway, her lean form draped in shadows. Her eyes glittered in the low light. You smiled at her, greeting her name in a warm rush—only to feel the atmosphere drop several degrees when she stepped closer, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your little run-in with Mel?” Jinx’s voice was deceptively calm, a dangerous edge lurking underneath. Something coiled within you, the same dread you felt whenever she was on the cusp of real anger. You swallowed, fumbling for an explanation.

“I… meant to, but—”

The rest of your words were swallowed when she moved in, swift and practiced, pinning you lightly against the workbench. Your back pressed into a half-finished contraption, and you stilled, uncertain. Surprised more by how controlled she was rather than openly furious. She stared you down, her eyes making you feel small and, if you were honest, a little thrilled at her intensity. You breathed shallowly, waiting, until she spoke again.

“You don’t keep things like that from me,” she whispered, leaning in until you could feel the warmth of her breath against your face. “You and Caitlyn matter to me. I won’t have either of you getting hurt without me knowing. If you hide something—anything—I’ll handle it. My way.” Her gaze bored into yours, reading every flicker of emotion. All you could do was nod, your heart pounding.

Jinx’s fingers found your chin, nudging your face down to maintain eye contact. “You’re my lover,” she said, voice thick with promise, “before you’re anyone’s hero. Don’t forget that.” You parted your lips, the quiet desire stirring in your chest, leaning in for a kiss. But her grip tightened just enough to guide your mouth away, denying you. A smirk ghosted across her lips, and you could almost taste the tease on the tip of her tongue.

She stepped back as smoothly as she’d approached, leaving you momentarily unmoored. “That’s your punishment,” she purred, amusement dancing in her eyes. A swirl of her hips brushed away from you, an unapologetic display of confidence as she strode toward the door. She turned back, waving a plain envelope that bore both your name and Caitlyn’s in looping script.

“Cute how your last name looks next to ours,” Jinx called, a giggle threaded through her words, then slipped out the room. You stood there, mind spinning, the half-finished metal bouquet still clutched in your shaking hands, uncertain whether to laugh or catch your breath first.

You followed Jinx into the hall, your footsteps soft against the metal floor as you tried to catch up. She didn’t make it easy, glancing back every time you inched closer only to flick her wrist and slip her hand away from yours. You frowned, pouting in that faintly dramatic way you knew might soften her demeanor—but she was in no mood to oblige immediately.

Finally, you managed to close the gap, your voice low and earnest. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, sounding a touch exasperated with yourself. “Really. I… I just didn’t want things to escalate further with Mel. You know how Caitlyn can be when she’s angry. I’ve never seen her that furious in my life.”

Jinx paused, turning on her heel so suddenly you nearly bumped into her. She was smaller than you but still exuded that fierce, contained power. She leaned in, her voice a hush. “Prove it.”

Your heart stuttered at the challenge in her eyes. Slowly, deliberately, you slid an arm around her waist, drawing her close. “I’m sorry,” you said, quieter this time, letting each word fall from your lips with weight and sincerity. “But you know we’re walking a thin line. One wrong move, and Mel’ll have cause to start a war none of us are ready for. And after seeing Caitlyn almost lose it…” You sighed, shaking your head at the memory. “She was at her breaking point. I couldn’t add to that.”

Jinx watched you, her gaze unreadable for a moment. Then her lips quirked into something mischievous. “You’ve gotten so soft,” she teased, though her voice held a fondness behind the jab.

You feigned a hurt expression, pressing your forehead lightly against hers. “Soft?” you echoed, sliding your free hand along her cheek and trailing light kisses from her temple down to the corner of her jaw. She gasped softly at first, but her lips curved into a shy smile. Your voice dipped lower. “I’m only saving my rage for when it’s really needed. Mel’s going to see it eventually—she won’t give us much choice. But right now, I have you, Caitlyn, and Isha to look after… I can’t leave you again.”

Jinx tilted her head back enough to meet your eyes. Her gaze flickered with that faint glow of purple you recognized in both of you when emotions ran high—an echo of the shimmer that pulsed through your veins. She drew in a slow breath, and a softness replaced her earlier tough stance. “I’m really glad I found you that day,” she murmured, referencing that moment of chaos when you first crossed paths, Garrett’s face meeting your fist. A small, fond grin tugged at her lips. “You punching that idiot was the best thing that happened to me.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “I had no idea it’d lead to all… this,” you admitted, the corners of your eyes crinkling in amusement.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, standing there under the flickering overhead light. Jinx’s eyes flicked between your pupils, reading the depths of your soul. Then, quietly, she broke the silence. “I love you,” she whispered, so softly you almost believed you misheard. But the sincerity in her gaze—her voice trembling just so—made it undeniable.

A gentle ache filled your chest, a warmth pressing behind your ribs. You let your hand drift up into her hair, pulling her close enough for your lips to meet. The kiss was slow, purposeful, a silent testament to everything you both had endured. And in that moment, the world shrank until it was only you and Jinx, hearts throbbing in sync.

When you drew back, your foreheads touched, and the sting of tears pricked at your eyes. “I love you, too,” you murmured, speaking the words plainly and clearly for her ears alone. Nothing else needed to be said—the two of you simply breathed, letting that confession take root in the hush of the corridor.

The rhythmic click and clang of metal against metal filled the warm air of your little workspace as you carefully attached the final piece to one of your metal “flowers.” The creation was equal parts eccentric and lovely—a reflection of Jinx’s influence, no doubt. You’d gone ahead and made two bouquets: one for Caitlyn, one for Jinx. Each trinket “petal” was shaped from painted gears or shaped scraps of steel, creating a bizarre but charming bouquet.

You looked up from the workbench as the door clicked open. Caitlyn stepped inside, her hand resting gently on Isha’s shoulder. The little girl’s eyes instantly fell on the glimmering trinkets, but Caitlyn’s fell on you. A warm smile curved her lips.

“I never realized just how creative you could be,” Caitlyn teased softly, crossing the room.

You shrugged, lifting your goggles off your forehead and letting them rest around your neck. “All thanks to your partner in crime,” you joked, nodding at Jinx napping on the couch, half-shadowed by the open balcony door.

Isha, though, had other plans. She darted across the room with surprising stealth, launching herself onto Jinx’s lap. A small noise of alarm escaped Jinx as she jolted awake. “Kid!” Jinx yelped, bleary-eyed, but the surprise faded quickly into a sheepish laugh. She held Isha close, pressing a playful kiss to the top of the girl’s head.

You let out a low chuckle at their interaction, only to feel a light pressure on your shoulder—Caitlyn leaning in to kiss you. Her lips met yours with a soft familiarity that made your heart lurch in that comforting, welcome way. When she pulled back, her eyes flicked over the half-finished bouquet in your hand. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

“I try,” you murmured, smiling. “Besides, Jinx is the real muse behind these metal monstrosities. She’s the one who taught me ‘normal flowers are too boring.’”

Jinx’s voice drifted from behind you, still groggy but amused. “You’re lucky I have good taste,” she said, smirking around another yawn.

Meanwhile, Isha slid off Jinx’s lap, scampering across the room to your workbench. Her wide eyes shone as she studied the trinket ‘flowers.’ You laughed softly and reached for a particularly bright purple one, holding it out to her. Isha’s face lit up like a lantern, and she sprinted back to Jinx, waving the flower in her face in a triumphant display.

While your focus lingered on Isha’s happiness, Caitlyn took advantage of the moment. She slipped into your lap, one arm hooking around your shoulder. You felt the warmth of her body settle against you, the soft brush of her uniform grazing your forearm.

Her voice was a near whisper, meant just for you. “I never saw myself with such a family a few years ago.”

You teased her with a gentle roll of your eyes. “You were pretty invested in your job. ‘Commander Kiramman, the unstoppable law of Piltover’—ring a bell?”

She tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a faint sigh. “I was. Still am, sometimes. But… after we all marry, I’ve been thinking…” Her voice dropped even lower. “I might resign or at least step away from the Commander role.”

Your entire body went rigid with surprise. “What? Caitlyn—no, you’ve worked so hard for that position.”

“It’s just a thought,” she muttered, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth when she saw your alarm. “A fleeting one, maybe. But with everything that’s happened… you, Jinx, Isha. You’re my priority now.”

You shook your head, about to protest further, when Jinx’s mouth pressed a playful kiss to Caitlyn’s temple from behind, her arms circling both you and Caitlyn. She pressed flush against your back, murmuring, “Speaking of priorities, we should go see Vi and Sevika soon. They’ll want in on wedding details.”

You turned, enough to kiss Jinx’s lips in a half-twist. A quiet hum of pleasure escaped your throat. Caitlyn watched the exchange with an indulgent smile—though her cheeks pinkened slightly.

Your impromptu make-out session was cut short by a tug on your shirt from below—Isha, pointing at an unpainted gear near the base of the latest flower. You blinked, sheepishly grinning. “I knew I forgot something,” you said, picking up the paintbrush with your free hand.

Jinx clicked her tongue. “Lucky the kid’s here to keep you on track,” she teased, heat dancing behind her eyes. “Otherwise I’d punish you for that incomplete job.”

Caitlyn cleared her throat, fussing with her uniform as she tried to disguise the fact that her face had turned a few shades redder. “Don’t get any ideas,” she warned Jinx lightly, though a hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

Jinx just snickered, stepping closer to Caitlyn with an almost predatory look. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like watching me kiss them…”

Caitlyn stiffened, her ears practically steaming. “I—it’s not that, I just—” She stopped, spotting the grin spreading across your face. Rolling her eyes, she glanced away, cheeks aflame.

You could barely suppress your laughter. The moment was so domestic, so absurdly sweet in its own way. This was your life now—full of warmth and teasing, with a bright-eyed child demanding your best, two fierce women protective of your heart, and the promise of a wedding that would seal your family’s unity forever.

----------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed! Sorry- its not proofread :(

[dontbelasagnax]

Ok fine! You’ve convinced me! I’ll learn how to draw specifically so I can draw codywan kissing, you’ve spread your gospel successfully

…

How do you draw tho fr cuz I can doodle like, funky lookin birds but people is fully out of my depth send help

AAAA HELL YEAHHHH!!!!! LET'S GOOOO!!!!!

You've opened a can of worms asking me for art advice so *cracks knuckles* buckle up.

I sort of (only a little bit) use the Loomis method for easy head drawing. Here is a playlist of YouTube videos by Proko. Highly, highly recommend that channel for your art tutorial needs!

I start with a circle. For side profiles, I draw a line down the side of the circle to determine where the features will sit upon. I draw a triangular shape to mark where the orbital socket is. Around the middle point of the circle is where the jawline ends and the ear begins so draw a line there. There are proportion rules which are good guidelines when starting out in art but since I've been doing this my entire life, I have a feel for things and just wing it. That's to say, I put in a line implying the jaw based on vibes.

Next, I draw the eyebrows and brow ridge. Then the nose. I find I majorly base my proportions on this area so if anything is off, it throws the rest of the face off.

Then I draw the lips and chin... or in Obi-Wan's case, his beard. I will mark in his sideburns and hairline as well. Now, about ears: generally the top of the ear begins right around the top of the eyebrow and stops at the base of the nose. At this point I like to draw his eye, define the cheekbone, and refine the eyebrow. I'll finish scribbling in hair and that's it!

(Cody is much the same but I forgot to take useful progress pics 😂)

Extended Art Advice 👇

Tip #1: Draw lightly. Do not ever grip your pencil tight. This only leads to pain. You will notice I didn't erase at all. This is partly because I know what marks to make because I've done it a million times before and also because my lines are soft enough I can make lots of them and choose to deepen the ones that work.

Tip #2: Practice, practice, practice. Artistic skill is just loads and loads of accumulated knowledge and muscle memory from practice. This sounds boring but, in reality, you should make it fun.

Tip #3: Draw from observation/USE REFERENCE! The only reason I can get away without using reference when I'm feeling lazy is because I've drawn the same things over and over enough times it stuck. Aka I did lots of practice.

Now, to combine all these tips together, let's talk about how to use reference and how to make practice fun.

Reference is a huge aid when drawing at any point in your art journey. But I've found that in order to learn from what you're looking at, you need to think critically.

You obviously have something you want to draw. Reference helps you with that. You'll start out trying to draw what you see. Eventually you will run into an obstacle where you've messed up and things aren't looking good. This is to be expected. Every time this happens, think about what isn't working and find solutions with your reference. Analyze your subject to find your answers. Draw it again. Do not be afraid of failure. Each time you fail, you must look for a solution and this will lead you closer to your goal. This is how you grow as an artist.

I know, it sounds dreadfully boring and like a shit ton of work. It is a lot of work but you can make it fun! You love Obi-Wan and Cody so make Pinterest boards of Ewan McGregor and Temuera Morrison. Whatever you want to practice (may that be eyes, mouths, hands, hair, the face as a whole, etc) draw them. Ever hear tracing is bad? Fuck that. It's a perfectly valid tool to help you learn. If you're drawing digitally, pull up your reference in the art program of your choice, lower the opacity a little, make a new layer and trace what you see. I honestly find tracing to be very hard so when I've done this, I prefer to try to find shapes that will aid me when I'm actually drawing. If you're drawing traditionally, you can print out the photo and trace over it with a tracing paper or use a lightbox. You can also up the brightness on your computer screen and tape a piece of paper and trace that way.

Photos aren't the only references you can use! You can always look to your favorite artists' work and try to figure out how they do it. Often artists will break things down into more easily digestible shapes that will help you better understand how things work. Remember, if you ever copy or trace someone's art, it is for learning purposes only and you shouldn't post it. Feel free to take elements of people's art that you like and put your own spin on it though. For instance: I really love how this one artist draws men's tits so I studied a bunch of their art and now I'm much better at drawing them.

Oh and did you think you only get practice in while studying? Wrong! There's no reason you should shy away from trying to make the art you really want just because your skills aren't the most refined. Spoiler alert: you will grow the most when you push yourself out of your comfort zone. Draw codywan kissing. Draw it really enthusiastically and through profuse swearing and gritted teeth... but never a clenched hand. Don't hold back from the fun stuff just because it's hard. Aim high, land low, and shoot even higher next time.

In the beginning it will be especially frustrating. You'll feel like everything you make is a failure and nothing works out. You'll feel like you're not making any progress. Trust me, you are making progress and I believe in you.

If something really isn't working out and you find yourself growing distressed, take a break. It might last an hour or a week. Just take the break. Don't push it. Come back with fresh eyes and less stress. We all have days where nothing comes out right. Sometimes I can't even draw anything resembling a human face. It's okay. Whisper-yell expletives at your artwork and take the break. It will be okay.

With all that said, happy drawing and even happier codywan kissing!! 🧡💋🩵

[kikyoupdates]

Love Bite ⭑˚🩸⭑ 𝑎 𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟

yandere!vampires x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, original characters, vampire!ocs x fem!reader

Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

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Once again, Xavier stands before you.

“Hi,” you greet, smiling awkwardly. “It’s nice to see you again. How are you doing?”

You’re not really sure why you keep bothering with the pleasantries, because it’ll probably end the same way every time. With him tilting his head at you and furrowing his brows in confusion.

You have to remember that for him, this is purely business. Maybe even less than that, actually.

He’s here to sate his appetite, and you are simply a means to an end.

“I’m fine,” Xavier replies, still frowning and no doubt wondering why you keep trying to make small talk with him. He then gestures towards one of the chairs. “Are you ready to get started?”

You nod and quickly sit down. Even though you came back here of your own volition, now that he’s about to drink your blood again, you can feel how fast your heart is beating in anticipation of the pain.

There’s no point in being scared. I need the money. I did it once, so I’m sure I can do it again.

“Whenever you want,” you tell him, white-knuckling the armrest of your chair. “I’m ready.”

Xavier takes a moment to settle beside you. He seems to be waiting just in case you refuse, and while you appreciate that he won’t do anything without your consent, the longer he takes to get started, the more nerve-wracking this whole thing is.

Finally, he bridges the distance, uses an arm to gently hold you in place, and presses his lips against your neck.

Just like last time, it fucking hurts. You can’t even pretend otherwise. There’s a reason why this program isn’t more sought-after. Not only do most humans live in fear of vampires, but the vast majority of people also aren’t desperate enough to sell their blood just to make ends meet. It’s a scary, painful experience, and it comes at a cost to your health, too.

This program was made deliberately for people like you—the hopeless and rundown.

You almost wonder what the other people who’ve signed up are like, but you decide it’s probably better not to meet them. Nothing good could possibly come of so many sad, pitiful souls gathering together in one place.

Anyways, what were you saying again? Oh, right.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

You tremble in place, doing your utmost not to grit your teeth and tense your muscles too much. The pain is one thing, but the sensation of having your blood drained—feeling it be directly siphoned from your body—is what’s truly horrifying. It feels wholly unnatural, and you’ll probably never be able to get used to it.

Still, you put on a brave face. You chose this, and right now, it’s the only option you have.

But apparently, you're not doing a very good job of being convincing.

Xavier pulls away and frowns. “You look like you’re suffering,” he remarks. There’s some blood on his lips, and you swallow at the sight, trying not to let it unnerve you.

“I’m fine,” you reassure. “This is no big deal.”

The last thing you want to do is scare him off. You need him to keep coming back. To you, the money you get from this is every bit as vital as the blood flowing through your veins.

Without it, you won’t survive.

Xavier narrows his eyes, and you fear that he’s starting to become rather annoyed with you. Perhaps he’d prefer someone else. Someone who isn’t such a baby and knows how to suffer through the pain without letting it show.

But instead of berating you, he does the exact opposite.

He apologizes.

“Sorry,” he sighs. “It’s been a long time since I drank someone’s blood like this. Up until I was admitted entry to the city, I lived off the government-issued blood packs, so I didn’t have to bite anyone. I suppose I should learn how to be a bit gentler.”

Uh... what?

You weren’t expecting this. You weren’t expecting this at all. Granted, he was very vocal about not wanting to force you into anything, but he never really struck you as the compassionate type. His expression is usually so stern, almost as frigid as his ice-cold hands.

But right now, he actually looks a bit sheepish.

You’re not sure if it’s the tenderness of his gaze, or the fact that someone’s actually treating you with empathy for a change, but either way, you find yourself blushing.

“I-It’s alright,” you say, glancing off to the side. Looking into those clear blue eyes of his is proving to be far too difficult a task right now. “I mean... it does hurt a bit, but I expected as much coming into this. I think I just need some more time to get used to it.”

“No. I’m sure it can’t be pleasant, so it’s up to me to do it in a way that isn’t quite so unbearable.” He lightly taps you on the hand, beckoning you to look at him again. “I’d like to try one more time,” he says. “With your permission, of course.”

Fuck. Here you are, selling your blood—which is quite possibly the least romantic thing in the world—but all of a sudden, you’ve got butterflies in your stomach.

It’s his fault for being so damn handsome. Or maybe you’re just not thinking clearly from all the blood loss.

Yeah. That must be it.

“Go ahead,” you reassure, adjusting your position and exposing your neck again. You take a deep breath, trying to relax, and you remind yourself that no matter how much it hurts, eventually, it will end.

Xavier’s fangs pierce your skin again, but even though you wince, you feel as though it’s slightly different from earlier. The way he’s drinking your blood is slower, more deliberate. It still hurts, no question about it, but you can tell that he’s now being conscious of how he does it.

Somehow, just the fact that he’s making an effort to hurt you less helps you cope a lot better than before.

“Huh? A different vampire has personally requested me?”

You blink, holding your phone against your ear. Just moments ago, someone from Plasma Inc. called to inform you that you’ve got another client. The news comes as a surprise, especially since you’re pretty sure Xavier is the only vampire you’ve ever met.

“Um... you guys don’t happen to show the clients files of the people who’ve signed up for the program and rank their blood in terms of tastiness, right?”

It’s a stupid question, if the sigh the employee lets out is anything to go off. You felt like asking it anyways, though.

“Of course not,” they reply. “This is actually a very peculiar case. We normally match clients and donors randomly, but this particular client apparently caught a glimpse of you in the building. Certain vampires are more perceptive than others and can sense when someone has appetizing blood. He was adamant about meeting with you, but naturally, the choice is yours. Rest assured that we will never disclose any of your personal information to him, so you’re welcome to refuse.”

As if you would ever refuse an opportunity to earn more money. These people are seriously underestimating just how desperate you are.

“I’ll meet with him,” you agree. “Just let me know when I should stop by.”

This is a good thing, right? Assuming he likes you—which, it sounds like he already does—you’ll be able to meet with two clients regularly instead of one.

Paying off your debt is finally starting to feel like more than just a dream.

Not much time has passed since you last saw Xavier, but once again, you find yourself walking down the pristine, glistening white hallways of Plasma Inc.

“Before you go meet with your new client,” the doctor begins, “I feel the need to mention that there are limits to how frequently you can come in. We can’t in good faith let you come back too often and give away your blood, otherwise it comes at a detriment to your health, and we are liable for it. So, please understand that we will monitor how often you come in and impose restrictions. We won’t allow you to put yourself in harm’s way.”

Damn. Well, that does make sense, and you suppose it’s a good thing, ethically speaking.

But financially speaking—for you, at least—it isn’t exactly ideal.

Still, you nod in agreement. “I understand. I won’t do anything to get you guys in trouble.”

The doctor smiles and ushers you along. Well, it’s fine. Even if you don’t do this all the time, they pay you quite generously, most likely to incentivize people into signing up in the first place. And now you have two clients instead of one, which means that you’re bound to get paid more often anyways.

Besides, this isn’t a permanent solution. It’s only to help keep you afloat until you pay off your debt to Johnny.

Once this nightmare is over, you’ll finally know what it’s like to live a normal life.

“Go right ahead,” the doctor gestures, and since you’re starting to get used to this whole process by now, you step inside the room without any hesitation.

Then, you lock eyes with your new client.

He’s tall. Really, really tall, as if being a vampire wasn’t already intimidating enough. His eyes are even more piercing than Xavier’s pale blue ones. They glisten like shards of topaz, bright and beguiling. You haven’t yet realized that your lips are parted open in awe, and all of this feels suspiciously like déjà vu. Like when you first laid eyes on Xavier.

It turns out that vampires really are ridiculously attractive.

“Yay, you’re finally here!” he exclaims. He runs up to you, and without warning, pulls you into his arms.

Naturally, you flinch at the sudden contact, and even though he’s going to be biting your neck later, you’re pretty sure that this isn’t exactly appropriate.

“U-Um,” you stammer. You try to push him away, but he’s a million times stronger than you, so you may as well be trying to move a wall.

He squeezes you and lets out a pleased sigh. “I knew it. You really do smell amazing. I can only imagine how sweet your blood will taste.”

Oh, boy. He’s sniffing you.

This already doesn’t bode well.

Mercifully, he pulls away quickly enough, stopping to flash you a sharp-toothed grin. “I’m Felix,” he introduces. “Man, you’re even prettier in person too! This day just keeps getting better. I really struck gold here.”

You can’t tell if he’s a big flirt, or a creep, or if he’s just really excited to drink your blood.

Regardless, you don’t make any motion to leave.

No way in hell are you leaving without your money.

“I’m [Name],” you say, nodding your head a bit. “It’s nice to meet you, Felix. I heard that you requested me specifically, so... hopefully I won’t let you down.”

His grin gets even wider. “There’s no way you will. I’m confident about this. I don’t think I’ve ever met a human who smells as good as you do.”

“Um... thanks.”

You’re not really sure what else to say. He’s a lot different from Xavier, though, that much is for sure. He’s infinitely more expressive and doesn’t seem too concerned with keeping things professional.

Regardless, he’s a client, and unless you give him what he wants, you’re not going to get paid.

“Should we start now?” you ask, already sitting down.

Felix nods eagerly. He’s practically vibrating, incapable of containing his excitement. You suppose it’s a bit endearing. It seems like he’s really been looking forward to this, and money aside, it’s nice to be able to make someone happy.

You adjust the top of your shirt to better expose your neck, and you swear that Felix gulps at the sight.

“Whenever you’re ready, just—”

The rest of the words don’t make it out in time. He grabs you by the shoulders, forcefully, then bites into your neck without even bothering to ease you through it.

A sharp cry escapes your lips, and you whimper, doing everything you can not to scream again.

This is bad. Unlike Xavier, he’s making no attempt to be gentle. He’s slurping from your neck greedily, and even though he’s already pierced your skin, his fangs dig deeper, in a relentless pursuit of everything you have to offer.

Tears blur your vision. Holy fuck, it hurts. You never imagined that it could hurt this much. It was already bad enough before. Will you... even be able to handle this?

You moan softly, and even though you’re doing your best to hold it together, a few tears end up spilling down your cheeks. You can feel how damp your skin is. Not just your face, but also the tender spot on your neck that Felix keeps burying his fangs into.

The pain makes you pass out for a few moments, but it’s better this way, because when you come to, Felix has finally stopped.

His lips and chin are completely stained with your blood, and he makes no attempt to wipe it off either, unlike Xavier.

To make matters even worse, he actually has the nerve to smile.

“Amazing,” he mumbles. He doesn’t seem awfully concerned with the fact that you’re only semi-conscious right now, and instead presses his body closer to yours. “[Name], you really are amazing. I’ve never had such delicious blood before. Most humans taste disgusting to me, and it’s a pain just finding something I can stomach. I don’t think you understand how much it means to me that I’ve finally met someone like you.”

Sure, it sounds like a crappy situation, but you’re having a hard time sympathizing with him after he basically just mauled your neck.

You wince and press a hand against the bite mark, and when you pull your fingers away, you’re horrified to find that they’re completely coated in blood.

Sh-Shit...

Felix leans into your line of sight, still grinning widely. “Hey. I have an offer for you. I’m sure they must have told you that there are restrictions to how often you can sell your blood, but if you’re here, it’s because you need the money, right? So, how about we also meet up outside of our scheduled appointments? That way, I can drink your blood as often as I want, and you can make more money. And by that, I mean that I’ll pay you double what you’re getting here. Hm? How does that sound?”

Double?

As in, two times as much?

You blink repeatedly, suddenly completely lucid. The pain is still there, clear as day, but what you’ve just heard has imbued you with a new sense of bravery.

Felix clearly doesn’t know the meaning of holding back. You doubt he cares about hurting you, which means it’ll be painful as all hell, every single time. Honestly, if you really wanted to, you could drop him as a client altogether. He seems like the type that’s difficult to keep in line, especially when there’s something he wants.

But it’s obvious that he really, really likes your blood, and apparently, he’s willing to pay a steep price for it.

With that kind of money, you’ll be able to pay Johnny back even faster. You’ll be able to treat yourself to a nice meal every now and then, to put your feet down from time to time and get a proper night’s sleep.

Forget just surviving, you want to know what it’s like to actually live.

“This is strictly between the two of us,” Felix continues. “It has to be done in private, without anyone finding out. The laws on this stuff are pretty stingy, and I’m sure neither of us wants to get in trouble. But I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Just a few moments ago, when you saw the bloody mess he made of your neck, you were actually considering never seeing him again. The pain was simply too much. You’ve suffered a lot, but even you have your limits.

Alas, in the face of money, you are nothing but a pathetic, subservient fool.

“Okay,” you mumble weakly. “Let’s do it.”

It’s probably a big mistake.

But you’re too desperate to care.

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[putaposyinyourhair]

Slowly but Also Like All at Once

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

noah diaz x mirage (cause i love them, your honor)

warnings: none except that it’s a little angsty and noah’s got a lot of feelings and he throws around some f-bombs

just a little angst-to-fluff reunion between the boyz

A static crackling fills the air for a moment.

“Yo, Sonic?”

Noah sighs softly as the incandescent lighting above flickers, carefully setting down his soldering gun before he reaches across the work table to grab the walkie-talkie.

“What’s goin’ on, Tails?”

One of the alley cats that usually hangs outside between the garage and the next building makes a noise that’s halfway between a hiss and a yowl, and when Noah looks over to the open window, his brows arch as he realizes it’s dark out already.

“Any sign of Knuckles?”

Noah frowns, pulling his gaze away from the window and over to the empty spot in the corner of the garage— the spot with the motor oil stain on the ground that Noah can never bring himself to clean up.

Even though it’s definitely high time. It’s been months.

He huffs out a soft breath of air, mentally cycling through the answers that are starting to feel almost programmed by this point.

Kris, he ain’t coming back.

Kris, he’s gone, man.

Kris, stop asking me shit I don’t have the answers to, dude.

Instead he goes with something a little more sensitive.

“Negative.”

Kris sighs loudly over the air and Noah almost smiles. Kris gets increasingly more frustrated the more he asks about it. But every couple of days, without fail, he asks.

And every time he does Noah has to look over at that spot of engine oil on the ground and feel his chest do a weird twisting thing that he really doesn’t like.

“Ma wants to know if you’re coming home for dinner tonight.”

Noah rips his gaze away from the empty corner and glances down at his watch.

Fuck, it’s late.

And he had promised to be there for dinner.

“Yeah, I’ma be there.”

He gets up, gathers the things he doesn’t like to leave in the garage overnight— his more expensive tools and some of the gadgets he’s working on fixing for people— into a cardboard box. He tosses the walkie-talkie into his backpack and throws it over one shoulder before he pulls his keys from one of the drawers and starts heading for the door. He’s almost there when the alley cat outside yowls again.

Noah pauses, the sound reminding him to shut the window before he goes.

He crosses the garage, picking up the pencil he’d forgotten behind on the table as he goes. He shoves the yellow No. 2 pencil between his lips and balances the box in his hands with one hand so he can reach up to shut the window and lock it. He sees a dark little shadow scurrying back and forth down in the alley and rolls his eyes as he turns to head for the exit.

Crazy fuckin’ fur ball.

He steps outside then sets the box down right next to him so he can lock up after himself, still rolling the pencil between his lips and digging his top teeth into the shaft, making little indents as he hums softly— probably some tune he’d heard on the radio earlier.

When the door is locked, he shoves the keys into his pocket and turns, bending slightly at the waist so he can reach down and pick up his cardboard box. Only, he stops short— still kind of bent over— when he’s suddenly swathed in a beam of light and he realizes there’s a car parked not four feet from both him and the garage’s doors. Which is strange because almost everyone in the neighborhood knows Noah’s garage has got those old-fashioned swinging doors instead of the sliding ones.

Noah straightens and shields his eyes from the bright headlights keeping him from being able to see if he can recognize the car.

What kind of fucking dumbass leaves his car parked halfway into the street anyway?

The headlights blink off, almost as quickly as they’d come on, and it takes Noah’s eyes a second to adjust.

Wait…

He knows that car. He knows that silver paint and he knows those blue stripes.

That’s not a car at all.

“Miss me, baby boy?” a sly voice rings out from inside the cabin after a brief crackle of radio static.

Noah’s lips part in surprise and the pencil drops silently to the ground, rolling away a few feet before coming to a slow stop.

“Mirage—” Noah gasps out softly, utterly stunned. “You’re…”

He trails off, not sure what to say.

Last time he’d seen the autobot, Mirage had been deathly silent, still stuck in the form of the suit of armor he’d transformed himself into in order to protect Noah during the battle in Peru.

Now?

Now the cybertronian looks completely restored. Shiny and sleek, sporting a fresh coat of paint and looking exactly like he did the first time they’d met— when Noah had tried to boost him from that garage.

“Here? Back for my boy? The sexiest bot on the block?” Mirage lists off and before Noah can even think to reply, the mech goes on. “Yes to all but especially that last one.”

And Noah, he’s not usually the type of person to give into his emotions so quickly— being ex-military, it was just kind of always ingrained into him to shove emotions aside and focus on the task at hand— but something about seeing Mirage again, hearing the bot speak in that energetic little drawl of his, it does something to Noah.

His chest does that twisting motion again.

But it doesn’t necessarily feel like a bad thing this time around.

“Fuck, man,” the words are exhaled shakily. “I…”

Noah’s not sure why his thighs are suddenly feeling kind of numb or why his knees are threatening to buckle but they must be doing some kind of trembling because Mirage takes note.

“Whoa, hey,” the words ring out clearly from the radio as the mech’s altmode inches forward so the Porsche’s front bumper can steady Noah’s unstable legs. “Didn’t think I’d have you swooning over me this fast.”

Noah is still in a well enough frame of mind that the joke registers and he puffs out a short breathy laugh even as he reaches out to place both hands on the warm surface of Mirage’s hood, to not only help stabilize himself but also to kind of prove to himself that this is real, that it’s really happening.

That Mirage is back.

That Mirage hadn’t just forgotten about him.

That the last time he’d seen Mirage get taken away by Arcee and Bumblebee hadn’t been the last time he’d ever see his friend.

That Optimus Prime’s parting words weren’t true.

“Optimus, please,” Noah begs, completely unashamed, his eyes full of tears as Bumblebee carries Mirage away, followed by a sullen Arcee who keeps glancing over her shoulderpad at Noah. “Please, just let me try, man! I can fix him.”

“I am sorry, Noah,” the gruff leader of the autobots tells him, a new sympathy that hadn’t been there in any previous words spoken between them present in the tone of his voice. “But Mirage is in a state you cannot help him out of.”

“I can try!” Noah argues, stomping his foot like a child as the speed of his beating heart continually increases the further Mirage is carried away from him— it kind of feels like the organ is trying to rip itself out of his chest, almost as if he’s going to have a panic attack. “Man, please—! Please, let me help him. I… I owe him that much.”

“You have my gratitude for all you have done to aid us, Noah,” Optimus tells him with an air of finality that clearly means none of this was ever up for any debate. “Primus willing, we will not meet again.”

Noah shakes his head violently, wishing he could physically beat the memory away with a baseball bat.

Mirage’s radio emits a quiet, inquisitive whizzing sound.

Noah’s entire body shudders in response.

“Shit, I missed you, man,” he confesses finally, as Mirage’s engine purrs underneath the palms of his hands. “I thought… fuck.”

He’d thought he wasn’t ever going to see Mirage again.

He’d thought Mirage was dead.

He’d thought…

The Porsche’s driver-side door swings open with a soft click.

“Wanna ride?”

Noah honestly doesn’t think he’ll ever say no to that question.