#I don’t know if you have suggestions I guess

[burrowdarling]

Dress

Summary: Joe begs you to join him at an event, where a dress leads to a confession of feelings. Based off of the song "Dress" by Taylor Swift

Pairings: Joe Burrow x best friend to lover!reader

Warnings: implied smut, pining, best friends to lovers

Note: Hi! I hope you're all doing okay, I know this week has been tough and long. I hope this can bring some kind of joy during a hard time. This is my first time writing based off of a song. I would love to turn this into some kind of mini series or maybe interconnected standalones. Let me know your thoughts or song suggestions, I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 1.9K

“Pleaseeee come with me, you owe me a favor, remember? It’ll be fun I promise”. Joe begged from his spot on the couch.

Joe had invited you out to one of the team dinner gatherings as his date, insisting that you had to come with him or he would be “too bored to function”. You tried not to place too much weight on the “date” part of the deal, knowing it would be more as friends than anything. He was putting on the whole theatrics, pouting with puppy dog eyes.

“You want me to come to the dinner that you’ve been complaining will be ‘so boring’ so I have to suffer too? I don’t hardly see how that’s comparable to the favor you did for me by taking out my recycling for me that you offered to do” you questioned, knowing full well that it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as he’s been making it out to be.

“Hey, in my defense it was a lot of boxes to carry okay? You can be my source of entertainment, I won’t be able to survive without that” he explained, falling more into the dramatics as he dropped down onto the couch behind him to really solidify his point, exhaling a big sigh as he did so. 

“I hardly doubt that Joseph, you’re being so dramatic” you said with your arms folded over your chest, not going to fold to his pleading that easy. Turning away from him as you sat across from him.

“I guess you won’t know unless you come with me then, huh” Joe said with a small pout on his lips, knowing it was the surefire way to win you over. In reality, he didn't have to even try. While Joe was your best friend, you’ve had feelings for him for a while now that have only grown with time the closer you two have gotten. Meeting back at LSU, you had so many memories together that have only made your friendship what it is today.

“C’mon, what else will it take for you to agree to go? I’ll do anything Y/N.”

Your heart rate picked up at his comment, needing to will yourself back to reality that there are so many other mundane things he could do to sweeten the deal for you. Thank god you had your back turned, able to give yourself a second to breathe. In all honesty, you would go just to spend more time with him, it was always fun to make him work for it though.

“Fine, but I won’t have anything to wear so you’re fronting my cost for a new dress” you stated turning yourself back towards him, sticking out your hand to signify the offer.

“You could’ve just asked that from the beginning. Deal” Joe agreed, returning your gesture and shaking on the deal.

_______________________________________________

It was finally the day of the dinner, taking the day to get yourself ready with an everything shower and full skincare routine. You made a day of it, pampering yourself after you had gone out to get the perfect dress. It complimented the color of Joe’s suit perfectly, while accentuating all of your favorite parts of yourself. It wasn’t anything too elaborate, but it made you feel confident and that’s what matters. You may or may not have also thought about Joe when picking it out, what he would think about when he saw you in it. You quickly shook the resurfacing thoughts from your mind as you slipped it on, careful not to mess up your look.

While you were applying the finishing touches to your look, your mind wandered to thoughts about yours and Joe’s friendship. You had met during one of his first classes when he transferred to LSU, asking you for directions to his next class. It happened that you were going the same way, offering to show him and the rest was history. On paper, you both were opposites, but that’s almost why you complimented each other so well. You matched one another's energy and could read the other like a book. It almost felt as if you didn't need to speak the thought out loud at times, able to tell what the other was thinking.

You and Joe had been there for each other all throughout college, being a support system and lifeline in the hard times as well as the biggest cheerleader for the highest highs. Through every breakup, Joe was always there to pick up the pieces he didn’t break, comforting you while giving you the praise he felt you deserved. Another thing you wrote off as him just being your best friend. No one wanted to see their best friend sad, so it was natural to want to cheer them up, right?

You were drawn out of your thoughts to the sound of your front door closing, signaling Joe had arrived.

“Hey Y/N, you ready to go?” he called from your living room, making his way through your apartment.

“Just a minute, I’m finishing up and we can head out” you called back, hearing his footsteps get closer as you spoke.

There was a sudden pause as the sound of Joe approaching got closer, turning to see him stopped in your doorway. He leaned his body up against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You look absolutely amazing, I love that we have a matching thing going on” Joe said as he looked you up and down, his gaze taking you in.

 It all felt like too much, turning your attention back to the mirror in front of you.

When you were leaving your apartment to get into his car, Joe placed a gentle hand around your waist to keep you steady in your heels as you walked across the pavement parking lot. Your skin felt like it was ablaze under his touch, finding yourself craving more of it as his hand dropped to get the door for you.

“Thanks” you mumbled, trying to regain your composure back as the night was just beginning.

_______________________________________________

The night drew on, Joe not letting you far out of his reach as he spoke with his teammates and other guests that were there. It felt as if you had a pull to one another, a sense of palpable tension between you in the air. Joe seemed to be a lot touchier than usual, tending to keep you close when one of his teammates would get a bit too close for what must have been his liking. It all felt like too good to be true, that he must have really wanted you near him

There was only what you could describe as a Joe shaped indentation in your life, making any man incomparable to the standard he set for you without even knowing. So many guys in the past few years have tried to take their shot with you, but you never let any of them get too feeling like they were missing something that you were looking for. Even the ones that did ended up breaking your heart, leaving you feeling a deeper hollow pit than before them. 

He was so close to you at the table, you could smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating off of his body that was clad so nicely in his suit, his arm slung protectively over the back of your chair as if he was staking his claim over you. It was taking so much willpower to not just lean over and say the most unspeakable things to him. To finally confess everything you’ve been feeling, wondering if he felt the same or if it would be a waste of time and ruin everything you created together.

In this moment, it felt like just the two were the only ones despite the room being so crowded with other guests. You leaned over, placing a delicate hand on Joe's thigh to test his reaction. You felt his muscles tense beneath your touch, close enough to hear his breath hitch in his throat. All signs were pointing in the right direction.

“Y/N” Joe said, his voice labored and breathy.

The way he says your name, stopping you in your tracks, short circuiting your mind for a moment. That was the kind of power he had over you, the ability to completely send your senses into overdrive without even realizing he was doing so. You tried your best to shut your mind off, taking the opportunity to tell him while you had the courage to do so.

“I don’t want you like a best friend” you spoke, voice keeping composure while trying to keep yourself from backing out.

Joe’s eyes closed as his head subtly dropped back against his chair. A quiet groan coming from his throat online loud enough for your ears only.

You leaned closer to his ear, keeping your body language as natural as possible with everything you’re feeling. Noticing how he was reacting to your words and proximity.

“I only bought this dress so you could take it off” your confidence shifting with a hint of seduction in your voice, sealing your fate to ending your friendship or starting a new chapter.

That seemed like the last straw for his own composure, not being able to contain his own building desire. Joe turned to look towards you, his gaze darkening from your confession, your grip tightening on his thigh as he tried to process the moment.

Without speaking, Joe stood from the table of his teammates and began gathering his things as he silently gestured for you to do the same. 

“I think we’re gonna get going guys, Y/N isn’t feeling too well so I’m gonna bring her home” Joe said casually, holding out a hand for you to take.

Everyone said their goodbyes and wished you well. The minute you were out of the vicinity from everyone, Joe heaved you over his shoulder and began to hustle towards the car.

“JOE” you yelped followed by a light chuckle, caught off guard by his actions.

He didn’t reply until he got you to the car, dropping you carefully to your feet and pressed your back against the car door.

He leaned close to your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine as he spoke “you have no idea how long I've wanted you. First, I'm gonna get you home and we're gonna get you out of this dress so I can do all of the things I’ve only ever dreamt of doing to you. Then we can talk about where we want to go from here, but I sure as shit don’t want to go back to just being friends. Does that work for you, sweetheart?” 

You didn’t trust your voice in that moment, not knowing if words would come out if you tried and opted for a firm nod.

He backed away from the car, bringing you towards him so he could open the door for you.

“Get in mamas and buckle up, because once we get home, you’re in for a ride” closing the door before you could give him a response.

You were about to be in for a night you didn’t expect, but one that would change everything for the best.

Thank you so much for reading, please send in any requests or comments. I hope you enjoyed!

[ultravioletbrit]

“chill” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 331 words

Regulus breathes a sigh of relief. After two hours working with James on this Potions project they’re down to the last few steps.

“…Once boiling, stir ten times counterclockwise.” James reads and Regulus stirs.

“Remove from heat and cast a cooling charm.” James continues and Regulus does as instructed.

“Allow potion to chill for three hours; stirring four times, clockwise, every twelve minutes—"

“Do what?” Regulus cuts James off.

“Allow potion to chill for—"

“I heard you, Potter.” Regulus snaps. “We have to stir every twelve minutes? That means we’re stuck here for three hours.” He grumbles.

“Not necessarily.” James says.

“Yes, it does. You can’t do anything in twelve minutes. By the time we would leave we’d have to turn around and come right back.” Regulus complains.

“First of all, there are a lot of things we could do in twelve minutes.” James grins.

“You’re finished in less than twelve minutes? I feel so bad for all your partners.” Regulus deadpans.

“That’s not what I meant, but it’s good to know where your head’s at.” James smirks. “What I was going to say was, we don’t both have to stay. I can stay and finish.” James offers.

Regulus stares at him for a moment. James is giving him an out, he should take it and run. But for some reason, something’s stopping him.

Regulus huffs and crosses his arms. “Well, what things were you talking about then? That we can do in twelve minutes?” Regulus tries to sound nonchalant.

James smirks again. “I meant something like exploding snaps or chess.” James pauses. “However, while I’m usually not finished in less than twelve minutes, if you had something else in mind, I’m sure we could get creative.” James lifts a suggestive eyebrow.

Regulus glares at him for a moment then sighs. “I guess we could play chess.” He rolls his eyes.

So, while the potion chills, they play chess, they play exploding snaps, and by the second hour they do in fact… get creative.

[seongwars]

strangers by nature | i

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor & fluff in later chapters Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 6.8K Warnings: angst no comfort, swearing, suggestive content, puppy!!!!

Fic Masterlist

a/n: here's the first part to the revamped mingi drabble series someone tell me to finish my other wips

“Don’t fuck this up for me,” you hissed, slipping on your heels and casting a sharp look in his direction.

Mingi, lounging by the door with his tie half-done, didn’t even look up. He adjusted his cufflinks instead, his movements slow, deliberate, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You think I’m the one who’s going to mess this up?” he replied, his voice laced with mockery. 

“You’re lucky I’m even bothering to show up at all. God knows I could be elsewhere.”

“Did you forget that you sabotaged last year’s event when you showed up completely shitfaced?” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you hissed, hoping no one would notice. Mingi just laughed, a bitter, mocking sound that rang louder than you’d intended to speak as you pulled him aside.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he slurred, his words coming slow and thick, as if savoring each one. “But look at you, all dressed up like it matters.” 

His gaze raked over you, and for the first time, you felt small—like everything you’d done, everything you cared about, was nothing but a performance in his eyes.

Throughout the evening, he continued, unleashing a trail of subtle digs and outright insults, each one cutting deeper than the last. 

“No, I’m not much into charity—though I guess marrying Ms. Choi counts,” he drawled. You felt the sting of the insult, a wave of humiliation creeping up as he smirked at your expression.

And as he went on, his words got uglier, accusations laced with venomous insinuations about your foundation, about the people you’d invited, about you. 

“You know what’s funny? This is all she has. She begged me to be here, begged me to care. Pathetic, right?”

It was the cruelty of it that made you flinch. He looked at you, pleased with himself, with that twisted smile that told you he had come tonight for one reason only: to break you down.

Mingi didn’t hate you. He didn’t even care enough to despise you. Hatred would have required him to feel something at all, but to Mingi, you were nothing more than an obligation, a piece of his life he had to endure when the occasion called for it. 

You had to exist in the same spaces as him, but only on his terms, only when he wanted to remind you how little you meant to him.

Mingi had taken so much from you already—had eroded every bit of independence and dignity you’d fought to hold onto. But the annual Gold Gala, hosted by your foundation, was different. It was one of the few things left that was still unmistakably yours.

The Cromer Foundation wasn’t quite the classroom you’d once dreamed of teaching in, but it was something. It was your way of keeping that dream of becoming a music teacher alive. It was a way to support arts education, a way to pour hope and passion into the future. 

It was the only part of this new life you’d been forced into that felt like it had real purpose, the only place where you could still feel yourself making an impact, even if it meant facing Mingi’s ire every step of the way.

“I had to work my ass off,” you bit out, voice trembling with the strain of holding back everything you wanted to scream. 

“I had to clean up your mess to convince donors to continue supporting the foundation after you nearly destroyed it last time. This is the one thing I have left that actually matters to me.” 

The words were punctuated by the ache in your throat, your heart pounding as if it might burst from the sheer weight of your frustration.

“I’m not begging you to be there. I never asked for that. But I think we both know that neither of us wants to hear our families complaining about your belligerence, especially since I made concessions to let her be there.”

Your voice caught on the word, but you forced it out. He knew exactly who you meant—her, the woman he’d flaunted just enough to humiliate you but never enough for his family to call him out on it. 

Jeong Ahri. His first love, the girl who knew him before he became what he was now. She was also his best friend’s sister, the one woman who, even in her absence, always held a piece of him. Just the sound of her name was enough for him to lay his arms down. 

Mingi didn’t consider himself religious. He’d never felt the pull toward faith, despite his family’s insistence on portraying themselves as god-fearing, pious people. But the day his father announced that he was considering a merger, weighing options to secure their legacy through an alliance, Mingi prayed for the first time he could remember. 

But his father chose otherwise. Mingi hadn’t heard his father’s reasoning in detail—only the clipped statement that “it was decided” and that it would be you instead of Ahri. It wasn’t that she was lacking in education or accomplishments; her qualifications were impeccable. 

But you were different, his father had said. More refined. More…controlled.

Where Ahri was unpredictable, a free spirit with an uncontainable passion that Mingi had always adored, you were composed, you brought a stability that his father believed Ahri could never offer, and to him, that was paramount. It was a choice made for optics and security, the perfect union on paper, a marriage that would uphold the family’s reputation.

Now here he was, bound not to her, but to you—an arrangement forged by titles and alliances, with love considered an afterthought at best. This marriage wasn’t just a partnership but a meticulously crafted piece of his family’s foundation. 

And you—perhaps unwillingly, perhaps reluctantly—were the chosen piece in this carefully woven tapestry of alliances.

“How could I forget? We’re putting on a show, some picture-perfect life that everyone else could admire.” His gaze was sharp, unyielding. 

“Picture-perfect life?” You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet of the room. 

“Please. This is far from that. All I wanted was to make something meaningful out of this sham of a marriage, to salvage whatever was left of my life.”

“Meaningful?” he sneered, his eyes narrowing. 

"You think you're the only one making sacrifices?" he snapped, his voice low but venomous. 

"I lost any chance at a real life the moment I agreed to marry some pathetic charity case." The words dripped with contempt, his gaze locked onto yours as though daring you to react.

“Playing the victim as always,” you replied coldly, your gaze steady as you met Mingi’s glare. His jaw clenched, a flicker of something dark passing over his eyes, but you pressed on,  undeterred. 

"Maybe you should have fought harder against your parents instead of just rolling over every time they threw you a command. Including this marriage.”

That struck a nerve. Mingi’s expression twisted, and for the first time, you saw a crack in his armor. He scoffed, but there was no humor in it—just a bitter edge, sharp and unrestrained.

“You think I didn’t try? They didn’t care who I spent my time with as long as they got what they wanted—a merger, a legacy. So I went along with it. It wasn’t worth the battle when I already had Ahri.”

His words stung, sharper than you’d anticipated, cutting right through you. But as you stared at him, searching for any hint of regret, any flicker of hesitation, there was…nothing. Just the same cold, unfeeling expression that had worn down your patience over time.

“And here we are—both miserable because you took the easy way out,” you sighed. 

“All those sacrifices you keep talking about, all those things you supposedly gave up? They mean nothing if you can’t even own up to them. Including marrying the ‘charity case’ you despise so much.”

You saw his eyes harden, his shoulders tense, but you refused to back down, leaning into the truth you both knew but never spoke.

“You wanted a convenient life, and you got it. But don’t you dare try to make me the villain just because you couldn’t stand up to them—or to yourself.”

You held his gaze, a cold, bitter silence stretching between you. Without another word, you turned, steeling yourself for the night ahead, knowing that the only thing left between you was the hollow image of the life you failed to create.

⋆

Your wedding to Mingi was more of a business transaction than a celebration. The ceremony took place in an office that bore more resemblance to a boardroom than a place for vows. 

The only witnesses were your parents, your cousins Jongho and San, and Mingi’s best friend, Yunho. All were seated with neutral expressions, gazes locked on the officiant as if marking the completion of a financial report.

You barely remembered the words exchanged. There was no music, no flowers—just the murmured vows, the scratch of a pen signing your names, and the cold weight of a ring slipped onto your finger by a man who didn’t even meet your eyes. 

When it was over, the officiant closed the book with a finality that made your stomach drop—a reminder that there was no turning back now. Your parents offered restrained congratulations, their smiles polite but empty. 

Only your cousins seemed to look at you with genuine sympathy, understanding the weight of what you’d just committed to. Mingi’s mother, on the other hand, wore a sharp, proud smile, one devoid of joy but full of satisfaction. To her, this wasn’t a marriage; it was a completed transaction.

Following the ceremony, a small reception was held in the upstairs lounge. Glasses were raised, and toasts were made to "a prosperous future," though they felt painfully empty. 

Mingi barely spoke to you, instead engaging in brief, clipped conversations with his father and yours about the two families’ businesses and the outlook for the next quarter.

You sat in silence, barely tasting the champagne in your glass, as you watched the people around you discuss the "success" of this union. You wanted to scream, to tell them this wasn’t a union, just an arrangement—a legal binding that had stripped you of any choice you once had.

The room felt cold, and as you glanced at the man who was now your husband, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something lonely.

You had spent years nurturing a different dream—one that had nothing to do with boardrooms or mergers. You had wanted to teach music, to live a quiet, meaningful life, far from the shadows of your family’s empire. 

Drawn to the idea of leaving it all behind, you envisioned moving abroad to pass on your love for music to young, eager minds. The plan was simple: save enough, book a one-way ticket, and disappear into the life you wanted. 

But when you told your family about your plans, their reactions left you stunned. They couldn't see a future for you as a teacher—not when you were the heir to the Choi Group, not when your last name carried so much weight. 

You fought them on it, desperate to hold onto the life you wanted. Shouting matches stretched late into the night, but when arguments proved fruitless, desperation drove you to action. 

Just as you reached the final hurdle, minutes away from your flight, the authorities stopped you. Your heart dropped as you realized just how deep your parents' control ran—how their reach extended even across oceans you hadn't yet crossed.

By the time you both left the reception, it was clear there would be no honeymoon, no illusion of a romantic escape. Mingi went to his own car without a word, and you followed in your own to the penthouse, wondering how a marriage could feel like a prison on the very first day.

Crystal chandeliers cast their glow across the gala hall, the soft hum of conversation mingling with the gentle clink of champagne flutes. This event was one of the few things you could call your own—a charitable foundation you’d helped establish to support arts education. It wasn’t quite the classroom you’d once dreamed of, but it was something—a way to keep that dream alive, even in the world you’d been forced into. 

You moved among the guests, offering a polished smile and gracious words about the foundation’s mission, with Mingi at your side, his arm draped around your waist as you made the rounds together.

To the crowd, you looked like the perfect couple—a united front. But you felt the coldness between you, the way Mingi’s hand barely touched your waist, how his gaze slid away from yours the moment anyone’s attention drifted.

The evening was moving along smoothly until you noticed her—the woman standing near the bar, her eyes fixed on Mingi. Dressed in a red gown, she radiated confidence, her gaze unflinching as she watched him. She was the shadow that trailed him, the one he turned to whenever he could no longer bear the weight of pretending with you.

Beside you, Mingi’s posture tensed almost imperceptibly, his hand lingering at the small of your back. He noticed her too, of course; he’d be a fool not to. Yet his grip on you remained firm, as if bound by an invisible script dictating the image you two were expected to maintain. Nothing amiss, nothing unseemly, as though the weight of her presence hadn’t shaken him at all.

To anyone who looked closely, the story between them was clear: her gaze was steady, defiant even, a silent reminder that she held a part of him you would never touch.

This was meant to be your night—the one place to grieve the shattered pieces of your own dreams, had you succeeded in escaping the clutches of this arrangement. 

But as you held yourself in place, the warmth of Mingi’s hand was nothing but a reminder that even when he stood at your side, his heart was somewhere else entirely.

You returned to the penthouse alone, the buzz of the gala still ringing in your ears, though the evening itself felt hollow and cold now that you were by yourself. The laughter and polite applause, the countless exchanges of small talk and polished smiles—none of it seemed to matter. 

Mingi had left your side almost as soon as the event began winding down, disappearing into the night with the excuse of business matters to attend to. You didn’t need to ask; you already knew where he was headed and with whom.

You weren’t bothered by Mingi’s connection to Ahri. Sure, he brought her to the penthouse on your wedding night, but you understood that their story existed long before you ever came into the picture—a chapter of his life that, despite the complexities, didn’t take away from your own sense of self-worth or purpose in this arrangement.

The memory of that night still lingered. You had walked into the penthouse to find Ahri there, her laughter filling the space as she sat comfortably on the sofa, a glass of wine in hand. 

Mingi was by her side, his arm draped casually around her shoulders, his fingers tracing patterns along her thigh. A soft smile played on his lips—a smile you didn’t know he was capable of, one that felt like a taunt.

And when you retired to your room, the primal sounds from the both of them escaped through the confines of Mingi’s bedroom. 

“Shit, just like that, right there, Mingi!”

“Fuuuuck, takin’ me so well.”

You knew they were both trying to hurt you, flaunting how intimate their relationship was in front of you, as if to remind you of your place. Their calculated cruelty seeped into your consciousness like poison, amplifying your insecurities and sowing seeds of self-doubt. 

Every laugh, every touch between them was a dagger to your heart, a reminder of the love and warmth you were denied. The pain was a constant, gnawing ache, leaving you feeling more alone and unworthy with each passing moment.

You had hoped, at the very least, that Mingi might see you as more than an obligation—perhaps even as an ally. Instead, you were nothing more than a prop in his life, a fixture he resented. If only he’d see you for who you really were—not the enemy in this tangled web, but someone who could make this shared fate a little less lonely.

You kicked off your heels, draped your coat over the back of the sofa, and sank down, staring out at the glittering city lights beyond the penthouse windows. Loneliness settled over you as you replayed the night’s events. 

Your gaze drifted to the piano in the corner. For a moment, you could almost see him there—Hongjoong, with his fingers drifting effortlessly over the keys as he coaxed a melody from the instrument. 

He had been the son of your piano teacher, your best friend, and your first love. You remembered the way he’d listened to your dreams, encouraging you to reach higher, even when you could see the exhaustion creeping into his features, the shadow of his terminal illness never far behind. 

“Would you still believe in me now?” you murmured to the empty room, the silence thickening with the question. You knew what Hongjoong would say. 

“Fuck it, sell your shares and leave. Start over. Eat the rich.”

He had shown you what passion looked like, not only for music but for life itself, even as he faced an uncertain future. He had given you strength and taught you resilience. The long afternoons spent together, his hands guiding yours over the piano keys, had been a sanctuary from the expectations and pressures of your family.

The silence in the room seemed to shift, becoming less oppressive, more contemplative. You could almost hear Hongjoong's voice, softer now, more encouraging. 

"You've got this," he would say. "Just take the first step."

You closed your eyes. Tomorrow would come with its demands and pretenses, but for now, you surrendered to the silence, letting it carry you into a sleep that softened the loneliness—if only for a little while.

Ahri’s laughter filled the confined space of the car, soft and unrestrained as she collapsed against Mingi’s chest, her fingers drawing idle patterns along his jawline. There was a glint of mischief in her eyes, a playful daring that stirred something in him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Your wife looked like she wanted to kill me,” Ahri giggled. She knew exactly what she was to him—a temptation, a release, a break from the predictability of his life.

Mingi only smirked, his large hands cupping the curve of her ass with ease as he let out a low chuckle, brushing his thumb along her skin as if there wasn’t a care in the world.

“I would’ve stopped her,” he murmured, the words casual, devoid of any true weight.

Ahri tilted her head, her eyes searching his face, a smile curling at her lips. She could read the lack of hesitation in his expression, the cold confidence of a man who knew he was untouchable, who knew he had nothing to lose by being here with her. 

“You’d really do that for me?” she asked, her voice soft and playful, but she knew the answer. 

They both did. She didn’t need him to reassure her, didn’t need promises or apologies—she was here because she understood exactly who he was, what he wanted, and how little he cared about the impact it had on anyone else.

“Of course,” he said simply, brushing his lips against her neck with an easy familiarity. His smirk grew as he pulled her closer, rutting up against her with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

The idea of hurting you wasn’t something he dwelled on; it was merely collateral, an afterthought in a life where his own desires came first. 

To him, this wasn’t betrayal—it was freedom. Being with Ahri wasn’t about guilt or regret. It was about the thrill of defiance, the joy of stepping beyond the lines and indulging in the part of himself he’d never fully let go. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Mingi suggested, his voice low, laced with an eagerness that hinted at the thrill of escaping somewhere no one could find them.

The steady hum of the engine filled the silence between them as Mingi guided the car along the winding roads leading out of the city. The quiet hum of the engine settled between them, and Mingi’s grip on the wheel tightened as he let the night swallow them whole.

His gaze flickered to Ahri, watching the way she leaned back, eyes half-closed, utterly carefree. She was always like this with him—at ease, undemanding, dangerous in all the ways that made him forget everything else. With her, he could let go of every responsibility, every burden weighing him down. 

The soft, velvety vocals of jazz singer Kim Taehyung drifted through the radio, wrapping around the pair in a warm embrace. For a fleeting second, Mingi allowed himself to sink into the fantasy. Here, with her beside him, the world outside felt like a distant dream, nothing more than whispers beyond the car windows.

But dreams eventually come to an end. 

Out of nowhere, a pair of blinding headlights burst through the night, a harsh, unforgiving brightness that tore through the calm. Mingi’s eyes widened, but the oncoming vehicle was so close, so sudden, that there was barely a second to react. His hands jerked on the wheel, trying to swerve, but the road was narrow, and there was nowhere to go.

In an instant, everything blurred into chaos. The impact hit them head-on, a deafening crunch of metal against metal, a violent jolt that rattled through the car as it skidded off the road. Mingi’s head slammed back against the seat, his vision blurring as the car spun, skidding to a brutal stop against the guardrail. The world seemed to fall silent in the aftermath, a surreal quiet settling over them.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard the faint wail of sirens approaching, growing louder with every passing second. As the darkness closed in, Mingi felt the weight of it all—the choices he’d made, the life he’d led, and the person waiting for him at home—weighing down on him, filling him with a regret he could no longer ignore.

⋆

It was after midnight when the phone rang, the sudden sound breaking the uneasy stillness of the penthouse. In your sleepy stupor, you hesitated for a moment before reaching for it, your heart pounding in your chest. A vague sense of dread built as you picked up the receiver upon seeing your mother-in-law’s contact photo.

“Y/N! Oh, thank goodness! Mingi—he’s in the hospital! He was in a terrible accident and is in critical condition. Your father-in-law and I are on our way now!”

Mingi. Critical condition. Hospital. The world seemed to tilt on its side, and you felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving you struggling to breathe.

“Wh-what happened?” you stammered, barely able to get the words out as you clutched the phone, your knuckles white. “How… how bad is it?”

“It’s bad. They… they’re not sure if he’ll make it through the night.”

In that instant, any resentment or past grievances faded into the background. You couldn’t deny the strange ache settling in your chest as you thought of Mingi lying in that hospital bed, perhaps alone, facing something he could not fight or push away.

You didn’t remember much of the drive to the hospital. The city lights blurred past you as you sped through the streets, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out every other thought. All you could focus on was getting to him.

When you finally reached the emergency wing, the harsh, fluorescent lights made you feel even more out of place. You spotted his family first—his mother and father huddled together on the worn hospital chairs. 

Mrs. Song was barely holding it together, face streaked with tears as she leaned against her husband, clutching his hand so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Her shoulders shook with quiet sobs that she tried to stifle, but each gasp tore through the silence, raw and full of anguish.

It was odd, seeing her show so much emotion for her son when, for so many years, her presence in his life had been so distant. There was no trace of the stoic woman who had always seemed to keep the world at arm's length. Here in the unforgiving lights of the hospital, she looked like any mother, grieving, terrified of losing her son.

Your own parents were there too, solemn and tense as they stood a little to the side, offering whatever silent support they could. 

When your mother noticed you, her gaze softened, and she reached out, wrapping you in a brief, tight hug. Yet even in her embrace, there was a certain restraint, like she wasn’t sure how to give more, wasn’t sure how to bridge the space between you in a way that felt natural. 

But then you turned, and that’s when you saw him.

Through the window of the ICU room, Mingi lay on the hospital bed, looking nothing like the man you knew. He was pale, his face bruised and battered, his body still and weak beneath the sheets. Tubes and wires connected him to a series of machines, each beeping and whirring to keep him alive, monitoring his vitals after hours of surgery to stop the relentless bleeding.

It was a jarring sight, seeing someone usually so full of life, even if that life had often been directed at you in anger. Now he seemed so small, vulnerable, a shadow of the man who had once looked at you with such disdain. 

Despite all the bitterness, you couldn’t deny the weight settling heavily in your chest as you found yourself wishing he would open his eyes, even if it meant another one of his sharp, dismissive looks.

“H-Hey.” 

You whipped around to find Yunho. His shoulders were slouched, exhaustion evident in the dark circles under his eyes, and worry etched into his expression. He offered you a small, tired smile, a weak attempt at reassurance that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hi,” you murmured, tearing your eyes away from Mingi. 

The silence between you and Yunho was thick with unspoken concerns, a tension that felt almost palpable.

“I know things between you two have never been easy,” Yunho murmured, his voice low and hesitant. He avoided your gaze, eyes lingering on Mingi through the glass. His tone was careful, a mix of sympathy and regret. 

“I’m sorry that he’s been awful to you. My sister, too.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. For so long, the hostility from both Mingi and Ahri had been an almost constant presence in your life, a simmering resentment that had shaped almost every single facet of your relationship with your husband.

But hearing Yunho acknowledge it so openly was…strange. Disarming, even. You weren’t used to someone seeing it, let alone speaking about it without any pretense or defensiveness. In his soft, understanding tone, you could sense not just sympathy, but regret.

“How’s Ahri?” you finally asked. 

“She’s pretty banged up,” he replied, rubbing a hand over his face, exhaustion evident. 

“But doctors say she’s expected to leave here in a few days. Nothing too serious, thankfully.” He hesitated, his eyes drifting back to Mingi. 

“But Mingi is still pretty touch-and-go.”

You could hear it in Yunho’s voice—the worry, the fear that his best friend might not make it. It was a stark reminder of just how fragile life was, how quickly things could change in the span of a heartbeat.

“He’s got so much fight in him,” you acknowledged softly, as if you were trying to convince yourself.

“If anyone can pull through this, it’s him. He just… he has to.”

Mingi’s presence, for all the ways it had complicated your life, was something you weren’t ready to lose. The ache in your chest betrayed the truth: you wanted him to fight, to come back, to have the chance to be more than the sum of his anger and bitterness.

“Hey! Can you hear me?” A voice cut through the silence, clear and sharp. 

Mingi’s eyes fluttered open to an otherworldly darkness, pierced only by the eerie glow of dim, floating lanterns. He felt weightless, almost translucent, his last memory fragmented—the screech of tires, the blinding headlights, the sound of metal twisting. He tried to move, but his limbs felt disconnected from him, as if he were less a person and more a shadow drifting in an endless void.

“Where… where am I?” he whispered, his voice echoing through the vast emptiness.

A figure emerged from the darkness, wearing a calm, almost unsettling smile. Dressed in flowing black robes, the man stood before him, his gaze sharp and cat-like.

“My courtroom,” the man replied, his voice smooth but cold. “People know me as The Judge, but you can call me Wooyoung.” 

His eyes gleamed as he looked down at Mingi, as if he could see every mistake, every regret, every flaw carved into his very soul.

“I’m…I’m dead?”

Wooyoung tilted his head, his gaze unwavering, assessing Mingi as if he were little more than a curious object. 

“Not necessarily,” he replied, a slight, detached smile curving his lips. 

“At least, not until you plead your case.”

A chill ran through Mingi, spreading from the base of his spine up to his shoulders. He was no longer in the realm of the living, yet neither was he truly dead. This wasn’t a dream, nor was it a fleeting punishment. 

This was judgment.

“It seems you have unfinished business,” Wooyoung continued, his tone as calm as if they were discussing the weather. 

“Regrets. Mistakes. Wrongdoings that tether you to the life you left behind. And now, you will face them.”

“W-What…” Mingi stammered, struggling to find words, every attempt at forming a coherent thought falling apart under the man’s unrelenting stare. 

“What… unfinished business?”

Wooyoung’s expression twisted, a mix of disbelief and disdain crossing his face as he raised a brow. 

“Really?” he said, his tone heavy with incredulity. He let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking his head as if Mingi’s question had been the most ridiculous thing he’d heard in centuries. 

Wooyoung’s eyes gleamed as he summoned a scroll into his hand, the parchment unfurling with a dramatic flourish and rolling all the way down to the ground. An endless list of Mingi’s transgressions and misdeeds spilled forth, each offense scrawled in elaborate detail, stretching on as if it would never end.

“Selfish. Petulant. You’re the kind of person who only considers what you want, regardless of who gets hurt.” His voice grew sharper, each word landing like a blow. 

“You cheated on your wife without a second thought, treating her like she was nothing more than an inconvenience in your life. And let’s not forget—” he tilted his head, a dark gleam in his eyes, “bullying other kids in middle school.”

Mingi felt the words hit him like a punch to the gut, dredging up memories he had buried long ago, things he’d justified or ignored. He shifted uncomfortably, every accusation pulling him deeper into his own shame.

“That… that was so long ago,” he whispered, barely audible. “I was a kid. I didn’t know any better.”

“Ah, so ignorance is your excuse?” Wooyoung’s tone was icy, unimpressed. 

Mingi swallowed, his mind flashing through a thousand faces, fragments of past encounters that blurred together but still left an unsettling weight in his chest. All the people he’d dismissed, manipulated, pushed aside. The friends he’d neglected, the promises he’d broken, and, above all, the way he had carelessly stomped on the one person who had also been innocent in this situation–you. 

“So how do I fix it? I—I don’t want to die. Please,” he choked, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked up at the man with pleading eyes. 

Wooyoung’s gaze didn’t soften, but there was a pause—a brief, quiet stillness that felt like a moment of reckoning. He tilted his head, studying Mingi as if weighing the depths of his fear, his regret, his desperation.

"Is that it, then? Now that you’re here, now that death is staring you in the face, now you want redemption? Not when you had the power to make different choices, not when the people who cared about you needed you to be better?”

Mingi swallowed hard, feeling the weight of each accusation sink into him. He could barely meet the man’s gaze, shame twisting in his stomach. 

“I made mistakes. I didn’t think…I thought I’d always have time to change, to make things right. But I can’t…I can’t end like this.” His voice broke, and he felt the desperation bubbling up, raw and unfiltered. 

“I’m begging you. Give me a chance. I’ll do anything.”

Wooyoung watched him in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he took a step closer, his dark robes fluttering against the ground.

“Anything?”

“Anything,” Mingi whispered. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

Wooyoung’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. “If you want to escape this fate, then you’ll have to complete three tasks within three months.”

Mingi’s heart pounded in his chest, but he nodded, his eyes shining with desperate determination. 

“I’ll do it. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“Good.” 

With a single snap, Mingi felt his body contort, an overwhelming, suffocating pressure enveloping him. His form began to shrink and his vision blurred. A high-pitched yelp escaped his throat as he realized he was no longer human. 

He was small, helpless, wrapped in fur with tiny paws trembling beneath him. He had been transformed into a puppy, looking up at the man from the ground, his new form shivering in fear and confusion.

“You’re much cuter when you’re not hurling insults at people and lying through your teeth,” Wooyoung cooed, reaching out to poke Mingi’s snout. 

Indignation boiled in Mingi’s tiny chest, but he was powerless to do anything but stand there, his fur puffed out as he tried to look fierce while Wooyoung continued to pet him.

“First,” Wooyoung began, “you’re going to learn what it means to be vulnerable. Focus on letting go of control completely, and start with small acts. ” 

“For your second task,” he continued, “you’re going to help someone who’s hurt or lost. You have to figure out how to comfort them. You’ll need to offer genuine support, not just do what’s easiest for you.”

Mingi whimpered, his tiny body shivering, but Wooyoung didn’t give him a chance to protest.

“And finally,” Wooyoung said, a smirk tugging at his lips, “you’ll help someone find happiness. You’re going to show them kindness and bring them joy, with no expectation of getting anything in return. For someone as self-centered as you, that’ll be your most difficult challenge of all.”

With that, Wooyoung straightened, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Simple enough for you, little guy?” he chuckled, scratching behind Mingi’s soft, floppy ear. 

“Complete these tasks, and you can have your life back. It’s not so hard, right?”

Mingi looked up, wide-eyed and uncertain in his new, pint-sized form. The world felt so large and overwhelming now, every shadow looming like a mountain, every distant sound magnified. His tiny paws shuffled nervously, a soft whimper escaping him.

“But, hey, if you can’t handle it and end up staying here, at least you’ll be the cutest little thing in the afterlife. You’re so small, I could just carry you around in my pocket!”

Mingi huffed, his tail puffing up in what he hoped was indignation. The thought was absurd! He couldn't decide whether to feel insulted or embarrassed, but Wooyoung’s warm smile and the affectionate scritch behind his ear made it hard to stay mad.

⋆

You sighed and sat down on a bench, the quiet stillness of the early morning hours settling around you. Mingi’s mother hadn’t let you leave, insisting that you stay for any updates on his condition. It was easier to wait outside, where the air felt fresher and the weight of worry wasn’t as suffocating.

Two years. Had it really been two years? You leaned back against the bench, staring up at the faint dawn light peeking through the trees. You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. Mingi’s bitterness had been a slow, creeping poison. He blamed you for the engagement, even though it was hardly your choice, and his resentment seeped into every corner of your life.

Every conversation was strained, every look filled with contempt, and yet here you were, waiting outside a hospital, a dutiful spouse in name alone. 

The weight of your commitment felt heavier now that he was teetering on the edge of life and death. The responsibilities and promises you had made to each other took on a new, almost suffocating significance. It wasn't just about keeping up appearances anymore—it was about being there, truly being there, when it mattered most.

You sighed, the sound mingling with the faint rustling from the bushes nearby, pulling you momentarily from your reverie.

From the corner of your eye, a small white puppy emerged, its fur dirty and matted with leaves. The tiny creature padded forward, nose twitching as it sniffed the air and hesitated as it spotted you. Something about its curiosity struck a chord in you, melting the heaviness in your chest just a little.

“Puppy!” you gasped, crouching down and holding out your hand. 

Mingi’s ears perked up at your voice, and he took a tentative step forward. 

You appeared more exhausted than usual, the shadows under your eyes more pronounced, and a weariness etched into your features that he hadn't noticed previously. There was a fragility about you that tugged at something deep within him, a vulnerability you rarely allowed to show.

But the way you whispered, with that soft, delighted tone and the way your face lit up when you saw him—it was unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

Without thinking, his little tail started wagging, betraying him completely. He could feel his new puppy body responding instinctively, unable to stop the joyful swishing, even though part of him knew how ridiculous he must look.

“Why are you by yourself?” you asked, wiggling your fingers in front of him. 

Mingi watched, trying to resist the urge to play, but then—damn it—he couldn’t help himself. Before he knew it, he’d pounced forward, his tiny paws reaching for your hand, teeth closing softly around your fingers in a playful nibble.

No, stop it, Mingi! He cursed, attempting to restrain himself from giving into his instincts. But he couldn’t. The look on your face, the warmth in your eyes, was worth the humiliation of his tiny, floppy form and the impulse to play like he actually enjoyed it.

He flopped onto his back, revealing his soft, fluffy belly, earning an immediate squeal of joy. The sight of his tiny paws tucked adorably close to his chest and his big puppy eyes was simply too much.

The sheer cuteness of the puppy version of him was undeniable, and you couldn’t help but scratch his belly. His hind leg kicked instinctively, a sign of his enjoyment.

Mingi let out a soft, high-pitched whimper, as you scooped him into your arms. This is…nice? And when your hand ran gently down his back, he melted further, his tiny body going limp as he nuzzled into your chest. His heart thrummed with a fluttering feeling he didn’t recognize. 

Why does this actually feel good? 

You didn’t have that look of quiet disappointment that had seemed to settle on your face since the day you both said, “I do.”

You just looked…happy.

For the first time, Mingi realized how little he’d truly known you. It hurt to realize that a tiny puppy—his current form—could make you feel more affection than he ever had when he was human. He hadn’t given you any reason to smile at him like this; he hadn’t even tried.

“I guess the universe is exchanging my husband for you, huh?” you mumbled, stroking his tiny head with your thumb.

Mingi bristled internally. How rude! He was irreplaceable. You couldn’t simply replace him with a puppy!

You stood up, carefully bundling him against your chest to shield him from the chill of dawn. 

He wondered if he would ever feel this again once he returned to his original self, or if he would only carry the ache of what he could have had—if he’d been a different person, if he’d ever let you in.

ii >>

a/n: I have a taglist signup to keep things organized! feel free to fill it out for any fics that I'm currently working on! also this first chapter will be the longest and future chapters will be shorter

[weltraum-vaquero]

Swan song

Professor Viktor x TA Reader

[PART 1]｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆[PART 2] ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[PART 3] (coming soon)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆[AO3 link] ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

Summary: You’re a bright phD student who won’t shy away from a challenge. Getting the most notorious professor at the University of Piltover to hire you as his assistant is one of them.

Tags: Modern AU, SFW (for now…), DILF professor Viktor, romanticizing and eroticizing borsht, lab shenanigans, reader being filled with equal parts shame and lust

Word count: 7.8k

Notice: This fic is written with a transmasculine reader in mind, but that won’t come into play at all until the final third chapter of this mini-series.

Notes: A little something something while we await season two ;] The draft for this post deleted itself twice now. If the formatting looks wonky (especially in the texting section), NO, it doesn't. Shut up.

He didn’t lie. 

Which is all the more shocking, considering you attend his 8AM lecture on the very same day, and he seems more bright and alight than you’ve ever seen him.

When did he find the time?

Though there isn’t a daunting amount to your thesis just yet, you still want to believe you’ve written something quite substantial over the past months. 

You toss one glance around yourself before you follow him into his office after his lecture, and you find the stack of papers you’d left on his desk last night looking positively devoured, in the most… academic way possible. Scribbles and notes litter the margins, the edges of the papers are already somehow lightly worn. 

He must have read it multiple times.

“Coffee?” He offers.

“Yes, please.”

As he gropes the machine in search of its switch again, he cocks his brow at you. “And what was that for?”

You frown. “What was what for?”

“That… glance, before you followed me into my office.” The switch clicks, the light comes on. “Looking around like you were being followed.”

“Oh,” caught in the embarrassing act, you shrug. “I don’t know. Being cautious, I guess. Students have been looking at me a little funny, lately.”

“Much too late for caution, I’m afraid.” 

Uh oh. 

As he retrieves two paper cups, you’re left wondering what exactly that should mean.

“Why’s that?”

“I thought you were well aware of the fact that rumors would start, um… circulating the moment I made it public that I had hired an assistant.” Coffee trickles into the cups, a soothing little melody. Viktor leans against the wall beside the machine as he watches the cups fill.  “I’ve always been adamant about not needing one. It is natural for people to have questions — and to come up with, eh, answers — when I suddenly do.”

The notion of the answers students might have come up with swirls around in your brain. 

You wish they were right.

You’re glad they’re not.

You look at Viktor.

“Do you mind it?”

The coffee stops pouring. Viktor does that thing again, spreading long fingers apart to grasp both cups. And he’s quiet — for a beat longer than he should be.

“No. There are more important things to worry about than… gossip.” He sets the cups on the table, then takes his seat. He hesitates for a brief second, craning his neck before he fixates on you, motionless. Waiting. “Do you?”

“Trying not to.”

The answer makes him… deflate, somehow. It’s barely visible, for just a fraction of a second his chest sinks, before his tone is back to his composed cadence.

“You will get used to it,” he assures. “Now, onto more interesting matters — your work.”

Thank god. You don’t know how much more of the awkward tiptoeing you could have handled.

“Yes.” Your heart leaps into your throat. Acting normal has never been so difficult. “What did you think?”

“Very impressive.” He slides the stack of papers towards you. “I have made some… suggestions here and there, should you wish to take them into consideration. But, I think you struck gold with your hypothesis. Should you need a conversation partner, guidance, anything at all — I would gladly be at your service.”

“Thank you, Viktor. I really appreciate this.”

At the sound of his own name coming from you, something in him shifts. Shifts with an unfamiliar near bashfulness, he stifles a little smile into the rim of his paper cup, the corners of his eyes crinkle, he settles into his seat a little further.

“But you never held up your end of the bargain,” you point out. That snaps him out of it.

“Ah, yes. I did not.” He continues to hide behind his cup, before he finally seems to decide to take a metaphorical leap, as he sets it down and stares down at it. “I fear the unfortunate truth may be that when it comes to research, I either work better with a partner, or that… Cecil is right and I need to slow down. Though I’d guess the former is more likely.”

“You used to work with, uh…” you’re not sure how to approach the topic, “Talis, didn’t you?”

“The five basic principles of applied arcanism are commonly referred to as Talis’ princies, you do not have to feign uncertainty to appease me.”

So you drop the attempt to tiptoe around the subject, and ask, plainly:

“Why wasn’t your name added on?”

Viktor scoffs. “Talis-Sidorov-Sviboda has a terrible ring to it. Or so he’d said. And admittedly… I was more of a conduit than the co-author of his idea. He said we would name the next big thing we would discover after me, but… well, you know how it is. I dedicated myself to teaching, he retired to lead a quiet life in his gaudy mansion with his sports cars and his purebred German shepherds after he married some businesswoman.”

Though his story does line up, those aren’t necessarily the rumors you’d heard. There’d been talk of more than just a mild dispute of names, and… well, there had been… something between Talis and Viktor. But that’s about all you know.

Under your gaze, Viktor grows suddenly uncomfortable — both with the subject and the fact that he might be able to tell you know more. He’s quick to redirect the conversation.

“As for my research: I have been studying the laminal hexoin cascade in stabilized hexgems in various matrices. And though bold, I have been attempting to figure out the ideal matrix — something that will allow for close to a hundred percent energy renewal and render all other sources of energy obsolete.”

”That is bold,” you say. Your other thought, you keep to yourself: it also sounds impossible. You suppose stabilizing hexgems 20 years ago was also something thought impossible — and yet, Viktor hadn’t shied away. If anyone is apt for the job, it is him. “Any luck so far?”

“Partially. They have been yielding favorable results, but not enough to be viable energetic alternatives as of now.” He takes his cup again, bringing it to his lips in a rushed movement, drinking a mouthful, rather than a sip. Once Viktor sets it down, his hand remains on the table, fingers tapping on the shiny surface once, twice— “I could use a theorist to assist me with a few things.”

The implication dizzies you. Is he…?

But then he slides another one of his drawers open, and retrieves a stack of papers. Slanted handwriting, barely legible — you’re by now intimately familiar with it: his cursive. It litters the pages, in different inks and in pencil, diagrams, sketches… just looking at it makes you hungry to read it.

He smiles as if he’s read your mind, again.

“I was thinking it could be you.”

—

You’re invited to his office for lunch break the very next day too. And though he assures you there is no pressure in having to read through his notes by then, you disregard it.

It takes you a reread to be able to make sense of all his scribbles, but… it’s brilliant. He’s brilliant. 

It should stop surprising you by now — his ideas, his drive, his curiosity, his mind — but with every single time Vikror impresses you anew, he becomes something more distant.

As you’re marveling at his intricate weaving of concepts, it strikes you, unpleasantly, that this is the same man you’d wanted to devour just days ago. The man who’s made you coffee, the man whose sharp eyes fold at the corners when he smiles. 

You’d have deified him, had he been your teacher. You still do, especially now, after you’ve seen more of what his mind is made of. The mere notion of him becomes terribly out of reach, and you’re plagued with guilt for that night. Guilt for having tainted such a man with your thoughts. 

And yet, you still can’t help but think of his neck, the soft pink of his chapped lips, the hollow of his cheeks. You wonder what his mouth tastes like, and you want to slap yourself on the wrist for it. You should have, because minutes later, you wonder about worse things too. The scent of his skin, the coarseness of his body hair, how far up under his navel it might reach.

And when you finish reading his notes a second time and bring the paper to your nose to sniff it — hoping for a trace of him — you realize you have a problem. A serious one.

It torments you for the rest of the night, through the hours you spend writing up some suggestions and ideas, all the way to when you switch off the light, and hug whatever pillow’s within reach close.

When you get the urge to tilt your hips against it, you decide to get up and splash your face with water.

And you wish you could do the same thing the very next day on your lunch break, when you’re standing in the doorway of his office and he’s eating borscht. The sweet-tangy smell of vegetables, beef and beets makes your stomach growl, but your physical hunger is long lost on your otherwise preoccupied brain.

The beet red of the soup has pigmented his lips. They look kissed raw, puffy, ripe. A lavish speck of colour on his otherwise pale face, it draws your gaze and does not let it stay somewhere more respectful.

You want to taste them.

He does it for you, raspberry pink tip of his tongue darting over the plush of his lips before he swallows and finally greets you.

“Sorry,” you say, and it comes out tense, near horrified. You’ve caught him eating soup, for chrissakes, not being bent over his table. Oh, god. Why did you have to think about that? ”I’ll come back later.”

“No,” Viktor gestures to the empty seat across from him. He screws his thermos shut, and puts it away. “Please, I’ve been waiting for you. Sit.”

And you do, like the dog you feel like you are right now.

“Did you manage to find the time to read my notes?”

Oh, did you.

“I… followed your example and made some suggestions of my own. But on separate pages. Here.”

His reaction is more than what you’d hoped for. It’s more than the impressed raise of thick brows that had kept you fueled last night, it’s more than the smile you’d been hoping for. 

“You are unbelievable,” he grins, and takes what you offer, pushing his glasses up his nose before he starts reading. You selfishly use the distraction to stare at his lips again. He mutters to himself as he reads, pink mouth molding around whispered jargon, nodding. “Yes, this… this is exactly what I’d hoped for, when I’d asked for your assistance. Your fresh set of eyes is invaluable. I hadn’t thought of approaching the modification from that angle.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the page for even just a moment, flipping it surprisingly fast, and taking it with him as he leans back in his seat. 

And decides to torture you.

Viktor traces the pad of his own thumb over the curve of his bottom lip as he takes in your handwriting. The give of the flesh under his fingertip hypnotizes, the slight drag of rough skin on soft pink one, your mind is long gone.

You think of rough fingertips on his lips, on his chest, rough fingertips on the pasty white of his gaunt lower stomach, rough fingertips in coarse hair. Rough fingertips dipping between his milky thighs, rough fingertips on where he runs just as pink as he does on his lips, rough fingertips dipping, slipping on slick skin—

You need to stop.

And you most certainly need help.

“Is something the matter?”

It feels like you’ve swallowed your own brain whole when he speaks, because your skull rings hollow when you try to come up with a reply that isn’t incoherent babble.

“Wh— me? No. Why?”

And because embarrassment loves to stick around once it has made its presence known, the stars align for the next social disaster: your stomach growls. Loudly.

“Did you not have lunch?” Viktor asks.

“I… didn’t get around to it,” you admit.

“I won’t take up too much of your time, then,” he assures. If he knew just how much of your time he’s started taking up — and the fact that you wish you could give him what is left of it to him, too.  “I would like you to work alongside me on my research. But if you don’t feel like you can squeeze another project into your presumably busy schedule, I understand. I would be glad to have you merely as… a colleague to consult with, as well.”

Is that even a question? He’s offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. You would be an idiot not take it. 

And an even bigger idiot to turn down more time spent with him.

“You don’t even have to ask,” you joke. “Yes. I would be thrilled, Viktor.”

This is his first smile you witness when his pretty boyishness doesn’t shine through. It’s a gentle quirk of his lips, no teeth to be seen, just tenderness. It makes your heart leap to be the cause of it.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Thank you.”

Silence.

Just as you’re about to breach it — he does it first.

“Would you be free for lunch tomorrow as well?”

He watches you from below long, dark lashes as you give a breathless yes.

—

“I brought you something.”

It’s the last thing you expect as you step into his office at noon, upon exchanging hellos.

You’re alight. With curiosity, above all else. And with worry — why would he bring you something? What will you do to reciprocate? 

“Thank you,” you say, though you have no idea what for just yet. “What is it?”

“I saw you eyeing my borscht yesterday.” There’s a glint in his eye that suggests more, so much so you can’t decide between flirting or digging a hole for yourself in the hardwood floor of his office. 

The middle ground is standing in his office awkwardly as he unzips his backpack.

He retrieves two thermos bottles: the one you’re already familiar with, and another that looks older, more worn, and sorely lacks the sticker you’ve so come to love and fixate on and dream about. “I, eh, I made you some. In case you wouldn’t get the chance to eat before you came here.”

Your chest swells so much it hurts. 

He made you soup?

“You… Viktor, this is… thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to. Have a seat.”

You practically jump into the seat across the table from his — a seat you’ve come to associate as yours, in spite of being well aware of the oppisite.

As he screws the bottle open and pours some steaming soup out into a paper bowl — god, he’d brought paper bowls — his eyes flick to you.

“But if you don’t care for borscht, you don’t have to—“

“I do care.”

And that rings true not just for the borscht.

It rings true for the soup he brings you the next day too, it rings true for every word that passes his lips. And it rings true for the time you start to spend in the insane coffee shop queue to surprise him with his preferred order and a slice of cake (a different one each day, until you figure out his favorite: cinnamon coffee), it rings true for the dark blue roughed up thermos he lets you take home the day you don’t finish the soup he brings you because you’re just so busy talking.

It’s November before you know it.

As the days grow colder, it’s not rare to be finding warmth by lavishing in Viktor’s attention as you ramble on about ideas — either for his research, or your thesis. All while he intently follows your thoughts with a smile, stopping just to shave another mouth-half-full’s worth off his cake of the day with his plastic spoon.

And once he savors the last bite, Viktor almost always flips it hollow side down, sliding it down the swell of his tongue within his mouth, removing it from between puckered lips. His cheeks hollow, he holds eye contact all the same, and it’s a mental image that haunts you. A mental image you project in your mind, nestled between the apex of your thighs. The thick of his tongue. The cushiony seal of his lips, the suction of his cheeks. 

It never becomes any less distracting than the first time it happens. 

You startle when Viktor speaks as he sets down the plastic spoon into the now empty packaging. 

“I would like you to accompany me to the lab sometime soon. When would you be free?”

You’ve been before — but just a handful of times. Mainly for him to demonstrate or disprove certain guesses, or test conclusions you’d reached together. 

“I’m free right now,” you suggest.

Viktor shakes his head. “I have a lecture in an hour.”

Right. 

“I mean… I think we could make it in an hour.”

“I prefer to take my time.” Viktor leans back in his seat, stares thoughtfully at the clock on his wall for a moment. “Would seven PM work for you?”

“Uh…” you mentally go through your schedule for the day, “yes. It should. I might be a little late, though. How about… seven fifteen-ish?”

“Good.” The flow of the word is syrupy, yet his next sentence comes out surprisingly peppy with excitement: “See you then.”

—

Though you’re well into the final week of November, it never stops bothering you just how quickly the sun sets. By the time you get to the lab, the air’s gone cold, dry, and the darkness is heavy and thick.

Viktor waits for you just outside the university lab, under the halo of the street light — perhaps just a hint overdressed for the cold, in your opinion. It’s certainly trench coat season, though his is surprisingly long, reaching somewhere along the middle of his shins. The hand he hasn’t tucked in his pocket holds his cane and is clad in a leather glove. Around his lengthy neck, a red knitted scarf lays in chunky, impenetrable layers, reaching almost all the way to the swell of his top lip and his ears. You can hardly see his smile from underneath when he spots you — but his eyes give him away. 

“Right on time,” Viktor’s tone has just as much pep to it as a few hours ago, perhaps even moreso. He rolls his shoulders, before he subtly nuzzles further down into his scarf, shying away from the biting cold. “Let’s get inside.”

He leads the way into the building, its warmth embracing you the moment you step in. The tip of your nose and your fingertips feel like they’re beginning to thaw, tingling just a hint. As you go to take off your coat, you notice Viktor isn’t in a rush. He rests his cane against the wall before he unwraps the thick, wide scarf from around his neck, folding it. He sets it on a nearby table, shucking off his trench coat, slender shoulders under a wool sweater. You watch closely as he then takes his scarf and stuffs it into the sleeve of his coat before he hangs it up. 

There’s something stiff, painful, about how he moves. You wonder if it’s the cold.

“What?” He watches you with appeased amusement.

Caught red-handed, you jump, still halfway clad in your coat.

“Nothing,” you reply, scraping for a way to deflect from your obvious staring. “Not a big fan of the cold?”

“Never.” He says it like it’s a very serious matter. “I still don’t know how I made it through my first eighteen winters in St. Petersburg.”

“You grew up in Russia?”

He laughs through his nose like you’ve told him a half good joke. “What gave it away? The accent? The surname?”

“No, I just thought… Svoboda is a Czech surname.”

With how his smile turns knowing, self-satisfied, you’re suddenly back in his office again, uncertain and nervous and asking for a job as his assistant. He could taunt you with the knowledge that you’ve looked up his last name, embarrass you a little, play with you.

But he isn’t that man anymore — not to you. This time, he feeds your curiosity, albeit just with crumbs.

“My mother’s,” he clarifies. “Sidorov is Russian — my father’s.”

Oh.

“It’s nice that they used both their names. I’m assuming that wasn’t… common, back then, and back there.”

“It wasn’t, and they did not.” Viktor waits for you to hang up your coat, watchful gaze making your every movement feel loaded with static that’s about to snap. “I added hers when I changed my name.”

Changed his name?

The image of the sticker on his thermos turns up fresh in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder…

“Well? I was hoping we could discuss more in the lab, but if you prefer the coat hanger…”

Goddamn it. Focus. You need to focus.

“Sorry.”

You catch up, then slowly follow Viktor down the hallway, into the small lab he has been assigned. It’s one of the less grand ones, but it has all it needs — from a pretty new hexion accelerator to a humble whiteboard. It smells sanitized, sterile, ozonic.

You assume your usual seat by the whiteboard while he sets up. It still doesn’t feel… right to let him do all of that by himself, but he insists upon it, so, you stay out of his way. Viktor tidies up the space just a little, finding his goggles among the mess. He slips them onto his head, elastic pulling back his soft hair into a fluffy grey and brown mess. His cane thumps against the linoleum with every hurried step — though he doesn’t seem to be hurrying on account of you being there as much as excitement to show you.

Once he’s done, he sits in front of the accelerator, slipping his goggles on, and nods for you to come. Which you do — you’d be at his beck and call beyond just the academic context. For a moment, you pluck the inviting tilt of his head and the quirk of his lips out of their context, and you plant it atop your own bed, him in just a loose shirt, underwear, lax with freshly received pleasure. More comfortable than he’s ever been, all because of you. Beckoning for you. Come here. Smiling at you when your knee dips into the mattress, tucking his index under your chin as you crawl to him, reeling you in for a kiss.

“Come closer.”

God help you.

You comply with a wildly beating heart, stepping forward until you’re close behind his sitting form, watching the accelerator over his shoulder. 

He smells nice. Like an indistinct, aromatic cologne, covering up the natural, gentle musk of his skin. You have to resist the urge to dip your head down and trace the tip of your nose along his spine, from where the bones of his neck show to where the scruff at the back of his head goes thicker, fuller. You wonder if he’d shiver as you let the scent of him imbue you… you wonder if he’d lean into it, if he’d tilt his head for you, let you dip your face into the slope of his shoulder, where his scent’s more potent.

The mere thought of him, vivid in your nostrils and clinging to your palate and the floor of your brain, rattles you with a shiver.

“I thought I’d rather show you than tell you,” he explains, wrapping both pale, bony hands around the handles of the accelerator. Steam hisses from the exhaust, flooding the room with more ozone, and gently, but certainly, the gem starts to spin behind the glass panel, beginning to levitate out of its socket, illuminating the room. 

God, you should have put on goggles too, it’s making your eyes hurt. It’s a welcome reminder as to why you chose to spend most your days staring down a blackboard rather than the thing itself. The screen right above it is more of a familiar sight to you: numbers, reading the rotations per minute, as well as energetic output, steadily increasing. 

It whirrs, magic static whirling up around the blue orb, electricity crackles. 

You can see the appeal of this over a blackboard. But you’d still take the chalk. Especially considering the deafening noise. 

Nevermind the damn goggles. You need to remember to bring some ear plugs.

“Watch the panel.” Viktor raises his voice over the hum of the machine, and turns to you, watching you from behind foggy lenses with a smile. You wish you could see the way his crow’s feet deepen. It rumbles harder, so much so Viktor almost has to shout the next thing he says, which is a shame, because his usually playful lilt is lost in the noise of it. “Not to… spoil the outcome of this experiment for you, but I implemented the conclusions we came to last week, and, it is safe to say…”

With a well-timed click and tug on a lever, the machine disengages, and the gem drops back into its socket under the influence of gravity. Its violating light returns to a faint, blue glow, like an artificially lit aquarium; fluctuating and undulating gently in its intensity. The potential energy indicator’s numbers climb back up, steadily, but faster than what you’ve seen before. 

Much faster.

You can’t help but grin with excitement. “It’s regenerating fast.”

Viktor smirks at you over his shoulder like you’re sharing a sacred, intimate inside joke. 

“It is.“

You await the verdict with a bated breath.

“How much?”

Viktor’s smile only grows, like he’s about to give you a present. And, all things considered, this is going to be one, in months’ or maybe even years’ time.

“A thirty-seven percent recovery after usage within an hour.” Viktor spins in the lab stool to face you with the theatrical self-satisfaction of a magician who just sawed his assistant in half and is waiting for the applause. You nearly forget to step back to give him the space for it, so much so your knees knock together. But there is no chance for you to apologize, Viktor is unbothered, sliding the goggles up his forehead enthusiastically, his show of complacency ditched in favor of pure excitement. “That is more than I’ve ever achieved thus far. Thanks to y—” 

His voice sticks in his throat, turning into a pained hiss.

His hair’s tangled in his goggles.

“Oh, wonderful,” he grits out sarcastically. 

A frustrated half-sigh half-groan rumbles in his chest as he pulls again and only makes things worse.

“Could you get me a pair of scissors? I should have some in the third drawer over there.”

“Wait. At least let me try first,” you insist. Reluctantly, you step closer, and after a moment’s hesitation, Viktor lowers his head for better access like a feral animal letting itself be pet for the first time. He sits still, the sound of both your breaths suddenly loud in the tall, quiet room as you’re forced to step even closer. “Could you…”

You nudge his ankles apart with the tip of your shoe.

He listens.

After a stuttering, fragile exhale, Viktor spreads his thighs. 

You take the space offered. And you try not to think about kneeling, about making a home for yourself between his thighs.

“Do you think you can do it?”

You wish he’d asked you that about any number of things, except for the goggles tangled in his feathery, soft hair.

But yes. You think you do.

It would have been a terrible shame to cut it — though some shorter, bluntly cut hairs that sit a little further back near the top of his head tell you his suggestion was not the product of a new idea. Carefully, you pull whatever hairs are looser from between the lens and the bridge of the goggles, though a strand remains stubborn. 

You try to ignore the warmth of his breath on your shirt, the intoxicating, soapy, yet distinctively human smell of his scalp, and the mesmerizing ratio of grey to dark brown, the subtle heat on the sides of your palms and wrists, resting on his head for stability.

As you separate another few hairs from the stuck strand and accidentally tug at them, Viktor has no reaction. Beyond swallowing thickly, and sitting through it dutifully. 

You wonder if he’d act just the same, had you bunched his hair into the spaces between your fingers and tugged — simply biting his tongue and chewing through the pain — or if he’s leaned into the force, moaning with it, and god, you’ve hurt him, and you haven’t even apologized.

“Sorry.” You sound twice as genuine — mainly because you apologize for much worse than the inflicted pain. “Almost done.”

“The scissors would have been faster,” he half-jokes.

His voice sounds different. A hint more… strained. He shifts in the seat, wipes his hands on his slacks.

“Would have been a shame, though. You have pretty hair.” The last part of the sentence positively escapes you, and once you hear it, you freeze. Your brain scrambles itself trying to add something that will fix the inherent following awkwardness, the horrifying realization you just called your boss pretty, the fact that it’s true, the fact that—

Viktor flinches with another accidental tug of his hair, and so do his thighs — jumping with the surprise, clenching together until they squeeze around yours. But they’re gone just as fast, flinching away with horrified urgency. Before you get to savor the supple flesh pressing into your own in another new perverted way, before you get to imagine his ankles locking behind you, tilting and rubbing your hips into the hug of his thighs.

You need. To get. A grip.

“Sorry.”

You continue on in silence, and thank everything above he at the very least can’t see the way your hands shake, because he’s staring at the floor like he could drill a hole into it with just his eyes. 

You should have gotten the damn scissors. As if through divine intervention, the rest of his hair comes loose not soon after.

“Okay. All done.” You smooth the slightly crinkled, but now free strand back down into the rest of his soft hair. 

Viktor’s dainty features come into view from below his face framing pieces as he tilts his chin up. His lips quirk into a gentle smile, his eyes sparkle in the faint blue glow, soft shadows under the hollow of his cheeks and the swell of his lip and the tip of his nose and the bone of his brow. You wish you could immortalize him in whatever way he’d let you — a sculpture, a painting, a poem. He looks ripe for kissing, eyes half-lidded and twice as dreamy as he peers at you.

You’re going to see him like this in your mind’s eye later tonight.

Nestled between your thighs, or kissing down your stomach, molten gold under long, dark lashes, sitting atop carved marbled bone.

“Thank you.” He says it quietly — like it would break the sudden holiness of the moment to say it any other way.

He’s so warm. 

You could kiss him. See what the ozone of the room tastes like in the slick of his mouth. You wonder if he’d let you, if he’d suckle your tongue into his mouth in a show of submission, or if he’d bite your lip, licking your teeth, pressing, pushing, make you earn the privilege to taste him. 

You wonder if he’d hold you, or if his curious hands would roam, tracing the front of your stomach, or your spine, or press to the middle of your breastbone like he wants to see where you’d split open for him down the middle like a ripe peach. You wonder if he’d let you dip a hand down the front of his slacks, you wonder if he’d tilt his hips into it like he’d been aching for it, aching for you. Scorching your hand with want, materialized in slick or straining hardness. You wonder which it’d be.

From where you’re standing, the distance between the apex of his chin and the space where his slacks stretch between his thighs is small — and your gaze takes the leap, searching. But the material dips and curves in such a way that you’re left none the wiser, and with nothing but a disgusting realization.

You’re staring at your boss’ crotch.

You step back from the heat between his thighs, painfully awake, aware. It squeezes and wriggles in your chest like you have a parasite lodged in the chambers of your heart. 

You’re disgusting.

You need to put an end to this.

“You’re welcome, professor.”

With that, you’re practically bolting from between his thighs, to stash the scissors away again.

You’re neglecting your job, you’re putting it in jeopardy. Putting yourself in jeopardy, risking all the rumors circulating becoming a shameful truth, you’re risking the first man who ever kept up with you, followed you where you wanted to go and took you further — you’re risking it all because he makes you unbelievably fucking horny. 

And it’s absurd. Embarrassing. You need to get a hold of yourself. 

“I was… thinking, actually,” you begin, and want to punch yourself over how Viktor perks back up from where you’d left him. “About some things regarding my thesis that I’d like your thoughts on.”

“Oh. Of course.” You have got to be imagining the subtle disappointment in his tone. The second you let yourself believe it’s more than just a figment of your make-believe, is the second you will be doomed. 

Viktor, with all his years and experience, would and does know better than to fall for his assistant. You know he does.

“What’s on your mind?” He prompts after your prolonged silence.

If he knew the half of it.

—

You’re late.

And it’s a direct, shameful consequence of last night’s lusting, the time you’d spent frustratedly tossing and turning and thinking of his mouth and his eyes and his scent, before you’d given in past midnight, and humped your hand into completion.

Thinking about him under you, about pressing your face into his neck, about pressing him into the mattress and rutting into him until he gushes and his tired body sings for you and his voice cracks. Until he breaks for you, until pleasure itself oils and unscrews all the biological cogs of his body and he comes out unstrung, reborn.

Viktor’s in a wheelchair. 

And he looks worse for wear than you’ve ever encountered him before, slumping in the chair and massaging his eyelids with his thumb and index, seemingly gathering his thoughts. He’s dressed even warmer than usual, in a loose but thick, dark red sweater. There’s a colorful knitted blanket folded and set over the tops of his thighs. 

Viktor doesn’t acknowledge you when you come in and sit near the whiteboard, simply resumes his lecture as he regains his mental footing. And he goes on for a while, not sparing you a single glance, as he goes through powerpoint slides today, instead of his usual writing and hand drawn diagrams. 

He’s at it for a while, not as fast as his usual pace, but undeniably concise, certain. Until…

“The energy output increases proportionately to the spin, and, with powerful enough matrices, some hexgems can create force fields of their own. This is a particularly common phenomenon in unstabilized gems as well, though with the activation of their force field, those tend to also create… eh…”

Viktor stops, sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose. He frowns, mumbling something in another language, which, judging by the heavy consonants and squeezed vowel, you’d assume it’s Russian. The word must be slipping his mind, so you decide to help out.

“A shock wave.”

Viktor’s gaze cuts. He’s looked at you with disinterest before, sure, but this… 

He doesn’t even turn his head to look at you, just eyes you from the corner of his vision like something unworthy of acknowledgment. You wish you could swallow your words back up.

“Yes,” he says. “Thank you. A shock wave.”

You don’t say anything again for the rest of the lecture. 

Once the door falls shut behind the last few students who have left the room, Viktor turns to you. You wish you could shrink; and it feels like you do, when he finally speaks.

“I appreciate your intention to help — but do not interrupt me again. I know what I’m trying to say.” He sounds utterly unlike himself, both spent and angry. “I don’t need help. Especially not in the middle of a lecture.”

“Sorry.”

That alone softens him up a hint. He looks away, rubbing his thumbs against the wheels of his chair, before he speaks again. Calmer. 

“Just… do not let it happen again.”

As he slumps in his seat, massaging at his temples, you understand that his anger… might not have been as directed at you as you’d initially thought. He’d been snippy when his back hurt — having switched to a wheelchair must mean he’s in a lot more pain now.

And you understand his frustration. He’d just gotten himself an assistant a few months back, and started a new project — looking like he requires help in front of his students is certainly not doing his reputation right now any favors. 

“But if there’s other things I can do to make your day a little easier, I’d like to do them.”

“No, thank you.” He shakes his head, before he grabs both wheels and advances to where he’d left his bag. As he starts packing his things, he stops again, quietly groaning somewhere in the back of his throat. “Where did I put my pen…”

Viktor eventually finds it right behind his water bottle on the table, tossing the both of them into his bag, shutting it tightly. You expect him to wheel himself over to the ramp that leads to the exit, but he just hangs his head, massaging at his temples again, before he looks at you.

“Actually, I’d like it if you went to my office and got me a silver tin box in the… fourth drawer on the left side of my desk. Do you have the key with you, or should I give you mine?”

“I have it. I’ll be quick.”

“Thank you.”

And you deliver on your promise. You don’t run, but you power walk there, and you’re back with (hopefully the right) tin box in the same lecture hall before his break ends.

Viktor takes it from you gladly, popping it open. It contains two foils of painkillers, one already half empty, a small ziploc bag of… gummies, and at the very bottom, some dark chocolate. 

You must have pulled a bit of a face at the contents — particularly the gummies — because Viktor cocks a brow at you, before he faintly chuckles under his breath and pops three painkillers in one go.

After depositing the foil back in the box, he fishes out the dark chocolate bar. It looks to be the expensive kind, something Belgian — Viktor breaks off a piece, putting it in his mouth, before he holds it out to you.

“Peace offering,” he clarifies when you hesitate. 

You’d be a fool to turn him down. You take some — it’s rich, buttery, and melts on your tongue. It coats your mouth with its taste, dark and aromatic and unfortunately not as sweet as you thought Viktor preferred. He’d always favored the almost disgustingly sugary cakes.

“Didn’t think you’d like something so bitter,” you say.

“I do not. It sometimes helps with my migraines,” he tells you. “Sugar makes them worse. A very… devastating discovery to make, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

You wonder if right now is the right time to be curious — and you decide it might be.

“Do the migraines also affect your leg? Or the other way around?” 

“No.” Viktor shakes his head, popping off another piece of dark chocolate. “This,” he gestures at himself, the wheelchair, “was just a very unfortunate… overlapping.”

“Oh.” You grimace in sympathy. “Fun.”

“A punishment for it, more like.” 

What’s that supposed to mean?

“Let’s hope my migraine eases up on me throughout this lecture.” He smiles at you — and for the first time you’ve known him, he looks old doing it. Exhausted. The face of a man who’s seen enough hardship for a lifetime, but has yet to cave under it. 

You wish you could hold him. You wish you could melt it away, kiss it better, love it better. Whatever he’d let you.

You surprise both him and yourself when you lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and let your thumb rub a small circle over the wool. 

Though he flinches at the first contact, once something in his brilliant mind unfurls and settles, so does he. Through the cracks, tenderness shines under the fatigue. Viktor can be soft — in spite of everything im his body and his past that protests against it. “Thank you.”

You take your hand away sooner than you’d like — but at the ideal time to keep it from being anything more than a friendly touch.

“I’m glad I could help,” you say.

—

Viktor isn’t there at all next week. 

You come in on Monday to find his office empty during lunch break, and when you attend his lecture, it’s another professor from his department teaching it. The students don’t seem all too excited about the change either — and you leave before it even starts.

Heimerdinger is none the wiser about Viktor’s situation when you talk to him — in spite of their shared history. He simply tells you he’d taken the week off and had arranged for substitutes.

You consider messaging him… and ultimately end up doing so, after some internal debate. You simply text him to get well soon and that you hope he’s getting some well-deserved rest. He replies with just a plain thank you.

Tuesday is quiet. You receive a stack of midterms you need to get through from the substitute, and you do, by Thursday morning. Which is when Heimerdinger messages you.

Dr. Prof. Cecil B Heimerdinger

Good morning! I’m well aware this is on very short notice — but the substitute professor has unfortunately suffered a minor car accident. Not to worry; they only sustained small njury. However, I am finding myself forced to task you with Viktor’s lectures today. Do you think you could take care of that? Thank you.

-Cecil B. Heimerdinger

9:32

Just the thing you needed — teaching two full lectures, entirely unprepared.

Alright. You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You just need to find out what’s even on the agenda for today. You could text Viktor, right? If he answers on time, that is… he’s sick, he might as well be asleep right now. You could call, but… he said only to do that in the case of an emergency when he gave you his phone number. 

Would this count as an emergency?

Your phone beeps.

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

There should be a black flash drive in the third drawer on the left in my desk. It has all my lectures.

9:34

Today’s topic is LHC segments naturally occurring in unstabilized gems. Feel free to use my work laptop to familiarize yourself with the presentation before the lecture.

9:35

Me

Thank you so much! 

9:35

His answer comes a few minutes later, just as you fish the flash drive out of his drawer, and plug it into his laptop.

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

Good luck 👍 

9:42

It would be a lot easier to get caught up in the desire to snoop around on his laptop if you didn’t have less than 20 minutes left until the lecture. His background is disappointingly the default image, but some of his folders look undeniably tempting — not just the scientific ones, which take up most of the space. There’s some photo albums titled with the year and location: Germany 2011, Czech Republic 2009, among many others. There’s also a photo album titled Persichka. 

Who is that? 

You almost click it. But then you check your watch again and realize you only have 15 more minutes until the lecture, and decide against it.

—

For how utterly unprepared you are, it goes surprisingly well. You stumble, once or twice, but you’re glad to see that even by the end of the lecture, you still have most students’ attention.

After you dismiss the class, you don’t expect questions. But a good handful of them, a little under ten, approach your desk, whispering among themselves, before a hastily appointed representative emerges. 

“We were just wondering,” she awkwardly begins, “if professor Sidorov-Svoboda is alright. And when he’s coming back.”

“Oh.” You hope they’re asking because they understandably prefer him, and not because you did a particularly shabby job. “He texted me just today — he’s doing alright. But I can’t give you an exact estimate for when he’s coming back just yet.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

With that, all of them turn to go. After the last student has left the room, you reach for your phone, and pray you don’t see any other day-altering messages today. 

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

I did not mean for you to have to do this. 

10:11

You unlock your phone and jump straight into the chat.

Me

Don’t worry, it’s alright. I handled it :)

12:02

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

I knew you could.

12:02

Thank you.

12:02

Me

Focus on resting up and getting well soon! 

12:03

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

I have been. I actually feel well enough for company now. Coincidentally, I’ve gotten some ideas for your thesis and I would like it if we discussed them sometime. Would you be free this weekend?

12:05 

He wants to meet? Outside of the university? Undoubtedly for academic purposes still, but your heart squeezes and bounces and pops with the implications. 

No. You shouldn’t let yourself hope for more than just a few formal, at best friendly hours spent together.

Viktor doesn’t want you. He would never want you — he knows better. You know better.

Me

I’d like that! Saturday works for me. Where would you like to meet?

12:05

Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda

If you’d prefer somewhere on academy grounds like my office or the coffee shop, either would be fine.

12:06

My apartment is also an option.

12:06

The choice is obvious.

[drewsbraziliangf]

funny seeing you here | Drew Starkey x black!fem reader

summary: after seven months of not seeing his face, you find yourself at the same party he’s at. And he clearly made it his mission to be noticed by you. So what are you gonna do now?

warnings: alcohol consumption, suggestive smut

a/n: Here's part 3 of nothing to say when heaven falls. As the title called it, it was 100% inspired by ‘funny seeing you here’ by Jack Harlow which I recommend listening to during the reading. Comments and reblogs are never required but always very much appreciated 🫶🏻

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

"Hey," he said and you could barely hear the smile on his voice. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

No escape.

"Hi," you replied with a low voice, unsure if he had heard it over the loud music. "Yeah, I'm with Frankie."

"Uh, yeah, I saw her," he voices as he scoots slightly closer to you. "This does look more like her scene."

At that, you nod and mentally curse the fifth generation of this damned bartender who has yet to finish your drinks.

Everything around you is spiraling at this point. You were not ready for this, especially with how casual he's being about everything. It was not in your plans to run into him tonight and all you wanted was to get as far away from him as you could.

Your salvation comes in the shape of your friend, who you can see right past her excitement about how much she just wanted to take you out of that situation. She held your arm lightly and, it was as if you weren't waiting for almost ten minutes the bartender returned with both your drinks.

"Hey, uhm, what's taking so long?" Frankie says and pretends to be shocked when she looks up at Drew. "Oh hey! Long time, no see." As the words leave her mouth you notice how the stiff smile on her face shows her displeasure at his presence.

"Hi Frankie," he says a little taken back by her and you notice how he starts tapping his fingers against the glass the same way you were doing moments ago. A shared habit that the both of you didn't get to brush off of one another it seems.

"Let's go, babes! I still have so much to tell you."

With your drinks at hand, you followed her and immediately felt a weight fall off of your shoulders. Still, you weren't able to hold back and you looked over your shoulder just to see him checking you out.

Your face was burning after that and you just prayed to whatever God that Frankie was able to distract you enough to make you not act on the alcohol in your veins.

It wasn't a secret to anyone the effect that he had on you. I mean you were together for years and about to get married - obviously, you had to be attracted to him. And he just had this thing about him that made it very hard for you to ignore.

He looked handsome, but that was no surprise. He always looked so fine, except this time it seemed like he had filled out more. The black shirt he was wearing fitted him perfectly, the sleeves stretched around his biceps, and even from a glimpse you were able to notice how much bigger they were since you last saw him. His outgrown hair now looked more like a growing mullet and, god, that did work with him. At this point, you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your brain talking about how insanely good he looked.

“Y/N, honey, you good?” She asked once the both of you got back to your spot.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” You retorted to which she just stared at you with uncertainty.

“I don’t- I don’t know, you just looked like you were about to vanish in thin air back there,” she voices smoothly still looking at you.

“Yeah, I uh, I guess I just wasn’t expecting that to happen,” you confess.

She nods and sips on her drink, her own eyes scanning the room this time, and once she looks up at you once more you see a glimpse of regret there.

“I didn’t know. Had I known I wouldn’t have brought you here,” She declares with sorrow and you shake your head quickly.

“Hey, I know that! Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

At that, neither of you is sure enough.

You could feel that it was way past one in the morning, the air just felt different. The party was less crowded but the music was still blaring through the speakers. Frankie was entertained in a talk with a tall dark-skinned man who was whispering in her ear every now and then earning giggles from the brunette.

You had been nursing the drink in your hand for a while now, the condensation around the glass caused your fingertips to be wet. You were much more drunk than you’d normally get, but for once in a long time it felt good to let yourself go.

Still the numbness the alcohol brought, did not evade the feeling of what happened earlier. It had been so long since the last time and you were not expecting to see him like that. What would’ve happened if Frankie had not interrupted him? What would you have done?

“Hey,” You heard Frankie’s voice closer to your ear this time, “Would you mind if I left for a while? I promise I’ll be back and you won’t even notice.”

It amazed you that even with the amount of drinks she had, her pleading eyes didn’t fail to convince you. And honestly, she needed to have fun with the hot guy as well. So with a nod you sent her off watching her excitement as she followed him.

At least you were alone with your thoughts and could think and rethink everything, from your coffee orders to your love life as you downed the last of your blue coloured drink. But as if they were trying to prove a point, the spot next to you did not remain empty for long.

The same cologne that woke forbidden memories hours ago was flooding your space once again but this time it was subtle. Almost as if it was fading and taking with it your sanity.

“I thought we’d never get the chance to talk again,” was what he said and it didn’t take you long to notice that he too was a few drinks in.

Guess this isn’t a sober conversation, huh.

“I’d rather if it stays like that,” you mumbled as you watched him push a bottle of cold water towards you.

“Come on, this is a quieter spot. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now,” He leans in, just like Trent did with Frankie.

It felt so weird being close to him like this after so long. It felt like getting something you’ve wanted for so long but you were scared that you got the wrong thing. Does that even make sense?

“How's your sister and your niece?” You asked since there was no escape.

“They’re fine. Both of them, Lily still cries a lot but they’re good,” he voices as he sips from his own drink.

You unscrew the water bottle and take a big gulp out of it. Why were your hands so sweaty now? You didn’t have an answer to that so you just nodded and looked around the room as less and less people filled the dance floor and the bar.

“You look beautiful,” his compliment breaks the silence and goes straight to those confusing thoughts you were having. You have to control yourself. “I thought a lot before talking to you earlier, but I just couldn’t help myself when you looked like this. So pretty”

Even with his sweet words you couldn’t forget who he was and the history between the two of you. It was hard because even if you denied it a part of you still missed him so much. I mean, you shared years of your life with him so it isn’t that easy to ignore how much his absence affects you sometimes.

“What are you doing here, Drew?” The words leave your mouth before you could even process the thought.

He doesn’t say anything for a while and you finally look at him. His hair was slightly darker than it was months ago, the low cut shirt he is wearing gives you a peak of his chest hair and some freckles he has there. Looking into his eyes made your blood freeze for a second, it was like you were drowning in the bluest sea.

He scratched his overgrown beard while he looked down at the cup he was drinking from.

“I miss you,” He confesses with a sigh.

You shake your head as you set the water bottle back on the table.

“No, you can’t do this now,” You say and pray that he can hear you over the music. “Not after everything.”

“I-I fucked up and I know that,” he admits and that makes you feel dizzy. “I want to make things right between us.”

“Oh, now? You don’t even know if I have someone,” you scoff. “How’s Odessa by the way?”

“I wouldn’t know. It’s been a while since I last talked to her,” he says.

“Well so it’s best if I look over your shoulder since she might pop up from thin air,” your snide remark doesn’t go unnoticed by him but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not here to talk about anyone else but us. So can we please do that? Let’s find somewhere where we can actually talk because you just left and I know that what I did was the radon to that, but still.”

Your eyes met his for the second time that night and without much thought you found yourself nodding. You texted Frankie letting her know that you’d be getting an Uber home so she didn’t have to worry about you and in the next second you were following your ex out of the club.

It didn’t shock you that he was still living in the apartment you used to share. It looked almost the same just a few new pieces of furniture decorating the space and you couldn’t help but ask yourself if she had helped him to pick them out.

“Do you, uhm, wanna drink something?” He asked after he locked the door behind you.

“Yeah, I could use a glass of water.”

“Okay, lemme get that for you,” he says and walks to the kitchen.

You stay in the living room and take it all in. Why does his house feel this warm? Why did you feel comfortable in a place you chose to leave? Why wasn’t this freaking you out anymore? Before you could begin to dwell in any of those questions, his footsteps against the wooden floor pulled you from your thoughts.

“Here,” he hands you the filled glass.

“Thanks,” you say before taking a small sip from it.

“So, how have you been?” He asks and you can see that he immediately regrets it, “Fuck that’s a stupid question.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that and he quickly follows suit.

“I am okay. I’ve been worse, I’ve been better” you admit to which he only nods.

“I felt like shit, you know? I knew I was fucking up but I was so entranced by everything that was happening that I didn’t realize how much it was affecting you,” he says as he leans against the wall.

“It wasn’t easy for me to come up to you and say those things but I was so fed up that I didn’t know what to do anymore,” you admit as you take a step closer to him without even realising.

“I’m sorry. I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t care about you or your feelings.”

“I guess I just didn’t want to be an intruder in our own relationship. There was a point where I felt like I needed to talk to her to get to you. And I know there is history between you two, I just didn’t want to doubt that there was still something going on.”

You sigh as one of your fingers traced the rim of the glass.

“I mean, there were a few times that I called your phone and she was the one picking it up. That made me feel so insecure and so scared that I was being lied to.”

“I-what? I didn’t know that.” He truly seemed surprised by your words.

“Well,” you scoff as you shake your head, “I guess she never told you that I called you then.”

You turn around and put the glass on the centre table. He simply watched you and even if he might not admit it yet seeing you in his house again made something in chest warm. Something in him just told him that you belonged there.

“You see, this is what I am talking about.” You add without turning to look at him. “This shouldn’t be normal.”

“I really didn’t know and when I looked at my calls registry your name wasn’t there so I assumed she was telling the truth.”

He did feel guilty about that, but he wasn’t lying. He truly didn’t know of that happenstance.

You sigh and you look back at him, your eyes burning as you feel a deep sense of deja vu.

“I really thought you were it for me, you know?” You confess and a tear streams down your face.

As if it was a reflex thing, he immediately reaches for you and wipes the tear off your face.

“I am so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that,” he says looking into your eyes.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the vulnerability that enveloped the both of you, but you couldn’t help more tears from following that first one. It felt so calming to be talking about this with him after so long, like a ton was being taken out of your chest. Obviously you had people to talk to but it wasn’t the same.

You rested your head on his shoulder as his hands were on the back of your neck. He went in for the first touch, his lips kissed the top of your head. That made you tense up for a second and as you looked up your gaze was immediately captured by his.

His nose touched yours first and as he leaned in for your lips, you couldn’t help but pull back. That happened twice more and you knew that he was frustrated but you were just so scared of opening up to him again.

“Please,” he begs with a breathy voice and as you look into his eyes you are able to see the same man you fell in love with years ago.

After that you didn’t resist anymore and his lips quickly found yours.

Oh.

One of his hands cradled your face as he deepened the kiss and the other was occupied squeezing the softness of your hips. Now, you could’ve lied to yourself about many things, but this was never one of them. He knew exactly where to touch you and how to do it.

You pressed your body against his and the sigh that left your lips when you felt his bulge pressed on your stomach. He moaned on your lips at the pressure and in a blink of an eye you had your legs wrapped around him.

He now held you with one of his arms as he guided the both of you towards the bedroom. His lips didn’t leave yours, the only time he broke the kiss was when he pulled your lower lip between his teeth, but in the next second he was devouring them again.

When he reached the bedroom he didn’t bother to close the door. He laid you on the bed and you breathlessly watched him pull his shirt off with one hand before he knelt between your legs.

Please God, don’t make me regret this.

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[pinkslipxox]

Hey! I have a request. But please ignore this if you want to, I did see your last post saying how you have alot of requests at the moment! So please don't ever feel like you need to write this okay? Just something basic, pregnant reader is really struggling to fall asleep because baby girl won't stop kicking her mama. Billie wakes up and just rubs her belly and gives us reassurance. She even tries to make us laugh by having a "talk" with the baby telling her to stop hurting her mama or mommy's not gonna be happy. We find it hilarious. We end up falling asleep to billie spooning up and rubbing out stomach and gently rubbing the top of our head because she knows that helps us fall asleep.

- but thank you so so much for taking the time to read this. Once again, please don't write this if you don't want to! I love ya 🫶🏻

Hey there my love! Hope you like it! Thank you so much for your kindness and understanding 🥰

————————————————-——————————

A soft whimper escapes your lips as you feel your unborn daughter move about inside your womb. You’ve been trying so hard to fall asleep, but to no avail. Of course, it is always a joy and relief to you whenever you feel your baby kick, but it seems that she’s picked the worst part of the day— well, night in the case— to be active.

You carefully sit yourself up straighter, breathing slowly in and out just as your doctor had suggested a few days ago, praying that you don’t wake up your sleeping wife. Despite knowing that Billie wouldn’t mind if you woke her up, you feel bad at the thought of doing so. She’s been working so hard when it comes to balancing work and taking care of you, and you know that she needs her rest as much as you do.

“Please let Mama sleep,” you murmur softly as you run your belly in attempt to calm your daughter. Just then, you feel a hand touch your shoulder. Your wife has woken up.

“Y/N? Is everything alright?” Billie asks, her voice groggy yet full of concern.

“She won’t stop kicking, Billie,” you whimper, wincing as you feel another strong kick. “And it hurts. All I want to do is sleep.”

“How can I help, my love?” Billie offers as she gently rubs your swollen belly.

“Can you please get another pillow for my back?” you request and Billie nods.

“Yes, of course,” she replies and kisses your forehead before hurrying off to find the pillow. She comes back a moment later and helps you lean forward so that she can put the pillow behind your back.

“Thank you, my love,” you sigh, reveling in the small amount of relief.

“You’re welcome.” Billie rubs your baby bump, her ocean blue eyes looking into yours with such tenderness and love. “I know it’s hard, sweetheart. You’re doing such an amazing job. Soon we’ll have our little girl, and she’s going to be just as beautiful as you.”

“Oh, Billie,” you murmur, tears swelling in your eyes. “You’re the sweetest.”

“Only for my girls,” Billie chuckles softly before pressing a kiss to your belly. “Damn, she’s having a party in there!”

“Of course— she’s your daughter, after all,” you tease with a smirk and Billie sticks her tongue out playfully at you.

“Hmm, I wonder…” Billie muses with a playful gleam in her eyes. She then makes a fist with her hand and taps on the imaginary microphone in her hand. “Hello? Is this thing on? Can you hear Mommy, baby girl?”

You can’t help but stifle a laugh. Then, at the feel of your daughter kicking her again, you tell her, “She can hear you loud and clear, Bills.”

“Now, baby girl,” Billie begins in a mock-stern voice. “Listen to Mommy. I know how much you think it’s fun to kick your mama like she’s a soccer ball but she needs her rest. And if you don’t stop kicking her by the time I count to three…”

“Billie, oh my God,” you laugh out loud, shaking your head fondly at your wife.

“One… two… three,” Billie counts and the two f you hold your breath.

“I think… it worked,” you breathe in awe and Billie smirks.

“Guess we know who’s her favorite mother,” your wife teases and you gasp, feigning hurt.

“After all I do for you…” you tisk, running your belly. You then smile at Billie. “Thank you for helping, my love. And I’m sorry that I woke you.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Y/N. We’re in this together,” Billie reassures you and brings your hand up to her lips, kissing it.

“Cuddle us?” you request with a pout and Billie nods with a smile.

Billie helps you lay back down on the bed and once you are comfortable, she cuddles up from behind you, your back pressed against her chest. She wraps her arm under your bump, her thumb gently caressing there, and kisses your temple. You slowly begin to relax under her touch, her fingers gently massaging your scalp just the way you like it.

“Good night, my baby girls,” Billie murmurs softly, and your heart swells.

“Good night, Billie,” you hum as you close your eyes, grateful to have your wife right by your side, no matter what time of day or night.

[covenha]

Woo's Brews

Synopsis: Seonghwa, Wooyoung's black cat familiar, decides to help him out with his dry spell. Pairings: witch!Wooyoung x reader; familiar!Seonghwa genre: crack, fluff?? i guess it's a smidge bit suggestive but i think it's completely innocent, witch warnings: talks of sex but nothing too suggestive, oc's land is cursed for the plot WC: 762 words a/n: sorry i just fell off the face of the earth, midterms is kicking my ass and my body decided to get sick if that was not enough. again, this work is fictional so this does not portray any of the characters in actual life. another small HIMYM reference in there iykyk. hope you guys enjoy this baby drabble. and as always, reblogs and feedback is deeply appreciated. happy reading!

As the small pot at the back of the shop was boiling away, Wooyoung was dusting some shelves at the front. Just then, a ring of a bell signals a customer walking into the shop. 

“Hello?” You walk in, black cat in hand. It’s sharp eyes looking around the shop, looking around for its owner. 

“Hi! What brings you to Woo’s Brews?” Wooyoung asks with a smile. 

“Oh, well, your cat was playing in my garden and it was getting late so I thought to bring him here to make sure he was safe.” You smile back. The cat in question hops down from your hands, tail swishing from side to side. It stares back at its owner, as if waiting for its owner to do something. 

“Sorry you had to bother with Seonghwa. He usually doesn’t go around making pretty girls return him home. But thanks for making sure he got home safe…”

“y/n” you say your name. 

“Thank you, y/n.” Wooyoung says. 

“Well, since I’m here. I heard this place had something that could help me with my garden?” You ask. 

“Oh yeah, sure. We have some charms and some potions here that could help. What did you have in mind?” Wooyoung motions to the cabinet to his right and guides the both of you over to it. But, not before giving Seonghwa a look. 

“There’s this area in my garden that just refuses to grow anything! It’s like somebody put some sort of hex on it. It’s so odd.” You explain your gardening predicament to Wooyung, but he can barely focus on your troubles. Not when you have the cutest look in your eyes when you recall the horrific scene of your dead tomatoes, or your wilted daisies. 

“Well, this may just do the trick. Sprinkle some of this liquid on the ground in 3 circles. Then wait for the next full moon before planting something in the area. If that doesn’t work though, you know where to find me.” Wooyoung winks at you.

A soft meow is heard behind the both of you. Wooyoung scoffs at this, and you look back to see Seonghwa perched on the counter, grooming himself. 

“Thanks for this!” you motion to the brown paper bag filled with the goodies you bought that would hopefully help you in your cottage core dreams. 

“Just doing my duties as the friendly neighborhood witch.” Wooyoung waves goodbye as you walk out the shop’s store. 

He watches as you walk away from his store, and winces and facepalms just as you are out of sight. 

“Friendly neighborhood witch?” Seonghwa repeats, now in his human form. He looks unimpressed, raising an eyebrow at Wooyoung. 

“I panicked, okay? Hwa, you know how I get.” Wooyoung winces as he thinks back at what he said to you. 

“She seems to like you though. Don’t screw it up this time.” Seonghwa says, sharp eyes staring at Wooyoung. 

“Dude, you really need to put yourself out there! It’s been ages since you’ve even been on a date.” Yunho, one of Wooyoung’s witch friends who was visiting to stock up on some lizard’s tail from the shop. 

“I guess you could say he’s in a… dry spell.” Jongho, Yunho’s golden shepherd retriever familiar pipes in. 

“Ha Ha. I’m glad my misery is entertaining to you, Jjong.” Wooyoung deadpans at him. 

“8 months, 2 weeks.” Seonghwa suddenly cuts the banter. 

“Hwa?” Yunho asks him. 

“8 months, and 2 weeks. That’s how long Jongho has been…. How do I say this in a classy way…. Gotten laid.”  Seonghwa blinks at the three of their confused faces. Jongho’s face goes red as he sputters out an excuse. 

“Okay, let’s not get into the nitty gritty with this one.” Yunho tries to calm the situation. 

“5 months 3 days.” Seonghwa motions at Yunho who scrunches his eyebrows together in horror, but also a little bit of amazement.

“You should work at a carnival.” Jongho says. 

As they calm down from their conversation, Yunho and Jongho pack up to head back to their cottage to make it before dark. All the while Wooyoung is nervously looking around, trying not to make eye contact with Seonghwa. 

“10 months, 1 week.” Seonghwa says. 

“Dammit.” Wooyoung sighs. 

“I can help you. Just leave it to me.” Seonghwa shrugs at him.

“Seonghwa, I don’t know if I like the idea of that.” Wooyoung shakes his head at the black cat.

“Trust me. You’re gonna like this one.” Seonghwa smirks to himself. 

“Jesus, you’re like some kind of occult Tinder.” Wooyoung shudders as he goes back to tend to his brewing potion.

[ladymoody]

SATURDAY NIGHT

lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw +18, childhood friends concept, teasing in public, explicit and suggestive language, dirty talk, v rubbing, blowjob, p in v penetration (unprotected), creampie, cum in general.

word count: 3,7k

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist ; playlist ; characters list ; my website

the clock struck 8pm. I won’t lie saying I wasn’t nervous, because I was, I was very nervous.

my parents had recently become in touch with enzo’s parents again after 5 years of no communication, so now I was getting ready in my room to hang out with them.

enzo and I met when we were kids. he was slightly older than me but we were both in elementary school. our parents immediately became friends so we started hanging out quite often.

enzo had always been very sweet with me but also a pain in the ass. since we were kids, we often argued and we almost even hit each other once. though, I cared about him and I guess he cared about me too. through time enzo and I grew up and became distant — we stopped playing together and we began to hang out once every two months at best.

once we started high school, we lost touch and so did our parents.

I often thought about him. I quite missed his presence as he had filled a good part of my childhood memories. the only thing I had left of him was a necklace he got me the last time we hung out — it had a little swan as a charm and I was completely in love with it. I found myself touching it every now and then, in an attempt to feel enzo’s presence with me again.

“y/n! are you ready, honey?” my mom called out from outside — she was already in the car.

“I’m coming!” I said out of the window, rolling my eyes in annoyance.

I glanced at myself in the mirror one more time to check if I looked good. I didn’t know why, but I felt the need to look good. then I grabbed my purse and headed out fidgeting my house keys.

once outside, I closed the door behind me, I locked it, and then I spotted my parent’s car. I saw my father looking at me up and down through the window, his gaze not much approving of my outfit — I was wearing a fancy black dress, elegant and delicate. it was quite long, but not too long, and had a wide neckline that showed my cleavage and my boobs which perfectly sat there.

I approached their car and got in. “hi.”

my father sighed, almost sounding like he grunted. my mom, on the other hand, turned around and smiled at me. “are you excited?”

“a bit, yeah.”

“enzo will have turned into a handsome man by now, don’t you think?” she teased.

“mom.” I warned.

“just saying.”

my dad started the car and I put my headphones on, ready to get lost in my fantasy world as I watched the real one out of my window.

I didn’t want to admit it, but I did feel something odd in my stomach… like butterflies? impossible. enzo and I had only been friends and nothing else. besides he wasn’t even my type — for what I could remember from the last time we met. I sighed and accepted the fact the hangout would have been quite awkward.

(skip time)

my dad pulled over and we all got out of the car. the light of the streetlights surrounding me caught my attention, making me look up and see the dark sky of the night. I loved that feeling.

“cover up.” my dad walked past me looking down at my cleavage. I knew my dress wasn’t so appropriate, but I didn’t have many dresses in my closet.

I grabbed my purse and closed the car door before following my parents into the bar where my and enzo’s parents agreed on meeting.

the bar from the outside looked really good — there were a few glass tables and small dark red armchairs probably made of velvet. there were some people already, drinking and chatting, and enjoying each other’s company. the dim lights were placed on the tables, followed by some candles as well, creating a cozy and elegant atmosphere for the whole bar.

my parents walked in first, making me snap back to reality. I followed them inside, realizing the big moment had come. my eyes lazily roamed over the room scanning it to spot enzo and his parents, but they weren’t there yet. we decided to get back out and sit at one of the tables outside that I had previously spotted. as we settled down, my mom spoke.

“are you nervous?”

in the meantime, I calmed down. I mean, it was just a reunion, right?

“I’m fine, actually.” I replied nonchalantly, both because it was a bit true, and because I still needed to convince myself of it.

(skip time)

I looked at my watch on my left wrist, which showed it was already 9:45pm. the meeting should’ve been at 9:30, but I let out a huff.

before I could complain to my parents, who were busy on their phones, my attention shifted to the three figures approaching us from afar — enzo and his parents.

his mom and dad still looked the same, slightly older, obviously. and enzo… wait, that was enzo? he looked way taller than the last time, his hair was still brown but he had changed haircut as it seemed more like a sort of mullet with a few strands falling down on his forehead, he was grinning and looking in our direction as he got closer, making me appreciate his outfit as well — his black t-shirt amazingly hugged his torso, highlighting his abs and chest, long black pants fell down his legs matching his t-shirt, and the shoes as well, but not his belt which was brown and silvery.

oh my goodness.

I would’ve said it wasn’t him, but the way he was smirking with his eyes made me recognize him without a doubt. that was my childhood friend lorenzo berkshire.

“my god, hi.” my mother stood up hugging enzo’s mom. my father stood up too, saying hi to his dad and shaking his hand. enzo stared at me as I stared at him back. he nodded as if he wanted to say hi to me as well, and I smiled in return.

“you grew up so much!” my mom caressed enzo’s cheek, making him slightly blush. enzo glanced at the ground, trying his best to seem polite in dodging my parents’ touching. after that, enzo’s parents’ attention turned to me, admiring how I had grown up as well. (I will let up on this for your sake).

we all sat down around the table, the seats felt so comfortable. my and enzo’s parents started talking, happy to finally meet each other again, as enzo looked at me — I felt his eyes wandering on my figure so much that it seemed like his gaze was burning my skin. after a couple of seconds, I looked up, seeing his eyes, which shifted quickly from my cleavage to meet mine. I smiled and he smiled back, rubbing the back of his head. as he did so, I could finally have a better look at his silver bracelet that made his wrist look delicate and sexy.

“hey.” he broke the silence, he was sitting right next to me.

“hi.” I said back, eyeing him up a bit.

“how’s your life going?” he asked as he propped his head on his hand and turned his attention to me.

“good, good… yours?”

“same.” he eyed me back up, scanning my figure in my tight dress. his tongue licked his upper lip subtly.

our conversation went going for half an hour and it was totally awkward. not because enzo and I had nothing to talk about, but because I kept feeling his gaze on me all the time — every single movement I did, even the slightest, he looked. to finally break the moment was enzo’s mother.

“you grew up so much… I still remember you playing with my enzo at the playground.” she said with a hint of nostalgia in her voice. I smiled at her words. she had always been so sweet.

in the meantime we had already ordered our drinks — enzo had ordered some martini and I had decided to get the same. the bartender brought the beverages to us a few minutes later and we started sipping them as I kept sharing words with enzo’s parents.

“do you have a boyfriend now?” enzo asked me. his voice had lowered a bit not to let our parents hear us too much as they began to talk to each other once again, shifting their attention away from us two.

“no. do you have a girlfriend?”

“no.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I couldn’t understand why, but I felt relieved by the news of him still being single. I felt… possessive over him? as we kept chatting I couldn’t help letting my eyes fall on his hands several times as he gestured while speaking, even his hands grew up with him — they were veiny now, bigger than the last time we saw each other, and each finger had at least one ring.

“you sure you’re single? no guy drooling over you?” he said out of the blue, his eyebrows furrowed, interrupting the speech he was giving a few seconds before.

“yeah, I’m sure. what’s wrong?” I chuckled.

“I hardly believe a pretty thing like you hasn’t got a nice boyfriend.”

“well, guess what...” I sarcastically spoke and we both laughed.

but then he suddenly stopped, becoming all serious as his eyes stayed on me. I looked at him with a confused expression and I calmed down, finishing to laugh as well.

“I’m glad to hear that. you’re still my friend, aren’t you?” he spoke lowly, marking the word ‘my’ with his voice while his hand wandered on my bare thigh.

I nodded, not understanding what was happening. his touch gave me shivers.

he backed up, now fully focusing on my parents who started asking him questions, yet his hand stayed on my thigh — his thumb caressed my skin every now and then as his other fingers squeezed it.

I didn’t know what to think of it but I definitely enjoyed his touch and I didn’t want him to stop whatever he had in mind.

(skip time)

as the night went on, we all found each other more comfortable than at the beginning. but for each passing minute, enzo’s hand slid upper and upper. suddenly, when I was chatting with his father, his hand touched the hem of my dress, tugging at it, and slightly sneaking under the fabric to brush against my panties.

I tried to hold back a gasp, but I couldn’t do anything with the light blush that spread across my cheeks. I tried to push his hand away, but the harder I tried, the further he went until he completely felt my panties under his fingers.

enzo abruptly pulled his hand away, stood up, and he spoke to his and my parents.

“I’m going to smoke.” he picked up his lighter with his right hand while his left one still wandered in his pocket to find the pack of cigarettes.

“your father and I told you to quit, lorenzo.” his mother intervened.

“I will, I promise.” he grinned as he walked away to find a place to enjoy his cigarette.

“would you fancy keeping him company?” his mother changed her tone, sounding sweeter as she spoke to me.

“sure.” I nodded excitedly, hinting a smile as I stood up to follow him. 

I made a little run to reach him, and he slightly turned back but once he spotted me with the corner of his eye, he drew his attention back in front of him.

“your parents let you smoke?”

“I ain’t a kid anymore, aren’t I?” he replied with a cocky smirk. “but they don’t like when I do it.”

I nodded as silence fell between us again and we headed behind a wall, I leaned my back against it and enzo stood in front of me.

“you still have the necklace I got you when we were kids?” he noticed, gazing at my cleavage.

“yeah.”

“it looks good on your boobs.”

“excuse me?”

“I said it looks good with your hoops. your earrings.” he said, but I swore I had heard something else.

“you think they match?”

“yeah.” I could tell he was not staring at my necklace, but he was looking a little lower. though, I decided not to push it further and we kept chatting for a bit until he finished his cigarette.

“did I tell you I’ve got myself a car?” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

“no, you didn’t.. have you really?”

“yup. wanna see it?”

“ ‘course.”

he tilted his head in the direction of his car and looked at me before we started walking. “I drove my parents here.” he boasted a bit.

“damn, you’ve really grown into a gentleman.” I complimented him, being a bit sarcastic. but he was indeed a gentleman, a sexy gentleman if I might say.

we walked a few more meters before approaching his gorgeous dark red car.

“wow…”

“the insides are even better, come on.” he said as he picked up his keys and threw them up in the air, before catching them with a smooth movement and making his way to open his gem.

“it won’t bite you.” he said as he got into the driver’s seat. I smiled and got in as well.

I admired the insides and as he said, they were indeed beautiful and looked quite luxurious.

“did you pay a lot of money for this gem?”

“uhm… let’s just say that I worked hard for it.” he smirked, leaning against the seat.

“wanna spice this up a bit?” he suddenly suggested as he moved his head to face me. his eyes fell on my cleavage for what seemed like the millionth time that night, before shifting back on mine.

“spice this up?” I echoed slightly confused, tilting my head towards one side. though I knew what he meant by that, I just enjoyed playing dumb.

“yeah, with some music.”

“uhm, sure, why not.” I smirked and he turned the radio on.

(I recommend playing this while reading. check my playlist)

“I like this song.” I spoke.

“yeah?” he spoke back, staring at my lips. I smirked to myself as I noticed how he was not concentrating on what I had just said at all.

“mh-hum.” I nodded as I shifted completely on my seat, facing him with my body as well. I gazed at his lips too.

“would you like to know an interesting fact about this car?”

“yeah.”

“well, it’s soundproof.”

and there I did 2+2. I knew what he had in mind and he was planning on it from the real beginning.

“soundproof, mh?” I smirked. “and how is it useful to you?”

his smirk got wider as he leaned in and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“you’ve grown into a really gorgeous woman, you know that?” he looked at me with a darker gaze, his voice slightly above a whisper.

“I saw you swinging your hips and showing off your little ass as we walked. I immediately understood the innocent little girl I once knew was completely gone.”

my eyes widened for less than a second, before turning back seductive as I listened to him.

“and that little girl, who’s now a menacing woman, enjoined my previous playing on her thigh, didn’t she?” he continued,  his smirk never leaving his face.

“you were crazy for doing that in front of our parents.”

“you didn’t complain.”

“I tried to push your hand away.”

“you didn’t try hard enough.”

“how do you know that?”

“because I know damn well you liked my fingers on your skin, squeezing it and slowly going upwards. I could feel that you were into it… your panties were soaked, doll.”

I sighed. continuing to pretend would’ve been useless. I almost jumped on him, my hands finding his jaw as I held his face close enough to capture his lips in a fierce kiss. he happily wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me onto his lap as he kissed me back. our lips moved so passionately that I moaned every other second.

“fuck, baby… that was what I wanted…” he panted between kisses.

“you taste so good…” I moaned.

“let’s keep kissing then…” he groaned back as we heavily made out. his hand slipped under my dress, finding my drenched panties once again. he rubbed my pussy against the fabric, making me squirm on him, and let out desperate yet muffled moans against his lips.

“fuck… you are completely soaked.” he panted after his hand slid into my underwear — his middle finger rubbed my folds at a slow and sexual pace.

“ughh— mhh..” I clang onto him, my nails dug into his shoulders.

enzo pulled his hand away, leaving me needy of his touch, before starting to kiss me again. I kissed him back as my hand glided from his lower chest to his belt, and then I tugged at it, making him chuckle.

“someone’s impatient?” he teased, leaving some lazy kisses on my jaw.

I hummed in response, backing up enough to give room to my hands and undo his belt. enzo bit his bottom lip.

he lifted his hips up to let me pull his pants down, but without warning, I took his boxers off as well. he let out a low gasp, followed by a groan as he saw his hard cock popping out and standing right there for me. I smirked and immediately crawled back to my seat, before bending over and kissing his tip.

enzo threw his head back and shut his eyes, while my hand stroked his erection up and down and my mouth sucked on his leaking tip.

“ohh just like that…” he grabbed my hair, pulling it almost painfully, and forced me to go all my way down. I slightly gagged but quickly got myself together as I sucked on his dick completely, my lips touching his balls.

I could feel my throat giving me signals that I needed to pull out, but I couldn’t, I was making enzo feel too good.

“ughh! mhh— baby!” he jerked his hips upwards, trying to meet my movements.

I kept going for some minutes until I heard him groan and moan underneath me, so I understood he was getting close. I fastened my pace, trying to satisfy his needs, and in a matter of seconds, he spurted his seed down my throat.

“swallow… go on… swallow…” he encouraged me, panting heavily as he pulled my head back and watched me swallow his cum. I looked at him, not breaking the eye contact as I tasted him on my tongue, meanwhile, he watched me with an arrogant, yet affectionate gaze as his seed dripped down the corners of my mouth.

“backseat. now.” he smirked and pecked my lips, tasting himself on them. I happily moved into the back of the car, laying down on the seats as I watched him do the same thing and lay on top of me.

“you’re so beautiful… you’ve grown so well… fuck…” he groaned kissing my neck like a starved man — but suddenly he pulled away and his hands rushed on him to pull down his pants and boxers fully.

I bit my lip at the sight and in the meantime, I helped him taking his shirt off. he smirked, enjoying how I was as eager as him, and once his clothes were out of the way, he helped me undress as well.

“open up…” he arrogantly spread my legs, making me wrap them around his waist as he lined up against my core. “mhh…” I let out, my nails already digging into his back as I pulled him close to me.

“so wet… I bet you’re so tight too…” he said as he rubbed the tip of his erection back and forth against my folds.

“why don’t you go ahead and see yourself?” I teased him, smirking as I stole him kisses.

“I’m gonna fuck you hard.” he said, his teeth clenched.

suddenly he thrust in. I let out a moan mixed with a gasp as I felt my walls adjust to his size. He hissed, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he slowly started to grind his hips against mine.

“fuck, baby… ohh god…” he groaned in my ear — his thrusts becoming more and more urgent.

I knew our parents were wondering where we were or what we were doing, but enzo’s dick was all I could focus on at that moment. I felt it throbbing inside of me, eager to hit every good spot and make me come undone underneath him.

“ugh— keep going!” I encouraged him as I dug my nails into his back, scratching his skin and making enzo suck in air through his teeth multiple times.

my moans only fueled his hunger, his willingness to come inside of me, and I couldn’t help but give them to him all the time as he pistoned fast and hard. we didn’t worry about using a condom, we didn’t think about it and we didn’t even discuss it — we were too lost in the moment to mention that. I knew I wasn’t on birth control, but my paranoia could’ve waited. enzo was more important.

“ohh, baby! I’m close… please…” his eyebrows furrowed in a blissful expression, letting me know he was indeed getting close.

as his thrusts became more uneven, I began to realize I was getting close too. he was going rough, maybe too rough for me to handle him, and I could feel my body burning due to his harshness, but then I felt it. I felt my orgasm coming.

“enzo!” I cried out, arching my back and throwing my head against the seat. my juices coated his dick, which spurted his hot seed a few seconds later.

enzo grunted in my ear, altering incoherent murmured praises to desperate whimpers. “ohh— baby… god…” he moaned.

I chuckled, my hands caressing his back in a soothing manner.

“you okay?” he asked me, leaving a sweet kiss on my jaw.

I nodded, giving him a reassuring smile and he smiled back.

“we should probably get back to our parents…”

“we should.” he smirked. “but they can wait a little more…”

[darkmatilda]

╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper

epilogue

previous parts:

1 2 3

in which you and reid are visiting your brother in hospital after he tried to commit a suicide

tw: mention of a suicide attempt

contents: spender reidxfem!bau!reader, it's an epilogue, please check the previous parts if you missed them!

words: 3.1k

You couldn’t believe those words came out of your mouth, but they did. And what’s more, they were sincere.

It was late in the evening when you were heading back to the office in Quantico. No case ever ended with just catching the unsub – after that came the long hours of report writing and paperwork. After everything you’d been through, the team almost forbade you from taking on that task. Instead, they insisted that you go straight home and get some proper rest.

You rolled your eyes and nodded, like a child whose mother insists they zip up their jacket. Hotch was nowhere to be seen, Morgan was listening to music with his eyes closed, Emily and JJ were absorbed in their conversation, and Rossi… well, Rossi was doing whatever it is Rossi does. So, you reached for the case files and tucked yourself away in a quiet corner of the jet. You wanted to go over everything again, even though you knew that as soon as you saw Logan's photo, all the unpleasant memories would come rushing back with relentless force.

 But before you could open the folder to the first page, someone simply took it from your hands. You looked up to see none other than Reid—blue shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up, a look of perpetual sleeplessness, his usual worry, and… joy. Small, but noticeable.

You, too, were almost disturbingly happy. Escaping death filled you with a mood akin to the high after smoking two joints back-to-back. Of course, it would only last for a brief moment; by tomorrow, you’d likely be tossing and turning in bed, plagued by nightmares. A familiar pattern.

"I don’t even want to see you trying to work right now," Spencer said, taking a seat next to you and placing the folder beside him, just out of your reach. Or at least far enough that you’d have to put in some serious effort to grab it—and your sore ribs had no intention of letting you do that.

"Then what do you suggest I do?" you asked, rolling your eyes. "I don't want to sleep."

"Kafka on the Shore?" he suggested.

"I've already read it. By the way, what was the deal with the soldiers and the hut in the woods at the very end?"

"Well, that's an element that leaves a lot of room for personal interpretation."

"Thanks for the explanation, that told me a lot," you chuckled. You pulled your knees to your chest, trying to get more comfortable in your spot, but the movement triggered a wave of pain. You hissed.

“They should have kept you in the hospital for at least one night,” Reid said, suddenly straightening up. “Do you need anything? There might be some ice around… or I could just leave, and you could lie down…”

“No. You’re staying,” you decided firmly. He raised an eyebrow at your abrupt response. You quickly followed up with an explanation. “Well, I’ve finished reading my book, and you took my files. So now you’re responsible for my potential boredom. It’s your duty to entertain me.”

“Yeah” he agreed with a smirk “It’s my duty” 

"So, how do you plan to do that? Are you going to dance? Sing? Juggle?"

"I can't dance or sing, and I don't have anything to juggle. Is it enough if we just talk? Or is that too common of an entertainment for you?"

You pretended to think for a moment.

"Fine, I guess."

"Then what are you planning to do when you get back?"

"Visit Jeremy."

"Oh, right, sorry…”

"Come on," you interrupted, waving your hand. A moment of silence followed as you hesitated before speaking again. However, you remembered that you had decided to stop staying silent about your worries and problems, at least in his presence. "It's just... it really stresses me out. I don't know how I should talk to him, I'm afraid I'll panic when I see him..."

Spencer cleared his throat before answering. 

“That... can really be tough,” he said, not bothering to lie or reassure you that everything would go perfectly. “But hey, remember that he’s probably looking forward to seeing his big sister. Even if you start talking about something you think is silly, he’ll be happy just to have you there.”

He made you smile, though the corners of your eyes began to gently dampen. You wiped them discreetly, not wanting to burst into tears on the jet.

"I hope you're right. And I hope he doesn't hate me for not being there for him..."

You stopped, feeling him take your hand. You realized you had been clenching it into a fist for quite some time.

"I don't know Jeremy, so I can only guess how he'll react. But I'm sure of one thing—he definitely doesn't hate you."

For a long time, you simply stared at your hand in his warm grip. Your fingers relaxed, releasing the tension that had been between them, becoming limp yet yearning for the touch.

"Spencer," you said suddenly, taking a deep breath. "I don't know if I can ask you this... but... you've been there for me this whole time and... okay, I’ll understand if you say no, but... would you maybe... want to visit him with me? I don't know if I can do it alone."

You waited for his response, your heart beating faster with each passing moment. Maybe it was too much? Maybe you shouldn’t be asking him for something like this; maybe it crossed the line of your acquaintance? Just a year ago... no, even a week ago, you never would have imagined you’d be begging anyone for something like this. You would have forced yourself to do it alone, ignoring your fear.

He simply smiled.

"Of course, you can ask me to do that. And I'm glad I'll be able to accompany you."

*

The sound of quickly pressed keys echoed as you gave the hospital receptionist your brother’s last name.

The stark whiteness of the place and the blinding, intense light felt like a scene straight out of a horror movie. The thought of seeing Jeremy soon made you tremble. You had so many questions for him, including why he even tried to take his own life, but you knew you couldn’t ask them just yet. He didn’t need an interrogation to satisfy your curiosity; he needed support.

You were so overwhelmed at the thought of seeing him that you shifted impatiently from foot to foot. You felt stressed but also excited. After all, he was your little brother, and you missed him. Standing beside you, Reid smiled slightly, noticing your behavior. If you were hurting him by squeezing his hand as tightly as you could, he didn’t let it show.

"Who are you to the patient?" the receptionist asked.

"His sister."

"And you?" she turned to Spencer.

"A frie—" he began, probably intending to say friend.

"Fiancé," you interrupted, quickly offering a word that began with the same letter. You worried that if the woman found out he wasn’t connected to you or Jeremy, she might ask him to stay in the waiting room. You didn’t expect him to go into Jeremy's room with you, but you wanted the reassurance that he’d be right outside, not on the other side of the hospital.

Reid pierw spojrzał na ciebie jak na wariatkę. Próbowałaś mu niemo przekazać, aby włączył się do twojej desperackiego przedstawienia. Na szczęście, niesamowicie szybko zrozumiał o co chodzi. 

“Zgadza się, narzeczonym. Basically, mężem. Bierzemy ślub…jutro” zaimprowizował, kiwając głową z takim zaangażowaniem, jakby sam wierzył w te wyjaśnienia. “Cóż, w zasadzie to nie jutro, a za dwa dni, ponieważ jutro niedziela, a my jesteśmy katolikami. W naszej religii zniechęca się do zawierania związków małżeńskich w ten dzień, ponieważ jest to dzień Mszy Świętej…”

Reid first looked at you like you were crazy. You tried to silently signal him to join in on your desperate act. Luckily, he caught on incredibly fast.

"That's right, fiancé. Basically, husband. We're getting married... tomorrow," he improvised, nodding with such conviction that he almost seemed to believe it himself. "Well, actually, not tomorrow, but the day after, because tomorrow is Sunday, and we’re Catholic. In our religion, 

“Darling,” you gritted through your teeth, seeing the receptionist’s confused expression.

“In any case, I’m very close to the patient,” he emphasized.

If he said anything more, you would’ve nudged him with your elbow.

“Well… in that case… the patient is in room number fourteen. It’s that way…” She pointed in the right direction. You thanked her with an overly wide smile. “And… congratulations.”

“God bless you,” Reid said as he waved goodbye.

You quickly turned around, so she wouldn’t see your burst of laughter. As soon as you were out of the receptionist's sight, you hit him on the back so hard that a woman with a cast on her arm almost dropped her coffee. He laughed, and you awkwardly tried to hide how much the whole situation amused you as well.

“If I had let you say one more word, she wouldn’t have let either of us in,” you complained. “She would’ve thought we were freaks. Religious freaks. Or maybe point us to the psychiatric ward.”

“Hey, I’m not the best actor. You should know that,”

“I didn’t know. I’ll remember for next time, though I’m not sure if there will ever be another situation where you’ll need to pretend to be my husband.”

"Fiancé," he corrected. "You decided that yourself."

"Basically a husband. You decided that yourself."

You didn’t say anything more, only grabbed the edge of his coat sleeve to slow his pace. You were standing outside room 14, right in front of the door. You didn’t even peek inside; you weren’t ready to see Jeremy just yet.

“I need one more minute,” you whispered.

“Take all the time you need,” he replied gently.

 The playful mood that had accompanied you both was gone. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you stood on tiptoe and began adjusting his poorly tied scarf. 

“Sorry,” you muttered under your breath. “It’s been bothering me since I saw you.”

"I'll wait for you here, okay?" he asked quietly. Because you were so close to him, he barely had to raise his voice at all. "Jeremy doesn’t know me, I don’t want to just show up unannounced..."

“Are you coming in or what?”

You turned around, startled, to see none other than Jeremy. Lying on the hospital bed, poking at a container of chocolate pudding with a spoon, and most importantly, awake. 

At first, you were surprised, but soon emotion took control of your body, and you ran to him as if he were about to disappear.

"Oh my God, I can finally see you..." His shirt, which you hugged tightly, muffled your words.

"The pudding spilled on your jacket."

"I don't care."

He chuckled into your hair, holding you tighter. You stayed like that for a moment, desperately holding back tears. If even one had surfaced, you would’ve fallen apart like a child.

ou pulled away after a long time, immediately noticing that his eyes were also filled with tears. However, he quickly wiped them away with his hand. Still, he was a sixteen-year-old boy, and crying in front of his sister felt like public humiliation for him, a shame that would last forever. You tried to do everything you could to avoid looking at his wrists. Both hands were wrapped in bandages, and from the conversation with your father, you learned that they had put in a lot of stitches. You focused on looking at his face—young, similar to yours, with the same blue eyes.

"Are parents visiting you?"

He shrugged.

"Father, surprisingly, more often. Mother drops by irregularly and talks about strange things. Apparently, our neighbor's dog has worms, and it really pisses her off. My mother, not the neighbor. Though, probably the neighbor too..."

You didn't know why you started crying.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." you mumbled, your words slurring. “I should have gotten here earlier, and I didn’t. I regret so much that I didn’t, I’m sorry. I should have been here the moment you woke up.”

He didn’t say anything, letting you lament. Finally, you wiped away the last tear, then apologized to him about eighteen more times. You sat together in silence for a moment, busying yourself with wiping the dirty jacket. He wasn’t joking about the pudding.

“How are you feeling?”

He shrugged.

“Tolerable, I guess. By the way, who was that guy who came in with you?”

You turned toward the entrance, but Spencer was nowhere to be seen. He must have sat on one of the chairs outside the room, and knowing him, he’d probably started reading some medical brochure.

“A friend,” you replied briefly. “I hope it doesn’t bother you that I brought him... It’s just…”

You didn’t know how to explain that you couldn’t have made it here without support.

“He works for the FBI too?” he asked, suddenly curious. “Would he tell me more about the job than you do?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pretending to be dead serious.

“I won’t let him tell my little brother any graphic details.”

“I’m not a kid!”

“To me, you are, and always will be.”

He looked like he was holding back from sticking his tongue out at you.

“Call him,” he asked. “I’d love to meet your friend. Is he a friend, or a friend?”

“Jeremy, you’re ridiculous…”

But you fulfilled his request. Spencer stared at you with wide eyes when you told him that your brother wanted to see him. As he entered the room, he almost tripped over... probably his own feet, since there was nothing else to trip on. And that’s how the rest of the visit went, the three of you together. Jeremy alternated between complaining about the hospital food and bombarding Reid with questions about absolutely everything related to being a profiler. He had always been fascinated by it, but after everything that had happened to you, you couldn’t, with a clear conscience, recommend that job to him. Spencer had been explaining everything in detail to him, and for the next hour, you almost felt like an intruder in their private conversation, which amused you instead of offending you.

Spencer left a moment before you, giving you a chance to say goodbye to your brother privately. When you finally released him from your embrace, promising you'd come back tomorrow, the same nurse who had spoken with you at the reception entered the room. She was checking Jeremy’s condition as you headed for the exit.

“Wait,” she suddenly said. “I think your husband left his scarf.”

She held up the purple scarf, indeed Reid's. You were about to thank her and take it when you noticed Jeremy’s mouth hanging open, and with horror, you realized what she'd said.

"Forgive me, dear sister, but what the fuck?”

*

“So, he’s convinced that we had a secret, spontaneous wedding that you didn’t tell him about?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

In reality, Jeremy had probably realized immediately that there was a misunderstanding, but he just couldn’t pass up the chance to tease you. He would likely bring it up again for the rest of your life. You were also worried that you'd get an angry phone call from your mother asking why you didn’t mention your “wedding,” but overall, you were content with how the meeting went.

You both walked together in an unknown direction, neither of you sure when you should part ways or if you even wanted to. You didn’t want to, but you had no idea about him. The weather was much better than in the town where you had spent the last few days. The fewer trees meant that autumn wasn’t as pronounced. It was only present in the chilly, gusty wind.

"If you don't have any plans, how about going out to eat?" you suggested.

"Sure." Reid agreed immediately, and the corner of your mouth twitched at the speed of his response. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Well, anything. There's a good restaurant on the corner of this street... Oh, God, I just remembered, I owe someone dinner as a thank you."

"Dinner? As a thank you?" he repeated with a strange look on his face. Before he could say anything else, he caught himself and snorted. "Interesting. Just curious, is it someone I know?"

"Oh, you know him." You continued with a barely suppressed smile. "Do you remember James Rivas? The forest ranger?"

Reid literally stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Dinner? With him?"

"That's right. Well, he saved my life, so I guess I owe him that."

You were shocked when you learned how your team knew where to find you after you were kidnapped. The bunker Osborne took you to was unknown to the local authorities, hidden deep in the forest, far from any paths. When the rumor spread through the town about who was responsible for the murders and that an FBI agent had been kidnapped, the forest ranger showed up at the police station. He revealed that he knew the place where you might have been held because, as a child, he used to go there with friends, including Logan Osborne.

But of course, you had no intention of taking him to dinner. You just wanted to laugh at Reid's reaction.

"You're absolutely not owed anything by him!" he blurted out with emotion, a hint of anger in his voice. "If he'd only remembered that he knew about the existence of some bunker, you wouldn't have been kidnapped in the first place. You wouldn't have had to go through that hell, and I wouldn't have been losing my mind the whole time, not knowing what happened to you. Plus, have you forgotten what an awful person he is? He's arrogant, self-absorbed, and full of self-admiration—do you really want to have dinner with someone like that...are you laughing?"

He furrowed his brow, completely confused by your reaction.

“God, Reid, I was just joking! I’d rather die than spend another hour with that jerk. Especially voluntarily,” you explained, laughing between words. Something in his remark made you smirk. “Were you really losing your mind when I was kidnapped? “

“You’re impossible," he snorted. “Where’s that restaurant?”

“Wait, don’t change the topic and answer my question”

He simply looked at you, tilting his head to the side.

 “Isn’t it obvious?”

taglist: @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @nightfullofparadox

thank you everyone for reading <3

[bird-in-the-space]

Echoes of the Unknown

You save Miko from a risky situation and end up losing your patience with her.

Warnings: violence, reader getting annoyed, Miko giving bad name ideas, killing a con, an outburst, some regrets, and making up.

Chapter 13

-------------------------------------

A few days have passed and you have started to get used to your new life. You worked on the hologram projector with Raf, making great progress on it. He taught you more tech stuff and even agreed to teach you a few cybertronian things. Miko started calling you two nerds when you were invested in your little project. When you were not working on the projector, you would be helping Ratchet in the sick bay. He showed you the ropes, and whenever he was done, you would help fix things or clean his tools.

Today, Emily had to go back home to check on things, so you were alone with the kids and the bots. It wasn’t too bad since you had time to get to know them better. 

With Ratchet’s permission to use his tools, you worked on making your prosthetic fingers. It was challenging but with the things you learned and the parts, you had an idea of how to create the joins and make it detachable as you doubted you could modify your own hand without causing any nerve damage. 

You adjusted the finger joints and the straps you used to attach the finger between your two main fingers. You placed the tool down and looked it over, testing its mobility and density. You then grabbed a box and tested how well it helped you hold it. 

“Hey, not bad,” Raf complimented as he watched from the side. 

“Yeah. I guess this makes holding things much easier now. Maybe I could try making a little finger as well,” you said. 

“Not a bad idea, then you five fingers again,” he said.

You then heard someone come from the entrance. It was Bulkhead as he came back from his drive with Miko. The energetic girl stepped out of the passenger seat, allowing the bot to transform into his robot form. 

“What’s up geeks? Got anything interesting going on?” she asked. 

“Nothing much. (Name) managed to make herself a new finger,” Raf said. 

“Cool. Hey, maybe you could make new weapons and stuff? Maybe you could make one of those wrist blades or brass knuckles,” she suggested, throwing punches in the air. “Oh! oh! maybe you could make a cannon to blast cons away,” she said. 

“I just made a new finger. I’m not a weapon engineer,” you shook your head. 

“Oh, come on. Have some fun little?” Miko pestered. 

“By the way, we should come up with a bot name for you,” she said. 

“What’s wrong with my current name?” you asked with a frown. 

“Nothing. It’s just it's a human name. You are a giant robot now. So how about you get a cool robot name!” Miko said.

You groaned as she had been at it for a few days now. It was constantly about being a cool robot and doing cybertronian stuff. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t find it a bit annoying by now. 

“How about… Skullcrusher?” 

“No,” you shook your head. 

“Mauveine,” 

“That’s a color,” you said. 

“Metallica,” she threw in 

“Isn’t that the name of that one metal band?” you frowned. 

“Oh, now I got it. Mirage,” she said. 

“I think I am going to stay with my current name,” you stated. 

“Oh, don’t be so boring,” Miko whined. 

“Sometimes boring is good enough. Deal with it,” you said, taking out your finger. 

A loud beeping came from the main computer. You looked over as Optimus and the other bots checked out what their computer found. 

“The cons are active,” Arcee said. 

“Could be a false alarm,” Bulkhead added. 

“Whatever it is. It is worth investigating. “ Optimus said. 

“Autobots. Transform and roll out,” he said as they opened the ground bridge. They transformed and drove into the green vortex. 

After the ground bridge closed, you tried to get back on your project, but then you noticed someone missing. 

“Where’s Miko?” you asked. 

Ratchet, Raf, and Jack looked around but the girl was nowhere to be seen. 

“She was just here a moment ago,” Jack said. 

You were then reminded of what Jack said about Miko joining the missions despite the dangers. She disappeared right after the bots left through the ground bridge. 

“You don’t think she went after the bots?” you asked, glancing toward the ground bridge. 

“Well, it would not be the first time,” Jack said. 

Ratchet groaned loudly before contacting Optimus and the other bots.

“Optimus. Miko disappeared right after you left. Did she follow you?” he asked. 

“Negative. We are currently engaging the decepticons,” Optimus said. 

“I have eyes on her. Miko! Get to cover!” Bulkhead yelled as you all heard blaster fire in the background. 

You felt worried for Miko’s sake. 

“Scrap! They sound too engaged to get Miko out of there,” Ratchet said. 

“What should we do?” Jack asked. 

You considered your options. Ratchet was pretty much needed at the base. Jack and Raf would be too at risk to go get her. The bots were engaging the enemy and it would be too risky just to wait and hope for the best. There was only one option. 

“I could go get her,” you stood up. 

“Absolutely not,” Ratchet said strictly. 

“I’m not gonna join the fight. I stay hidden, find Miko, and come back,” You explained. 

“Are you sure?” Raf asked. 

“We could wait here and hope nothing happens to her. Besides I’m a robot now, I have the least chance of getting hurt unlike Miko,” you answered. 

You all then looked at Ratchet. He groaned with a sigh. 

“Fine.” he opened the ground bridge. 

“But you better be quick and stay out of harm,” He said as you turned toward the ground bridge. 

“Be careful,” Raf said as you ran into the vortex. 

You jumped out of the ground bridge as it closed behind you. You quickly hid when you saw the bots fighting the cons. It was violent as punches and kicks were thrown at each other. You looked around for the girl. However, you couldn’t see her. 

“Bulkhead! Where’s Miko?!” you called out as he was the nearest. 

“I told her to hide over there!” he pointed at rocks before continuing the fight. 

You quickly sneaked toward the boulders where Miko should be and soon enough, saw her watching the fight. 

“Miko!” you called out. 

“Huh?” Miko looked toward you, but then one of those vehicons noticed her. Your eyes widened in panic. 

“Miko! Get down!” you yelled as you ran toward the vehicon and tackled him to the ground before he could grab the girl. Miko yelped then watched as you started wrestling with the con. 

The vehicon was stunned but struggled hard against you. You groaned as you tried to push him down. He then tried to shoot you with his blaster arm. You tried to push it away but when he fired, you were forced back to avoid getting shot. The vehicon then tried to get up. You tried to think something then remembered you shared a similar body, which meant you should have a blaster arm as well. 

“Come on…” you tried to think of your arm as a weapon, and then a click happened and your arm turned into a blaster. 

“(Name)!” Miko pointed at the vehicon as it prepared to shoot you. 

You aimed and a blast came out of your blaster arm. You were thrown back from the recoil, however, your shot struck the vehicon right in the core, causing it to fall and lay on the ground motionlessly with smoke rising out of it. 

You both stared at the dead con in stunned silence. Your arm turned back to normal and you released a heavy breath. 

“Dude! That was so cool!” Miko said beside you. You frowned and then grabbed her into your hands. 

You ran away from the battlefield, returning to the spot where you first arrived. 

“Ratchet! I got Miko! Bring us back!” you said through the com and he then opened the ground bridge again. You ran into the vortex, away from the battlefield. 

Back at the base, after the ground bridge closed behind you, you placed Miko back on her feet. 

“Are you okay?” Raf asked when he saw you rub your head. 

“I’m fine,” you uttered annoyed. 

“Dude! That was epic! You totally scrapped that con!” Miko said excitedly. 

“You are tougher than you look,” she said. 

You looked at her. “You got to be joking you could have gotten yourself killed!” You said. 

“Well, it’s a good thing you came. You make one awesome bot, and I got some sweet pictures” she said like what just happened wasn’t a big deal. Your patience finally ran out. You had enough of her antics. 

“Are you fucking shitting me right now?!” you snapped. 

“Oh oh,” Jack said, covering Raf’s ears. 

“We were on an active battlefield just now and all you cared about was getting some dumb photos? Do you think this is some kind of a game?” you asked with anger in your tone. 

“Relax. It’s alright now,” Miko said. 

“No! Miko! It’s not!” you stepped toward her, causing her to step back and look at you with a bewildered expression. 

“We could have gotten ourselves killed! I did not want to be there, but one more second, and you would have been a goner for good. No second chances. Like, come on Miko! That was an actual battle zone! You could have actually died there!” you yelled, pointing at the ground bridge from where you came. 

“I…I…” Miko stuttered under her words. 

“How about you actually think with your head once in a while instead of trying to get dumb photos?!” You asked. 

“Okay. Everyone calm down,” Ratchet tried to de-escalate as he stepped forward. 

“(Name). How about you go outside for a moment? Cool yourself down,” he said. 

“For the record, Miko. I find none of this cool. My human body is gone. I can never return to my human life, so how about you stop with the stupid name suggestions,” you marched out of the hangar while Miko looked after you with tears in her eyes. 

“That was… intense,” Jack said. 

“I… I didn’t mean to,” Miko sniffed. 

“Calm down, Miko. Give her some alone time. She’ll come around eventually,” Ratchet said before returning to the monitors. 

Miko dried her eyes and quietly walked to the yellow couch where she continued to sit in silence. Raf and Jack looked at her with worry but did not know if they should try to comfort her after that outburst. 

The bots soon returned to the base after dealing with the cons. Bulkhead quickly walked over to Miko after seeing her. 

“Miko. Are you alright? You didn’t get hurt, now did ya?” he asked. 

“I’m fine,” Miko uttered. Bulkhead immediately noticed the sullen look and tone in her voice. 

“Hey, Miko. What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asked. 

“Let’s just say… when (Name) brought Miko back, she kinda lost her patience and had an outburst,” Raf explained. 

“Yeah, she did not like the experience and apparently there was a con she had to scrap to save Miko,” Jack said. "I guess she also got annoyed about being a bot," he added.  

“I didn’t mean to make her that upset,” Miko exclaimed. 

Bumblebee beeped something. 

“Understand that (Name) did not become this out of her choice and that her condition is irreversible, which means she can never return to the life she once knew,” Optimus said. 

“Meaning she can’t go home or do human things anymore,” Jack said. 

“Maybe she actually misses being a human,” Raf added. 

“Whatever the case, perhaps giving each other time to think will help you both resolve this issue,” Optimus stated. 

Arcee looked toward Miko before her thoughts came to you. 

At the top of the base, you were sitting at the edge of the cliff, gazing at the view after releasing a few angry tears and thinking the whole thing through. You felt regretful for cursing out on Miko like that. 

“Hey,” 

You looked behind you and saw Arcee walking toward you. 

“Ugh… hey,” you replied, slightly awkwardly.

“I heard you had a blowout with Miko after bringing her back,” she said. 

“Yeah. I lost my patience. I shouldn’t have done that,” you sighed, holding your knee as your other feet hung from the edge. 

“No. I get it. Miko does tend to get herself into dangerous situations,” Arcee said as she sat down beside you. 

“Yeah, but I still shouldn't have blown up on her like that. God. I’m so stupid. I said some pretty nasty stuff to her, “ you said. 

“Don’t beat yourself over that. Miko is just how she is even though she could be more considerate of her own safety, and it’s completely normal to feel the way you did after saving her from a con,” Arcee comforted.  

“I really didn’t think much. When I saw that con trying to grab her, I just ran and tackled the con to the ground,” you explained. 

“It was a close call and her being so careless about it kinda pissed me off,” you said. “Now she probably won’t talk to me after that whole episode,” You uttered sadly. 

“Don’t overthink it. Everyone can get frustrated at times and need to blow up steam. And Miko is just a kid. Kids tend to do reckless things without considering the consequences,” Arcee said. “I doubt she thinks badly of you. You came to make sure she would come back safely and fought a con. Bulkhead already appreciates you for it,” she said. 

You considered her words. “You’re right. But… I think I still need to make up to her in a way,” you said. 

Arcee smiled with a nod. “ You know, you might look like a con, but you’re definitely not one from the inside,” 

You chuckled as you two then gazed at the view before you. 

Back inside the base, you walked up to Miko as she was sketching on the couch. 

“Miko,” you said, catching her attention. 

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. The thing is I’m scared by this whole alien war thing, and I was really worried when that con nearly got you,” you said. 

“I’m sorry too. I know I can get a bit ahead of myself. Thanks for coming to my rescue,” she said. 

“It’s fine. Also… I kinda miss being a human. As a robot, there are now some things I can’t do anymore. Like I can no longer eat my favorite food. I can’t drink any of my favorite drinks, not even something as bland as water. I can’t run my fingers through my hair, and I can barely feel the wind on my face. I can’t even take casual walks outside to clear my head. Those seem like small things, but after a long time, you can’t help but grow to miss them,” you explained. 

 “I— didn’t really think of it that way. I can’t imagine myself never being able to drink my favorite soda again, “ Miko said thoughtfully. 

“I know right? Energon doesn’t really taste much and now it’s the only thing I need to survive. Being a robot might have been cool if it was temporal. However, I’m stuck like this forever,” you said. 

“(Name). I’m sorry,” Miko said. 

“No. it’s okay. There are some positive perks in being a robot,” you said. 

“Like what?” she said curiously. 

“You do not need to worry about getting a driver’s license. You can pretty much now climb and jump from any high places that would have gravely injured you as a human. And… well, you no longer suffer from periods,” you said. 

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” Miko grinned. 

“Periods?” Bulkhead looked confused. 

“What I wanna say is… well… don’t stop being you, but maybe be a bit more considerate of your safety. I’m pretty sure none of us here wants to see you get hurt,” you said. 

“No promises,” Miko teased, making you tilt your head at her. “But I promise to try,” she said. 

You smiled and then glanced at her book, having an idea. 

“You know, Emily has been talking about getting a new look for me. Do you wanna help us out on that?” you asked. 

“Absolutely! I can come up with the most rad colors ever,” Miko said, taking out her pencil and began drawing. She rambled ideas while you just listened, nodding along as she came up with interesting color design ideas. 

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐒

Yandere Hal Jordan x GN Reader

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: Just wanted to expand on my yan Hal thoughts a bit. This is a very short blurb.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒: romantic yandere content, idk how to even describe this, coercive behavior, hints of a physical fight, blood mention, Hal just generally being a dick, there’s also lowkey something wrong with the reader, maybe some Stockholm syndrome, kissing, slightly suggestive ending, this is just a general snapshot.

Keeping up with him took great effort. He was pulling your arm with a firm grip, practically dragging you behind him as he led you down the empty street. You almost tripped on the uneven sidewalk, and god only knows what would happen if you did; he clearly wasn’t in the mood for any more hiccups this afternoon.

The silence between the two of you was thick, almost suffocating. Suffering through it any longer was bound to drive you insane. So, with a sudden surge of bravery, you decided to speak up. “Hal—”

“Just come on,” was all he replied with, his tone riddled with impatience. His grip only tightened around your forearm, eliciting a small wince from you. Not that he seemed to care, of course. He merely continued to pull you along, assumingly back to the apartment, if you had to take a guess.

Though you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down to bruised and bloodied knuckles.

“Hal,” you tried again. There was an unsure quiver to your voice, but you pushed through it in favor of speaking your mind. “Hal, that wasn’t right… you shouldn’t have—”

You trailed off the moment Hal took a sudden sharp turn into an alleyway. Before you could even process how direly you fucked up, he pushed you into the wall behind you by your shoulder, your head slamming roughly into the gritty bricks. Stars danced behind your eyes from the impact, and when you cracked open your eyelids, you could see his disapproving expression as clear as day.

“Ow, fuck—!! Hal, that hurt—”

“Babe,” he started with a slow, condescending tone, “you know I don’t like it when people talk to you like that. It’s fucked up. Okay?”

Whether it was the implication that you couldn’t stand up for yourself — or the dull throbbing in the back of your skull — you could feel the irritation begin to nestle in your chest. “But don’t you think that was a little overboard? And risky? Someone could’ve seen you—!”

“(Y/N). Everything turned out fine. Quit it with the bratty attitude already.” One of his hands gently rested against your cheek. There was a slight wetness to the pads of his fingers, which you quickly deduced was more blood. His steely eyes bore into yours with pure disappointment. “Look, I’m sorry you had to see all of that, but it’s been taken care of.”

Sick fuck, you mentally sneered. Nonetheless, you did well to keep the disgusted grimace off of your face; Hal is pissed off enough as it is. “Alright. Fine. You took care of it.” Your next words had poorly concealed venom behind them. “Thank you, I guess. Can we just go home now?”

Apparently, that was not the answer Hal wanted to hear. The hand on your cheek — once so gently, so delicate — violently snatched up your jaw, his fingers digging into your skin with enough strength that there were sure to be bruises left behind. A pained noise gritted out from clenched teeth with an unintelligible swear quickly following. You attempted to tug back, but his grip was like iron welded tightly to your face.

Hal’s eyes narrowed at you. “I said quit it with the bratty shit.”

Despite your eyes narrowing back at him, you knew you’ve been pushing your luck. “Okay,” you relented, trying to make your voice sound as apologetic as you could. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t make his doubt more obvious, but at least his grip lightened up a bit. With an unimpressed look, he scanned your face before giving the slightest eye roll and moving his fingers from your jaw to your chin. You pursed your lips together as he leaned in for a kiss, which earned a short puff of air from his nose. It was hard to tell if it was from irritation or amusement; considering who you were dealing with, it could’ve been either.

“Come on, now,” he urged, words dripping with that sickeningly sweet condescending tone. You tried not to shiver from his warm breath ghosting against your lips. “Kiss me back.”

You quickly decided it was in your best interest to comply. Lips now slotted against each other, you could feel him tilt your head towards the side for a better angle, and it wasn’t long until your body was pulled away from the wall to be trapped against his. Fortunately, the kiss didn’t last very long. By the time you pulled apart, you were barely out of breath.

The crooked smirk on Hal’s face, however, told you this was just the beginning. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He then nosed into the crook of your neck, forcing you to fight against a shiver. “Now, are you gonna continue being good for me or what?”

God, what a fucking jackass.

(Not that you’d say that to his face, of course.)

[canonically47]

i don’t like how almost the entire fandom is on jimmy’s ass but loves curly. while jimmy undoubtedly did worse things, curly PROTECTED HIM. you cannot stand there at your computer and type straight-faced about how ‘jimmy is a horrible monster!! ...but curly could treat anya sooooo well’ like HUH??? this game is NOT about how jimmy is the worst person alive ever WITHOUT also the message of curly being AT LEAST half as bad.

because HE KNEW. and i think this is also beautifully represented through his design. he chose to turn a blind eye to anya’s struggles, HE CHOSE TO NOT SEE, and then, after the crash, he found himself with one eye constantly open, FORCED TO SEE. and by god did he see. he saw, first-hand, how protecting his absolute bastard of a friend led to the death of the entire crew and their prolonged sufferring. i saw one person suggest that the scene in which swansea kills daisuke could be from curly’s POV since it aligns perfectly with the hallway and the look he would get of the scene.

so curly, who once always protected his friend and turned a blind eye to his misdemeanors, is now forced to see these terrible events unfold firsthand. because guess what? it’s about half of curly’s fault for these events jimmy creates. because he could have prevented so much if only he wasn’t part of this toxic culture of males protecting each others from the consequences of their own actions.

now before i get any angry comments or reblogs: i do not despise curly. i do not even despise jimmy as a character. i condemn their actions 110%, ESPECIALLY jimmy’s - but i think they’re such deep and shockingly real, raw depictions of humans that not only could, but DO exist. as concepts and characters, i admire wrong organ for their bravery to create them into existence - and i hate them as people. again, they are representatives of the toxic culture males have in which they protect each other (“my buddy couldn’t have raped/SA’d/etc her because i know him and he wouldn’t do that!!” etc etc.) and it is so upsetting but so necessarry to witness this. i just wish the fandom would be willing to witness it fully, not just go “FUCK JIMMY” “so sorry you had to draw jimmy” while simultaneously pushing out curly x reader or saying shit like “curly just wanted everyone to be happy :(” “curly would treat anya better” etc etc.

this is such a raw and real story once again ruined by a fandom whose minds are rotted by hehe hot man, toxic yaoi, and amatonormativity. and yea that sounds funny when you read it but so many of the messages of the game are ignored in favor of all the above. i’m tired of it!!!

TL;DR: i condemn both jimmy AND curly’s actions and i think that you guys should not give curly a pass for protecting jimmy. if you’re going to call jimmy a horrible fucked-up monster, acknowledge that curly enabled him time and time again. also stop shipping people this is Not That Kinda Story ffs (from a tired aromantic)

[jessicaloons]

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince:

Chapter 6

Masterlist - Previous - Next

The Heartbreak Prince

23 April 2023:

"She’s gorgeous. Look at this beautiful girl." Pascale Leclerc cooed at her granddaughter, eyes full of love.

"She really is. And she’s so small… like a little doll." Charles smiled, watching his mother cradling his daughter to her chest, when his phone rang "That’s Fred. I have to take it."

"It’s okay, don’t worry, I’ll stay here with my beautiful, little girl." his mother said, not looking up from the bundle of joy in her arms.

Charles walked outside, accepting the call.

"Fred…"

"I got your text earlier. Congrats Charles, mother and daughter both okay?" his team principal asked.

"Yeah. Both healthy."

"That’s good. Really good. And the rest- umm… everything arranged?"

"Yeah. It’s been taken care of." Charles sighed.

"Good, good… I really don’t like to do this Charles- but I have to ask. Will

you race in Baku? I would understand if you didn’t want to… but- well it’s Baku. You always been quite good there, so I think… maybe…" Fred stuttered a little, as a father himself, he knew what he asked of his young driver.

"No. I have to… I said I would do everything in my power to be able to do both. Race and be a good father…" Charles replied, although he honestly didn’t want to leave his precious girl behind.

"You don’t have to come with everyone else, be here on the 27th, for media day, that’s fine…" his Team Principal suggested and he nodded slowly.

"Thanks Fred, see you in Baku."

"See you in Baku…"

Charles pocketed his phone, leaning against the wall when the door to the hospital room opened, his mother looking outside.

"You need to feed her, come on in…" she smiled at her son and Charles pushed himself off the wall, following her back in.

The gorgeous baby girl scrambled in the little crib, soft cries leaving her.

"Here, it’s warm. Take her and sit down…" his mother instructed him and he did as told.

After a couple of minutes a comfortable silence fell over the room. Only the newborn’s tiny sounds while eagerly suckling on the bottle were to be heard.

Charles eyes were full of love and adoration for the tiny human being in his arms, to think he would only have 4 days until he had to leave his little girl for the first time hurt him beyond belief. But he knew that he made a promise. He would do everything to give his daughter the best life possible.

"It’s just you and me, mon ange… just you and me, but I promise you, I will do everything to keep you safe, keep you happy." Charles leaned down to gently kiss his little girls forehead "I love you, my beautiful Ava."

"And this will be your room, I mean, when you’re a little older of course. I know, it’s nothing special. It needs colour, decoration, maybe even different furniture… but I wanted to have the nursery ready before you were born… we change that, don’t worry, pretty girl." Charles cradled his daughter to his chest, standing in the middle of the plain, white nursery. It looked sterile. Cold. He knew it. He just didn’t have the time to change it until now "You’ll sleep in my bedroom for now anyways… here, I show you…" he walked outside the nursery, down the hallway, through the door at the end "This is where we sleep, how do you like it?" he looked down at the sleepy baby girl, chuckling "It’s not like you’re going to answer, right? I guess your silence means you love it…"

"I hate it, I want my own bedroom, daddy!" Joris' high pitched voice behind him made Charles roll his eyes "I thought you’re a millionaire, why do we have to share a room?"

"Ha-ha, very funny…" the Ferrari driver turned around, glaring at his best friend "Before she’ll move into her nursery, I need to make it homely first. Worthy of my little princess." his eyes softened as soon as he looked back down into the baby’s face.

"You still got time, don’t worry. For now, you should enjoy the next couple of days with her, before leaving for Baku…"

"I can’t believe that I’m saying that, but I don’t want to race, I want to stay here with her, I don’t want to miss anything she’s learning, or doing for the first time!" the new father sighed.

"I know. But let’s face it, Ava is only 3 days old, she won’t do much besides sleeping and pooping…" Joris shrugged his shoulders.

"Watch it, Trouche, or I’m rethinking my choice of making you her godfather." Charles turned slightly, smiling at his best friend.

"Wha-… are you-… are you serious? M- me? Godfather?" he stumbled over his own words, eyes wide as he stared at the young father with his daughter in front of him.

"I’m serious, yeah… I mean, obviously only if you wa-…"

"Yes! YES! Of course! I just… I didn’t think you would choose me? Lorenzo? Or Arthur… but… wow. WOW!" Joris stepped closer, looking at the little angel in her father’s arms, his goddaughter "My beautiful Ava. I will try to be the best godfather, I promise!"

"And you know what? One of your first duties is to help me change her diaper… I did it the last days with maman’s or a nurses help… but now… I’m scared…"

"I mean, how hard can it be?" Joris chuckled and followed Charles to the changing table, where he gently laid down his little bundle of joy.

"Yeah, shouldn’t be that big of a problem." the new dad shrugged.

It was a problem. A big problem. And when ten minutes later the little girl was all fresh and dressed up, both young men slid down on the floor, leaning against the bed and drawer.

"I will have nightmares of this- this experience…" Joris mumbled and Charles nodded slowly.

"How can this precious, sweet little thing create such an atrocity?" he looked down at his daughter, who dozed off already, letting out the sweetest sounds.

"And now look at her! All cute and adorable!" Joris smiled and his best friend scooted over a little.

"Do you want to hold her?" he asked and looked at him.

"Umm-… sure. But you have to show me, I never held a baby that little!"

"I’ll show you, don’t worry…" Charles replied and showed Joris exactly how to held his little baby girl.

"Oh wow… oh wow… she’s so tiny…" Joris mumbled, looking at his goddaughter "She’s so cute…"

"She is perfect… I know that it won’t be easy, being here for her, taking care of her. My career. Keeping her safe from my crazy life. The media. My fans. I know the next months, maybe years will be pretty tough… but when I look at her? I just know it all will be worth it." Charles almost whispered, his gaze softening.

"I think you’re right… I mean, just look at her…" Joris replied, gently taking Ava’s hand in his much bigger one, inspecting her tiny fingers.

"I know this all was unusual. A drunk one night stand. Hiding her mother away from everyone. Keeping her a secret? But I would do it all over again, just to have her…"

Joris looked up at Charles, smiling at the way how his best friend’s soft gaze lingered on his baby girl. A content smile on his lips. His eyes full of love. He always knew that Charles would be an amazing father one day, the way he treated his little fans a clear indicator, but seeing it happening before his eyes made his own heart double in size.

"She’s your little girl."

"My little girl. My princess." Charles whispered, gently kissing his daughter’s tiny hand "My everything."

Baku 2023:

"Question for Charles, you only arrived today, everything okay? I’ve, and I’m sure I’m not the only one, noticed that you’re a little pale?" a reporter asked at the press conference and Charles picked up the microphone, clearing his throat.

"I’m good, thanks. I had to sort out something back at home, nothing bad, don’t worry, just a family- a private matter. It’s all good and I’m here, ready to race." he said it with a big smile on his face.

A smile he kept for the rest of the press conference. A fake smile. Leaving Ava behind after not even a full week hurt. It didn’t sit right with him. But he promised his team he would race. He promised him being a father now wouldn’t affect his career and he planned on keeping that promise.

"You’re alright mate?" Max asked when they left the press conference and Charles nodded "Everything alright at home?"

"Yeah, sure… it was just-… my mum. She was sick, nothing serious, but there were some things we had to take care off. Her hair salon. Stuff, you know?" the Monegasque was a horrible liar and he knew he had to improve in order to keep his secret under wraps.

"Okay-… well, I’m glad she’s good again?" Max replied.

"Hmm. Yeah. All good…"

"Alright. What do you think? Another pole this year here?"

"I much rather would start in P2 but actually win the race… but honestly? I’m not having much hope." Charles sighed, thinking about the weekend ahead, hoping for a decent outcome at least. And when Sunday came and he sat in the plane back home late at night, the smile on his face wasn’t just from being happy to see his daughter again, but also from a second place in the sprint race and a third place in the main race. His mood was only dampened by the fact that he would have too little time with his baby girl, considering he had to catch his flight on Thursday to Miami, but even if it would only be for 10 minutes, Charles would take the detour. Every single second with his daughter was precious.

"Hey my little princess…" Charles cooed at his little one, inhaling the unique newborn smell, sighing contently when he finally made his way back home "I’m back baby girl and this time I’m staying for longer than just a day!"

He thought back to last week when he made a quick stop over in between Baku and Miami, hating to leave her after only a day already.

"She was a perfect little angel." Pascale smiled, packing her granddaughters bag "Are you sure you want to drive home? You could stay here?"

"No, I really should go home. I have to get used to taking care of her alone…" Charles replied.

"Okay, here, I’ve got her a car seat." Pascale sat down the Maxi-Cosi and helped her son buckling in the little baby girl "If you need anything, call me, okay?"

"Will do. Thanks Maman, for taking care of her." Charles kissed his mother’s cheek, who gently squeezed his arm.

"I told you, we’re all helping you. It’s going to be fine. And now off you go. It looks like it’s about to rain soon…"

And Pascale was right, the moment Charles left the underground parking garage in his car the first drops fell and by the time he reached his own home it was already raining cats and dogs. But it was good like this. Not many people out in the streets. No one walking up to his car to take a picture. When he took Ava out of the carrier and laid her down in her crib he dialled his brother’s number.

"Hey Charles, how’s Ava?" Lorenzo asked and Charles rolled his eyes a little.

"What about me?" he pouted, gently stroking Ava’s cheek.

"You’re right, sorry! How are you? How is Ava?" his older brother chuckled.

"We are both doing fine. But I realised something today…"

"Yeah? And that’s what?"

"I need a new car. A bigger one. A safer one. With tinted windows. I can’t risk someone recognising me and then coming closer, taking pictures and spotting Ava. Chasing us…" Charles quietly left his bedroom, leaving the door a crack wide open.

"Okay, yeah that shouldn’t be a problem."

"Good… and now I have a week with my little one before I have to leave her yet again…" the young father sighed.

"Although I don’t know how you must feel, but let me tell you this. Formula 1 is your job, it’s been your life the past few years and you’re on a good way of finally making one of your biggest dreams come true… don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re doing your job, so it’s okay. And it’s not like you leave Ava all alone! You leave her with Maman who adores her!" Lorenzo said and Charles nodded slightly.

"You’re right… I know that… it just… it sucks a little…"

"Enjoy your week off with her for now, okay? The rest we’ll figure out! In the meantime I’ll check some cars out for you!"

"Thanks Enzo…"

"No worries little bro…"

Charles sat in his bed, Ava comfortably snuggled into his chest, watching the news about the weather in Italy.

"Looks terrifying, no?" Arthur said quietly, walking inside "I’m not even sure if we’re racing…"

"Yeah… and look at all the damage. Those poor people…" Charles sighed.

"Isn’t umm-… Alessia and her family aren’t they living in the Emilia Romagna region?" Arthur said hesitantly and by the way his brother’s head snapped up, looking at him he held up his hands "Sorry… I shouldn’t have said that…"

"You’re right. You shouldn’t have. I don’t know where they are. I don’t care where they are. I hope they’re safe, like everyone affected, but that’s it. I don’t know these people. I don’t want to know these people."

"I have food for you, from Maman…" Arthur tried to change the topic and Charles was more than happy about it.

"I’m starving…" he replied and his little brother nodded.

"I’ll go and fix a plate for you and then you can eat and I snuggle with my little bumblebee…" he left the bedroom and Charles looked down at Ava again.

She slowly opened her eyes, yawning and squirming a little.

"Hi my little princess…" Charles whispered, leaning down, kissing his daughter’s cheek "Did you have a nice nap, baby girl?"

He had to chuckle. He used to shake his head at people who exaggerate using a baby voice when tending to their babies. But now he was just like that, cooing at his little girl with a high pitched voice, waiting for a reply that wouldn’t come.

"Here you go… and now I want my little bumblebee…" Arthur sat down a plate on his older brothers night stand, looking at his niece, smiling when Charles gently laid her down in his arms "She’s so fu-…"

"Arthur!"

"- freaking cute! So incredibly, incredibly cute!" he cooed at the little girl in his arms.

"That she is…" Charles replied "I don’t want to leave on Monday… but it’s Imola, there is a ton of events Silvia couldn’t pull me out off, so I have to go…"

"I don’t want to leave either, staying here would mean no fu- messed up race weekend…" Arthur mumbled and Charles looked up from his plate.

"Don’t be too hard on yourself, Arthur…" he began but Arthur shook his head.

"4 race weekends, 8 races and only one P3… no win, no pole position, mostly finished out of the points, crashes here and there… I guess I’m just not good enough…" he sighed.

"Hey! Stop that! It’s only the beginning of the season, you need time to get used to an F2 car!" Charles sat down his plate, looking at his little brother "You wouldn’t have made it into F2 if you weren’t good enough!"

"Everyone is saying I only made it because of you…"

"What? Who’s saying that?" Charles was confused.

"Everyone. It’s everywhere, experts, journalists, they all say it. Or write it." Arthur replied, smiling at Ava holding onto his finger with a tight grip.

The older Leclerc brother grabbed his phone, opening Google typing in his brother’s name and to his shock, his little brother was right. He clicked on the first YouTube video, not wanting to believe that people would say things like that.

"… now let’s talk about his team mate, Arthur Leclerc…" the blonde woman said, looking at her two male co-hosts.

"Leclerc didn’t have the best start of the season and some people start wondering if he deserves a seat in F2 and of course how much his brother had to do with him having a seat." the dark haired reporter said, while the blonde haired guy next to him nodded.

"Don’t get me wrong. Racing is in the Leclerc brother’s blood. But I guess you can say, when back in the day their parents had to decide which brother could continue and which had to stop, they made the right choice."

Furiously he exited the app, locking his phone.

"Are you watching that?" he looked at his little brother who only shrugged his shoulders "If they can’t talk shit, they’re not satisfied."

"But they’re right, no? I’m not having a good season. I am not good enough…" Arthur mumbled "So yeah… I guess it really made sense that mum and dad put all their money on you instead of me…"

"It had nothing to do with who was better, Arthur! I was older, already further into my racing career. That was it. Nothing else." Charles said and Arthur sighed.

"If you say so." he shrugged.

Charles got off from his bed and sat down on the stool in front of his brother.

"This all, racing, it’s already tough enough without all that bullshit coming from so called experts and you know it! It had nothing to do with me, that you got your seat, Arthur! You had an amazing season in F3. You won the Formula Regional Asian Championship. That’s what got you your seat. You have proven that you’re good enough. Got it?" he said, looking at his younger brother intently who just nodded after a while, his eyes still trained on his niece "And now come on. I want to go for a little walk with her, and now that Enzo brought my new car, we can drive a little out of town to somewhere quiet. Let’s worry about racing and that all tomorrow again, okay?"

"Okay… but just so you know, I’ll sit next to her in the car, I just love looking at her…" Arthur smiled a little and Charles chuckled.

"Same, Arthur, same."

"It’s cancelled. You can go home." Mia said and Charles cocked an eyebrow.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah… I know you just arrived early this morning… but it’s official. You won’t race. You can go home." she smiled at him and it didn’t take Charles longer than 5 minutes to pack his bag and leave.

"Hey! You’re leaving?" Carlos.

Charles stopped dead in his tracks and turned around slowly "I thought we had this dinner with some sponsors later on? Discuss what we can do to help? Or at least that’s what Silvia said?"

He was right. Silvia told him about it, but also said that if the race got cancelled she would make Carlos attend alone.

"Yeah-… umm. I know… it’s just- there is a family emergency back home. I have to go." Charles lied and his team mate looked at him empathically.

"Oh shit, mate. I hope nothing too serious?"

"No. It’s, it’s not too bad, but I have to check in and make sure it stays that way."

"Alright. Do that. And take care, the streets are flooded at some parts and the re-routing isn’t working at all times…" the Spaniard clapped his back and Charles smiled at him.

"Will do, thanks. And sorry for leaving you alone with Silvia and the wolves…" he felt bad.

"Don’t worry, cabrón."

Charles slipped into his car, starting the engine, his mind already at home with his little one. He drove off the Ferrari premises and quickly made his way to the motorway, thankfully without any serious delays or issues. When he finally arrived back home in Monaco and parked his car he leaned back in his seat. Closing his eyes for a minute. He flinched when his phone beeped and he saw a text from his manager, Nicolas, coming through. A new brand collaboration. He sighed, closing the message and getting out of the car. Another gig would mean more time away from his daughter. Something he didn’t like.

Charles quietly closed the door behind him, slipping of his shoes, when he heard the soft voice of his mother, cooing at her. He stood in the doorway of his bedroom, watching his mother sitting in the rocking chair, his beautiful baby girl in her arms and his heart almost bursted.

"Look, little Ava, your papa is here…" Pascale cooed to the little girl and got up, walking over to her son.

"Hi my little princess…" he smiled at her and then kissed his mother’s cheek "Let me take a quick shower and then I’ll take her and you can go."

"Take all the time that you need." she replied, sitting back down in the chair "We are just fine…"

"I can see that." Charles chuckled and grabbed some fresh clothes, making his way into the bathroom, where he took a quick shower before joining his mother and daughter again.

"You look tired, Charles…" Pascale looked worriedly at her son, dark circles under his eyes.

"Driving late last night to Maranello, just an hour or two of sleep in the morning and then driving straight back home around noon? Yeah… I’m tired. But it’s okay. I would do everything for her…" Charles yawned, rubbing his eyes.

"Why don’t you eat something and I make Ava bed ready? Change her, feed her, take her to bed and then you can go to bed as well and take over from then on?" his mother gently rubbed his arm "There are some leftovers in the fridge."

"Sounds like a plan. A good plan…" he mumbled, walking out of the room to warm up the leftovers, eating in silence before returning to his bedroom where Ava was already sleeping in her crib.

"Look at this little angel." Pascal whispered.

"She is perfect." Charles replied quietly, disappearing in his bathroom, getting bed ready himself "You should stay here Maman, it’s late."

"I’ll be fine, don’t worry. You sleep now!" she kissed his cheek "Good night, Charles."

"Good night, Maman… and thank you."

"Not for that…"

The next days Charles spent in pure bliss with his little girl. He felt like he learnt every other moment something new about her, saw a new expression in her face, a new movement of her head.

"Look! It’s like she understands what I’m saying!" he exclaimed "You’re so clever, Ava! So, so clever!"

"She doesn’t understand you. She just recognises your voice!" Lorenzo chuckled but his younger brother didn’t listen "So- umm have you thought about what to do during the Monaco GP?"

"What do you mean?" Charles looked up from his daughter, cocking an eyebrow.

"Charles, you cross the street on any normal day and at least a dozen of people swarm you here. But this week? It’s going to be crazy! Your fans will even follow Maman around, as soon as they spot her somewhere, imagine how they would stalk her if they saw her with a stroller… and she can’t stay inside the entire week with Ava! Also, everyone knows that she’s always in the paddock in Monaco. If she’s not here this year, people will start talking, and when they talk, they will look even more for her…"

"Fu-… damn. I haven’t even thought about that… but you’re right. Oh god what am I supposed to do? I don’t want people to assume that something is wrong with Maman, first Baku and the mysterious family matter why I arrived late, then the dinner in Imola that I didn’t attend because of a family emergency… if she’s not here this weekend… some people would start looking for her..." Charles leaned back, ruffling his hair.

"So umm we- no Charlotte had an idea… when I talked to her about it. We weren’t really spotted together by anyone, so she’s kinda unknown, no one would connect her in any way to you… she could take care of Ava? Go for a walk here and there with her? Watch her at least enough for Maman to be at qualifying and the race?"

"And she would be okay with that? Didn’t you ask her to join you this weekend?"

"She wouldn’t offer it if it wasn’t okay, I’ll ask her to join me next weekend then." Lorenzo replied and Charles nodded.

"If it’s okay for her? She would definitely help me out big time."

"I’ll text her then…" he said and typed away in his phone, a reply coming through almost immediately "'I can’t wait to spend some time with the precious little princess'"

"She’s an angel, tell her that. Thank you! Like seriously. Next weekend in Barcelona, you book the nicest, most luxurious hotel for you two, take her to dinner to the best restaurant. My treat."

"Stop that. She loves to help out. Also, she loves Ava, I think we’re doing her a bigger favour…" Lorenzo laughed but Charles shook his head.

"Doesn’t matter. My treat next weekend."

"She’ll be delighted."

"It’s like this." Charles mumbled, shaking his head while leaving the garage with Andrea.

"You can still get up on top…" he replied but Charles scoffed "It’s not impossible! Just wait… and even if not, then you drive home and cuddle your little girl."

"Yeah. Holding her is better than lifting any trophy out there." the driver smiled.

"See? That’s the spirit." his athletic trainer bumped his shoulder.

"Yeah, I’m trying to…"

"Now come on. Let’s get home, eat something and relax, tomorrow is a new day."

And although Charles gave his best, he wasn’t able to make up any positions. He climbed out of his car, frustrated and congratulated Max on his win.

"Well done mate, congrats."

"Thanks man." Max clapped his back and smiled "Maybe next year you’ll beat the curse."

"There is no curse. Just me or my team not delivering." Charles mumbled and walked off.

He knew how everyone talked about his Monaco curse, but looking at it, it was always just a mistake by himself or, like last year, his team. After his weighing he made his way back to the Ferrari garage and prepared for the media pen.

"Hey Charles. Another year, another disappointing result for you. What went wrong?"

"I didn’t qualify good enough. In Monaco your starting position is crucial for the race outcome. And with the penalty, starting in P6, in the middle of the DRS train in Monaco? Yeah you will most likely finish in P6, like I did." Charles sighed.

"You complained about the stiffness of the car, do you think that will be an issue next week in Barcelona as well?"

"I don’t know. We will see I guess. If the car is like this next week… we have to wait and see…"

"It’s your home GP so now you go home, have a little time with your family and then off to Barcelona?"

"Yeah. Weekend debrief with the team now and then back home where my da-…" Charles stopped abruptly, eyes wide, thinking about what to say "Where my dance partners in crime wait for me." he scolded himself.

"Dance partners in crime?" the reporter cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah after a race like today I need to dance it out, you know?"

"Okay… umm- then have fun and see you next weekend."

Charles could kick himself. He had to be more careful from now on.

"You covered that up quite well…" Mia whispered, seeing how tense Charles was "Sure it was a little… well it was different. Nothing people are used to from you but it’s okay…"

"Dance partners in crime? Dance it out?" he sighed.

"Yeah, I mean, after this weekend? Who wouldn’t want to dance it out." she squeezed his shoulder "Now come on, let’s make this quick and then you can go home, to your dance partner in crime."

"Very funny." Charles groaned and when he finally slipped of his shoes back at home, he couldn’t wait to see his daughter, knowing that she would make him forget the whole weekend with just one little smile.

"She was just a perfect little angel." Charlotte smiled at him when he walked into his living room "She watched her daddy race and then she fell asleep, just like a good little girl."

"There wasn’t much to watch today, no?" Charles mumbled, picking his daughter up from the sofa "But it’s okay… I’m here now…"

"You’ll come back stronger next week."

"I guess we’ll see."

Chapter 6 - Ladies and Gentlemen, baby Ava has arrived and she’s already wrapping EVERYONE around her tiny little fingers. Writing Charles as a dad is one of my favourite things and I can’t wait for you all to read more about him and his little girl.

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment!

Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

Taglist:

@glitterquadricorn @lottalove4evelyn @janeh22 @itsjustkhaos @mariclerc @fangirlforever2000 @queensassybitchsworld

[runningincircl3s]

Nothing Ever After

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Vinny Mauro

Chapter Fourteen

chapter warnings: tiny mention of implied smut?

team vinny we are so up for the next few chapters :) sorry for the delay on posting this one, the next chapter might also be a little late because I'm soo busy this next week and I haven't had a chance to even begin editing it but as soon as I can I will get working on it because it's my favourite chapter I've written for this story so far and i really can't wait to share it with you!! <3

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You don’t have to hide it from me, y’know?” Noah says, his hair falling over his eyes, hand gently placed on your waist as he smiles down at you, “I know how you feel about him.”

“What?”

“Vinny. I’ve seen the way you look at him, it’s okay if you’re in love with him, that’s why I’ve told him to meet us here.”

“Huh?” You laugh, "I'm not in love-"

“Look, he’s on his way.” 

You look up and see Vinny walking towards the both of you, something looked different about him, but he was definitely still him. 

“So you finally made your decision.” Vin smiles, a sparkle was in his eye that you had never seen before.

“What decision?” You didn't understand what was going on.

“You agreed.” Said Noah, his thumb drawing circles on your hip. 

“To what?” You asked. 

“I wasn’t too sure at first when Noah suggested it, baby,” Vinny began, “But the more I thought about it, the more I realised I wanted it.” 

It finally clicked, and you understood why the both of them were here. A rush of excitement rushed through you, adreneline in your veins as you look between the two men in front of you. Your lips crashed into Vin’s as Noah’s found your neck, you’d had this thought many times before, but you never thought it would actually happen.

“God, I need you both,” you moan, feeling Vinny’s- or was it Noah’s hand cupping your breast, as the others' hand came down to your ass, “Please…”

“What do you think? Should we play nice?” Noah asked Vinny, who nodded his head. 

"I think she deserves it."

"Please..." You whimpered, feeling Noah's hot breath tickle your ear as he whispered,

"Get on your knees, princess. Vin's being too kind, I think you need to earn it."

You dropped to your knees in front of Vinny, palming him over his joggers, the ache between your thighs was becoming unbearable as you tugged Vin's boxers down.

“Y/n.” You heard Vin pant as you took him in your mouth, your tongue dancing over his tip before you take him down your throat, Noah's voice whispering praises as he plays with your hair, “y/n…”

“Y/n! Rise and shine!” Vinny shouted, waking you from your nap. 

“What the fuck, Vin!” You groaned, rubbing your eyes, “You just woke me up from the best dream I’ve had in years.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirked, “was I in it?”

“You wish.” You groaned, sitting up to stretch your arms, ignoring how your underwear felt slightly damp as you moved, making you feel rather uncomfortable. “What are you doing here anyway?” 

“I broke my charger and Jolly’s letting me borrow his. Which one’s his bunk?”

“The one on top of mine.” 

“Thanks.” He looks, and then freezes. He stands there in silence for a moment. You panicked internally, wondering if you were moaning his name in your sleep, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, I guess.” You say, reaching around to see where you left your phone when you fell asleep to hide the redness of your cheeks.

“It’s going to sound insane.” 

“Of course, it’s coming from you.” You smirk.

“Y/n, I’m serious.” 

“Okay, sorry. Ask away.” You wondered what could be that serious. 

“It’s my parent’s 40th wedding anniversary this weekend and they’re having a party, they're renewing their vows...” 

“Okay…” You expected him to ask you for help to re-dye his hair or to find something to wear or-

“The thing is... My parents think I have a girlfriend, I’ve never told them I do or don’t, but they’re expecting me to bring someone. I, uh, wanted to ask you because,” you’d never seen Vinny look this nervous in the entire month that you’ve known him, “Well, I thought maybe you could bring your camera, I could tell them my ‘girlfriend’ is a photographer. I’ll make sure I tell them that we’ve broken up next week so they don’t keep asking about you or asking about our plans for the future or-”

"So you want me to be your imaginary girlfriend."

"No- Well, I mean it's not like, I mean you won't-"

“Vinny, it's okay,” you smile, “I’ll do it. I don’t know how I’ll explain it to the rest of the guys-”

“If any of them ask I’ll tell them you’re coming with me just as a photographer, I’ve already thought this through.” 

“Wow,” you chuckle, surprised he'd really thought about this, “You certainly have.” 

“So you’ll definitely come with me?” He asked, “I think my dad might be calling me later so I’ll let him know.”

“What kind of friend would I be if I said no,” you gave him an innocent smile, “Tell Mr Mauro I said hello.” 

“Oh, I was just coming to wake you up.” You hear Noah’s voice, “We’ve checked into our rooms, I’m so glad we’re here for the next few days, I have so much work to get done.” He sighed, reaching for his laptop that he left in his bunk.

“Vin’s just told me his parents are having an anniversary party this weekend and they’ve asked me to be their photographer, isn’t that right, Vin?” 

“Yeah," Vin scratches the back of his neck, "They’ve seen some of the pictures y/n's taken from the last few weeks and asked if she was free this weekend. It’s on Saturday night so we’ll stay there and come back on Sunday.” 

“Oh that’s great,” Noah smiled, rubbing your shoulder, and all of a sudden seeing Noah and Vin both stood over you, you got a flashback to your dream. “And there you were weeks ago worrying you wouldn’t get booked.” You smiled back at him, agreeing.

"Anyway that's all I had to say," Vin smiled, spotting Jolly's phone charger. You had to look away as he reached up to Jolly's bunk, his sweater raising and exposing the trail of hair below his belly button- "See you guys!"

"Bye Vin." You give him a little wave as he walked off.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Once you’ve checked into your room and searched through your suitcase you realised you didn’t really have anything to wear for this type of occasion. You had party outfits, casual outfits, but nothing you could imagine wearing for an anniversary party.

You sent a text to Angela asking if she was busy in the next couple of days and wanted to go shopping with you, you knew her schedule and knew she had nothing going on during your guys' break. It was currently Thursday, and the party was on Saturday night, meaning you and Vinny would have to leave in the morning or the night before to make it to his parent's town in time.

Whilst you were sat on your bed looking online for outfit inspiration, you heard a knock at your door. You throw your phone down on the bed and get up to see who was disturbing you.  

“Everything okay?” You ask, letting him in. 

“Yeah, I just wanted to see you.” He smiled, shutting the door behind himself.

“You see me pretty much everyday, Noah.” You laughed, sitting back down on your bed. 

“Yeah, but like you pointed out the other day, the only time we ever get to spend together alone is when you’re under me or pushed against a wall.” He chuckles, sitting with you, his back against the headboard. “I don’t remember the last time we had a proper conversation.”

“You warned me about how busy the tour life is, this just proves it, doesn't it?” You smiled, “I still can’t believe this past month has been real. I’ll never be able to repay Bryan or you guys for this.” 

“I can think of a few ways you can repay me.” Noah smirks, and you shake your head. 

“I thought you wanted to spend time with me without-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry.” He held his hands up, thinking of a way to change the topic. “I don’t know if I ever asked you how you and Bryan met?”

“Through the photography club at school,” you explain, “I changed schools when I had just turned 14 and I had no friends, we had just moved to a new town, so at lunch I spent my time in the art classrooms and it just so happened they were starting a photography club in the class I’d go to. I wasn’t even that into photography or anything, but that's where I met Bryan. He was quite new to the school too and only had a handful of friends, so everyone who already had their friendship groups would sit together and because we didn’t have anyone we were just put together on a separate table. So over the weeks we finally started talking to each other, and realised we had a lot in common, then we just became best friends from there.” You smiled at the memory, wondering if Bryan still remembered it as clearly as you. 

“It’s weird to think if that never happened you wouldn’t be here right now.” He said, “So you didn’t even want to get into photography?”

“No,” you laughed, “I guess it just sort of happened.” 

“I’m glad it happened,” he smiled, “And I’m glad you’re here.”

As you looked into his eyes, you felt nothing but pure guilt. How could you not tell him about you and Vinny? You were sure he was feeling more for you than he’d let on, and you were about to go to a party with Vinny and pretend to be his girlfriend. 

“Noah, look... There’s something I need to tell you.”

*Buzz buzz*

“Shit sorry I really need to take this-” Noah reached for his phone, answering it and rushing to leave your room. 

You couldn’t say you didn’t try. 

You groaned as he left, reaching for your phone to see if Angela’s replied to your texts yet.

“Ooh what kind of party are you going to ;)”

“I’m not doing anything this afternoon, I could come and pick you up if you want x”

You thought for a moment before you replied to her. You knew whatever Noah’s call was about was probably important, but there’s been countless times where he’s prioritised other things over you. 

“I’m ready when you are x” You replied, leaving your phone on the bed as you went to find a hoodie and a pair of shoes, and then your door knocked again. 

“I’m so sorry that was one of the guys from our record label asking about-”

“Angela’s coming to pick me up in a minute so I’ve gotta go, sorry Noah.” You snapped, not even bothering to look at him as you walk out of your room, shutting the door behind you and beginning to walk away.

“Y/n? Have I done something?” Noah asked, shaking his head in confusion. You stop in your tracks, thinking before you open your mouth.

“Every time I get a chance to spend time with you, or try to talk to you about something serious, something always comes up. I know things like this are out of your control but it happens too often and it pisses me off.”

“Like when?”

“Like when we’re occupied in bed and you suddenly get a call and you leave me laying there to answer it, like when we make plans and you’ve just so happened to forget you had an interview to do, or when we’re out and you see someone you know and you forget I’m even there. I don’t feel seen with you, Noah.” 

“I’m not being funny, y/n, but we aren’t even together. To put it harshly, you always knew the band comes first, and if I remember right you just wanted casual sex, no actual relationship. So why does it bother you so much?”

Your jaw drops in disbelief at his words, he really went there.

“So I don’t mean anything to you?” Your heart was racing in your chest, you felt sick, angry and upset.

“I never fucking said that, did I?”

“You don’t need to say it, I know where I stand with you, Noah.” You argue, and other hotel guests slow down as they walk past, clearly trying to listen in on what’s happening. 

“Can we not do this here?” Noah hisses. 

“Good idea. I’ll see you later, Noah. I’m going out with Angela, because she cares about me, to buy a dress to wear to Vin’s family party because guess what, I bet on anything that he cares about me a whole lot more than you do.”

“You don’t know how I feel about you, y/n.” Noah says, the sound of defeat in his voice. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll see you later, y/n!” He mocks, walking in the opposite direction to you. 

“Noah? What the fuck!” 

He didn’t answer, he didn’t even bother to look at you. 

You groaned, trying not to cry from the frustration, and made your way through the hotel to wait for Angela to pick you up. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“So… What’s the occasion? You never told me when I asked.” Angela asked as you both searched through racks of clothes. 

“Vinny invited me to his parent’s anniversary party.”

“Oh… So not anything slutty, okay…” She giggled. 

“But get this, he told me that his parents think he has a girlfriend, he’s never told him that does or doesn’t, so he wants me to pretend to be his girlfriend for the night.”

“Well that’s a Vinny lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What?”

“He totally just said that to get you to go with him so he can show you off. He’s really close with his family, there’s no way they would think he’s dating someone if he hasn’t said he is.”

“Well we’ll see about that then,” you smirk, “But what if I do want to pretend to be his girlfriend for the night, that would definitely piss Noah off.”

“Oh... What’s he done now?” Angela stops looking and turns to you, her hand on her hip. 

“Nothing, yet everything, he’s just really annoyed me." You sigh, "He turns up to my room to spend time with me but then he gets a call and he runs out, it’s not like I don’t know his business, surely he should be able to take work calls around me.”

“It sounds like he doesn’t trust you…” She frowned.

“Exactly!” 

“Oh my god y/n look!” She pulls out a gorgeous red dress, making you gasp, “Try it on! Try it on!” You claps, handing it over to you.

“I don’t know if red’s my colour…” 

“That's even more of a reason for you to try it on and see if it is!” She smirks, “...But I do know it’s Vin’s favourite colour.”

You give her a look, before taking it and heading to the changing rooms to try it on. 

“I think it’s a little tight…” You say as you walk out, and Angela’s jaw drops as you do a little twirl, “What do you think?” 

“I think you're the most gorgeous girl ever!" She grins, "And I think Vinny's going to ask you to be his girlfriend for real when he sees this.” She suddenly gasps, giving you a serious look as she hands you your phone back. “Send a picture to Noah.” 

“Why? He thinks I’m only going as a photographer.”

“What?”

“Vin came up with the plan to tell the guys I was only invited because his parents wanted a photographer, I thought it was a pretty good lie.”

“Vinny came up with that one didn’t he,” she laughed, “I guess they’ll believe it though.”

“Noah did.” You check yourself out in the mirror, and eventually pull your phone out from your bag and take a couple pictures in the mirror. You’d think about whether it was a good idea to send them or not as you shopped for a new pair of shoes. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“It’s actually pretty fortunate for you that there aren’t any shows this week,” you say as Vinny drives, “Did you plan the tour around this?”

“Kinda,” he says, looking over his shoulder as he turns onto his road, you wish you knew how he even made driving look so hot, “It's the longest tour we've done and knew we needed a break each month so we don’t all completely burn out, and it just so happened this weekend was during that break.” 

Vinny thought it would be a good idea to hire a car from the city the guys were staying in for their break from tour to drive back to his house so the two of you could stay there for the night before taking his car and driving down to his parents town tomorrow.

“I don’t think my roommate’s here at the moment.” He says as he pulls up, parking the car in his driveway. 

“Not that it matters,” you chuckle, checking your phone. You had sent the pictures to Noah yesterday, but you hadn’t heard from him since, he hadn’t even seen the messages. “What time have we got to leave tomorrow?”

“Probably around 12.” He says, getting out of the car and unlocking the door. 

You smiled as you walked into his house, it was just how you’d pictured it. Framed awards on the walls and tour posters, a massive tv on the wall and a bong that he made sure to clarify was his roomate's. You turn around to see him bringing both yours and his suitcase in from the car, rather surprised by his strength as you see him carry them both up the steps to his porch with ease. 

“Your house is so cute.” You smile, and by his reaction, he seemed rather offended. 

“Cute?” He raised his eyebrows, as if to say 'seriously?' “Y/n I’m a guy…I live here with a guy… Our house is not cute!” 

“Then how would you describe it?” You chuckle as he shuts the door behind him. 

“I don’t know… Manly? Homely?"

You rolled your eyes, watching Vin put the keys away before he insisted on giving you a house tour, showing you around room by room.

“And this is where the magic happens!” He opens the door to the basement, putting his arm out as if to say ‘ladies first!’

“Do you know how creepy that sounds?” You laugh, slowly descending the staircase to his basement. 

“This is where my drums are, I do my drum streams down here-”

“Can you give me a private show?” You gasped, but to your disappointment Vinny laughed and shook his head. 

“I’ve been playing basically every other night for the last month! Surely you’ve heard enough.”

“Please?” You plead, watching as he tries to hide the smile on his face.

“Maybe later.” He gives in, walking you back up the stairs to his kitchen after showing you around the room. 

“Can I request a song?”

“Depends,” he says, shutting the basement door, “Do I know it?”

“How am I supposed to know what you know, or don’t?” 

“What is it?” He asked, reaching into his fridge, pulling out a sprite. “Want a drink?”

“Yes please,” you smiled, “I heard you played ‘somebody told me’ the night I wasn’t feeling well and stayed on the bus and you haven't played it again after…”

“So you want me to play it for you?” He asked, handing you a drink. 

“Please? I’m coming to your parents’ anniversary party as your fake girlfriend, don’t you think you owe me something?”

“You’ve got a point there,” he acknowledges, “I need to shower first and pack for the weekend, but then I’ll do it.”

“Yay!” You grinned, “Can I take a shower after you?”

“Of course.” He smiled softly, “Also if you want my bed tonight I’ll sleep on the couch. I changed the sheets before I left for tour so they’re fresh-”

“I can’t kick you out of your own bedroom…” You frowned, “I’ll have the couch. I don’t care!”

“I will not let you sleep on my couch.” He chuckled, and a thought crossed your mind. 

“If we were okay to share a bed the first night we met then I’m sure we’ll be okay again tonight, right?”

“If you're comfortable with that then we can.” He smiled, “I’m gonna go get in the shower, then it’ll be all yours. But in the meantime make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.” You said, watching as he left, walking up the stairs. 

You made your way to his living room, getting comfy on the couch and scrolling through your phone. You tried not to think about Noah, but you couldn't help but wish he'd text you back. Whilst Vin was in the shower you considered calling him, but you didn't want to come across clingy. Maybe he just needed to calm down.

"I left my fucking shampoo in my bag." You heard Vinny laugh as he ran down the stairs, a white towel wrapped around his hips as he threw his suitcase onto the sofa beside you and searched through it.

You took a deep breath to calm your mind as you tried to be respectful, but you couldn't help but look at him. His wet curls, his bare chest, the bracelet on his wrist, the veins on his arms... You blinked, trying to concentrate on your phone but he definitely seemed to notice you staring, smirking before he walked back up the stairs.

You already knew it was going to be a long weekend.

-----------------------------

@rumoured-whispers @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lma1986 @thisbicc @dominuslunae @miss570 @miamore0570 @jilliemiw86 @itsyaboinoah

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Braid- Fili x Reader

Summary: Reader asks Fili to braid her hair, not realising what it means in dwarven culture

Word count: 1, 128

*want to be tagged in my next Fili fic? Click here*

The cool stone of the cell floor sent a chill up your spine, as you try to do anything to distract yourself from feeling hopeless and miserable.

As you try to rub your arms to gain some warmth, suddenly you feel and see Filis warm hand on your forearm.

“You really are freezing. Here, sit closer to me, it might help you warm up,” the sweet dwarven prince offers with arms wide open.

You try not to blush at such a sweet offer as place your tired head on his shoulder. As his warm arms wrapped around you, your body began to feel at peace. You felt safe in Filis embrace, and his shoulder was a lot softer than any surface you’ve camped on during this journey.

As you play with the plaits in his hair, you begin to think how well you might have slept if you’d been cuddled up to Fili all those nights. Such thoughts begin to make you blush, and you try to hide your girlish smile.

“Is my hair really so grand that it makes you smirk and blush like a little girl?” Fili teases, which earns him a slap on his chest by you.

“Shut up!” You laugh at his as you rise from his arm, now looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

You didn’t realise you’d kept your hand on his chest until you felt his own warm hand around yours. Feeling nervous you begin to ramble.

“I-I mean you do have lovely hair. I wish I could braid my hair like yours.”

“You don’t know how to braid hair?” Fili asked in disbelief.

“No, I-I never learnt. I always had short hair as a little girl and as I got older and grew it out, I guess I forgot to learn,” you explained.

Something about what you’d said seemed to sadden Fili, as his hand reached up to card from your loose hair. He looked always as if you’d told him you’d never been hugged before.

“But hey, maybe you could braid my hair for me. Not sure how long we’ll be here, so it could be a useful way to pass the time,” you suggested, trying to brighten up your friend again.

Unfortunately this suggestion seemed to have the opposite effect, as Filis eyes widened and his mouth hang open. You may have even caught a blush on the handsome princes face, but you could have been mistaken.

His eyes looked into yours, filled with hope of something, and like he was trying to find that something in your eyes.

“What’s the matter?” You ask him worriedly.

“Yo-you want me to braid your hair?” He asked breathlessly, his tone filled with softness and hope.

“Well sure, I mean yours look so lovely and we’re stuck here,” you confirm.

Once again your words seem to have the opposite effect to what you’d hoped, as Filis face become deflated.

“Oh yeh, yeh we’re stuck here it’s not li-“

Before Fili could continue what you assumed would be an explanation, Bilbo arrived, keys in hand and a cheeky smile on his face.

*****

Bards house didn’t really seem like much of a house at all, it seemed to more resemble a hut with slightly more space. But as you see him with his children, and their belongings scattered across the place, it did feel like a home.

Being in a place so soft and warm, especially compared to the cells, you couldn’t help but smile at Bard and his family. It felt silly to think about, but seeing Bard with his children, made you think of Fili.

A part of you felt stupid for thinking about a life with him, but when you look at Bard, you can’t help but to see Fili.

Smiling sweetly at Bard, you can’t help but imagine how Fili would be with your children.

Although your eyes saw Fili, Filis eyes certainly saw Bard. He saw you staring and smiling at Bard, and his ideas of being yours began to crumble. He’d told himself that he would explain to you what a braid means to a dwarf, but now, he wouldn’t dream to try.

Storming out of the small home, Fili roughly exits through the front door and wallows on the steps. Filis abrupt exit causes everyone to stare.

“I’ll go check on him,” you speak softly, as you go in the direction of the blonde dwarf.

“Leave me alone,” Fili speaks coldly as you sit beside him on the step.

“But it’s such a cold night. Who else’s shoulder would keep me warm?” You try to banter as you snuggle closer.

Your attempt is unfortunately met with Fili trying to scoot further from you. His rejection of your affections saddens you deeply.

“I don’t know. Maybe Bard could keep you warm,” Fili spits at you.

“Bard? We’ve only just met an-“

“And you already look at him with such love,” Fili finishes for you, still not meeting your eye, as he stares at his feet.

Oh, suddenly it dawns on you. The realisation of Fili being jealous seems to cloud the realisation that Fili likes you, as you attempt to mend the situation.

“I look at him with love because I picture you,” you confess softly to your friend.

Filis head whips towards you, and his eyes go wide like they had done in the cell.

“Why?” He asks skeptically.

“Because I love you, you stupid dwarf. Because as silly as it sounds I picture you in a home, with little ones too,” you confess, trying your hardest not to hide away shyly.

At your confession, Fili couldn’t seem to control himself. With one hand behind your head and the other on your hip, Fili quickly pulls you in for a passionate and loving kiss.

The feel of his lips against yours felt like a relief, like you’d been waiting and needing for this moment.

As Fili pulled away from the kiss, he lightly chuckles at your attempt to bring his lips back to yours.

“I love you too, amrâlimê, and it would be an honour to braid your hair,”

Your love-struck smile soon turned to a look of confusion, causing Fili to laugh warmly.

“You couldn’t have known this, but in dwarf culture, when one asks another to braid their hair, it is a sign they wish to court that person,” Fili explains.

Suddenly Filis reaction in the cells seems to make sense, as the realisation dawns on your face. Fili nods with a chuckle as he realises you now understand.

Taking your hand in his, he kisses your knuckles as his other hand reaches the tie in your hair.

“May I?”

“Braid away, my love,” you accept with a sweet kiss to his lips.

[atalldrinkofcaprisun]

Don’t Wait For Me After I’m Gone (pt. 2)

silco x gn!reader - he didn’t die AU - tw: canon compliant violence, drug use - 18+

howdy!!! reposted and edited again! I’m having trouble with all of the links so sorry they’re not super functional right now. But anyways, I MISS MY WIFE TAILS!!

also on ao3 xx masterlist

The screaming was the worst part. You had been posted outside of The Doctor’s underground laboratory cave for three hours now, under the orders not to enter unless you wanted to be sedated until the procedure was over.

When the Scientist arrived at the factory, he had started work immediately. The bullets nimbly extracted and quickly stitched, his hand feebly squeezing your own when he could. You had pressed kisses to his damp temples and pushed hair out of his face, back into his rumpled style. He’d even notice sometimes but it was clear he was in agony.

“It is good you kept that with you,” The Doctor nodded his head towards the injector lying cracked on the floor towards the far wall. You had thrown it off as soon as it had emptied, “He would have been unreachable if you had not administered the medicinal serum. It gave him just enough to hold on.”

“So, he’s going to be okay?” You asked, trying to give that little flame of hope in your chest something to fuel itself.

“He will survive, yes. Survival at least.” the bandaged man replied cryptically before returning his full attention to Silco, “I suggest making plans to move him to safety. Your opponents will be hunting for you soon if they haven’t started already.” He’d put a hand on your shoulder, “I know where they will not find you.”

Shortly afterwards, you had sprinted all the way back to The Last Drop. Exhausted and shaking, you’d only managed a stammering, “Silco. He’s- the warehouse…” before promptly passing out into Ran’s arms. You’d woken up in your bed, apparently you had only been out about 20 minutes.

Now, here you stood, arms crossed and leaning against a rough stone wall. Your nails dug into your skin, trying to center yourself. You couldn’t leave, not when he was in pain. Jinx had been permitted in. Whatever had transpired between Jinx and The Doctor had created a new trust. You had wanted to protest but when Jinx set Silco down on the examination table and sat quietly in a chair in the corner, her eyes not moving from Silco, you had surrendered. Jinx needed to know her father wasn’t going to be one more thing to haunt her. You could keep watch this time.

Sevika was elsewhere getting her arm fixed once again, and keeping all of the intelligence open for signs of what had been happening in Piltover. She’d headed back to The Drop. Running Zaun directly or alone had never been something you wanted. Especially now, with the love of your life still in danger of being lost forever, and your child being the cause on top of whatever had been done to her-

There came another string of rambles, ranging from terror to agony to anger. Occasionally you would hear The Doctor muttering. You could feel the wave of emotions settle between your shoulders, winding up the muscles like snakes tensing to bite. You needed a distraction.

Threats were going to be coming from all sides. Jinx had officially crossed the carefully toed line of impertinent interference that Silco had perfected. You didn’t know what the aftermath of the missile had been, and it didn’t take a genius to guess. A part of you didn’t care. Fuck the Topsiders for needing to be brought to the battlefield. Still, you couldn’t ignore the stiffness setting in your arms and neck, your hands clenched into fists as tears began to resurface.

Another moan of pain, this one low and mournful… your name again. You covered your ears and tried to fight the urge to bust through the door.

Fuck it. You’d rather be sedated then hear one more second of this without being able to help. Hands flew to the door handle of their own accord, but were met with the empty air as the door opened first.

Jinx’s pink eyes bore into your own, flat, “Doc say you can come in. Apparently he’s though the worst. Dad’ll- be okay.” She sounded completely drained.

You gathered Jinx in a tight hug, wanting to offer any sort of comfort you could, “He’s going to understand. We’ve been so worried about you, Blue.”

“I killed him.” She mumbled into your shoulder, “I almost-”

“But you didn’t,” you pulled back to look in her eyes, your hands pushing her bangs off of her forehead to finally get a good look. She was so pale now, worse than before, almost spectral. Her freckles and dark makeup only making her appear more sickly, she was smeared with dirt and blood and crusted tears. Her eyes weren’t glowing anymore, but their pale blue had been consumed by the eery magenta of Shimmer. “He knows how much you’re struggling. He isn’t dead. It was an accident. He knows that.”

Jinx didn’t look convinced, only lifting your arms off of her and pushing past into the fissures beyond, “I just need to be alone.“ She turned before she crossed behind the faint lantern glow, “You know where to find me,” and then she was gone.

You waited, letting the compulsion to run after her and comfort her dissolve for a later time. If anything would be able to get through to Jinx it would be Silco himself. In order for him to get the chance, however, you needed to make sure Silco would stay alive. Jinx was smart, and knew when and how to lay low. She would be alright for a few hours. With a deep breath and you headed into the attached cavern.

“Doctor, Is he-“ your gaze mimed fixated on the disheveled and miserable man strapped to the gurney. At the sound of your voice Silco’s eyes landed on you, relief washing over his expression the moment he processed what he was seeing. “Thank Jannah, Sil,” you sighed, stepping and crossing the space. Your hand fell into his, fitting perfectly into his palm, warm and alive and responsive. With a smile you took your free hand and pushed the strands of charcoal and ash hair out of his face, “Hey there, handsome.” You beamed.

The once bright orange iris, now matching his daughter’s pink hue, was scanning along your features, relief washing over the face you had come to love more than you had ever thought possible. His pale blue eye was just as intently looking at you, but his eyelid hung heavy with exhaustion, “What’s a creature like you,” his voice was strained and low, rumbling out of his chest more than his throat, “doing in a place like this?”

Your mind played the first time he had said that to you as you grinned, “That line is still too cheesy to work.”

“Better than the look you gave me when I said it then.” He hummed as your hand moved from his hair to brush his cheek, “Did I ever tell you it was Jinx’s idea?”

“To try and hit on me after saving my life or?” You laughed lightly.

“To tell you,” he wheezed for a second as a flare of purple raced up his skin and into his damaged iris, “ah, how pretty you looked.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek and the pain seemed to become just a little less.

“So you settled on calling me a creature?” You scoffed teasingly.

“Is now the time for such, frivolous things?” The Doctor’s tone was annoyed as he cut in. He started undoing the straps holding Silco down, and he motioned for you to help him.

You looked at the scientist with one brow raised as Silco sighed, “I’ve nearly died today. It makes a man think about things… differently,” his gaze didn’t move from your face, like he was studying it for the first time. You were used to his staring habit, but this felt different. Maybe it was the drugs, “so beautiful,” he muttered so low, he probably hadn’t even noticed he’d said it.

“Shut up, old man,” you smiled, “Save your breath.”

The Doctor moved to your side of the table, batting you away as he began to unstrap his arm and head. Which was only fair since you hadn’t even started to undo the buckle. Your hand slipped away from Silco’s and you immediately missed the feeling. The anxiety that boiled in your stomach was vicious and your skin seemed to itch with the need to continue to make sure Silco was truly alive and real, on the mend and going to survive. Once the kingpin was free, the Doctor took his pulse, then gently helped him rise to a sitting position. His face contorted with the pain but eased as he breathed through it. At last, Doc looked towards you and nodded, giving his permission, you could fully take in your paramour.

Silco’s left arm was protectively hugged around his bandage wrapped torso, his smoldering eye still pulsing pink as was it’s seafoam counterpart. His hair was haphazard and his makeup smeared away long ago, the ashen skin of his scar visible in large smudges. You wrapped your arms around him as gently as you could manage, still causing him to hiss ever so slightly. His heartbeat thumped away under your ear, protected in his rib cage, fast and a little irregular. His smell was tainted with blood and sweat but it was still him. His free arm pulled you closer, his nose resting on top of your head. Together you breathed. Just for a moment that to you, felt like the exact eternity you needed to find your voice.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

He chuckled deep in his chest, “I promise to try and not make it a habit, my lovely.”

You only burrowed further into his arms in reply. Your home was here. Safely by Silco’s side, in his arms, breathing and basking in the gift of having more time. Just as the tension had begun to ease from your shoulders Silco spoke again, “Where is Jinx? Is she alright?”

You met his gaze, “She’s… upset. She didn’t mean to kill you. I think she’s headed back to her lab. I wanted to go with her but…”

“But you needed to make sure I would be alright first.” He gently finished and ran a hand through your hair, “Thank you for saving me. Now we’re officially even.” He let his fingertips stroke your cheek, “We need to get to Jinx. I need to tell her I forgive her.”

“You won’t be able to walk on your own yet, old friend.” The Doctor spoke up again from his desk across the room, apparently he had returned to his more important projects, “Your body is still processing the serum. You don’t have your daughter’s vitality.”

Silco frowned over at the old scientist, “I think I can manage. And anyways,” he looked down at you, “I won’t be alone.”

You nodded, and stepped out of his embrace to help him down and onto his feet. As he touched the stone floor however, his legs seemed to buckle and he fell onto you heavily with a grunt of pain. You caught him and let him get his grip on the edge of the gurney. His teeth grinding as he pulled himself upwards, “Sil? Are you-?”

“It’s fine.” The ever stubborn Eye of Zaun commanded. The Doctor and you shared a quick look.

You knew he was lying but he had more pressing concerns than his own comfort at the moment, “Can you?” he gestured vaguely around himself. Asking for help was still not something he was completely comfortable with, but you knew what he meant.

You shifted around him, so one of your arms was around his midsection, the other was holding his hand as his own arm swept over your shoulders. Jinx’s Lab and The Last Drop were a bit of a walk away. The Doctor, grumbling all the while, retrieved a cane from some depths of his caverns and gave you what doses Silco might need if he took a sudden turn. With measured steps you began to lead Silco to the door. Just before you crossed the threshold, Silco tugged and stopped, “Thank you, Doctor. My family owes you a great debt.”

A stiff and matter of fact “Iknow.” was the only reply he received.

Silco pressed a kiss to your temple and together you set off.