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gghostwriter · 7 months ago

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Still Alive for My Lover

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The four times Spencer brushes with death and the fifth time he's reborn to find his way back to you

Warning: angst with happy ending || [Part 2A of Death of a Love Affair; Part 2B is the sad ending]

A/n: I did a poll the other day on if I should post both different part 2s for Death of a Love Affair and posting both won so here is one of the endings--the happy one! I actually scrapped my first happy ending idea for this (I dreamt about this plot just the other night) so like a maniac, I wrote and edited it in one sitting. Also he has been through a lot so I had to choose scenes that I think would affect his psyche. Hope you enjoy!

Part one || Main masterlist || Part 2B

The first time Death came close was during an Anthrax attack

In Spencer’s quest in solving the time sensitive and nation threatening case, he made a series of misjudgments that had led him to being exposed to the chemically engineered Anthrax.

During his months of adjusting back into being single and alone, he poured all that he could to his job. No longer were the cases viewed with a clear objective mind, they all became personal. Case distance from Virginia, where you were, meant nothing. He viewed each killer a threat to your existence. In the most convoluted way, this was him protecting and keeping you safe when he no longer could beside you.

“Hey, Reid.” Garcia softly said.

“Reid, wow, no, uh—no witty Garcia greeting for me?” Spencer joked to try and lighten the mood.

She shakily exhaled her breath. “I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are.”

“Garcia, do you think you can do something for me?” His voice trailing off at the end.

“Anything.”

“I, uh-I know I can’t call my mom without uh—“ he cleared his throat. “Without alerting everyone at her hospital and I can’t call Y/N since—since it’s protocol and we broke up.”

She paused, nodding her head. “What do you need?”

“I-I need you to record messages for them, in case anything happens to me.”

“Oh, nothing’s going to happen to you,” she tried to be optimistic. “You’re gonna—brilliantly find out who did this and we’re gonna treat this strain.”

He sighed with a slight smile on his face. “I hope you’re right, but if you’re not, I just—I really want to make sure that they hear my voice.”

“Ok, just give me a second.” The taps from her keyboard echoing in the background.

“Are you ready?” Spencer asked.

“Ready.”

“Hi, Mom. This is Spence. I just, um-I just really want you to know that I love you and—i need you to know that I spend every day of my life proud to be your son.” His tone fluctuating from holding back tears. “Y/N, I know we broke up months ago but—I need you to know that I love you and that I’m sorry—” A shiver passed through his body, a sign of his fever escalating. “Sorry for pushing you down in my list of priorities—should have done better. I don’t resent you for leaving me and if—if this is my last message, I want you to know you’re one of the last things on my mind, Angel.”

The thought of you finding out through the news that an FBI agent had died or worse, not finding out at all, sent him into a tailspin. You were a worrier and Spencer didn’t want you to question your judgement of breaking it off with him and drown in the not knowing, what ifs of it all. He wondered where you were at that very moment as he crept closer and closer to Death’s door. Were you wallowing still? Maybe out for brunch with your friends or a date—his breathing stuttered at the thought. He tried and failed to imagine you smiling at a faceless man in front of you, preening under your attention. Who wouldn’t? He shook his head as an effect to bring him back to the present.

The pause made Garcia panic. “Reid?”

“I-I gotta go.”

Click.

***

The second time was when Maeve died

Spencer thought he was finally going to get it right with Maeve but it was false hope, his speculation far from the truth because Maeve—his second chance in love was dead, killed right before his very eyes. He loved her, truly did even without knowing what she looked like—not in the encompassing way he loved you, no, but Maeve still carved a space in his heart that was one filled by you. She was comfort and a healing balm for the pain of losing you.

He associated navigating life with you as something like entering a luscious forest. With you leading the way though the beautiful greenery and kind animals—a fairytale kind of love. But when you let go of his hand, the forest turned dark and the animals turned into monsters that haunt his every move. Maeve was a cabin in those woods, lighted and warm with a fireplace—a respite for his lost and terrified being. He knew what was out there but housed in her presence, he felt safe and believed himself ready to defend his newfound solace. He was wrong, the security was temporary. His shelter torn down and taken away, leaving him back out in the woods with no light or guiding star to see him through.

Curling into himself on the floor beside his bed with ‘The Narrative of John Smith’, the copy that Maeve gifted, tucked to his chest, uncaring of the the pathogens that it can carry, a folded piece of paper under the dresser caught his eye. He stretched his hand, feeling the settled dust on its surface scatter, and pulled it into the light. Gingerly, he opened the yellowing sheet and found himself staring at your handwriting—a note that he had never seen before.

He once asked about your penchant for leaving hand written notes for him to find. You shrugged then and nonchalantly called it a treasure hunt for him to partake in. During the times passed, he’d encounter lingering, forgotten notes from you all over his apartment. In his cupboard, pushed in the dark recesses, in his rarely worn patterned coat, and slotted in between the books on his bookshelf. He thought he had found them all but here was one left unread as if it knew when to make its presence known. As if it knew that he needed a sliver of light to guide him home.

Spence,

I’m not sure if we met at the right time, but because we’re both here, let’s do our best and if there does come a time were we must part, know that I love you. I’ll love you enough until we meet again.

His tears broke free from his battered walls and streamed down his face. He loved Maeve. He was thankful for the peace each phone call had given him and although his memory of each talk may fade into the back of his mind, the relief and emotion she had given him will linger in his chest. He slowly got up from his position and approached his beloved shelf. With one last look at his book, he slotted it within the nook and walked away.

His love for Maeve will always be there but he loved you too and he thinks he always will. And when sadness and grief comes to pull him back under in moments of weakness, he unfolds his talisman—the note—kept near his heart as a reminder. A reminder that he has loved, was loved, and is still loved.

***

The third time was when he was shot in the neck

Fading in and out.

In—liquid seeping into his shirt and tie.

You were the only thing he could think of. Not the case, not the team, only you.

Out—sirens blaring in a distant background.

In—Morgan’s voice calling his name.

For the first time in a long time, Spencer was terrified. He was so terrified that death had come to collect his borrowed life without having a chance to right his wrongs. Without any contact and without any way to say how much he has loved you still after all these years and months. He could probably recite how long it had been, if only he wasn’t loopy from the pain.

Out—muffled voices all around him.

In—a gentle sway in the ambulance as it rushed to the hospital.

He wanted to tell you how much he’d learned from recalling all his memories with you. How much you had taught him about love—a teaching he could never find in books. How love was selfless and tenacious—just like when you didn’t give up on him early on—when it needed to be. How love is fueled with respect—like how you respected his choices and demands of his career, and how love—true love, knew when it’s time to go.

Out—streak of bright lights passing him by.

In—professionals dressed in scrubs and white coats touching him.

Your face was the only image settling behind his closed eyelids. He tried to remember the crinkle around your eyes when you smile, the scrunch of your nose when you laugh, or the he arch of your brows when you teased him but all were hazy, as if he was staring into a deep depth of water that rippled nonstop. All he could conjure up was your face with tears sliding down to your chin from the hurt he caused. He was deathly afraid that his last memory of you were in pain.

Out—laying cold on the operating table.

All he could muster to repeat to himself as he faded under local anesthesia was your name. Like it was a mantra, a prayer, and his own personal saving grace.

In—surrounded by beeping noises and fluffed pillows.

Mind still hazy when he came to, he sent a thank you to the stars. Grateful that Death was unsuccessful and to have been given an opportunity to correct his mistakes. Wishing that somehow, somewhere your paths and his would cross again and he could tell the story of all his adventures and yours, and how he has changed, hoping once again to be worthy of you.

***

The final time was during his stint in prison

He’s changed. In the dark forest you’ve left him behind, the once scared and hunted by monsters had become the hunter. The anger and agitation that simmered near the surface of his every waking moment was something he did not know how to accept. He was worried about the new him and how you’d perceive it. There were no signs of who he was before and during you. If he’d cross paths with you on the street, would you recognize him? He hoped so. Would you still accept him? He needed you to.

Along his long route back to you, he grew thorns and horns. He became decorated with wounds and scars. His talisman—your note—had aged, just like him, and had ripped along the folds. His once brilliant mind—now in a haze from trauma, memorized the words. It was your writing that grounded him while he was stuck in the cell of a mad woman’s making. The slants and loops studied and the grooves and indentations caressed with his calloused, bloody hands.

He loved you still, very much so, but with his change, it had also mutated. What once was compared to a fairytale kind of love had now been smudged with darkness and desperation.

He felt lethal in his journey back to your embrace. Gone was the boy who felt remorse in shooting an unsub between the brows and replaced with the man who felt no qualms in killing should safety be threatened. He knew he had to talk to someone about the path his thinking had taken but instead, he entered his home with a single-minded purpose, walking straight to your side of the drawer and clutched another memento that will buoy him through the ravaging waters of emotion—your engagement ring. Looping it through a chain that he now wears on his neck and near his heart, a symbolism of his will to see things through, come hell or high water, he’ll crawl home to you.

***

And his second life started when he left the BAU

Spencer wanted to see you. Once inside the building elevator going down, he fought the urge to dial your number—regardless if it was still even yours. He needed to know. To know if you’ve moved on after all those many years apart or lived just like he did—tried but unsuccessful, always comparing and always coming up short. The eyes not as kind as yours, the smile not as radiant, and the heart not as beautiful. Was it awful of him to wish for the former? Yes, yes it was. He knew you deserved happiness and support after all the times he had let you down, knew you deserved a life after him, knew you deserved a happy ending but here he was, hopelessly wishing that your happy ending was still with him.

He didn’t keep up with your life as much as he wanted to. The wounds of his failure and the battle scars he received along the way were still fresh. He didn’t have the right to know—a self imposed punishment. Although Garcia offered to look into you whenever he would reach rock bottom, and he’s been there a lot, he refused. By returning your ring, the engagement ring hidden underneath his shirt, you’ve taken back his privilege and he respected your decision.

You deserve better than to have him contact you without his life in order. If you’d still have him, you’d get the best of him. And so for the past six months, he focused on himself. He gained his footing in teaching young agents, he worked on his anger and made progress with his therapist, and he got to know who he was again beyond being an FBI agent. And it was as if the stars took notice of the changes and decided to reward him.

It was late into the night when he decided to make a quick grocery trip for some perishables missing in his pantry. This was out of his normal routine and he was forever grateful to the impulsiveness that took over him that night ever since. It was what led him to cross paths with the only person he had once considered home—you.

As he was entering the store, you had come out in all your beauty, struggling with one bag in each hand. Whenever he would recall this story, you’d scoff and tell him that you didn’t feel beautiful then—hair in a sloppy bun, t-shirt all crumpled, and face bare from any makeup. He’d object as no matter what the circumstance, you were always the most beautiful to him.

He cleared his throat then. “Y/N.”

“Spencer,” you breathed out, surprise painting across your face.

“Do you need help with that?” He asked, voice cracking at the end. He thought he outgrew his shyness, time in prison does that for a person, but here you were reverting him back to how he felt when he first met you. “I’d like to walk you back to your car, if that’s alright,” he added on as he was afraid of your refusal. The parking lot was dimly lit and almost deserted. Years of solving cases has made him hyper vigilante and even if he was technically no longer a fed, his experience stayed the same. He still wanted to make sure you were safe, after all the time away.

You hesitated before nodding once in agreement.

He smiled, letting go of his breath he didn’t know he was holding, and reached out to take your grocery purchases. “Let me get these for you, lead the way.”

The silence was uncomfortable. Years of being away from each other has made him a stranger to you and you to him.

You crossed yours arms, a sign of defense, before clearing your throat. “How’s the team?”

He pressed his lips into a straight line, not wanting to spill every little change that has happened while you were gone. “Good, good.”

Silence.

“No case tonight?”

“Uh—I only consult now,” he explained. “I went into teaching.”

Your arms dropped, a sign of openness, and you peered at him. “That’s—different. I mean, are you happy about that?”

He laughed and almost felt like preening at the care that you still had for him. “Yeah, it’s nice to have a normal schedule for once.”

“Somehow normal and you being mixed together doesn’t compute in my head,” you teased, swinging your hands in a clear sign of nervousness. He felt good—glad that he still could read your tics. How the slight downturn of your eyebrow meant you’d table the information to ruminate on it later. How the little bounce on your walk, that wasn’t there earlier, meant you were accepting of this situation. And how you slightly shifted closer to him meant you find his presence a protector.

As he was documenting each non-verbal cues into his memory, the back of your hand brushed with his, sending a jolt of electric charge. It was as if both your bodies needed a physical reminder that the other half is back and nearby. It was as if a defibrillator had charged his black and blue heart to life once again.

You giggled. “Sorry about that.”

It was a cold night but each laughter wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, warming his weary bones that had been lost in the dark cold woods for so long. “It’s alright,” he stated as he watched you unlock the trunk of your car.

Loading in your grocery in silence, he shuffled ever so slightly out of the way as you closed the trunk and rocked on your heels.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets. It was the only way he could prevent his hands from reaching out and caressing your pink cheeks. He didn’t have the permission to touch you yet—not matter how much he wanted to. So wanted to.

“You look—you look great, by the way,” you stammered out.

“Thanks, you too—look great, I mean,” he stated. He wanted to sing out more praises on how you’d gotten more beautiful, more radiant, and more lovely but he settled on something simple lest he scares you away with the intensity of his feelings. “Do you think could have your number? You know, just in case you’d need help with groceries again.” A feeble excuse.

You smiled. The type of smile that was once reserved for him and he wished for it to still be his. Please don’t say no, please, he realized that if you do, that will be it. That there will no longer be any saving the tragedy between him and you.

As he was starting to slide down the familiar slope of sadness, you nodded. “I never changed it.” You unlocked the driver seat before facing him once again. “Spence—”

He basked in hearing you say his name.

“—I’m different now. So you’ll have to get to know me again.”

“I’m different now, too,” and while you uttered yours as if it was an apology or a forewarning, he uttered his as a promise. A veiled promise that he was now the man that you wanted him to be after all those years.

He reached his hand out. “Hi, I’m Spencer Reid,” he hoped you’d play along.

You laughed, clearly intrigued at changes that had happened to him. Here he was, a germaphobe, reaching for a handshake to a stranger regardless of pathogens. You weren’t really a stranger, not really, but he wanted to write a new beginning. The last time was too tragic and ended with goodbyes. This time, this time, it’ll be perfect, he vowed to himself. A perfect fairytale with a happy ending that he could share with his kids with you one day.

“Hi, Spencer,” you reached out your hand into his, engulfing yours in his tight grip. “I’m Y/N.”

He watched as you got into the car, fastening your seatbelt and roll down the window. “I’ll call you.”

“Please do, I’ll be waiting,” you whispered out before backing away from the parking lot.

And he did.

And after a few dates, he slid back the ring that once hung around his neck, sitting near his heart, back to where it belonged—back to your fourth finger where the Romans once believed a vein ran directly to the heart. Vena Amoris, the vein of love. Where it will stay forevermore, never allowing time and the outside to separate what once was meant to be. Never allowing ‘him and you’ as separate, there was just ‘them’.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid angst #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid oneshot #gw fics

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icarusredwings · 1 month ago

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Thinking about Logan coming home early to "Pretty Woman" being played loudly from the bathroom.

"Wade?" Steps into the house, he smells perfume. The kind he only liked cause it was Wade's.

He can smell glue, chemicals and hair spray. He can smell heat. Metal, and.. joy.

It almost smells like how it did in the mansion by kittys and rouges room on calm mornings when they were doing their hair for the mall or to go on a date.

The flash of memory hurts. It tightens his frontal lobe like a migraine.

"Wade?" He asks again, knocking on the door but didn't wait to open it. Clicking it open, He peers in to see his husband sitting on the sink next to a heat curler, clips and hair spray in a blonde fluffy wig to keep them in place, the mirror open and seeming to be gluing something onto his eye.

"...Hey." He says.

Wade screams over the music, turning and covers his face, that has some creamy patch under his eyes.

The door slams, Logan being shoved out and jumping from the sudden strength. Blinking, He processed what just happened.

"Wade..??"

"NO!!"

"N-no what?" Did he do something wrong?

"Nooo!"

"Uhm.. o-Okay... are you alright?"

A whine comes from the other side of the door. "You weren't supposed to be home yet.."

"Are... Do you want me to leave?"

"No..."

"I thought you'd be happy I came home early..." Logan mutters, leaning against the doorway with his musty work clothes still on.

"I am! I-i just.. i dont want you to look at me yet."

"Why not? And if you say cause your ugly without all that shit on your face ill slice the hindges off the door and pin ya to a wall."

A very soft "ooo-" comes from him, a pause as if thinking of the consequences.

"Will you damage my hard work?"

"Oh, definitely." He smirks, shaking his head softly.

"Noo! I-.. I'll burn you with a curler!"

Scoffing, Logan snorts. "I've had worse. Now gimme my 'welcome home' kiss and maybe- Maybe. I'll let you watch me in the shower."

There's another pause, another click, and soon Wade opens the door, looking at him with such wide and pouty eyes. "...That's not fair."

"What ain't? That you're a little perv and I wanna kiss the love of my life?? Wade, I've seen you with all your bones outside of your body and magots in your stomach. You think I care abouta lil baggy undereye?"

"...No.."

"Besides. This is your own fault. You can't give a man a 'welcome home' kiss every day for 8 months and then not gimme it. Ill withdrawl!" He says, drimatically, which makes Wade laugh, giggling as he reaches up to his face.

"Oh yeah? My big strong boy gonna withdrawl from kisses?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Mmh."

Scratching his chops, Logan's eyelids go half lidded, staring at him with such love and admiration. He did feel grateful for all the stuff Wade did to try to look beautiful for him, even if he didn't need any of it.

Wrapping his arms around his waist, he began to purr as Wade finally kissed him. Twice. Once for now. Once for forever. It was just something he said. Something about good luck and eternity nonsense. Either way, Logan was more than happy to get as many as he'd give him.

Pulling away, Wade goes to turn back into the bathroom to start on the other eyelash only to pause, pointing at him. "And don't you dare touch my hair, mister!"

Luckily for Wade, Logans hand was only halfway out to play with the curls, in which his eyes widded from being caught.

He chuckles, closing the door behind him. "Whatever you say, pumpkin~"

Oh yeah.. he'd be tuggin on it later.

#deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool #wolverine #deadpool 3 #deadclaws #fem wade #construction worker logan #house wife wade

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biolumien · 9 months ago

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hello!! I loved your rooftop smoke fic so much oh my goodness could I ask for literally anything hoshina I would love to read more of your works... It would make my day if hoshina fell first/if he was the one hopelessly in love but anything that is easier to write for you I would love to read

ALSO PLS FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF ITS NOT EXACTLY IT FOR U!!! TYSM IN ADVANCE

notes: bwahhhh omg… thank you for liking my first work… i havent written hoshina before… but uh. i hope this is good. same reader-insert from last time for this one too!

hoshina falls first (or tries not to, because to love is to be known)

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader i turned it into kind of a character study, forgive me word count: 1103

let’s get this right off the bat, to clear any misconceptions. hoshina’s not a romantic. he doesn’t fall for anyone first. he’s built up the demeanor of a sly, wily little fox not because he wanted to, but because he had to. tread lightly around others, and they will never know what lies in your heart, the insecurities that bubble and eat at you alive. never let them know how you feel, because as soon as your inherent, weak-willed intent is shown, you’ll be devoured alive.

well.

that’s what hoshina tells himself, anyway.

it’s what he has to remind himself of constantly when he sees you.

you’re not allowed, he reminds himself, to get under his skin. not in any mean way, not in the way where you play up his insecurities–except you do, don’t you? you don’t mean to, but he gets the impression that if he were conventionally stronger, more impressive, that he’d deserve your attention, the small smile that crosses your lips and lights up your eyes when you see him, the faint exhale of breath when you see him–he’d deserve that if he were better. if he were just simply better, he’d deserve it. he’d feel worthy of it.

hoshina’s not a romantic.

he signed up for a line of very dangerous, practically suicidal work knowing it might mean the death of him.

all to prove that he was worth something.

he’s not the ashes you throw away, he’s a brilliant ball of fire, can’t you see–but he needed to prove that he could shine alone, under his own merit. he didn’t need anyone, except he needed mina to get him into the third division anyway.

he didn’t need you, except he kept making excuses to get close to you, and not even in any particular suave way. hoshina practically pines for your affections and attention, but the key thing about it is that he refuses, in a way that’s either very cute or insanely frustrating, to make it seem like he’s making the first move. fleeting kisses he shared with you, he never properly initiated himself–he’d stand there, make a big show of leaving, and you’d pulled him by the collar to kiss him.

but at the very least you seem to be accommodating about it, in any case. you sometimes end up preparing him a cup of tea when you go on break, as if instinctually expecting him.

hoshina wonders if he’s pavlov’s dog in this case–drawn by you, trained to behave around you.

he doesn’t know how he feels about it.

“you keep coming here,” you say to him one day in the lab. at your desk is a wide variety of papers–notes on chemical formulas for bullets, the blueprints for one of mina’s new absurdly-large guns shoved haphazardly under a stack of notebooks, a coffee cup clasped between your hands, and you blow some of the fresh steam off. “i’m starting to think the captain’s going to find you slacking off.”

there’s a sardonic smile on your lips, but hoshina’s gotten better at reading you. you’re happy to see him–he can see it in the tiny way you fidget a little bit when he takes the spare coffee mug from your desk, finding it full of coffee already. does he feel his face softening, his drawn-up shoulders relaxing? no, surely not. he’s better than that. he won’t be influenced by you–and yet. and yet.

“you have a lock on your door if you don’t want to be disturbed,” hoshina says simply, taking a sip of the coffee. black with a single spoonful of sugar in it, because as much as it was impressive to drink your coffee purely black, hoshina quite frankly couldn’t take it. and he’d built as much a complex around that, too, as if a simple coffee preference might define how worthy he is of love. respect. the works. he watches you, sees dark under-eyes from days of restless work and the writer’s bump on your middle finger, and feels his heart squeeze.

god, he hates it. does he? does he hate it? is he insecure about that? does he hate that he doesn’t hate it? does he hate that by pining for you, by forcing his way into your life, that he’s created the rumblings of his own downfall? no. the worst part of it all is that he can’t hate you. can’t hate the way you watch him, and he wonders if you’re watching him the same way he observes you–like a prey animal, almost, twitchy and nervous, in an attempt to grasp at feeble understanding.

“if you keep coming back here, i’m going to assume you’re in love with me,” you say.

and you have no idea what those words do to him, really. you don’t know, because hoshina has learned to obscure most of his emotions, at the very least.

so why does his face feel so hot?

“hm.”

he can’t even come up with a proper retort. you’re staring at him expectantly, as if waiting for the classic hoshina quip–a cackle or giggle, a casual slap on the table with a you wish! attached to it. but it doesn’t come. hoshina stands there, gagged for a moment–and suddenly his grip on his coffee cup feels a little weak.

“hoshina.”

he wishes the smile on your lips didn’t trigger some gut instinct of delight in him.

he’s better than this, damn it. he’s better than this.

your smile quirks up the corners of your cheeks, and there’s something like a shy flush across your skin. and–

“i wish i could take a picture of your face right now,” you say. “you look like you’re coming down with something.”

hoshina scoffs, the sound a little more high-pitched than he’d like for it to be.

“you wish,” he says.

“so are you?” you press. “in love with me?”

hoshina stares at you–there’s a sudden tightness in your shoulders that wasn’t there before–you’re worried about his answer. and despite it all–his bravado, his hatred of the mere idea that he might rely on someone else–that he would ever need someone to know his heart, that he might be cowed and tamed like a dog–

he loves you.

he doesn’t want you to be worried about the surety of his answer.

“yeah,” he says. “i love you.” and when that sudden tightness in your body language disappears, he finally finds the strength to quip, “just don’t faint over me, alright?”

and when you reach out to hit his shoulder, he grasps you by the wrist and pulls you in to kiss you.

#kaiju no 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #x reader #kn8 x reader #all the men i like i write them all the same. who else is there? haha. that's a secret surprise im saving for later

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prettieinpink · 1 year ago

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♡ PRETTIER HIERARCHY ♡

HAPPY 1.2k+ TO PRETTIEINPINK! Thank you guys for the support, here’s a lil gift from me to you.

If you don’t want to read all of this, I created a hierarchy of everything you need to do to glow up, right at the end!!! But I recommend reading everything first <3

I’ve been trying to ‘glow up’ like forever, but there was no actual content out there that helped me glow up. Most people sugarcoated, or their lifestyles of glowing up just weren't sustainable for me. So, I created this post for everyone planning to glow up or maximise their prettiness!

DISCLAIMER – THIS POST IS NOT DETAILED. I wanted to do a simple outline to give you guys an idea of what to do to maximise your pretty. A little help to plan, especially as we enter 2024, but I’ll expand on these individual topics in the future.

GRADE 1 – HEALTH

Being healthy can make you SO pretty. Being healthy is the foundation. There are other ways to be physically healthy, but after doing these 4 the rest usually fall in place. Here are some simple ways to become healthier, and then eventually prettier!

HEALTHY EATING.

I'm not going to go super deep into this, as no diet fits everyone + Please consult with your doctor before taking any extreme advice. Though, I'll tell you a bit of things that helped me !!

Stop drinking soda. Please, it's so unhealthy and it's full of so many sugars. Even the ones that are 0 cal, have weird chemicals that I don't trust. Many more alternatives taste just as good, like coconut water, herbal drinks, smoothies etc! Especially because nowadays most large calories and sugar intakes are from sugary drinks

Stop restricting, moderate it. I am a big fan of dairy, yoghurt, milk, and cheese, I love it all. However I acknowledge that dairy isn’t the healthiest, so instead I always ensure I'm eating in moderation. E.g I put a tablespoon of shredded cheese in my omelettes instead of a handful. You will enjoy healthy eating so much, but only if you're not restricting.

Have one serving of fruit, vegetables, or both with each meal. It provides so many good nutrients, makes you fuller and keeps you hydrated. Measure with your palm to ensure you’re eating enough.

Know that just because one food has fewer calories than the other, does not mean it is the healthiest. I struggled so much with this, especially because many weight loss accounts will mention this, but it is so wrong. White bread has fewer calories than brown bread, but brown bread is higher in nutritional value.

Plan snacks. Planning snacks for throughout the day, instead of spontaneously eating is so much better. I recommend this for anyone who gets hungry during the day but not enough for a meal (like me!)

Drink more water. Not 1L a day, because it is so much more ideal for you to have a glass of water with each meal + when you feel thirsty.

Start educating yourself. This is as much as I can tell you, im not a nutritionist or a dietitian but if you plan to ensure that healthy eating becomes your lifestyle, educating yourself is essential!!

EXERCISING.

Once again, I'm only going to go surface level with this because it is only based on my personal experience + Consult with your doctor before doing anything extreme.

Start aiming for 5k+ steps. I see a lot of people advertise 10k+ steps as the standard, or what's active, but it's not sustainable If you're a busy person with a sedentary life or a beginner at exercise it is gonna be hard to sustain that. But walking is so good for you and simple too.

Join your local sports! Such a fun way to socialise while still exerting energy.

If you can't do that for whatever reason, there are many ways to exercise at home. Research and pick a workout that you like and is sustainable. E.g. jump rope, pilates, home exercises, weightlifting, biking

Start standing more, it exerts energy. While very little, it still is very good.

That's it, but remember to always start small with exercising, and RESEARCH!

BETTER SLEEP

To me, it doesn’t matter how much sleep a person is getting, but much more rather the quality of said sleep. So, here are some tricks and tips to get better at sleeping!!

Investing in a good quality pillow is so good for your sleep, the more comfortable you are, the better + it reduces the chances of poor posture or hump necks

Research about different sleeping positions, as some positions at night promote back pain, difficulty breathing or poor posture.

Start sleeping in complete darkness. Remove all sources of light or invest in good light-blocking curtains OR binders. Though, binders seem to be much more effective but are more pricey. If you cannot do either of that, buy a good sleeping mask.

Sleep in the cold. Your body easily falls asleep if your environment is cold, and you’re less likely to wake up in the middle of the night.

It is ideal for you to stop using devices an hour or two before bed, but if it is not sustainable for you, wear red blue-light-blocking glasses instead of clear ones. Red ones are more effective.

Avoid large physical or mental tasks before bed, use that time to unwind and tell your body it's time to go to sleep.

Avoid napping for longer than 30 minutes, or it can disrupt the sleep you have at night.

Go to sleep at similar times every day. If you go to sleep earlier or later than this, you will ruin your sleep schedule and feel groggy.

I expand more here.

ORAL HEALTH

This is a step many people will neglect, but the most important in my opinion. Your teeth are the only body part that fails to regenerate after a certain age. Here's how I take care of mine!

Brush your teeth for longer. Brushing your teeth should not be a sped-up process, put actual thought into it.

Start flossing. Floss removes plaque, and reduces the chances of your teeth yellowing! Do this ideally after each meal.

Brush your teeth before you eat. Brushing my teeth is the first thing I do when I wake up because brushing your teeth is supposed to protect your teeth from the food, not wash away your food.

If you have the means, buy an electric toothbrush, as this gets in the little nooks and crannies that a regular one cannot.

Use a tongue scraper or your toothbrush to get rid of any bacteria on your tongue.

Use straws to drink coffee or any heavily coloured drinks. This avoids the premature yellowing of teeth. Make sure you put the straw on the side of your mouth to avoid your teeth.

Use good mouthwash. A total game-changer, makes your breath fresher and your gums healthier.

If need be, definitely use a purple teeth serum as a whitening treatment.

GRADE 2: STYLE

I do not mean literal clothes and style, that's in grade 3. This is all about basic grooming and such. This is 2nd most important, especially if you're somebody who’s never been invested in beauty.

SKINCARE

Get a basic skincare routine, cleanser and moisturiser.

If you have other skincare concerns e.g. dry skin, hyperpigmentation, acne, or blemishes, invest in a serum.

Avoid touching your face frequently.

Wash makeup brushes & pillowcases often.

Dermaplaning to help skincare absorb better.

Use sunscreen!

HAIRCARE

Invest in a good shampoo and conditioner for your hair type.

Use a good hair oil, it doesn’t have to be for growth, but just for nourishing your scalp

Sleep with a good quality bonnet on.

Find which type of hairbrush works the best on you!

Use warm water to remove product build up and dirt, but use cool water to rinse.

Buy spray suncsreen to put on your scalp during hot weather.

Once again, research. Hair is just too much of a broad topic for me to thoroughly talk about.

EYEBROW & LASHES

Trim your eyebrows regularly to avoid too many stray hairs

Tint your eyebrows and lashes. If you already have dark eyelashes and brows, try a lighter look. I seem to prefer a dark brown look to a black

Invest in a good lash & brow serum or use any oil

Don't use Vaseline on your eyelashes.

Limit how much you wear mascara.

I talk more about this here.

BODY & HANDS

Have a daily shower routine which consists of washing, exfoliating and moisturising your skin.

Using scented products is such a game changer, smelling good is like being a magnet

Doing manicures, my routine is a cuticle scrub, file, buff, polish, paint then cuticle oil.

Shave on the areas you want to. Having smooth skin is nice, but to ensure your shave lasts longer, watch a video.

I post about creating a good shower routine here.

LIPS

Invest in a good, portable lip balm. I prefer the ones that burn your lips to give it a more fuller effect

Make your lip scrub. Sugar, honey and turmeric are my go-to. Helps remove dead skin.

If you have hyperpigmentation around the lips, use glycolic acid, only a little.

GRADE 3 – FASHION

My favourite grade, because it is so fun and focuses more on the aesthetic side of things. However, they're not essential, which makes it all the more fun!

CLOTHES

I have a post about wardrobe essentials here.

Find out about what season colours you are. This helps with using colours in fashion to enhance. ( if you don't like your colours it is okay, it doesn’t change much if you do not wear them)

Figuring out your undertone colours for jewellery.

Figure out what works for your figure. Experiment with necklines, bottom length etc.

Find out your general style too, what you feel confident in and more assured.

MAKEUP

Research and only watch tutorials of women who look like you (trust me).

Dear Peachie has a bunch of videos of how makeup works, for beginners to more advanced artists!

Then make your signature look for every using your knowledge.

FRAGRANCE

Invest in a good eau de parfum and eau de toilette. Cheap fragrances suck.

Invest in a good-scented lotion. My favourite brand is Vaseline.

Using a good nice fabric softener for laundry makes you feel and smell fresh

Using an expensive scented body wash doesn’t matter, invest in a good body lotion.

HAIR STYLING

Hairstyles that enhance your face shape, not shield it.

Having a simple signature look for everyday

Experimenting with your hair is ideal, but if you can't for whatever reason once again research.

GRADE 4 – PERSONALITY

The way you seem to others can make you so much prettier. Fake it till you make it as always~

POSTURE

Having good posture makes you stand out, makes you look prettier and is generally good for your health

Chin is parallel to the floor, shoulders are down and relaxed, rib cage is elevated, pelvis is tucked in, your knees straight and flexed, and the weight on your feet should be in the center.

You can stretch for good posture, there are many videos on this on YouTube.

Ensure your sleeping position is promoting good posture, not poor.

Buy a back brace to reinforce good posture.

BODY LANGUAGE

Learn how to move your body during conversations to seem more self-respected and confident.

Train your facial expressions for different situations, but especially for taking photos.

There are tons of books and videos on this, won’t expand because this is all about how you want others to perceive you.

ELOQUENCE

Improve the way you communicate with others. Be fluent and clear to understand

Expand your vocabulary, know how to substitute words on the spot and make sentences.

Knowing what to say in like any and every conversation makes people like you more, and the best way to be more eloquent is just practice.

There are so many good books about this.. read.

GRADE 5 – MIND

Personally, having a good mindset does boost your self-perception of your prettiness + being happier in general makes you more inclined to take care of yourself = being more pretty!!!

MENTAL HEALTH

Start journaling as a way to organise your thoughts and to truly analyse your emotions. There are a lot of journaling prompts on Pinterest and such!

Meditation as a way to clear the mind when needed is so good. There are a bunch more meditations for other purposes though like body image, productivity, focus or just general relaxation.

Go to therapy, or just have at least one person you can talk to when life becomes tough.

Cut back on social media. There's misinformation, trolls and a lot of content that isn't nourishing your mind.

Get some sun! Simple and doable, but has a huge effect on the body. It can improve the current mood. Wear sunscreen.

Start learning how to process situations, instead of bypassing the emotions that come with them.

Start surrounding yourself with like-minded people. Seriously, being around people who are just too different is draining.

MINDSET

Embrace growth and reject all forms of comfort. Being uncomfortable with something is growth.

Don’t do things because you ‘have’ to do this, do them because they benefit you and see it in that way. E.g ‘I’m going to clean my room because I deserve a clean place to rest and work’ instead of ‘I have to clean my room’

Become detached. Stop letting everything that happens in your life affect you, start observing instead of consuming.

Self validates yourself. Tam Kaur did a wonderful video on this that I think everyone should watch.

Stop believing that everything and everyone is out to get you. Your subconscious mind believes this, do not feed it, starve it.

There's a lot to say about mindset, but I recommend watching some mindset YouTubers who explain everything in depth.

and now,,,, here's a ANOTHER gift from lanny because u read her post. And liked it. And reblogged it. And followed her.. pleaseee

2K notes · View notes

pathologicalreid · 9 months ago

Note

hello!! i've been reading your spencer works for a while and they're definitely one of my favorites from this app :) so I'd like to request something :)

I've always loved the idea of spencer coming back home from a case earlier than expected and surprising reader (gf or wife) at work to pick her up! and reader could be a chemist or a scientist so spencer is interested and involved in her work somehow and they're just talking, being cute and fluffy and just happy to he together again <3 thank you for your time, and no pressure!

pure and applied chemistry | S.R.

find more chemist!reader here!

who? spencer reid x chemist!reader category: fluff content warnings: fem!reader, chemical burns, lab incidents, yapper!reader, kisses word count: 1.06k a/n: i wasn't even going to post this today but i wrote it and fell in love with spencer and his biochemist gf!!!!! this might be a pairing that i start taking requests for - thank you so much for requesting!

The air was barely starting to chill in the district, making it still unseasonably warm as you tried to take off your jacket without removing your book bag. It would’ve been easy to be embarrassed, but you were the only person around this part of campus – most students had a Reading Day, but your lab was still open, and your graduate student still wanted to work.

You had been the last person in the lab that she approached with her idea, having been turned down by the rest of campus, but you weren’t one to turn down a challenge. In fact, you had been so bored in the lab that you considered applying for another PhD.

Tying the sleeves of your jacket around your waist, you pulled your phone out of the back pocket to check the campus transportation app. As you started typing in your passcode, your eyes caught on a notification from your boyfriend.

Spencer Reid, PhD: Not home until tomorrow.

Sending back a quick emoticon – because an emoji would just show up as a square on his phone – you switched to checking what time the bus was supposed to show up at your stop before a passing car caught your eye, the car slowed to a stop right in front of you. “Oh,” you said, shaking your head, “It’s illegal to idle at a bus stop!” You called out to the driver, “You can’t stop here!”

Startled, you took a step back when the driver opened their car door, gripping your phone tightly as you mentally prepared for a confrontation, but only ended up confused when a familiar mess of brown hair peeked over the roof of the vehicle, “You don’t recognize my car?”

“Of course, I recognize your car! I just didn’t think it could be your car because last you told me you were in Nebraska!” You said, outwardly complaining as he rounded the hood of the car to open the passenger door for you.

Spencer smiled at you over the car door, “I told a fib in order to reap the benefits of surprising my girlfriend at work. Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”

Rolling your eyes as you sat in your seat, “Oh, I’m sure she could probably find the strength to forgive you.” You were beaming as Spencer took your book bag and placed it in the back seat.

As you buckled your seatbelt, Spencer got back behind the wheel, checking his mirrors before merging into the road, once you reached your first stop light, you noticed Spencer looking over at you, “What did you do to your arm?” He asked, making note of the gauze wrapped around your dominant forearm.

Frowning, you looked down at your arm, having previously forgotten the gauze was even there, “Chemical burn,” you answered indifferently, studying the first aid on your arm. “Not a bad one though, probably won’t even scar,” you added. “Oh, that reminds me, I need a new lab coat,” you blurted, fishing around the center console of Spencer’s car for a pen so you could scrawl a reminder on your uninjured forearm.

“How did you get a chemical burn on your arm?” Spencer asked, returning his eyes to the road when the light turned green. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he reached over and casually placed one hand on your denim-clad thigh.

You were no stranger to a small burn on your finger – you were fairly certain that your fingerprints were no longer a viable way of identification – but you usually got away with a thorough rinse and a unicorn band-aid. “My grad student, Leslie, mislabeled something in the lab. Another person tried to get me to report it, but Leslie cried so hard while she was helping me clean my arm that I didn’t want to get her in any sort of academic misconduct trouble. I mean, who knew that hydrochloric acid caused chemical burns anyway?”

Spencer deftly flicked the turn signal as he moved to get on the highway to his apartment, “Uh, you and I know,” he said, there was a critical tone in his voice, but it was directed toward your flippancy instead of the injury itself.

“It wasn’t super concentrated, so I’m really fine,” you insisted, telling him the same thing you had told Leslie when the incident occurred, “I’ve done worse.”

Smiling, your boyfriend shook his head, “It’s a wonder they still let you in chemistry labs.” He was referring to a burn you had given yourself a few months ago, leading to an embarrassing trip to the hospital where doctors had to debride a nasty burn to your thigh. That particular incident had led to the director of your lab gifting you an enamel pin, designed to look like a hazardous materials symbol.

You looked at him, watching intently as he exited off the highway and made it to his apartment. Not long ago, an impromptu trip to Spencer’s would’ve been an inconvenience, but now you had two drawers of his dresser as your own. He led the way up the stairs and you followed him through the door of apartment twenty-three.

Locking the door before turning all of his attention to you, he cupped your face in both of his hands before kissing both of your cheeks – right over the tender, red lines left by your lab goggles. “Promise me you’ll be more careful in the lab,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your waist and herding you over to the couch.

As you sat down on the couch, Spencer joined you, grabbing at your hips until you gave in, seating yourself in his lap, one knee on either side of his hips. You intertwined your fingers at the back of his neck, tilting your head to the side, “We’re all done with tests anyway – there will be considerably fewer chemicals involved while I get on my knees and grovel to the federal government for funding to start a clinical trial,” you told him, considering the repercussions of pressing your lips to his.

“What kind of chemicals could you possibly need to apply for federal research grants?” Spencer asked, gently resting his hands on your waist.

Beaming, you waggled your eyebrows at him, “One, three, seven-Trimethylpurine-two, six-dione, baby.”

Realization dawned on his features as he understood, “Ah, caffeine.”

890 notes · View notes

hivemuthur · 26 days ago

Text

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 9.

viktorxfemale!reader explict! (we got there)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 7,2K!

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: spoiler: In the timeline of my writing, this is the first sex scene I've ever written on my own. So, what can I say? This is an imperfect story about imperfect people, but I can assure you it has an eventual happy ending.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

The absolute chaos of Christmas looming spread across the campus like an infectious frenzy. The corridors were decked with the most absurd ornaments the students could scavenge—Santa Claus figurines strung up and dangling upside down from the ceiling of the canteen, Christmas trees adorned with laboratory glassware and angel hair, and a mockery of carols blaring on repeat from the school radio. It was a bizarre fusion of science and art, a perfect encapsulation of the university’s peculiar spirit.

Every student seemed to be racing against time, scrambling to finish their projects and papers before the holidays, determined to return prepared for the looming finals. The labs and library remained open around the clock for anyone desperate enough to study or practise at odd hours.

You and Sue spent every spare moment in the lab classroom, tinkering with projects that needed to be submitted by the semester’s end. Meanwhile, Jayce and Viktor made themselves available to assist and guide anyone who might need their expertise, and the group crossed paths periodically, exchanging polite gestures and jokes to keep up the holiday spirit. Viktor had made a few attempts to talk to you after his mortifying text message, but you did your best to ignore him.

Which made your current situation, to say the least, far from ideal. Sue was rushing you to jot down all the points before she had to dash off and tend to a project for another class. The two of you huffed at each other, frustration starting to take its toll, until you sighed and said, “Sue, how about I finish this, and you go do your thing? I really don’t mind.” You offered your friend a reassuring smile.

Sue hesitated, narrowing her eyes. “Are you sick of me or something?”

“I’m never sick of you,” you said, placing your hand on Sue’s knee and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “I just think this needs a bit more work, and I can see you’re in a hurry. Honestly, I really don’t mind if you don’t.”

“Okay, I admit my mind is elsewhere. Fine,” Sue sighed in mock defeat. “I’ll do something for you in return, I promise.” She started packing up her things and leaned over to place a hand on your shoulder.

“Just get me a cookie or something,” you replied with a tired smile, gently brushing Sue’s hand away. You figured you’d probably finish the work faster on your own, and you were running out of time anyway. The lab was already emptying, darkness had fallen outside, your eyes burned from staring at the chemicals for so long, and you’d had more than enough for one day.

After Sue left, you resumed your work, determined to finish everything in one evening. The promise of rest and the satisfaction of completion fuelled you. You were so focused on jotting down your thoughts that you didn’t notice when Viktor sat beside you and leaned over your notes.

“Do you... need help?” His voice was unsure, as if he were asking about something else as well.

You hesitated. Help would certainly be welcome, but Viktor’s presence would also make it harder for you to focus. The final equation seemed to balance out the odds. You looked at him—he looked tired yet sharp. He wore the same green jumper he’d had on that night, with a crisp white shirt collar peeking out from underneath it. His scent was fresh and comforting, and his eyes, full of quiet anticipation, were fixed on you as you calculated your decision. You sighed. Yes, you needed help.

“Alright. Shoot me.”

For a split second, Viktor’s face lit up before he leaned in closer. “You’re pretty far along,” he said, his expression thoughtful, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You can dictate, and I’ll translate it into Heimerdinger’s language?”

“That would honestly be perfect,” you admitted, letting out a huff of relief as you turned your attention back to the chaotic scrawl of notes Sue had left behind. Terrible handwriting.

The two of you worked together in near silence, the hum of the lab equipment and the faint scratching of Viktor’s pen the only sounds between you. You found yourself occasionally distracted by the way Viktor’s long fingers moved as he pointed to your results, his low voice guiding you through adjustments. You tried to stay focused, but every now and then, you’d catch yourself glancing at him, his concentration a tether pulling your attention away from your notes.

Viktor, for his part, couldn’t help but steal glances at you. The faint scent of your perfume mixed with the sterile air of the lab, and it made something in his chest feel warm, almost achingly so. He bit his lip nervously whenever he realised he’d been staring too long, forcing his attention back to writing.

It took the two of you longer than either of you had expected, but when you finally wrapped up, the lab was completely empty. You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a soft groan of relief.

“That’s it, then,” you said, your voice tired but satisfied. “Thank you, Viktor. Honestly, I’d still be drowning in that mess if you hadn’t—”

“It’s nothing,” he cut you off gently, placing the pen down and leaning back slightly. He watched as you began gathering your things, clearly ready to leave. But before you could stand, he cleared his throat, his voice softer now. “Hey.”

You paused, looking at him.

“Did you…” He hesitated, the words suddenly harder to push out. He fidgeted with the edge of his notebook. “Did you get my text message?”

Of course, you did. You’d seen his stupid, childish message. The ‘I like you,’ had screamed at you from your phone screen for two weeks now, and you’d both loved it and hated it. Who writes ‘I like you’ like a five-year-old? And not only that, who needs to down an entire bottle of whisky to muster the courage to write ‘I like you’?

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. You hadn’t expected this. You shifted awkwardly in your chair, avoiding his gaze. “I did,” you said finally, your voice measured, careful.

Viktor’s expression remained unreadable, but his hands tightened around the notebook in front of him. “And?”

You let out a breath, your lips pressing into a thin line. “And… if I’m to rely on you saying or doing something from the heart only when you get yourself blind drunk, that wouldn’t be the best choice for your health, Viktor,” your voice was quiet, your eyes fixed on the workbench in front of you. “And I don’t want to be bad for your health.” You offered him a faint smile and looked down again. “If it was from the heart, in the first place.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded, his gaze dropping to the table. “It was.” It was. And it shamed him deeply that, indeed, he’d needed liquid courage to admit it. Only now did it strike him how awful it must have made you feel. “But I have a… rabbit heart.”

“Am I so terrifying?” you felt mockery twisting itself inside you with anger. Why were you so angry, though? You also had a rabbit heart. You often caught yourself knowing exactly what Viktor was going to say because you used the same words in your history of backing out. Was this the universe having a go at you?

“Yes, you scare the living shit out of me,” he huffed out a shaky laugh, lowering his voice. It was probably the biggest truth he’d told you in all this time.

“Well, this can’t be good for your health either, then, no?” Deflect, deflect, deflect, hide yourself behind that joke. Very well done, you.

“I—” Viktor paused, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “Look, I lied. I’m not good with any setup—casual or not. I—” He stopped himself, his eyes flicking briefly to yours before looking away again. He was torn, visibly at war with his own feelings.

You didn’t want to hear him stumble over words again. “Viktor, I get it. It’s fine. We can still be friends?” You tried to search your mind for what you’d want to hear all those times when you told someone politely the relationship wasn’t working for you.

You thought this was it—an offer of friendship. Most people got hurt or annoyed with you, and it made you feel guilty. So, you tried to say something that wouldn’t make him feel guilty. As soon as you said it, you realised that what you actually wanted was for someone not to let you retreat—but it was too late for that.

Viktor took in a shaky breath, his gaze returning to yours, but he still looked uncertain. “I can’t do that,” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “I can’t be just your friend.” His hands clenched into fists on the table. “I... I’ve tried to be fine with it, but I’m not. I can’t pretend.”

“But I don’t know how to be anything else,” he added after a beat, his mind flicking back to all the times he’d snuck out of someone’s bedroom or when he found himself alone in the morning, in his own cold, sweaty bed. After some time, it became a habit, a quiet indulgence that carried no consequences, and it aligned very well with his main goal: to make his life more than it was meant to be. No distractions, only his goal. Some distractions, but not too many. Only friendships, and here as well, only the stimulating ones. To keep his brain fed, so his soul could starve.

“I have worked… so hard,” he brushed his hand through his hair. “To get where I am. I was meant to fail, and I haven’t failed once. I haven’t failed a single time, aside from some tiny, insignificant stumbles that eventually lead me to answers anyway. So many times I haven’t failed that I don’t think I know how to,” his voice was quiet, as if admitting something shameful. He said it as though any slip-up could cost him everything he’s worked for.

“I… understand,” you said slowly, piecing together the crumbs of information. Viktor didn’t come from a place of love, like you did. He didn’t come from a place of opportunity. He probably had to claw his way through pompous academics who didn’t take him seriously. You understood that part. But what was your part in turning it all to dust—that eluded you. So you didn’t understand, not entirely.

“Do you?” he looked at you longingly, expectantly, and it made your heart ache. What was it that you were supposed to give him now? A promise you would never hurt him? That you would never distract him or drag his mind away from what’s important?

“Viktor, this shouldn’t be so hard, I’m not some mythical creature,” you said, trying to inject a touch of humour into your voice, but it came out thin, brittle.

Viktor’s gaze softened, but the intensity in his eyes remained. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and steady. “No, you’re not,” he murmured, as if trying to reconcile something inside himself. “But you’re not like anyone else either.”

Your chest tightened at the words, but you quickly pushed it aside, unwilling to let yourself feel vulnerable. You folded your arms across your chest, as if protecting yourself from something you couldn’t name. “I don’t want to be a puzzle for you to solve, Viktor. I don’t want to be some challenge you feel like you need to conquer. That’s not what I’m here for.”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he processed your words. He wanted to argue, to convince you that it wasn’t about conquest, that it was about something deeper, but he could tell it wasn’t the right time. Not yet. “I don’t… I don’t think of you like that,” he said, his voice almost too soft, as if afraid to break the fragile moment between you. “I think of you as someone I want to understand, someone who...” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence, the words feeling too heavy in the air.

You shifted in your seat, your eyes narrowing slightly as you considered his words. There was a vulnerability in his voice, a quiet sincerity that you weren’t used to hearing. You almost wanted to reach out, to ease the tension that hung between you, but you held yourself back.

There was a long, aching pause between you before Viktor cleared his throat and leaned back, trying to break the silence. “So,” he said, the words coming out in a lighter tone, “how many do-overs do you think we can have?”

You rolled your eyes at him, a small, rueful smile tugging at your lips. “I find myself hoping that each one is the last one,” you replied dryly, though your heart wasn’t fully in the jest. “Thank you for all the help.”

Viktor smiled, a faint, almost self-deprecating chuckle escaping him. “Oh, no worries. I’ll see you at the Christmas party?” he asked, his voice a little uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure how you’d respond.

You nodded, your expression softening just slightly. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” you said, your tone neutral, but not dismissive. “Take care, Viktor.”

With that, you parted ways, the lingering tension still hanging between you, neither fully satisfied with the conversation, but both with the understanding that you were somehow still connected—however uncertain that connection was.

You found an unbearable thought gnawing at you—that in this state, the only ‘do-over’ you could count on was friendship, and Viktor couldn’t afford that. Inevitably, it would end with nothing.

***

It wasn’t exactly a party, but the pub was completely packed with people—students, assistants, and random individuals who wandered around campus, their roles in it a complete mystery. Everything was bathed in the warm glow of Christmas decorations, making the space feel even more cramped.

You sat at a small round table with Sue, some familiar faces scattered around, including Jayce and Viktor, who had joined after their TA duties. Sue was mid-sentence when you leaned back in your chair, your eyes wandering. You weren’t in the mood for all the noise tonight. The words blurred around you as you half-listened, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of your glass—a quiet distraction. Viktor was talking to Jayce, his sharp voice cutting through the noise every now and then. His dry wit was always on full display, the kind that kept people around him in that odd mix of awe and wariness.

“You okay?” Sue’s voice brought you back. You blinked, nodding slowly.

“Yeah, just... tired, I guess,” you said, forcing a polite smile as you took a sip of your drink.

The room was hazy with cigarette smoke, the heat becoming unbearable. The whole scene was so unbearably sweet and cozy that it made you flinch. Your eyes kept glancing over to Viktor, who would immediately look away as soon as your gazes met. You kept thinking about what another do-over could look like and felt yourself growing more and more frustrated with the space between you, even though you were sitting so close to each other. You could feel Sue's eyes on you but couldn’t quite explain why you felt this way.

Sue raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Well, if you need to bail early, I totally get it.”

You hesitated, then gave a half shrug. “I think I’ll head out. Just... not feeling it, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Sue replied, offering a quick nod. “See you later?”

“Yeah.” You stood, grabbing your coat from the back of your chair. As you made your way through the maze of tables, you could hear Viktor's voice in the background—just enough to make you pause. You could feel his gaze on you, but you ignored it, focusing instead on the exit.

Viktor watched as you stood and walked away, a wave of frustration rising within him, forming itself into a long sigh. He had tried, hadn’t he? He had said things—things he never said to anyone—but now you were leaving, retreating like always. His jaw tightened, and he felt his fingers curl into fists on the table. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not after everything. He should’ve known better, but still, your departure stung.

He couldn’t place why, but it felt like you were slipping away just as he was beginning to reach out. You were both so fucking terrible at talking, at letting yourselves feel anything real. Why did it have to be so difficult?

The cold air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, and for a moment, it felt like a relief. The street was quiet, the only sound the crunch of snow beneath your boots. You slid your headphones on and started walking toward the dorms, matching your steps to the rhythm of the song.

You awaited rest and home and being far away from here with utter impatience. Just one more evening of this. Just one more evening of thinking and biting at your own lips, glancing at your phone, and then it would only be your parents, and Hale, and the quiet evenings at Sheffield, for a week.

Against reason, Viktor followed you, his footsteps soft but steady as he stepped out of the pub moments later. His eyes caught sight of your retreating figure, and a small, amused smile played at the corner of his lips. He’d almost not been surprised—almost expected it.

He called out your name, his voice lost to the wind and muffled by the sounds of the night. But you didn’t hear him. Quickening his pace, his breath misted in the cold air. He called again, louder this time, but still, you didn’t turn.

A small part of him considered letting you go, letting you stew in your thoughts, just leaving it for after the break. But the rest of him felt pulled, like a dog on a leash in front of a vet’s door.

You were nearing the entrance to the dorms when you finally paused, taking a deep breath, and tugging your headphones off with a slight wince. The moment you heard your name, you froze, your heart skipping in your chest.

“Hey you!” Viktor’s voice was closer now, cutting through the night. When you turned, you saw him standing at the edge of the walkway, just outside the dorm. His breath came in visible puffs, his chest heaving as if he’d run after you.

“You walk... so fucking fast,” he said, still catching his breath. “I never figured you for the type to run off so bluntly. But I suppose that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?” Yes, just laugh it out. Viktor took a few steps forward, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Are you fucking drunk again?” you blinked, your mind racing. You had to admit to yourself that Viktor drunkenly following you from the bar was a coin toss you wouldn’t have bet on. Especially after your last talk. Funny.

“Are you not?” he countered, his words smoother than you expected.

“No. Go back to your pub, Viktor.” Your voice was flat now, each word carefully measured. You exhaled sharply, your shoulders sinking as if the weight of the evening had finally caught up with you. You were so tired of this.

Viktor tilted his head, his smile barely visible in the shadows as he took a step closer. “Eh, make me,” he said softly, though it wasn’t a challenge—not really.

Another step.

“I am so not in the mood for you now,” you muttered, your hands dropping limply by your sides as you turned away, dragging yourself down the corridor toward the elevators. Your voice lacked its usual bite, tinged instead with exhaustion.

“Alright, alright, I’m not drunk, just had one pint. Oh, come on,” Viktor mock-pleaded, his cane tapping lightly against the floor as he quickened his pace to catch up with you. “You won’t see me the entire holiday break.”

“And I will savour every single day of this glorious relief from your constant nagging, poking, your sweet side and your dick side, and having fun at my expense,” you snapped, jabbing the elevator button with increasing impatience, your words punctuated by each press.

You were expecting another joke, but Viktor’s hands gripped your waist firmly, twisting you around. Your breath caught as he pulled you flush against him, the heat of his body sharp against the cold you’d carried in from outside.

“Shut up,” he breathed, his voice raw and ragged as his lips found yours. The kiss was unsteady, heated, and messy, tasting faintly of sweet beer and a frustration that mirrored your own. He panted into your mouth, his lips parting just enough to nip at yours.

“Just… shut up, for once,” he murmured, crowding you against the elevator door. It slid open behind you with a soft chime, and you stumbled inside, Viktor’s cane clattering to the floor as he steadied you against the wall. He pulled your turtleneck down to lick your neck greedily over the bite mark he had left there. His hands quickly found their way under your sweater, and he gasped, bemused by your lack of underwear. “No bra?” Again. A low chuckle rumbled against your skin. “Is that your idea of a Christmas present?”

“Fuck off,” you scoffed, your voice still sharp with lingering anger. Your hands pressed against his chest in an attempt to push him away, but the lack of real force and your hands still gripping his coat tightly betrayed you.

“Are you sure?” Viktor smirked, his grip firm as he tilted your chin up, pressing a lingering, deceptively sweet kiss to your lips. “This is your floor,” he said, his voice agonizingly calm as he stepped back, gesturing toward the elevator doors sliding open.

“Or…” His tone shifted, almost teasing, as he pressed the button to close the doors and send them up to his floor instead. “You could come with me. For real, this time.”

You pulled him wordlessly toward you, offering no resistance—nothing more, nothing less. Words had failed you, but your actions were clear. It was enough. Viktor wanted to say, That’s what I thought, the words teasing the edge of his tongue, but he held them back. Instead, he captured your lips again, kissing frantically. He explored your mouth, swallowing the small sounds you made, the elevator a blur as it carried you upward.

By the time you reached his room, Viktor managed to open the door without breaking the kiss, his cane hanging hooked over his arm. You stumbled inside together, the heat between you growing unbearable, and he pressed you firmly against the door, his hands bracing your hips as his lips moved over yours with unrelenting zeal. You pulled him closer, your breath catching as you managed to rasp, “Bed?”

Viktor chuckled softly against your lips; his tone laced with teasing. “Impatient, are we?” But there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze, the way his hands tightened on your hips as he broke the kiss just long enough to guide you further into the room.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, your voice raw as your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him with you.

“Yes. Please, fuck me,” Viktor murmured, sweeping you into another fervent kiss as you stumbled toward the bed. “I’m so tired of you not fucking me.”

You scoffed into his mouth. And who is to blame for that? You sunk into the mattress, pulling Viktor with you by his belt, the cane poking your leg.

“Why are you wearing so many clothes?” he whined, his voice laced with frustration as his clumsy hands fumbled with your coat. His hasty movements betrayed him, and in the rush, his knee accidentally pressed against your arm.

“Ow!” you winced, your sharp tone softening as you glanced at his face. The irritation melted away when you saw the unabashed eagerness in his expression, the way his brow furrowed in determination despite his lack of grace. “Is this going to be painful?” you asked, your lips quirking in a faint, teasing smile, though your voice still held a trace of genuine concern.

Viktor froze, blinking down at you like a scolded child. “Only if you want it to be,” he muttered, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he leaned back to regroup. His fingers moved more carefully now, peeling the coat off from underneath you with exaggerated precision. “Better?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Viktor granted you a low chuckle, his lips quirking in that familiar, lopsided smirk. “Ridiculous, perhaps, but effective,” he murmured as he continued with his careful work, peeling away the layers of your clothing like unwrapping a particularly stubborn present.

His own clothes, however, didn’t receive the same treatment. He shed them with reckless abandon, tossing each piece into an ever-growing messy pile near the bed, his leg brace a crown on top of it. His cane clattered softly to the floor as he leaned back for balance, the faintest flush spreading across his cheeks.

Once you were both were bare, he ran his palms gently along your sides and pressed his face to your hip, your belly, your neck, inhaling your skin. “God, you are so infuriating,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your body.

He glued himself to you, his hands roaming wherever they could reach, as if this were the moment he’d been waiting to happen for the longest time. And it was, of course. The decision to toss everything aside and just jump in might have been reckless, but he had no capacity to decide otherwise.

“Infuriating?” you laughed, feigning offense. “Is that the way you treat all of your conquests? Make them follow you around by the nose for months, until your resolve finally breaks after one pint?”

“No, only you,” he replied smoothly, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He added with a sly smirk, “It’s my love language with you.”

“Love?” you repeated, voice laced with teasing incredulity, but the hesitation in your tone betrayed how the word caught you off guard.

“Shut up,” Viktor muttered, his hand gliding up your side as he kissed you, silencing your laughter before you could push further. “Attraction,” he murmured against your neck, his lips pressing a lingering kiss there. “Want,” he added, his teeth grazing your breast, earning a sharp gasp from your mouth. “Admiration,” he said, coming back up to meet your eyes and give you a slow, steady kiss. He took your fingers into his mouth and watched your eyes flutter shut, your lips parting.

His voice dipped lower, teasing, and dangerous. “Anyway, is that not what we have been doing?” His hands explored the meat of your ass with a firm grip, his touch both intoxicating and commanding as he pressed himself flush against your core. He shifted against you with a kind of intimacy that had your breath hitching.

“Have you not been loving me all this time?” His words, soft and taunting, carried a heat that matched the tension thrumming between you. His hand moved down between your thighs to scoop your wetness and lick it off his fingers, as he made sure you were watching. “Ah, it seems,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, “you’ve been loving me back all along.”

You trembled under him, your breath catching as your hands gripped his shoulders. A quiet plea escaped your lips, barely audible but filled with vulnerability. “Don’t be mean, Viktor.”

For a moment, he stilled, his expression softening as he pulled back to look at you. His golden eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, held a flicker of something warmer, deeper. “Mean?” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “No. Not with you.”

The teasing edge in his voice melted away as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, slow and deliberate, as though trying to convey what words couldn’t. He was so bad at talking if you thought he was being mean. His hands cradled your face, and his next words came as a low promise against your skin. “I could never be mean to you.”

You huffed softly, a half-laugh escaping you as memories of all the times he’d actually been mean flitted through your mind. “Liar,” you muttered against his lips, though there was no venom in your tone. Instead, you kissed him back longingly, your fingers threading into his hair as your thighs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer.

Viktor exhaled a shaky breath, his control fraying under your touch. “Perhaps,” he admitted with a faint, self-deprecating smile, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. “But you give as good as you get, don’t you?” he said playfully, reaching over to pull a condom out of his bedside drawer and put it on swiftly. Then, he grabbed a spare pillow to prop his leg. His belly was tied into a knot, teetering on the edge between pain and pleasure, as he placed one hand between where your bodies were going to meet to align himself at the entrance.

He studied your face, as if to check if there was any resistance left. But you only looked at him with wide eyes, your hands fisting the bed sheet. He swept through his body in a final calculation of what could go wrong—he wasn’t drunk, that was a good start. His leg, eh, not perfect, but he should be able to pull this off. Did he want to love you or tease you? He had forgotten which one it was. A shuddery breath escaped him when your bodies finally connected—he entered you slowly, holding back to lay on top of you.

The first thrust was so deliberate, so slow, so overwhelming that you both moaned into each other's mouths. Your brows tied themselves together, your palms stiff in hesitation over his shoulders, as the feeling of relief surged through you. A relief of finally not being empty.

The only movement Viktor allowed himself was the roll of his hips as he sunk inside you, beat after beat. His arms caged you in, one of his hands gripping your shoulder, the other cradling the base of your skull, as he kept your faces close so he could study you, watch you. He stared at you obscenely, taking in your expressions, disbelief wrenching breath out of his lungs. You really wanted him. You were holding him in a vacuous trap, making it hard to pull out and push back in.

And this wasn’t new. People wanted him, he knew that. They wanted him for this—for a fun fuck—and when they continued to want him afterward, it felt like a fluke. So he shut it down. And it made him feel powerful. No, it made him feel weak. It made his weakness powerful. It gave him the power to disappear from it, from himself, to not be present.

The fact that he was present now, attentive, was rather new for him. Not entirely—he’d had a glimpse of what it could be that night when you were high together, but he hadn’t dared breach the boundary of clothing then. This, though, was entirely different. He watched you so carefully, studying every reaction to his touch. He pushed where you gasped and retreated where you winced. Your kisses were as hungry as his, and it made him feel so full. The fuck was more than fun. It made him feel powerful in a way that didn’t make him feel weak.

He tightened his grip, his forehead resting on yours as he buried himself deep inside, thrust after thrust. His mouth open against you, breathing in every gasp, every whimper you were willing to give him. His pace was even, unwavering, as he murmured against your lips, “You’ve been giving me so much grief.”

He locked eyes with you, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze as he added, “But it really feels like you’ve been loving me back. Haven’t you?” His voice was soft, as though waiting for you to answer not just with words, but with the quiet truth in your eyes.

You slid your fingers into his hair, pulling him in for another desperate kiss, and Viktor caught a faint, barely audible ‘yes,’ offered to drown deep in his throat, traveling straight to his heart, as if you were offering him a secret you hadn’t meant to give away. The sound stirred something deep within him, and as you arched against him, your breath catching, he deepened the kiss and quickened his pace. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, murmuring quiet praises, each word filled with reverence as you moved together toward completion.

He slid one hand to the nape of your neck, another snaked itself between your bodies, his fingers parting you as he whispered softly, “Oh, my girl.” Your eyes fluttered shut, arms wrapping around his shoulders and you muffled your own moan against his mouth, lips and noses brushing against each other. He rubbed lazy circles on your clit, a smile blooming on his face when he felt your back arching beneath him, hips pressing upward to meet his, your cunt clenching around his cock in a tight, needy hug.

He felt your thighs squeezing his hips, your walls fluttering, pulling him deeper inside you, with you. You dug your nails into his shoulders, lips parted pressed against his, foreheads pressed together mingling droplets of sweat into one.

You felt a sudden urge to say, “Thank you,” distorted by a loud moan as you came on his cock, on his fingers, your body tensing up and bending to the sound of his name falling from her lips. It took a long time, and you thought it would never stop, your climax blinding, contorting your body around him with a force to bend and crush.

Viktor’s mind got invaded by a thought of how great it felt to make a girl such as yourself lose control over her own muscles. How it had made him grow taller and bigger, his heart swollen with your grace, his lips bruised from your teeth. Slowly, he worked you through each spasm, and when you were ready, he retreated his hand to wrap both arms around you and buried his face in your neck. His breathing jagged, teeth sinking into your shoulder to not say too much at the sudden tightness around his cock.

His rhythm began to stutter, movements growing urgent by the minute as he buried himself within you up to the hilt. His breath was uneven, his muscles flexing and twisting. He felt your core hugging his cock so tight, he couldn’t hold back his own panting, as if he were a teenager all over again. He moved his face to brush against yours, whispered your name again, voice trembling, and he came with one thick, everlasting pang, whimpering weakly into your mouth.

His body melted into yours with a long, contented sigh, his arms wrapped tightly around you, stomachs and chests pressed, rising and falling together. You stayed like that in silence for a few moments, not moving, just touching, just breathing, just being.

Finally, Viktor rolled you both to the side, his leg hooked over your hip, fingers threading through your hair, and gave you an almost solemn look.

“What is this face?” you asked softly, cupping his cheek and brushing your thumb across his lip.

He sucked on it slowly, not breaking eye contact. “I never thought you would be so…” His voice trailed off for a moment, and just as you braced yourself for another joke, he finished, “wonderful.”

You managed only to whisper a quiet “Viktor—,” your grip tightening around him as the weight of this little praise crushed you. As his eyes crushed you, his warmth crushed you, as you crushed yourself with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.

Viktor pulled back just a few inches, his gaze searching yours. “Are you going away for Christmas tomorrow?” he asked, his voice soft, almost tentative. Normal.

You nodded slowly, your fingers still tangled in his hair as you answered, “Yeah.”

“Will you stay?” Please, stay. Please don’t have me wake up alone tomorrow. A weakness crept back in.

You nodded against his neck. A quiet breath escaped Viktor’s lips as he leaned in to kiss your forehead, pulling you back against him. He sighed softly, the sound almost like a weight lifting. He didn’t speak for a few moments, just holding you as if afraid you might disappear if he let go.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice quieter now. “I have no idea how I’m going to explain my absence to Sue though.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a playful smirk, and he raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, his voice teasing. “I’ll just tell her you got really into the holiday spirit and had to spend the night with your favourite TA.”

You chuckled softly, the tension between you easing just a little. “I’m sure she’ll believe that,” you replied, though the words felt lighter now, softer.

Viktor’s expression shifted to one of mock seriousness as he pulled you a little closer. “But tomorrow, when the morning comes,” he said, his voice lowering slightly, “I’ll have to call it in. You caught me drunk, used me for your advantage,” he paused, his eyes glinting with mischief, “and I’ll make sure everyone knows it.”

You let out a small laugh, your face flushing slightly at the absurdity of the situation. “Selling me out already, I see how this will go,” you said, teasing him back. “I’m sure you won’t mind telling them how you practically begged me to stay the night and cuddle you.”

Viktor smiled, but his eyes softened. “I won’t,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your temple again, holding you in the quiet aftermath. The moment felt almost unreal—so intimate, so fragile—and yet, there you were. He wouldn’t dare break it by asking for more. And even though Viktor’s chest was still swollen with fear, his mind drifted to sleep in your arms.

Your own mind, however, was restless. As the high of your connection faded, you woke up early, your thoughts gnawing at you. Viktor was fast asleep, his expression so peaceful that you couldn’t believe he had a bad bone in his body. Yet, you had been stabbed so many times. It wasn’t real, was it? It couldn’t be over, just like that. What if he was right, and you weren’t meant to share the awkwardness of the morning? What if he tried to shrug it off once he woke up? Would you survive if he did?

No. You wouldn’t.

Cursing yourself, you slid out of bed, put your clothes back on, and gave Viktor, who was sleeping soundly, one last glance that tore through your soul. And left.

***

The morning light crept through the gaps in the blinds, painting pale stripes across the sheets. Viktor stirred, his body heavy and warm, though there was an odd hollowness in the bed. He reached out instinctively, the fog of sleep not yet cleared, his fingers brushing against nothing but the cold fabric of the mattress. His eyes blinked open.

The room was silent.

He sat up slowly, scanning the space, the sense of emptiness clawing at him as the realisation began to take shape. You were gone.

The sheets beside him were rumpled, but the space was cold, long abandoned. For a moment, he stared at the spot you’d occupied, trying to convince himself you might still be here. Perhaps you were in the bathroom, or in his tiny kitchen searching for tea—but no sound of movement met his ears.

A chill crept through his chest, spreading outwards, a tight knot forming in his stomach. You left.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his movements clumsy, hurried, his leg straining without the brace. There had to be something—a note, a message, anything that might explain. The bedside table was empty. The dresser? Nothing. Viktor opened a drawer, then another, rifling through with increasing desperation, though he knew even as he searched how ridiculous it was. You wouldn’t leave a note in a drawer.

His gaze snapped to his phone. He lunged for it, unlocking the screen with trembling fingers. Nothing. No missed calls. No texts.

He stood there in the middle of the room, staring at the empty screen. His chest tightened, his breaths coming faster, each one shallower than the last. Of course.

What had he been thinking? That after all his fumbling, after all his glaring flaws, you would stay? That someone like you, bright and untamed, would want someone like him—a man who could barely navigate his own feelings without tripping over them?

Right. His fingers clenched around the phone, the pressure digging into his palm. How stupid. How painfully, pathetically stupid. How weak.

He sank back onto the bed, his head in his hands. The weight of the silence pressed down on him. Every echo in the room seemed to mock him. The bed felt too big now, the walls closing in too fast. His mind replayed your smile, your laugh, the warmth in your eyes last night, and it made his chest ache. How could you think you’d earned something like this?

And yet, beneath the sinking despair, anger simmered. At himself. At you. At the cruel absurdity of it all. You’d kissed him, held him, and for a brief moment, he’d thought you were standing on equal ground. But the truth was stark now, laid bare in her absence: you’d left. Or maybe that was an equal ground, after all. Now, you were truly even.

A sharp knock at the door jolted him from his spiralling thoughts. He didn’t answer immediately, hoping whoever it was would go away, but the knock came again, louder this time.

“Viktor?” Jayce’s familiar voice called from the other side. “You ready? We’ve got to leave in half an hour, mate.”

Viktor swallowed hard; his throat dry. His hands slowly dropped from his face as he stared at the door. Jayce’s voice was too cheerful, too ordinary, too far removed from the storm brewing inside him. He wanted to shout at him, to tell him to go away, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I’ll be ready,” he croaked after a pause, his voice hoarse and thin.

There was silence on the other side of the door for a moment, then the sound of Jayce’s footsteps retreating down the hall. Viktor exhaled shakily, his gaze drifting back to the rumpled sheets beside him. Forcing himself to move, he stood and began to gather his things. Each motion felt mechanical, hollow. The knot in his chest didn’t loosen, but he pushed it down, swallowing it whole. It was almost Christmas. He had to pretend. At least for a little while longer.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #the game of teaching body

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serraphinm · 1 month ago

Text

⋆.˚@Messy#⋆.˚

Summary: Ellie has been off for weeks now and you have no idea why. So when you've finally had enough you snap, causing a fight.

Happy New Year! This is my gift to all of you!

@vxsellie - For you girl <3

Masterlist

Ellie was in a mood... She had been for three weeks now. Why she was in such a mood I had no idea but she refused to tell me, let alone calm down. The worst part was she was taking her anger out on me. Since we lived together it was impossible to truly get any space unless one of us left. We had been living together for a few months now and dating for two years. Her duality is what made me fall in love with her in the first place. But now her underhanded insults were starting to sting.

I scan the room once more, avoiding her eyes. The stale air in the room mixed with the smell of weed made it suffocating. My eyes water a little from a fresh puff of smoke blowing into them. Our home was practically a hot box with how much she had been smoking. The couch felt rough beneath my calloused fingers. I had been working in the gardens for a few weeks now and my hands had gotten a handful of cuts and calluses. Ellie wouldn’t let me touch her anymore and I blamed my hands.

“Are you even listening or what?” Her voice reaches my mind and my eyes finally snap to hers.

“I’m listening, Ellie,” I say, hoping she doesn’t snap.

“Fucking finally..” She mutters. Another puff of smoke that I wave out my face. Despite all the weed she still seemed on edge, which was a feat in itself. “I have patrol today.. Need you to get a job gardening,” Ellie sits up slowly, a little dizzy.

“I was actually thinking of going on patrol with you today.. You know.. Switch it up?” I say standing from the couch to grab her some water.

“Did you not hear what I said?” Her green eyes narrowing,“I don’t want you outside the walls, just go garden like you always do,” Her voice is harsh but I try to focus on the fact she wants me safe inside the walls.

“I understand that Els but-”

“Why can’t you just fucking listen?! I’m trying to keep you safe!” She snaps. This rage was uncalled for.

“I don’t need you to make decisions for me Ellie.. I’m fully capable of being safe.” I argue back, my fist clenched around the glass of water. My eyes met hers once more as she sat on the couch. All I see in her eyes is anger, no fear.

“Cordyceps is no joke! You’re not immune like I am!!” She argues, standing to meet me

on an equal level.

That sent me back to when Ellie had told me of her immunity. We had been walking outside the wall on a warm summer night. She was awkward as hell grabbing my hand with her own sweaty ones. Her eyes sparkled as she told me about her day. She and Dina had been on patrol when they ran into a bear—scared the shit out of them, causing them to finish patrol early and ride all the way back to Jackson. They laugh about it now. She got so serious though when she told me Dina almost got bit. I watched fear etch her features before she turned to me.

“Babe, I need you to know something..” She whispered, my brows furrowed. It seemed this was serious so I stopped smiling and faced her.

“When I was younger I had a friend… sorta… her name was Riley and, well we were really close. Long story short.. We both got bit…” That last part left her mouth slowly. I looked at her confused.

“But.. there’s no way you should be alive right now if you were. Are you pulling my leg?” I asked as I tilted my head in her direction. Confusion all over my face. Ellie huffed and scratched her neck before holding out her tattooed arm and running her fingers over the chemically burned section.

“That day I found out I was immune…” She said softly, her eyes not meeting mine anymore.

She had to be shitting me.

“Immune..? Like.. immune immune?” I asked, grabbing her wrist and pulling her arm closer to my face.

“Yea..” She whispered.

“Really Ellie? That’s some bullshit and you know it,” I said before dropping her arm, “Tell the truth.”

“Wha- hey! That is the truth! Look, the chemical burn was me covering the bite mark!” She said as she lifted her arm back up again and practically shoved it in my face.

“Alright! Alright! So let’s say this is true.. Why tell me?” I asked as I pushed her arm out of my face.

“Cause… cause I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you…” Her voice is so quiet, like a whisper. She stared at the floor beside me while I looked at her shocked.

“You… you love me…?” I whispered as I stepped closer to her. Ever so slowly her eyes met mine. I could tell she was nervous so I sent her a smile.

“Something like that..” Ellie muttered. My smile grew and I moved forward once more as I wrapped her in a hug. She hugged back almost immediately, but not before she wiped her palms on her jeans.

“I love you too Ellie..” I whispered to her and the stars. My eyes trailed to the moon and I wished then and there that this moment would never end…

“You have got to be fucking kidding me. You’re not even listening again!” Ellie’s harsh voice snaps me out of my daydream. She must’ve been going on a rant again. I often zoned out when she did that. “What did I just say?? Huh?”

“I’m sorry, Ellie, I don’t listen to you when you get like this.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, “You’re so clever so how can you be so dumb?”

That hurts a little so I send her a glare, “You have no right to talk to me like that!” My hand clenches around the glass of water again.

“I can talk to you however I want!” She argues back, her arms waving around in frustration.

“No! You can’t! I am your equal and partner! Not someone you can just talk down to cause you’re pissy about something! I have been nothing but kind and patient with you and you’ve just been rude!!” I snap. My anger gets the better of me and I squeeze the glass so hard it shatters. Pain reaches my senses as I realize I’ve been cut. Blood seeps from my palm and I grimace. Without looking at Ellie I rush to the door, wrench it open, and slam it behind me. The cool fall air hits my face and I shiver.

I decide to patch it up before dragging my feet to the gardens. Getting work done with this was going to be a pain, but it was better than staying with Ellie right now. One of the sweet women I work with gives my hand a concerned glance. She offers to help but I decline as I slide a glove over the hand. Work takes a few hours and by the time I’m done, it's as dark as the stains of dirt on my clothes. Trudging back home I decide to take my time and marvel at the lights in Jackson. The peaceful walk back shatters when I open the door to see Ellie sitting on the couch still- -clad in her patrol gear. When I walked in her head snapped to me. Ellie stands quickly and walks over to me.

“Where the hell have you been?! I’ve been worried sick!” She looks me over before noticing all the dirt spots. “Why are you filthy? Did you fall or something?” All my patience vanishes.

Deciding I’d rather not fight again today I start walking to the kitchen to just put some space between us when she grabs my wrist.

“Ellie let go,” I say, not in the mood.

“No.. you left without even saying anything and left a mess for me to clean. You’re so messy.”

That does it.

“Really Ellie?! You wanna sit here and nitpick me?? I get what you’re saying, but really??”

Ellie lets go of my wrist, a little shocked at my outburst. But I wasn’t done.

“I’m too messy and then I’m too fucking clean! I’m too perfect till I open my big mouth. I’m too clever till I’m too fucking dumb!” It all starts pouring out as I step closer and closer to her. She begins backing up as tears well in my eyes.

“You told me to go to the gardens then wonder where I’ve fucking been!!” I poke her chest as I stare into her eyes. She seems to start to understand so I keep going.

“You can’t even talk! You smoke weed to help you sleep. Then get stoned at four o’clock! You come home from patrol to me and don’t even say hello before you’re yelling at me. All 'cause I made a mess!”

Her face falls as she stares at me in realization.

“I want to be me! Is that not allowed?! I wanted to go on patrol! But no! Instead I had to work all day in the gardens with a gash on my hand!”

Ellie stares down at the floor. It seems I finally woke her up from whatever cloudy haze she was in.

“Thousand different people I could be for you Els.. and you hate the fucking lot…”

That last line seems to finish her off and she starts to tear up. My breath is fast and my hands shake. Rage truly overtook me. I wasn’t the most patient person in the world. But usually, I was a bit more composed. Seems Ellie really hurt me…

“I…” She whispers. Tears drip down to her chin before falling onto the cold floors. My breathing slows a little as she fiddles with her fingers.

“I just.. Joel did some really fucked up shit… and I lost it…took it out on you…” She takes a deep breath and wipes her face with one hand.

“What the hell happened?? And why didn’t you tell me that?” I ask gently. Ellie takes another deep breath. She begins to explain that she could’ve been the cure for cordyceps.. If Joel hadn’t taken her from the fireflies and killed them all. I stare at her in shock.

“I just got so furious… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive him for that…” My heart hurts and I take a hesitant step towards her.

“Ellie..” I start. She brings me into a hug and cries into my shoulder. Tears well up in my own eyes. Now I felt bad for snapping. One of my hands rests on the back of her neck while the other wraps around her. I could tell she needed this hug. We both did.

Slowly I move us over to the bed and take off our dirty clothes before laying back in bed with her. She holds me like a lifeline as she calms down, her skin cold on mine. Moving the covers overtop of us I secure it tightly around her as she snuggles into my chest. My fingers rung through her short auburn hair. I take her hair tie out and pull it onto my wrist.

“Look.. all those things I said… I never really meant them.. I just.. I wanted someone to hurt with me... So I’d feel less alone..” She was surprisingly self-aware.

“Dork,” I mutter. She looks up at me with a glare.

“I open up my thoughts and feelings to you, and you call me a dork?? Really?” I watch as her composure cracks, a smile spreads across her face.

“Yup. Dork.”

“Rude..”

“You love me.”

“Yea… I do…”

Ellie spends the next few hours talking everything out. We discuss it all before deciding to put steps in place to prevent this from happening again. It takes us a while but we work it out. I glance at the clock to see it’s almost 2 am. With a yawn, I relax further into the pillows.

“Ellie.. I know it’s going to be hard… but could you try and forgive Joel..? If not for him or yourself.. Maybe for me..?” I say gently.

She says nothing for a moment before take a deep breath… and ever so slowly nodding her head.

“Yea.. for you.. anything..”

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #afab reader #spotify #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #messy #fighting #angst #Spotify

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