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ruhua-langblr · 2 months ago

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Language Apps Suck, Now What?: A Guide to Actually Becoming "Fluent"

The much requested sequel to my DL post that was promised almost a year ago.

I'm going to address all of the techniques that have helped me in my language learning journeys. Since 95% of these came from the fact that in a past language learning mistake, they are titled as my mistakes (and how I would/did things differently going forward). For those that read to the bottom there is a "best universal resources" list.

Disclaimers:

"Fluency" is hard to define and everyone has their own goals. So for the purpose of this post, "fluency" will be defined as "your personal mastery target of the language".

If you just want to pick up a bit of a language to not sound like a total foreigner on vacation or just exchange a few words in a friend's native language, feel free to ignore what doesn't apply, but maybe something here could help make it a little easier.

This is based on my own personal experience and (some) research.

Mistake 1: Asymmetrical Studying

Assuming you don't just want to do a single activity in a language, or are learning a language like ASL, a language requires 4 parts to be studied: Speaking, Listening, Writing, Reading. While these have overlap, you can't learn speaking from reading, or even learn speaking from just listening. One of my first Chinese teachers told me how he would listen to the textbook dialogues while he was biking to classes and it helped him. I took this information, thought "Yeah that's an idea, but sounds boring" and now regret not taking his advice nearly every day.

I think a lot of us find methods we enjoy to study (mine was reading) and assume that if we just do that method more ™ it will eventually help us in other areas (sometimes it does, but that's only sometimes). Find a method that works for you for each area of study, even better find more than one method since we use these skills in a variety of manners! I can understand a TV program pretty well since I have a lot of context clues and body language to fill in any gaps of understanding, but taking a phone call is much harder—the audio is rougher, there's no body language to read, and since most Chinese programs have hard coded subtitles, no subtitles to fall back on either. If I were to compare the number of hours I spent reading in Chinese to (actively) training my listening? Probably a ratio of 100 to 1. When I started to learn Korean, the first thing I did was find a variety of listening resources for my level.

Fix: Find a variety of study methods that challenge all aspects of the language in different ways.

A variety of methods will help you develop a more well-rounded level of mastery, and probably help you keep from getting bored. Which is important because...

Mistake 2: Inconsistent Studying

If there is one positive to a language app, it is the pressure it puts on keeping a streak. Making studying a part of your everyday routine is the best thing you can do. I benefited a lot from taking a college language course since I had a dedicated time to study and practice Chinese 5 days out of the week (and homework usually filled the other two). Memorization is a huge part of language learning, and stopping and starting is terrible for memorization. When I was in elementary school, we had Spanish maybe a couple times a month. Looking back, it seems like it was the first class to be cut if we needed to catch up on a more important course. Needless to say, I can't even speak Spanish at an elementary level.

However, I'm sure many people reading this don't have the time to do ultra-immersion 4-hour study sessions every day either. Find what days during the week you have time to focus on learning new vocab and grammar, and use the rest of the week to review. This can be done on your commute to school/work, while you do the dishes, or as a part of your morning/evening routine. Making this as realistic as possible will help you actually succeed in making this a habit. (Check this out for how to set realistic study goals)

Fix: Study regularly (ideally daily) by setting realistic goals. Avoid "binge" studying since remembering requires consistent repetition to be most effective.

Mistake 3: Resource Choice

This is really composed of two mistakes, but I have a good example that will cover them both.

First, finding resources that are at or slightly above your level is the most important thing. Easy resources will not challenge you enough and difficult resources will overwhelm you. The ideal is n+1, with n as what you know plus 1 new thing.

Second, getting distracted by fancy, new technology. Newer isn't always better, and there are often advantages that are lost when we've made technological developments. I often found myself wanting to try out new browser extensions or organizational methods and honestly I would've benefitted from just using that time to study. (Also, you're probably reading this because of my DL post so I don't think it has to be said that AI resources suck.)

A good example of this was my time using Clozemaster. I had actually recommended it when I first started using it since I thought the foundation was really solid. However, after long term use, I found that it just wasn't a good fit. The sentences were often too simple or too long and strange for memorization at higher levels or were too difficult at lower levels. I think that taking my textbook's example sentences from dialogues into something like Anki would've been a far better use of my time (and money) as they were already designed to be at that n+1 level.

Fix: "Vet" your resources—make sure they will actually help you. If something is working for you, then keep using it! You don't always have to upgrade to the newest tool/method.

Mistake 3.5: Classrooms and Textbooks

A .5 since it's not my mistake, but an addendum of caution. I think there is a significant part of the language learning community that views textbooks and classroom learning as the worst possible resource. They are "boring", "outdated", and "ineffective" (ironically one of the most interesting modern language learning methods, ALG, is only done in a classroom setting). Classrooms and textbooks bring back memories of being surrounded by mostly uninterested classmates, minimal priority, and a focus on grades rather than personal achievement (imagine the difference between a class of middle schoolers who were forced to choose a foreign language vs. adult learners who self-selected!) People have used these exact methods, or even "cruder" methods, to successfully learn a language. It all comes down to what works best for you. I specifically recommend textbooks for learning grammar and the plentiful number of dialogues and written passages that can function great as graded readers and listening resources. (Also the distinction made between "a youtube lesson on a grammatical principle" which is totally cool, and "a passage in a grammar textbook" is more one of tone and audio/written than efficacy).

Classrooms can be really great for speaking practice since they can be a lot less intimidating speaking to someone who is also learning while receiving corrections. Speech can be awkward to train on your own (not impossible if you're good at just talking aloud to yourself!), and classrooms can work nicely for this. Homework and class schedules also have built in accountability!

Fix: Explore resources available to you and try to think holistically about your approach. CI+Traditional Methods is my go to "Learning Cocktail"

Mistake 4: Yes, Immersion, But...

I realized this relatively quickly while learning Chinese, but immersion at a level much higher than your current level will do very little for you. What is sometimes left out of those "Just watch anime to learn Japanese" discussions is that you first need to have a chance at understanding what is being said. Choosing materials that are much higher than your level will not teach you the language. It doesn't matter how many times someone at HSK 1 hears “他是甘露之惠，我并无此水可还”, they will not get very far. Actual deduction and learning comes from having enough familiar components to be able to make deductions—something different than guessing. An HSK 1 learner, never having heard the word 老虎 will be able to understand "tiger" if someone says “这是我的老虎” while standing next to a tiger. This is not to say you can never try something more difficult—things should be challenging—but if you can't make heads or tails of what's being said, then it's time to find something a bit easier. If mistake 2 is about the type of method, this is about the level. If you wouldn't give a kindergartener The Great Gatsby to learn how to read, why would you watch Full Metal Alchemist to start learning a language?

Side note: Interesting video here on the Comprehensible Input hypothesis and how it relates to neurodivergence.

Fix: Immerse yourself in appropriate content for your level. It's called comprehensible input for a reason.

Mistake 5: On Translation

I work as a translator, so do you really think I'm going to say translation is all bad? Of course not. It's a separate skill that can be added on to the basic skills, but is really only required if you are A. someone who is an intermediary between two languages (say you have to translate for a spouse or family member) or B. It is your job/hobby. In the context of sitting down and learning, it can be harmful. I think my brain often goes to translation too often because that's how I used to learn. Trying to unlearn that is difficult because, well, what do people even mean when they say "don't translate"? They mean when someone says "thank you", you should not go to your primary language and translate "you're welcome" from that. You should train yourself to go to your target language first when you hear the word for "thank you". A very literally translated "thank you" in Chinese "谢谢你" can come off as cold and sarcastic. I don't tell my friends that, I say "谢啦～". Direct translation can take away the difference in culture, grammar, and politeness in a language. If there is a reason you sound awkward while writing and speaking, it's probably because you're imposing your primary language on your target language.

Fix: Try as hard as you can to not work from your primary language into the target language, but to work from the structures, set phrases, and grammar within the target language that you know first.

Mistake 6: The Secret Language Learners Don't Want You To Know...

...is that there is no one easy method. You are not going to learn French while you sleep, or master Korean by doing this one easy trick. Learning a language requires work and dedication, the people that succeed are those that push through the boredom of repetition and failure. The "I learned X in 1 year/month/week/day!" crowd is hiding large asterisks, be it their actual level, the assistance and free time available to them, "well actually I had already studied this for 4 years", or just straight-up lying. Our own journeys in our native tongue were not easy, they required years and years of constant immersion and instruction. While we are now older and wiser people that can make quick connections, we are also burdened with things like "jobs", "house work", "school work", and the digital black hole that is "social media" that take up our time and energy. Everything above is to help make this journey a little bit easier, quicker, and painless, but it will never be magic.

I find that language learning has a lot in common with the fitness community. People will talk about the workout that changed their life and how no other one will do the same—and it really can be the truth that it changed their life and that they feel it is the ultimate way. The real workout that will change your life is the one you're most consistent with, that you enjoy the most. Language learning is just trying to find the brain exercise that you can be the most consistent with.

Fix: Save your energy looking for shortcuts, and do the work, fail, and come back for more. If someone tells you that you can become fluent in a ridiculously short amount of time, they are selling you a fantasy (and likely a product). You get out what you put in.

For those that made it to the end, here are some of my "universal resources":

Refold Method: I don't agree with their actual method 100%, but they've collected a lot of great resources for learning languages. I've found their Chinese and Korean discords to also be really helpful and provided even more resources than what's given in their starter guides.

Language Reactor: Very useful, and have recently added podcasts as a material! The free version is honestly all you need.

Anki: If I do not mention it, the people with 4+ year streaks with a 5K word deck will not let me forget it. It can be used on desktop or on your phone as an app. If you need a replacement for a language learning app, this is one of them. Justin Sung has a lot of great info on how to best utilize Anki (as does Refold). It's not my favorite, but it could be yours!

LingQ: "But I thought you said language apps are bad!" In isolation, yes. Sorry for the clickbait. This one is pretty good, and more interested in immersing you in the language than selling a subscription to allow you to freeze your streak so the number goes up.

Grammar Textbooks: For self-taught learning, these are going to be the best resource since it's focused on the hardest part of the language, and only that. If you're tired of seeing group work activities, look for a textbook that is just on grammar (Modern Mandarin Chinese Grammar is my rec for Chinese, and A Guide to Japanese Grammar by Tae Kim is the most common/enthusiastic rec I've heard for Japanese).

Shadowing: Simply repeat what you hear. Matt vs Japan talks about his setup here for optimized shadowing (which you can probably build for a lot cheaper now), but it can also just be you watching a video and pausing to repeat after each sentence or near simultaneously if you're able.

Youtube: Be it "Short Story for Beginners", "How to use X", "250 Essential Phrases", or a GRWM in your target language, Youtube is the best. Sometimes you have to dig to find what works for you, but I imagine there is something for everyone at every level. (Pro tip: People upload textbook audio dialogues often, you don't even have to buy the textbook to be able to learn from it!)

A Friend: Be it a fellow learner, or someone who has already mastered the language, it is easier when you have someone, not only to speak to, but to remind you why you're doing this. I write far more in Chinese because I have friends I can text in Chinese.

Pen and Paper: Study after study, writing on paper continues to be the best method for memorization. Typing or using a pen and tablet still can't compare to traditional methods.

The Replies (Probably): Lots of people were happy to give alternatives for specific languages in the replies of my DL post. The community here is pretty active, so if this post blows up at least 20% of what the last one did, you might be able to find some great stuff in the replies and reblogs.

I wish you all the best~

#langblr #mandarinblr #language learning #resource #dare i put this in the duolingo tag lmao

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sunflowerhae · 6 months ago

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GG! (Good Game!) 👾🌀👾 (L.DH)

Summary: Famous YouTuber and Streamer y/n just moved in next door to scholastic loser haechan! No sweat for him! No big deal! Not like he has her picture above his computer! Not like he owns her merch that he stayed up all night to get! Not like he cried when she started playing his favorite video game! Not like he’s completely and utterly obsessed with her and all his friends know it!

Oh wait…Major deal.

Genre: SMAU (with occasional written parts) , loser college student!Haechan x streamer fem! Reader, somewhat strangers to ???, fluff, angst, mostly just haechan being obsessed with reader (you’re welcome delulu fans!)

Starring: All members of NCT DREAM, all members of AESPA, might have some occasional other artists pop in & out!

Warnings: profanity, sexual themes and language, mentions of obsessive behavior, y’all are NAWT going to like y/n sorry, more to come 😫☺️‼️

Playlist: punch, NCT 127 // about you, The 1975 // the adults are talking, The Strokes // disco, Surf Curse // from the ritz to the rubble, Arctic Monkeys // spy?, WHOKILLEDXIX // mass anasthesia, Mediavolo

Notice: all depictions of artists are fictional and no way represent who these artists are in real life. Any similarities are simply coincidence. All pictures are taken randomly from Pinterest. Anything you would like to see removed, please message me PRIVATELY and it will be discussed.

Notes: yay! I’m so excited for yall to read this UGH. I’ve been wanting to get back into the swing of writing recently, and I’ve been super obsessed with SMAU’s and thought I’d try it out. Lmk what u think! I love a boy obsessed w me so it felt only right to make this. Enjoy! 🌀👾💥

Status: Ongoing..

Want to be added to the taglist? Send me a message, or comment under the masterlist!👻

P R O F I L E S

The Flops™️ | extra |

Bad Girls Club | extra |

Intro

Ch. 1 - the worlds tiniest violin

Ch. 2 - that dog in u

Ch. 3 - MISANDRIST

Ch. 4 - I need a gun

Ch. 5 - manifesting 🫶

Ch. 6 - wattpad fanfiction (written)

Ch. 7 - Lala land

Ch. 8 - check engine light

Ch. 9 - chat is this real (Bonus)

Ch. 10 - The Friendzone™️

Ch. 11 - lil dude

Ch. 12 - #virgin

Ch. 13- Renselle 4 life

Ch. 14 - suicide not postponed!

Ch. 15 - don’t HMU ❌

Ch. 16 - u broke him 💀

Ch. 17 - FTCU by Nicki Minaj (written)

Ch. 18 - lover boy

Ch. 19 - 12 baddies 1 Porsche

Ch. 20 - idiot

Ch. 21 - FUCKING DEAN?

Ch. 22 - TINY LITTLE HICCUP

Ch. 23 - The Big One (written)

Ch. 24 - the twilight soundtrack

Ch. 25 - #thankyouy/n

Ch. 26 - ur girl is whack

Ch. 27 - Stockholm syndrome maybe?

Ch. 28 - ur grounded.

Ch. 29 - pause.

Ch. 30 - Restraining Order

Ch. 31 - I’m fine.

Ch. 32 - all hands on deck (written)

Ch. 33 - pooja, what’s this behavior?

Ch. 34 -

Ch. 35 -

Ch. 36 -

Ch. 37 -

more to come… 💭

🤖 Plot questions 🤖

Y/n and Haechan’s ages

☆ Main Masterlist ☆

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gingernut1314 · 2 months ago

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Head On ch. 8

Summary: You and your friends go to see Viktor off to school when you all are met with a horrid sight. All you want is to get everyone out safely and for Silco back at your side.

Content: female reader, gendered terms, pre-season 1 arcane, young Vander, young Silco, young Sevika, young reader, young Felicia, young Connol, baby Vi, Nadia & Nikolai are Viktor's parents, pre-teen Viktor, canon typical violence, riots, guns/blood, friend reunions, confessing feelings, reader has water manipulation, smoking, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna, Felicia & Connol)

Word Count: 7.6K

Tag List: @miffysoo , @teriyakiitae , @locinne , @equaniimouxx , @cipher-nine

@shi-toshi , @sebastianlover

A/N: Okay okay, 1) I wanted to just quickly say THANK YOU to everyone whose taken the time to read this story and whose let me know you've been enjoying it!! It really does mean so much to me and keeps me going!! 2) sorry for the long ass word count. I can't help myself. I am a long word count girly who has been trying her hand at short word counts but will always go back to running her mouth in her stories lol 3) sorryyy for the time skip again. It's important to me at least to have it so that we can age up some younger characters anddd to keep things moved towards more fun events. It doesn't truly impair the story too much I feel. And 4) I hope you all enjoy!! Sending much love!!

↞ to The Water's Cold Embrace Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

Three years later

“Oh and off she goes.” Felicia cheerfully spoke as Violet wandered off towards a bit of blue chalk lying on the side of the street faster than you believed her small legs should be able to take her. Felicia rushed after her, grabbing her toddler up in her arms just as Vi had snagged the bit of chalk.

Vi gave an angered noise that sounded like some roaring beast at her feet leaving the ground. The kid thrashed about in her mom’s arms, kicking and throwing punches as if she could fight her way out. Felicia laughed through it all.

“Okay, okay.” Felicia placed a smacking kiss on her kid’s round, dirt-smudged cheek before quickly pulling her face out of the way of another small, chubby little fist. “Geez. One of these days you’re gonna knock someone's tooth out.” She huffed, placing Vi back onto the ground.

“No, no, mommy.” Vi humphed, wagging a finger like she was the boss. Felicia merely laughed again, ruffling her head of pink hair.

“That kid needs a leash,” Sevika grumbled from where she walked beside you, pulling her cigarette from her lips.

“She’s just explori--oh and there she goes again.” Felicia booked it after Vi as she made to start writing on some passing man’s pants with the chalk still clutched in her fist.

“Gods. Guppy, you ever catch me daydreaming about shit like having a kid, I give you full permission to smash a rock over my head.” Sevika took a long drag from her smoke after she spoke.

“Only if you agree to do the same for me.” You smirked. Sevika held her first out and you were quick to bump your own against it. She pulled her cigarette from her lips and exhaled the remaining smoke from her lungs.

“Deal.”

“You two are so negative,” Nadia spoke from where she walked just before you two, her eyes nervously scanning over her own kid, now nearly on the cusp of teenage-hood. “Vi is just a very spirited child.” And just as Nadia finished, Vi gave another screeching wail as Felicia lugged her back over to you all.

“Got her!” Felicia cheered as Violet’s eyes began to fill with frustrated tears.

“How are you feeling, little angel?” Nadia asked Viktor who she hadn’t taken her eyes off once since they all started the walk towards the bridge.

And she was nervous for good reason. She and Nikolai, after years and years of hard work and living off scraps, had saved up enough money to send Viktor to school in Piltover.

And not just any school. The best school money could buy. A school that would further feed Viktor’s curiosity and need to experiment as well as give him the connections needed so he could, after he graduated, attend Piltover Academy.

But for him to attend this school and become something over there, he had to stay there and you knew it was keeping everything within Nadia not to break down and forget about all of it.

“The same way I felt when you asked me a minute and thirty seconds ago,” Viktor responded, voice full of sass he’d been using more and more lately.

“Oh.” Nadia gave a weak smile. “Excited then, yes?” She asked, reaching a gentle hand out to run her fingers through his head of wild hair to try and smooth it back down. Violet gave another screeching wail just as Viktor swatted his mother’s hand away.

“Silly goose,” Felicia spoke as Nadia pulled from her son, fingers beginning to fiddle and pick at each other.

“Actually. Just shoot me.” Sevika grumbled under her breath to you as she observed the exchanges between both mothers and their kids.

“Only if you do the same.” Sevika chuckled heartily at your response. “Dee, you said Nikolai’s already over there?” You questioned, trying to quickly keep Nadia’s mind off her son's denial of affection. Nadia blinked her burnt gold eyes at you, that weak smile still plastered to her face.

“Yes. Yes, he went last night to deliver a sculpture to a client. We have a friend he stayed the night with. He should already be on the other side of the bridge and to meet Viktor and bring--” Her voice faltered a bit as she gazed back at her son who confidently limped ahead, looking all too ready for this next step in life. “Bring him to school. Help him settle in.”

“Good.” You quickened your pace a bit to be able to stand beside your friend. Your first friend. One you’d met as soon as she and her family had made it to the Lanes after fleeing their home. She had been just as sweet and kind back then as she was now, but she too held that same sass her son now used. You placed a hand on Nadia’s shoulder.

“Viktor’ll do good. You know that. He’s smart.” Nadia nodded, grabbing hold of your hand tightly and giving you a heavy, grateful-filled look. “We’re here for you…even when Sevika’s a Miss. Dark and Gloomy and Felicia wrangling some feral creature.” Nadia gave an equally as weak huffed laugh.

“Watch. My little creature is gonna grow up and become a famous cage fighter. Hand you all your asses while she’s at it.” Felicia grinned your way, Vi all but hanging upside down as Felicia struggled to keep a hold of her wrestling daughter.

Felicia and Connol, since having Vi, decided Felicia could stop working the mines till Vi was old enough to stay home by herself. It made it so that Connol was rarely home and Felicia feeling a bit more lonely.

So, Felicia found work at your job. Your boss, having a soft spot for mothers and their little ankle biters, gave Felicia temporary work in her office where she could bring Violet while she helped with paperwork.

It’s why Felicia was able to come with you all this morning to see Viktor off. You all would make sure he got across the bridge safe and sound before heading to the diner-shop to start the work day.

After work, your group decided to hold a mock family dinner for Nadia and Nikolai to try and help keep their minds off their son living in a city that would try to swallow him whole every chance it got.

You were trying not to think too hard about your whole group in one place like that. Talking and eating and drinking together, when such festivities had grown less and less frequent.

And it was all thanks to you and Silco of course.

Your fight three years ago had left you both fighting for months. Months that neared on a whole year before Vander stepped in and told you two to knock it off. That you needed to at least act civil when around the whole group, especially since Vi had been born.

It had stopped the fighting but had left you two distant. Hardly a word spoke to each other for a year afterward.

The problem was you both were stubborn. Too proud to admit the fight was over nothing. Too proud to just sit down and talk it over like adults.

You still hardly spoke a word to each other a year after that one, though now you two could be alone together and not have it turn into a verbal battle.

You missed him.

It was something you had been thinking about more and more.

You missed exploring after work with him. Missed long talks while sharing a cigarette. Missed being able to sit next to him in silence, shoulders and thighs pressed together. Being able to sit there and not have the air be full of tension.

You missed your friend.

You cursed yourself out daily for having had a hand in losing his close friendship all because you had been scared and ran away. You should have just stayed in that cave and told him what you were thinking--how you were feeling.

But that chance passed you by and you were stuck in this tension-filled now.

Shouting pulled you from your thoughts.

You thought at first it was Violet again, but it was too loud--too many different shouts. And when you looked to the little girl, you found she had calmed in her mom's arms, watching as a pair of people rushed past your group towards the bridge.

“Oh no.” Nadia gasped as you all rounded the corner, finding the mouth of the bridge a cluster of people shouting and screaming at the enforcers standing there, trying to keep them back.

You didn’t have to peer too hard past everyone to see a large, chain fence had been put up, blocking anyone from going in.

Nadia pulled from your touch and grabbed hold of her son, who didn’t shoo her away this time.

“What the fuck.” Sevika hissed, plucking her cigarette from her lips and flicking it to the ground. “No chance in hell they’ve blocked us out.”

But none of you would ever put it past them. They’d done it before a long while ago, back when Vander’s dad was your age and The Gray ran more rabid in the streets.

“Do you know what happened?” Felicia asked the next person who tried to rush by. They took a small second to look back at you all, eyes shifting to look at Vi who was now greeting them with round after round of hi.

“They raised the toll. Five hundred.” You felt your blood run cold. The old toll had been hard enough to pay and now this?

Five hundred?

That was more than most made in a week’s worth of work.

“And even if you can pay, they’re askin’ thousands of questions just to find any reason to not let you through. Not unless you have proof.” And off they rushed into the crowd, leaving you and your group fuming.

“Fuck this--Vander’s gotta give in after hearing this shit.” Sevika gruffed and you agreed.

Vander would agree to start fighting back like you and the others had been wanting. He’d held you all back for years saying nothing that had happened was worth going to war for.

But this was worth it.

They were cutting you all off from the rest of the world like one might do to a decaying limb.

Sevika made to march back through the fissures to find Vander, but something caught her eye.

She froze.

You froze.

“Where the hell is Nadia?” Felicia asked as Vi became fussy messing in her arms all over again. Your chest tightened as you scanned over the rioting crowd. Tightened painfully when you caught a flash of ruddy red hair disappearing within it.

You rushed for her, leaving Sevika to curse and all but command Felicia to stay put as she ran after you. You didn’t slow as she called your name. Didn’t slow as you pushed and shoved through the crowd, hissing and snapping harshly at any who refused to move.

Sevika shoved those who refused away with one arm easily, having caught up to you. The few that had all but glued their feet to the ground took one look at your menacing friend and moved before you could even get to them.

“--see. Himerdinger himself selected my son to attend Piltover Preparatory School.” You heard Nadia’s accented voice before you saw her, but when you pushed through the last few bodies, you spotted her. She was shoving a gold detailed letter into the hands of an enforcer by a door closest to the tollhouse. It was the acceptance letter Viktor had received.

The enforcers, who you recognized immediately to be Rufus, who should have retired years ago, nodded on a heavy sigh.

“Five hundred.” He handed the letter back to Nadia who was quick to give it to Viktor, who was pulling lightly at the skirt of her dress shaking his head, looking like a small kid again.

“We cannot affor--” Nadia cut him off with a fierce gaze.

“You are going to that school.” She demanded, digging into her pockets for a small pouch full of coins. She fished out the correct amount and handed it to Rufus who nodded to another enforcer standing guard by the door to unlock it.

“Nadia--” You called just as an enforcer stepped before you, keeping you back. You bared your teeth at him. “Move it.” But he only continued to shove you back, just as more enforcers came to shove others back.

“You are going to work hard. And it will be hard, but you will do good things. Great things for this world.” You heard Nadia continue. You caught a glance at her, finding her on her knees before her son, holding his tear-streaked face and looking so proud. “Do not let them snuff out your spark. I love you, my little angel. Always remember that.” And you were shoved away just as she wrapped her son up in her arms for what might be the last time.

You hit Sevika’s solid body, but she held you steady. She flashed you a smirk, gray eyes steady and full of that burning anger you all held before she shoved the enforcer back, his armor rattling violently as he fell to his ass.

You used the opening to rush over the fallen officer toward Nadia, who was watching Viktor walk through the gate door, which slammed shut and locked behind him. He cast his mom one last look, who steadied him with an encouraging nod. You grabbed her arm as the enforcer Sevika knocked over shouted at you.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” You asked, trying not to let your words bite seeing your friend’s eyes had turned all red and glossy. “You shouldn’t have paid that goddamn toll.”

“It is only money.” She started, almost fighting against you as you tried to pull her away from the fence. Her burnt gold eyes, which welled over onto her flushed cheeks, kept track of her son the whole time. “I would do anything for him. Anything.”

Shouting grew more aggressive behind you. A sound that normally would have thrilled you, but with Nadia still in the heart of it all, it was dreadful.

She couldn’t fight. Didn’t know how and could hardly pick a fish-filled crate up without help. She would only get caught in the crossfire of a fight like this.

“Nadia--Nadia we have to go.” You insisted, tugging sharply at her arm. She allowed you to pull her closer.

You turned and--

Boom.

The sound echoed sharply through the air.

The sound of a gunshot.

People screamed and began to run around like chickens who’d had their heads cut off. You spotted the person who Felicia had stopped to question laying face first on the ground, red pooling beneath them.

The enforcers who had fired looked just as terrified as everyone else, his gun shaking in his hands.

Rufus shoved past you both shouting orders at him and the others to not fire.

Another gunshot sounded further down the line and that was when you held Nadia tight and sprinted toward Sevika. Sevika grabbed hold of your own arm and began dragging you back toward Felicia just as you were dragging Nadia.

Another gunshot roared through the air.

And then another.

Nadia tripped, startled scream on her lips. You held her tight and continued to pull her along.

You all just needed to get away. Far away from the enforcers and their need to quince their bloodthirst.

Felicia was holding a screaming Vi tight to her chest, feet already moving as soon as she spotted you all.

“That way. That way!” Sevika shouted to Felicia who turned the corner she was pointing at sharply.

“The fucking brothels?!” Felicia shouted back.

“Where the fuck else!” Sevika hissed.

“I can’t bring my kid in there!” Felicia called as Sevika wound the corner after her.

“Cover her eyes!”

“I can’t--” Nadia called your name on a winded breath, “I can’t--” Her pace began to slow.

“Just a little further, okay, and then we can sto--” But you felt Nadia drop to her knees just as you two turned the corner. Her weight growing so heavy it nearly pulled you down with her.

A painful start hissed through your body when you found her on the ground, clutching at her shoulder and looking pale. Too pale even for her.

Red splattered on her shaking fingertips. Red that had dripped here and there on the ground leading directly to your friend.

Rock bit into your knees as you rushed for her, flipping her onto her back to find the front of her dress soaked in blood.

“Did--did he get across?” She sputtered, fear high in her eyes. Pain screwed her face up, tears never ceasing their fall from her eyes.

“Sevika!” You screamed, grabbing for Nadia’s hand to pull it from her shoulder. She gave a scream that tore at your chest and made you hesitate. “It’s--it’s just your shoulder.” You tried to smooth, pressing your palm against the bleeding wound that only made her pain grow. “It’s fine--Sevika!”

Water was in the blood.

Water was yours to command yet blood never wanted to behave as nicely as water. Not even as nicely as alcohol which held more than less water in it than blood did.

You’d never been able to control it. Never been able to slow the flow of it even from something as small as a paper cut.

You tried anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and focusing on the water flowing within her blood. Willed it, begged it to halt just long enough for someone to come to patch her up.

Sevika cursed sharply when she came to your side but you kept focusing on your task. Kept pushing your power harder and harder even when it began to make your head spin.

“V-Viktor--” Nadia gave a small sob. “Did--get--” Another sob that burned at your eyes. “Please.”

“He did. He got across.” Your voice came out too wobbly. Too weak.

“We gotta get her out of here.” Sevika’s voice sounded, her strong hands gently starting to pull you away.

You let her, but kept your focus on your task. On wrangling her blood with your magic and pushing it back as if trying to reverse the flow of some powerful river.

Nadia gave a brokenly pained cry as Sevika picked her up as gently as she could. You followed, vision beginning to dot the longer you pushed your magic to work on such a hard task.

Black fuzzed through your eyes and the next thing you knew you were standing inside a dimly lit brothel.

Black fuzzed at your eyes as you watched Sevika lay Nadia on a pillow-covered bed, an older Yordle assessing the damage. She turned her eyes onto Sevika looking all too grim.

Black fuzzed at your eyes and Vi’s screaming rang through your ears, loud and piercing. A hand grabbed your shoulder and you pushed it quickly off of you.

Your magic snapped back into your body so hard it made you stumble backward out of the room you had been led into. You tried to summon it back but that fuzz turned into dull buzzing in your ears. Made your breath heavy and tight in your lungs. Made your stomach twist and your mouth fill with hot saliva like you might throw up.

A few of the employees of the brothel you all barged into peeked their heads out of their rooms, eyes wide and some even filled with tears. They must have heard about what happened at the bridge. Must have seen you all rush in and known what had happened as soon as they spotted Nadia--Nadia--

Your stomach rolled just as your heart twisted like some old rag and your eyes blurred.

You blinked and you were outside.

Blinked and you were down the street.

Blinked and you were looking at your shaking hands.

Blood. Nadia’s blood.

Oh gods oh gods.

Gods.

Where the fuck was Janna?

Where was she?

She was supposed to be the Lanes’ guardian spirit or some shit. Supposed to protect you all. Keep shit like this from happening to you all.

And--and she’d just left.

Left you all to suffer and die by the hands of Piltover who would never stop trying to take, take, take. They would take till their bellies were round and full and still their hunger would not be sated.

Hands grabbed your arm, tugging at you. You shove whoever it was away. A shove that only made the person grab you tighter.

You blinked and found it was an enforcer. Two. One shouted down the way for backup.

Your head spun.

The effort from trying to use your powers on something as hard as blood made it hard to re-focus--to breathe.

Before you could try to fight them off, a blur of red and gray flashed past you, attacking the enforcers for you.

The sound of a blade zinging free and the gurgled sounds of a dying breath filled your ears as you staggered back, trying desperately to get yourself together. More screams. More sounds of death and soon someone was before you. Someone who was calling your name sharply.

You tensed a bit when hands grabbed hold of your face, body readying to fight, but the feel of those hands. Of chilled, calloused, and scarred skin gave you pause. Had you blink and blink that fog away till you found Silco’s face there.

He looked worried. Really worried.

Worried for you.

Only you.

“Hey--hey are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” Fingers smooth over your skin, pulling your face closer and closer. You blinked again, eyes filling with liquid fire as you grabbed desperately for his hands. Hands that continued to hold you tight, to hold you so close you felt his forehead brush against yours.

Out of all the touches and almost touches that had happened between you two your whole lives, this was the one you craved most. One you pressed into. One that had those tears you fought back rolling down your cheeks and over her fingers in hot streams.

“Tell me--what happened? I heard about the bridge and--”

“Nadia--” Weak. Your voice sounded so weak in your ear and, even though you typically would have cringed at such weakness being shown, you didn’t care. Couldn’t care. Not when your friend could be dying. Not in front of Silco. “She’s--”

Silco pulled you into his chest, arms wrapping around your body tightly and you just crumbled. Just completely broke down--snot and all. Sobs shook your body so violently you were sure they were shaking through Silco as well.

But Silco didn’t pull away. Only held you tighter, like he might try to press you into him. Only smoothed his hands over your back and pressed his cheek against your head, keeping you almost completely surrounded by him.

“Silco!” It was Vander’s voice and Vander’s footfalls that were growing closer and closer. “Where are the other girls?” He asked, worry high in his voice.

“Where is Felicia? Vi?” Connol sounded even more worried than Vander. As he should. His whole life had been at the bridge. His whole life could have been taken away in one fell swoop. You grabbed two fist fulls of Silco’s leather jacket, holding on for dear life as you fought to reign back your chest-aching sobs. As Connol all but hissed your name, trying to frantically stir you from your breaking.

“Don’t.” Silco hissed right back at him, a hand coming to hold the back of your head as if to keep you shielded from your friend. “I saw her come out from the entertainment district. I would guess they are all there.” Silco had hardly finished his words before someone, most likely Connol, rushed off.

“It's not safe here. We need to get out of view.” It was Benzo’s voice that spoke, the man sure to have joined them without a second thought. Silco was silent as his fingertips brushed over the back of your neck. Seemed to be waiting for you and for whenever you were ready, no matter the danger that lurked through the streets. You wrestled yourself to move, pulling slowly from Silco’s hold as you tried to bite down your weakness.

Silco let his hands linger on you. Let his hand brush over your cheek and over your shoulder, seafoam eyes scanning you over, looking for everything and anything that might be a harm to you.

He took hold of your hand firmly like he was refusing to let you go again. You were glad for it. Glad for his support, even when tension between you had grown choking. Tensions that, in that moment, seemed to be forgotten.

Vander’s face hardened when his eyes took in your upset nature. Benzo’s eyes grew sullen.

You never cried. You’d come close, but you never cried. Especially in front of others.

It was something Silco and Vander both knew. Something that was hardening Vander against the cruel reality that someone could be hurt. Someone could be dead.

Hardened into that anger.

The wolf paced behind those gray eyes.

Was growing stronger and stronger, ready to be let loose upon the world.

Sevika was right. He would agree to start the revolution you all had dreamed of now.

Start a war.

“Who?” Vander asked. Your lip trembled.

“Nadia. I--I don’t know--” Silco’s body pressed closer to yours in a silent telling that you could lean on him. That he would be there for you no matter what.

Vander nodded, beginning to head off in the direction Connol had run, Benzo quick on his heel.

“It’s not safe out here. Let's go.” It was a command. One you wanted to follow but your body locked up against.

Go? Go back to that brothel Nadia was laying in? Go back to that place and see her dying?

Silco’s hand pulled from your own only for it to wrap around your waist, pressing you into his side.

“I’m here. I’m here with you.” He didn’t promise that Nadia would be okay. He couldn’t promise that. No one could. Not when they didn’t know any true doctors. Not when, even if it was just a shot to her shoulder, could be fatal if left unattended for long.

But he did promise he was there.

That he wouldn’t leave your side, no matter what.

And it was enough to get your body moving back towards the entertainment district.

The typically busy street looked like it had been abandoned. Looked like it was closed down for good.

You led them to the brothel everyone was hold up in, finding Connol and Felicia sitting just in the entrance on a nest of pillows, a small group of workers cooing at Vi who was going up to each and grabbing for any shiny jewelry or pretty hair piece they wore.

One of them rushed past you three and was quick to lock the door. And bolt lock it. And shove a plank of wood across its frame. She was just as quick to rush to stand before you all, giving a small bow of her head before rushing back off towards the back rooms.

“Any word about Nadia?” Vander asked Connol and Felicia.

“I was asked to leave the room because this little troublemaker was very upset,” Felicia spoke, a small smile pulling to her lips as Vi huffed her mom's way. “Sevika’s with her…it’s been quiet.”

Your throat tightened.

Your eyes burned.

Your stomach rolled.

She wasn’t okay. She was dying. Dead. Laying in some brothel she would have blushed furiously at just from a glance in its direction.

“Let’s sit.” Silco calmly spoke to you. Only you. You nodded and let him pull you along.

“I--I’m sorry.” You all but heaved out past your thick throat. Silco sat down on another little nest of pillows, gently sitting you down next to him. He didn’t pull his hand away from your waist, even when he no longer needed to guide you around like some lost dog.

“You’ve done nothing you need to apologize for.” He calmly spoke again.

This was the closest you’d been to him in a long, long time. The longest he’s touched you in a long, long time.

And gods you had missed it. Gods you cursed yourself for being so stupid and stubborn.

You moved the slightest bit so that your thigh was pressed firmly against his. So that you could look up at his face and take in all his sharp, handsome features. Look into those seafoam eyes he was already watching you carefully with.

“I shouldn’t have--” Silco cut you off with a small shake of his head, knowing where you were going with this.

“You don’t--”

“I don’t want to fight anymore. Please. Can we--please.” You begged on a breath so that only he might be able to hear.

This wasn’t something you really wanted to be doing in front of your friends. In front of strangers and in the heart of a brothel but you needed to say it. Needed to stop your fighting before something happened to you or worse, something happened to him. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if something horrible happened to him and you hadn’t at least tried to remedy it.

Silco watched over your face for a long moment. A moment that only had your aching heart ache even more.

Did he disagree? Did he not want to try and mend the hurts between you two?

A small nod helped ease a bit of the ach in your chest.

“I don’t want to fight either.” He breathed back, keeping his words just for you as you had for him. “I should be apologizing. The way I acted was immature and--”

“It was pretty childish.” Silco paused for a moment, slight surprise in his eyes at your teasing but you found the edge of his lips pull upward.

“I am in the middle of an apology here.” He huffed back. An amused huff. It made your lips tug at their corners.

“Oh sorry. Go on.” You shifted a bit as if to get more comfortable.

“You’re insufferable.” Silco shook his head at you.

“Thank you.” You proudly said. Silco chuckled and you did the same, but your amusement faded out as pain spiked in your chest at everything that had happened. Your eyes scanned his face over once more, finding a bit of dirt smudged on his cheek from his work. They must have dropped everything and rushed from the mines when they heard what had happened.

Hesitantly, you brought your hand up to brush that bit of soot away and Silco didn’t shrug you away. He leaned into your touch, eyes almost fluttering closed at your skin on his.

“I’m…I’m really terrified.” You breathed, eyes burning all over again. Silco nodded, cupping your hand within his, holding it against his cheek.

“I know.”

“What if…” Your voice broke and your lips trembled. “What if she dies? I’m…she was the first person to show me kindness and--” Your voice failed you then.

“Then…we’ll deal with it. Together. Head on. Just like we always do.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles in further comfort. A comfort you anchored yourself to. Let your eyes flutter closed and just breathe it in.

Even when he hadn’t showered, he still managed to smell fresh. Like mist. Like a calm lake.

His forehead pressed firmly against yours once more. You weren’t entirely sure who had moved closer, whether that be you or Silco, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was he was close to you again. Was telling you silently that he still cared for you. That he would always care for you and you silently told him the same.

“Just because your friend was bleeding out all over my establishment doesn't mean you can fondle each other here without paying.” A rasping voice spoke, spooking you and Silco from the tender moment you had been sharing. Spooked you two so bad you pulled apart, finding the older Yordle walking into the center of the entrance room.

The workers who had been cooing and playing cheerfully with Violet were quick to their feet at the Yordle's appearance. They rushed off, bowing their heads at you and your friends, and the Yordle before rushing back towards their rooms. She only shook her head at them.

“We weren’t--it wasn’t like that.” Silco started pink dusting over his cheeks in a way that had Felicia chuckle knowingly and you feeling all flustered as well. Benzo wasn’t as discrete with showing his amusement, all but bellowing out a laugh that nearly had him folding in half.

The Yordle took a long drag from her cigarette and blew the heavy smoke in a tight stream toward the ceiling a few moments later.

“Boy, I work in a den of lust and love. I’ve seen it all and know what’s what.” Silco’s blush only grew deeper, his eyes glancing your way in his embarrassment of being singled out.

And despite your own embarrassment, you could help the small chuckle that pfffted from your lips. One that only had that blush deepened, but tugged that easy smile you adored to his lips.

“How is she?” Vander cut in before anything else could be said. The Yordle leveled him with a look.

“Babette.” Vander’s brows furrowed in slight confusion.

“Uh--what---”

“My name is Babette.” Vander blinked, looking a bit lost for words.

“Uh--Vander.” Babette nodded her head slowly, taking another long drag from her cigarette.

“I know. People talk.” Vander gave a small exhale of breath just as she gave a release of smoke.

“Babette,” Vander started, “How is our friend?”

“You’re lucky this is the place you barged into. I’ve been doing this job a long time now. Seen it all. Had to learn to patch up bullet and knife wounds alike. People think just because they are paying they can do whatever they wish. No manners.” Babette mused on a shake of her head, making you nervous all over again. “She’ll live.” You breathed a shuddering sigh in relief, Silco’s hand giving yours a squeeze. “But she’s weak. Will be weak for a long while. Such a small thing, that one.”

You were quick to your feet, Silco following suit. “Thank you. What--how much do you want?” You asked.

Between the six of you in the room now, you could probably scrooge up…seven…eight coins. Sevike would try to horde whatever she had on her, but she would add in another three or four coins. Probably only bronze…none of you would be carrying around any gold.

“You couldn’t afford it, sweetness.” Babette purred, making you feel all flustered all over again. “All I want in return is for you to take a stand for us.” Babette’s eyes found Vander’s again. Found him and settled him with a hard, burning stare. Vander nodded at her.

You saw the wolf pace and pace, mawl dripping in hungry justice.

“Thank you.” Babette gave a wave of her hand as she took another drag of her cigarette.

You started for the backrooms, Silco still having yet to take his hand out of your and you found you could only be grateful for his continued support. More than grateful.

Sevika leaned against the wall next to the door Nadia was behind, already watching you two walk towards her. “She’s sleeping.” Sevika huffed, eyes glancing down the hall to where more workers were peeking their heads out of their doors. They disappeared under her gaze, all except one who winked her way before popping back into her room. Sevika gave a smirk at this. “We gonna break their enforcers' skulls?” She asked, her gaze darkening as she looked at Silco.

“More than break,” Silco spoke coolly.

“And if Vander chickens out again?” Sevika asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Would that make any difference now?” Sevika scoffed.

“Nah.”

“Good.” You…found you didn’t like this. Like this…this almost behind closed-door talk. Like Vander would give up on fighting for his friends. Like Vander would give up fighting for everyone. For freedom.

He wouldn’t. It wouldn’t come to that.

But as you pulled out of Silco’s grip and made it into the room Nadia slept in, finding her looking all too weak, you almost didn’t believe your own thoughts.

Part if you believed Vander would back out, if under the right circumstances.

And Silco…you knew he never would.

He would die before he gave up hope on the future of Zuan.

And you would be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t scare you.

Your whole group made the journey from the entertainment district an hour later to safely bring Nadia back home, which was a tiny, run-down hole in the wall squished between and under other-like homes. It was a mess of all sorts of art and science supplies and half-finished projects. The space was cut roughly in half by a hung curtain, hand painted by Nadia with various swirling designs, to keep their makeshift bedroom separate.

Felicia and Connol, after double-checking to make sure Nadia would be alright, had headed home, their daughter having turned into a sleep-needing beast in Connol’s arms.

Sevika rummaged through Nadia’s small kitchen now, looking for any sort of alcohol she could get her hands on. When she started to shout back to Nadia about it, even when the woman was definitely not supposed to be roused in such a way, you excused yourself outside to find Silco.

You found him sitting on a pile of crates and barrels near Nadia’s home, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his fingers. Vander and Benzo had been out here a few minutes ago, standing beside him. You assumed they must have left, whether that be back to work or to The Last Drop.

You weren’t sure and you didn’t entirely care in that moment, not when Silco's seafoam eyes found you before the door had even swung shut behind you.

You made your way down the ramp Nikolai had built Viktor over top of the original steps there to make it just a little easier for his son to get home before you came to a stop a little ways before Silco.

You held his gaze as he ran his hand through his hair, which he had allowed out of its usual bun to hang loosely around his shoulders in gentle waves.

He held your gaze right back, offering his cigarette out to you. You carefully took it, only for him to grab hold of your wrist and yank you closer. Your heart spiked in your chest and began to beat erratically against your rips at the sudden movement.

Neither pair of eyes left the other for a long moment. Neither of you moved. Neither of you wanted to move. Not when you were so close again. Not when you truly wanted to be even closer.

“How is she holding up?” Silco asked and you begged your heart to calm its wildness.

“As fine as someone who's just been shot and sent their son off to live in the belly of the beast.” You murmured, pulling a nod from Silco.

“Alive. That’s what matters most. We’ll figure everything out. Head on.” He moved his legs so that they hung over the sides of the crate he was sitting on. So that his knees were on either side of your legs, brushing against them gently.

“Together.” You agreed.

“Together.” He repeated, eyes dipping to glance at your lips. You moved closer now that he had created space for such a thing, the front of your thighs pressing into the edge of the crate and his thighs laying against them comfortably. You’re own eyes dipped almost greedily to look at his own lips. Lips you thought about too often…no--no, maybe didn’t think about them enough.

“Thank you….for being there for me.” Silco gave your wrist still in his grip a gentle squeeze.

“No need for all that. I will always be there for you when you need me.” You felt warm ash from the cigarette you held fall over your fingers, but you dared not pull away from him. Not when you’d been away from him for so long. Not when you had missed his close friendship so dearly.

A long silence filled the space between you two. A silence that was familiar--warm, not the foully tense thing it had been for one too many years.

“Would…” You started, your heart beginning to beat loudly in your chest again. Fear, anxiety, and flusteredness all tumbling about within it like some riptide.

“Would…?” Silco questioned, eyes ever watchful yet so--so soft. A softness only you had never been allowed to see. A softness you had realized maybe too late was only ever for you.

You hoped it wasn’t too late.

You prayed it.

“Would you…would you like to pretend that we’re back at my pool?” You spoke on a voice smaller than a whisper. A voice that was anything but full of all the nerves rolling about in you.

Silco’s eyes widened the smallest bit at your question, his lips parting in the same smallness to show you a small flash of his chipped front teeth you loved to see.

“What--but…I thought you didn’t want us to fight any longer?” He whispered back.

“I don’t but…I was scared.” Silco’s brows furrowed in slight question.

“Scared? Of--me?”

“I--Felicia talked to me…after.” Silco nodded in understanding. After your fight in The Last Drop. He’d seen her rush after you. “She told me--well she said I should tell you why I ran away.”

“Because you thought I was going to hurt you?” You gave a small huff through your nose as you brushed a bit of his dark hair behind his ear. An action that had that delicate blush spreading over his cheeks all over again.

“Silco you could have anyone. You’ve had anyone. I just--I don’t want to be just anyone to you because…you’re not just anyone to me.” You rested your hand on his cheek, rubbing your thumb gently over his flushed skin.

“Anyone--” He said your name just as softly as he looked at you, “You aren’t just anyone to me. You’ve--you’ve never been just anyone to me. Why do…” He seemed to grow nervous then, eyes drooping slightly away from your own. “Why do you think I waited so long to…to try to kiss you.” Even though the last part was whispered, you heard it nonetheless. He shook his head slightly. “You are--are everything to me and I’m sorry you felt like you were anything less.”

You moved your hand gently along his sharp cheek to find his chin, lifting it so that you might see those seafoam eyes of his you adored. Eyes that shone bright with such--such admiration for you in them. A look that had you forgetting all about the cigarette in your other hand.

That horrid, nagging voice clawed at the back of your mind as it always did and always would. A voice that shouted at you all the things that could happen if you let yourself believe his words. A voice that wanted nothing more than to protect you from possible hurt, but it was also a voice that would only ever hold you back.

And it was a voice shoved an iron-clad hand over to silence it.

“Would you like to pretend?” You whispered again, letting your thumb brush just below the curve of his lower lip, which parted on a shaky inhale of breath.

“I don’t want to pretend.” He whispered back, hand moving up from where he held your wrist to pull you closer. “Let’s just--face it. Head on.” You nodded, nose brushing against his. A brush that had your blood pounding right alongside the beat your heart had set.

“Together?” Silco’s hand ended its journey, finding rest on your jaw. He guided you closer. So close you felt his breath ghost over your lips, sending a tingling flare through them.

“Together.” He agreed, eyes flickering between yours and your lips.

Waiting. He was waiting.

He was nervous. Nervous you might run away again. Nerves that made your heart ache for him past its beating.

You pushed closer, lips brushing against his, turning that tingling into a flame. A flame that roared into a blaze as you fit your lips against his like you would a cigarette. And just like a cigarette, his lips against yours filled your head with a pleasurable fog. Had your lips begging and begging for more.

Silco inhaled deeply as he moved his lips against yours steadily, his other hand wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him. You let him hold you, his strong--safe--hold only making your head spin faster and faster.

Forehead rested against forehead as you two pulled apart, panting in shared air.

A goofy grin spread over your kiss-puffed lips. A grin that pulled an equally as goofy smile to Silco’s own lips, turned near red from your kiss.

“Was that--was that okay?” Silco asked on uneven breaths. You gave a small huff in amusement, running your fingers through his hair just like they had always itched to do. An action that had Silco’s eyes fluttering in utter enjoyment.

“I would have thrown you into the harbor if I hadn’t.” You teased, nuzzling your nose against his.

“Good thing,” He started, nuzzling your nose right back. “‘Cause I can’t swim.”

“You have to learn. Could save your life one day.” That soft look returned in full then as he looked over your face. A look that was full of such joy it only brought the same bright joy to you.

“Only if you teach me.” You nodded.

“Gladly.” And his lips seared into yours once more.

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noiriarti · 2 months ago

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The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 7

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: descriptions of anxiety + guilt, piv sex WC: 7.8k AN: hello my darlings!! i am back!!! (from the dead aka first semester of my PhD) i've missed you all so much. this chapter took sooooo long to write because i wanted to get everything just right, but we have now entered phase 2 of the fic, where new shenanigans begin. stay tuned!

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, [Ch. 7], Ch. 8

Chapter 7: Burning

"Need to talk to you," Anakin blurted out loudly over the music, obviously catching you by surprise based on your empty, blinking face. The guy who was upsettingly close to you shot him a look equal parts murder and possessiveness, and Anakin's lip curled in disgust. His face looked eminently punchable, and Anakin could just imagine the satisfaction of his fist in the guy's cheekbone, or the way he would buckle after one good hit to the stomach.

Somewhere, a rational part of him reminded him that this was not caveman times, and that you had agency and were allowed to make your own choices, but Anakin silenced it. Feeling angry was easier than admitting that it felt like his organs were being torn out when he saw you flirting with anyone else. Thinking about kicking the shit out of some random guy was easier than admitting that knowing you had put this outfit on for someone else, someone other than him, was killing him.

"I--" You began, half-yelling over the noise, then your face twisted into something Anakin couldn't read. Annoyance? Hatred? Pity? "Fine. Let's talk," you finished. The man, who looked like if all the finance bros in the university were merged together into one terrible Pokémon Evolution, scoffed his annoyance, but you ignored him.

Anakin didn't even try to suppress his smugness.

You pushed past the guy, then past Anakin, all the way to the staircase tucked in the corner of the room. He was enchanted, brainless when he followed you. The air got warmer, stickier, and the number of couples making out along the walls increased dramatically. Anakin remembered when that would have been the two of you. That night at TKD. How he wished he could turn back time to that night and just live it in a loop.

Just like then, you were divine in front of him. Your legs climbing the stairs, the gentle sway of your hips that he had fantasized about. He couldn't help it. He'd be noticing these things forever.

You slipped into a bedroom, and it smelled a bit disgusting, but he couldn't care less because he was with you. Anakin closed the door with a decisive thump, then turned to look at you.

You had that look on your face, that one he hadn't puzzled out yet. Your perfect eyebrows were scrunched together, and he could see you swallow hard. He couldn't care less if you hated him. If you pitied him, wanted him gone. At least some small part of you would have still cared. He had prepared a whole speech--telling you how sorry he was. How much he wanted you. That he hadn't felt this way about anyone before, and that he wanted to make you fall for him the same way he'd fallen for you. That he wanted more than whatever the two of you had been. That he wanted to be your boyfriend. Long-term, preferably.

Anakin was ready to get on his knees if he had to.

He opened his mouth to start, but you interrupted him.

"No, I have something to say." The words came out shaky, and dread clawed in his stomach. Were you going to say you wanted him to leave your life? That you had moved on with the finance bro downstairs, who had a trust fund and probably said slurs? That you were excited to never see him again in four months, when you graduated?

Then, you sighed and said something he never would have expected.

"I'm sorry, Anakin."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

It set in later than it should have. Much later.

All throughout finals, you were desperately trying to stop thinking about him. That horrible feeling in your stomach when his face popped into your mind. Which it did, all the time. It was a sticky, terrible pit that opened up whenever something reminded you of him. The lingering smell of him on your pillow. His hatred of orange Skittles. You'd been angry before, but this was different, worse, somehow.

But you pushed it down. Exams mattered more right now. So much more.

Sometimes, the wave of nausea hit you a little too hard, like when you thought about how badly you needed a hug, and how you didn't really want a hug from anyone but him. When it got too hard, you'd leap out of your desk and march to the corner store, just to buy a Red Bull and maybe some chips. Something crunchy, something to puncture the silence of your suddenly suffocatingly empty room.

On the walk through the biting air, you would let yourself think of him. You'd let that pain in your heart blossom, and you'd just pretend you'd said something, anything else. That either of you had made different decisions. That you'd be walking back to your room and he'd be sitting on the bed, giving you that crooked smile, ready to quiz you on fluid dynamics. It was the cold that made your eyes water, you swore.

And then you'd arrive home, and you had to get back to work. Anakin Skywalker was not an allowable topic of thought at any other times. You pulled yourself through finals like a zombie, not letting yourself think beyond the next meal or next exam.

That was not the brightest idea, it turned out, shockingly. When you left your last final, you were blank, empty. You went home and collapsed on your bed, and you finally let yourself imagine his arm wrapped around you as you drifted off.

When your alarm went off at nine PM to remind you to get to the airport, the pit was back. As you stuffed things in your suitcase, then rushed out the door, you felt like there was bile clawing up your throat.

It was a disgusting feeling. You'd been mad in your life, but this was different. It made you want to jump out of your skin just to be free of it.

Around a third of the way through the red-eye plane ride back home, everything was dark and quiet, with only the whir of the engines disturbing the cabin. You slipped out from your aisle seat, just to stretch your legs and use the bathroom, and then you passed him. Or, at least, you thought it was him. But it wasn't. The stranger sitting in 16C had Anakin's nose and curls, but his eyes were all wrong, and his hair was just a smidge too light. He didn't have those little dimples on the side of his mouth.

But just the same nose and the same curls were enough to light that painful burn in your heart. How many times had you looked at those features, traced them, even before all of this started? Why, why did your heart leap for a second, hoping that he'd followed you, like in some 90s romcom, to declare his undying, hopeless love?

That pit in your stomach you thought was bad before was swallowing you whole now. Your skin felt hot, clammy. You willed yourself to move one leg, then the other, heavy like bags of sand, just to get somewhere private before you imploded.

By the time you slid the lock closed on the bathroom door, you were bawling. Big, heaving sobs ripped from your chest, and you couldn't place the emotion. Anger, sadness, guilt--it was all mixing into a knot that kicked the breath out of you.

What had you done? What had you fucking done?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Things got a little better at the airport, when you got to hug your family. On the drive home, they occupied you with anecdotes about the neighbors--the house across the street had apparently put up a garish snowman--and questions about your semester. And it was nice to recount some high points. A couple of times, you were tempted to tell a story that involved Anakin, but you held your tongue.

When you got home, and it was around time for bed, you tossed and turned, but all you could think about was him. That feeling in your gut was unbearable, and you were debating whether you should just go retch over a toilet to get it out of your system. You only managed to fall asleep by putting on Criminal Minds, and even then it took you two episodes.

The next night, the same thing happened.

And the next. And the next.

The next time you were in bed, you made yourself confront it. Just for a second. That feeling that came up whenever you thought of him.

For years, he was just some guy who got everything he wanted. You knew the department was stacked against you from the start--being in classes where only four people weren't men was symptomatic of the department culture. But when Anakin interacted with the professors like that, got all the internships, you wondered if you could do the same thing. If it had been you networking with the professors, would you have gotten the same reaction? And you didn't know.

Anakin was frustrating. So, so frustrating for years. Because everything just came so easily to him. It was like he waltzed in every day to your freshman lab course and made breadboard circuits that were even neater than the professor's. And when he did so well on every exam, he didn't make a secret of it. He gloated about how his projects were used as examples. Initially, that rivalry was one-sided. You'd do anything to beat him. Later on, when you'd worked on more than a couple projects together, you could see it in his eyes. He knew you were a threat, good competition.

And when he was clearly closer with the professors and got accepted to an internship you didn't get, it was whatever. It annoyed you to no end and you complained about it to your friends, but it wasn't terrible. Those were minor things. Your theses were major. This was what you'd present to employers, to the world. This was what you were going to do for the rest of your lives. And he'd gotten it from somewhere.

If even this was stacked against you, why did any of it matter?

You were still furious. You felt like you wanted to punch something or scream into your pillow at how unfair the world was, how you just wanted something to be easy for once.

But the worst part of it all was that you knew that, in his place, you would do the same exact thing. Or, at least think about it a lot. You'd feel like shit about it, granted, but you might do it. That feeling of trying and failing for months to get the perfect idea that was equally attractive to employers and the thesis committee, to get something that even worked, was probably the most frustrating cycle you'd ever experienced. If someone gave you a ticket out, what would you have done?

You probably would have taken it, if things were bad enough.

And that meant Anakin wasn't a bad person. Just a desperate one.

You knew he wasn't a bad person, though. You'd seen him smile at you with such openness, such sweetness. You'd seen him coach freshmen, including your own roommate, to become good athletes. You'd seen him get you food when you were too out of it to do it on your own. You'd felt him put his jacket around you when you fell asleep in the library.

But there was always that fear that, just maybe, your first impression had been right. That he was an asshole. That, one day, the mask would fall off, and you'd realize he was just pretending. That your relationship didn't matter to him as much as it did to you. That if you told him that you wanted more than sex, he'd laugh.

And, when you heard from Barriss of all people, that maybe he was exactly what you had thought he was, a liar, it felt like he was stabbing you in the back and twisting the knife.

Looking back at it, it still felt terrible, but you couldn't move the image of Anakin helping you, keeping you company in the library. He wasn't scheming against you when he took the idea, he was just scared and desperate.

It was the department that had pitted you against each other from the start--curves, calling out the best homework solution, TAships, and thesis competitions. None of it was made by him. He was just like you, trying his best.

You also hadn't heard all the details. The idea for the hand had been his, just the idea to scale it down had been someone else's. Just like you'd asked professors to help you choose between ideas early on in the process.

The more you thought about it, the more it felt like your heart was being carved out with a blunt spoon.

You impulsively opened your phone. The texts he had sent you.

please come back we can talk this out please give me another chance

How could you not trust him? How could you have watched him cry and just left? What kind of a person were you?

Fuck, what had you done?

You were gasping for air, the tears rolling down your face and onto your pillow. You had ruined something perfectly good. Just because you were blaming him for everything that had gone wrong.

It was too much. It was all too much. The stress climbed up your throat and choked you, and you writhed in the sheets to try to escape the feeling. To just go back to a time when things mattered less, when you were purely happy and never worrying about GPAs or rankings.

Fingers shaking, you opened Ahsoka's contact and smashed the tauntingly green 'Call' button.

She wouldn't answer you anyway, you reasoned. It was the middle of the night, after all.

The ringing was painfully loud in the empty room. The tone sounded one, two, three, four times, and you were about to give up when Ahsoka's tired voice mumbled your name.

"'Soka--I--Can I talk to you?" You managed to spit out the question despite the thick cottony feeling in your throat.

"Hey, woah, what's the matter? Are you okay?" The grogginess left her voice as she fretted on the other end of the line, and her protectiveness made you feel the tiniest bit better.

As you spilled your guts to her, she made comforting noises at the appropriate places, and grossed out noises when you described that you'd had sex with Anakin. Soon, your breathing stabilized, and she said exactly what you'd been thinking, too: you needed to apologize, stat. Preferably, in person.

You fell asleep on the line with her.

In the morning, everything felt better. Manageable. You just needed to collect yourself before you returned home, and then sit him down and talk to him--actually talk.

For the remainder of the break, you immersed yourself in the everyday. Your holiday traditions were familiar, calming. The constant clamor of your family to get this and that from the store kept you busy. You'd wake up late, eat some lunch, get some coding done, scroll Instagram, eat dinner, then pass out in front of the TV. And just like that, another day slipped by. And another. And another. And another. And then it was Christmas, and all you could think was that Anakin was opening presents right now, somewhere far away. You opened your texts again, trying to draft a message that seemed right--Hey or Merry Christmas both seemed slightly weird. But maybe hearing from you would mess up his day, or maybe he'd realized what you had, that you were in the wrong, and now wasn't interested in talking to you. As you were debating, the roiling guilt in your stomach grew, and, when your father laughed particularly loudly, you were relieved to turn off your phone and pay more attention to the breakfast table.

In the back of your mind, there was a subtle thrum of guilt that never really went away. It only got worse as the break came closer to ending, and you realized you hadn't really gotten anything done on your thesis in weeks. You set a countdown on your phone homescreen, just to keep you on your toes. All it did was make you feel worse.

On New Year's Eve, when you were watching the ball drop with your parents, your phone chimed.

It was Anakin. The world stopped, and your mouth went dry. happy new year. What could you even say to that?

Happy New Year. I miss you.

Happy New Year. I'm sorry for everything.

Happy New Year. Wish you were here

Happy New Year! How are you?

All of them felt wrong. But then one of your parents said your name, trying to get your attention, and you locked your phone.

That night, while having your nightly stew on your feelings, you resolved to talk to him in person after lecture. Otherwise, you were worried you'd never bring it up.

On the first day of classes, you were resolved to catch him before or after lecture. Any time would work, really. You'd have two chances that Monday, and then two more on Wednesday if you chickened out. The fact that you acknowledged you might chicken out was a bad sign, but you ignored it.

You got there ten minutes early, an act that was generally considered psychopathic in college, and you were ready to zone out while the professor said some things about the goals of the course for just long enough for class time to end before speaking to Anakin.

Would he say something to you? Would he try to sit next to you? Would he even notice you?

You kept your eyes firmly trained on the board, and tried not to look too desperate as you snuck glances. Then, finally, he arrived, and you tried to look as nonchalant as possible. You made a point not to think too hard about how he was more handsome than you remembered and not to wonder if he wore that shirt just for you. That wasn't your place. You needed to apologize, not ogle him. You expected him to sit down somewhere in the middle of the seats, somewhere distinctly Anakin, but he crossed the room entirely. He even sat one row in front of you. Did he not even want you in his periphery? Your heart sunk. Maybe he had a change of heart after you didn't respond to his New Year's Eve text. Maybe he was just done with you. Maybe maybe maybe, your mind chanted.

The second that the professor was done, you rushed out.

The same thing happened again in your afternoon class, and you walked home regretting every life choice that brought you to this moment.

The next day, when you got home from your class, you entered your living room to find Anakin on the couch. Immediately, that nausea that had been plaguing you punched you in the throat.

There he was. Looking so unbothered, so casual, like him being in your room didn't make him think back to the last time you had been here, entwined on the bed. Like it didn't make him think of how you'd ruined it. All you could hear was static.

The worst part was that you couldn't stop ogling him, even though you felt terrible about it. He must have been working out over the break, because his arms looked incredible in that shirt, and his jawline was etched even more strongly than usual. The haircut he'd gotten over break left his hair falling just over his forehead in those perfect waves. It caught in the light as usual, and when he turned to look at you all you could see was blue blue blue.

And then you realized he was looking at you--at you--and his eyebrows furrowed. You could see him swallow, hard, as he looked at you. Was it a glare? Was he angry? Was he about to storm out? Who knew?

But this was your opportunity. Class didn't work out--this was it. You had to talk to him now.

You opened your mouth to say something, maybe "Hey guys, can I talk to Anakin for a second?" or "Hey, can we talk?" or "I think I like you a lot," or literally anything, but nothing came out. The static in your ears got louder until it was deafening. Your stomach roiled and, for a second, you were worried you'd throw up instead of saying anything.

"Hey," you croaked out. The awkward silence sat between you three, and you didn't see his expression change. Fuck. He didn't even say "hey" back.

You had to get out of there. Had to. Right now. You bolted into your room and closed the door behind you, then dove into your bed and screamed into your pillow.

Motherfucker.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Your next attempt to apologize came at practice the next day. You hoped to catch him at the end of it, maybe pull him away and talk in some empty stairwell. You crept up to the room, but, the closer you got, the more that tidal wave of terrible feelings threatened to wash you away. Through the door to Aerobics Room 1, your eyes found him in the crowd immediately. They were practicing some kind of form (pumsae? the exact name escaped you), and Fives made some sort of comment to Anakin which sent him cackling.

He looked light, and with the afternoon sun casting its rays into the room, he almost became angelic. When he laughed, and his eyes crinkled in that way that made you soft, you lost all your nerve. He was never like this when you were in class together, or that time he was in your apartment. Whenever he saw you, he got that look on his face.

But now, he was all smiles and laughs as he playfully smacked Fives, who repeated whatever he'd said and sent a bunch more athletes into fits of laughter.

Dappled in the sunlight, his face split with an enormous smile, Anakin was so perfect in that moment. How could you ruin it by making him have a hard conversation?

At the same time, you felt the anger at yourself build up. You said all those awful things to him, and you had the nerve to delay your apology?

But you knew that, if he heard your apology and didn't forgive you, that would ruin the day for him. He was just like that. And you didn't have the heart to do that to him.

Tomorrow, you promised yourself, as you took one last look tracing the contours of his jaw and lips.

As you turned to go, you didn't notice that he'd turned to see something moving in the windowed doors to the Aerobics Room.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Ahsoka was fucking tired. There were approximately two people she cared for most on the campus, and they were both huge dummies. They'd proven that over and over. She knew something was amiss from the day the two of you fought/broke up/ended things/whatever, when you started sulking in your room alone and consuming an upsetting amount of caffeine. She started gently probing right when the worst of finals was over. She didn't want to rush anything, but a well-placed "hey going to go get some food, want anything?" might soften either of the two of you enough to let her know what happened.

She found out when you told her on a phone call. And, yes, it wasn't great. It was, perhaps, morally dubious and a little misguided, from what she could tell, but it wasn't clear to her why this was such an issue. Wasn't taking advice from others and collaborating the whole point of academic research and theses?

But she also knew you had gotten feedback from multiple professors after you'd submitted your initial proposal, trying to pick between several approaches, before one of the faculty nudged you in the direction of 3-D printing instead of plastic molding. And, sure, Anakin was a little more than nudged, but he came up with the idea for the mechanical hand in the first place. This was just a different application, right? And yes, it wasn't super duper ethical that the idea was just given to him, but what would you do in his shoes?

Ahsoka told you exactly that, and you sounded like you were choking on the other end of the phone. You told her about how horrible you felt, and that you felt like you didn't know if he even wanted to ever see you again, and she groaned. Of course he did. He was the biggest simp she knew.

So Ahsoka did what she did best: she meddled.

It started small, with mentioning the taekwondo team in front of you once the semester had started. Sometimes an anecdote would include Anakin, and she made sure to casually drop his name, just to gauge your reaction. You didn't even flinch when she said it, which seemed like a good sign. But the pulse in the hollow of your neck jumped. When you confessed that you'd failed to talk to him in class, because it just felt too awkward in public, Ahsoka nodded sagely, like she wasn't already scheming to give you a private time to chat.

Within five minutes, she had texted Anakin to invite him over to plan the competitions they would be attending that semester. Like she hadn't already discussed it with him in December, but whatever. A meeting between the captain and the vice captain wasn't out of the ordinary. And it just so happened that her room was free. Crazy, right?

She really couldn't have made it turn out this well if she tried. When you entered, and Anakin looked like he might fall off the couch, Ahsoka had to suppress a smile. You looked like you wanted to say something, like maybe you'd built up the courage, and she was about to say that, actually, she had forgotten an incredibly important errand she had to run at a cafe for 30 to 45 minutes, but then you just said "hey" and walked into your room. Ahsoka grumbled internally. What was so hard about just apologizing?

Two days into classes, Ahsoka had not-so-subtly hinted to Cody that he should host a party, just in case her other meddling didn't work. It was her backup plan, and, apparently, she needed it. So, after giving you a pep talk that this would be the perfect time to talk to Anakin because you weren't in class or a meeting, and after digging out some dress in the back of your closet for you to throw on, the two of you were off.

Once you arrived at the party, she watched you do a sweep of the room instantly. She knew what you were looking for, and rolled her eyes. He probably hadn't arrived yet, but she texted him anyway, just to check.

In the two seconds she was looking down at her phone, she watched you talk to some sophomore from the business school. He looked douchey, but he was cute enough and said something that made you laugh. Come on, Anakin, she thought, praying he'd arrive soon before she had to watch this guy flirt with you any longer.

Again, she realized she was great at meddling when Anakin showed up and beelined to Cody. She pushed her way through some people, and came to greet him, drag him to get a drink, but he'd already taken a beer from Cody, then insisted that they go dance.

At every opportunity, Ahsoka tried to hint that maybe they should go over there? Toward the other side of the room? Get some more drinks, maybe?

It took ten minutes, but Anakin finally agreed. He didn't see it, but Ahsoka was smiling like a maniac when she saw him take you in. When he started marching over, she was practically cheering. It was show time.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

As you walked to some quiet(er) room, your heart was pounding. This was more nerve-wracking than the first time you slept together, than anything you had done together before. When he just appeared in front of you, looking so intense, it took you a minute to get yourself together enough to form words. Was he mad at you? And now the moment of truth had come.

You pushed into a room which belonged to someone who had more weed than deodorant, and was covered wall-to-wall in dingy band posters. You didn't want to even look down to see how stained the carpet was.

But none of that mattered. Because right now, he was here. And you finally had the opportunity to say what you needed to say.

Before you started, you drank him in one last time, just in case. His deep eyes, the peek of collarbone through his shirt, his broad chest. A quick mental catalogue.

And then you started speaking.

"I'm sorry, Anakin." You weren't sure what gave you the courage. Maybe it was because he approached you first, so you couldn't hide behind the excuse that he didn't want to see you anymore. Maybe it was the slightly awkward conversation with that dude downstairs who seemed to have way too many takes on types of beer. Either way, you'd finally done it. You'd said it. Just apologizing to him made you feel lighter, but that was drowned out by the anxiety of hearing his response.

You were trying to read his expression, the draw of his eyebrows, the purse of his lips. This was the weirdest angry face you'd ever seen.

"Wait--huh?" Both of you were probably wearing the same expression--sheer confusion. Wasn't he supposed to be mad at you? What? You watched his eyes trying to read what you meant, and his plush lips were the tiniest bit open.

You continued anyway. It had to be said, even if he was just going to tell you to stay away from him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, you didn't deserve it. Not everything was your fault, and I've been feeling so guilty over the whole break that I just--I couldn't bring myself to tell you. I chickened out every time. I wish I hadn't… ended things. Between us. I'm--I'm so sorry." Your voice came out more confident than you felt, comfortable in the words you had been rehearsing for weeks in your mind.

Once again, the room went quiet. Anakin stood, as still as a statue, clearly trying to process. Behind the pounding of your ears, you could hear the bass line downstairs and the chatter of people, and you tried to remind yourself that if this goes badly, you'll just go back home, time would pass, and you'd be able to heal your broken heart in peace.

Then, suddenly, Anakin pulled you into a crushing hug. You couldn't breathe from the weight of his head on your shoulder, and the tight squeeze of his arms around your waist. The sandalwood of his shampoo was comforting, familiar. He smelled like home as he buried his face into your neck.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry too--I wish I could take it back, that I just never entered this goddamn competition, then you never would've been mad at me and--" His voice came out broken and shaky.

"Anakin, hey," you interrupted. Had he spent the whole break feeling like this? He should be mad at you, not just upset with himself. You could talk to him about that later, but right now you could feel his desperation to just be near you again, mainly because you felt the same way. You wrapped your arms around him until your hand found his hair. Burying your fingers in it felt so good, so natural. How could you ever have ended this?

"It's okay," you said as you rubbed his back. You could feel his breaths were ragged, and he squeezed you even tighter. "I shouldn't have been that mad at you in the first place--I just got so upset that you had some sort of upper hand, and I went crazy," you continued.

"Fuck," Anakin muttered against your skin. The shift of his lips over your collarbone reminded you of the last time he'd kissed up and down your neck. You took a deep breath. Now was not the time to get horny.

Anakin pulled away, but kept his arms wrapped around your waist. Your heart clenched when you saw the mix of anguish and relief dancing across his features. His eyes were swimming, and a tear rolled down his cheek, then another, then another, until he was crying.

"Fuck," he mumbled again as he pulled one hand away from you to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand, almost as if he was embarrassed. Despite it all, you found him immeasurably cute.

"Uh, I was gonna come up here and beg you for another chance--I just couldn't watch you move on or talk to that guy downstairs, it hurts too much," he confessed. His eyes met yours and you felt that familiar jolt of joy that he brought, this time over the idea that he was jealous, possessive even, over you.

"I'm not moving on." It was a risk to say it, but you did it anyway. It was definitely true, but it came out more careful, more tentative than you wanted. Because there was a chance he didn't mean it that way, and you'd just shown your hand.

Fortunately, he had a terrible poker face. Even streaked with tears, a little bit sweaty, and standing in a room that stank like weed, Anakin's smile burst onto his face and shone like the sun.

You'd forgotten how many butterflies that smile gave you. Tentatively, you moved your hand from his shoulder to his jaw. His eyes slid closed and he leaned into your touch, like you might disappear if he didn't keep you there.

Then, someone hollered in the hallway, something about a round of shots, and Anakin's eyes snapped open.

"Do you want to go somewhere quieter to talk more?" You asked. "We can walk back home or--" Anakin cut you off.

"Um, if you don't hate me right now, and I don't--I could never--hate you, can I just--" His hungry eyes flicked down to your lips, and you knew immediately that the answer was yes. Yes. A hundred times yes.

You didn't think too many brain cells were firing, so you just nodded. His smile widened, if that was even possible, and he pulled you into him just like he had so many times before.

As he got closer, your heart started pounding, and your palms got sweaty, like this was a first date. And, in a way, it kind of was. It was your first time kissing as more than just enemies who fucked every once in a while, but as something else, something more.

When his lips met yours, he was so heartbreakingly tender, you melted under his touch. Anakin was so warm when he held you this close, and you were half expecting him to start deepening the kiss when he pulled away so that your foreheads were touching.

"I fucking missed you so much," he whispered reverently, then immediately kissed you again, deeper this time.

His kiss was all-consuming, like a whirlpool sucking you in, until you'd forgotten everything except how he felt against you. Your kisses grew deeper, until you felt his tongue gently brush your lips, and you immediately opened them.

Everything felt new, gentle, and you relished it. One of his hands slid down to your ass, squeezing gently, and you felt yourself get wet. You'd been pent up for weeks, and the simultaneous relief of being with him again and the way he had all but told you that he had feelings for you were making you dizzy with want for him.

Your hands grasped anything they could, his shoulders, his hair, his arms, as much of him as you could reach. Did he even know what he did to you?

He broke the kiss, just for a second, and you were about to protest when he pulled the two of you back until he was sitting on the twin bed shoved into the corner of the room. You stood between his legs, his hands trailing down the backs of your thighs.

You swung one knee over his hips, lowering yourself until you were straddling him. Anakin watched you, his eyes dark and mischievous, and let out a small "fuck" when you were finally in his lap. He was a sucker for this position, you knew. This was exactly how you'd gotten together, at that stupid night of truth and dare. The memory filled your heart with warmth.

As you settled onto his legs, you felt a familiar hardness under you, and the butterflies returned. You loved doing this to him, making him care about nothing other than the moment you were sharing. You not-so-subtly shifted your hips as you kissed him again, and you were rewarded with a low moan.

His hands kept teasing you, running up and down the sides of your thighs as he captured your lower lip between his teeth gently. You groaned loudly into his mouth, and he used that moment to slide a hand up your inner thigh, until he had passed the hem of your dress.

Using all the willpower you had left, you pulled away. You were both panting, and he was a vision when you looked at him again, his pupils blown wide and his lips red and wet from your kiss.

"Anakin, are you sure this is okay?" You desperately wanted him to say yes, because it felt like you might implode if you didn't have him inside you tonight, but if he was this emotional, you had to say something. Give him an out.

Instead, Anakin looked at you like a man starved. His pupils were wide, and, even through the tears, he looked ravenously hungry for you. Like you made his world spin.

"Yes--God, I've thought of you every day, all the time. I don't want to wait any more than I have to, unless you don't want to, or if you think you'd regret it--" He was rambling. It was adorable.

"I've never regretted you," you said, cutting him off. "But are you sure you're sure?" You stared into his eyes, looking for any trace of worry, or hesitation. All you found was desire, and something softer. Affection, love, maybe.

He rolled his hips, pressing his hard cock against you.

"Can't you feel how much I want you?" Usually, a line like that would make you roll your eyes, but with the mischief in his eyes and the feeling of him hard underneath you, it only served to make you wetter.

You immediately grabbed his shirt to pull his lips to yours again, rocking your hips over and over until he matched your rhythm. The hand on your inner thigh crept upward, until it reached your clothed pussy.

You'd forgotten how well he knew your body, like he'd been made to touch you. His fingers found the perfect angle to stroke your clit, and you became a mess, your kisses sloppy.

After he'd teased you for a long enough time to make you a wreck on top of him, Anakin pulled your underwear aside. He dipped just one finger inside, and he groaned at how soaked you were.

"Can I fuck you, baby?" He asked, as if the answer would be anything but please. You nodded as hard as you could, and he started unzipping his jeans as fast as he could while keeping his eyes on you. You weren't sure he'd ever look away.

Meanwhile, you stood up off of him just enough to pull your soaked panties down your legs and kick them off. As he pulled his cock out, you vowed to give him head the next time you were together, because goddamn, you'd forgotten how nice of a sight he was like this.

He pulled a condom out of his pocket and rolled it on, still looking at you and only fumbling a couple of times in his trance.

"C'mere," he grabbed your waist and pulled until you were straddling him again, right above his cock. He grabbed your hips with one hand, and lined himself up with the other, then slowly started guiding you down onto him.

As he split you open, you forgot how to think, or talk, or do anything other than feel him inside of you. Every ridge, every inch. You let your head fall back as a keening moan erupted from your throat. He kissed everywhere he could, up and down your throat as he grunted against your skin.

You realized you couldn't even draw a steady breath, you were so overwhelmed by the feeling of being with him again.

His breath fanned your collarbone as he finally rested his forehead there and groaned your name. It was music on his lips.

The hand on your hip started guiding you to move, and you gently rocked your hips. God, had it ever felt this good before?

The feeling washed over you like honey, drenching your limbs and making your fingers tingle. Almost on their own, your hips picked up the pace, spreading the feeling everywhere in your body.

As you rode him faster, he pressed his face into your neck, letting the wetness from his crying earlier rub onto your skin. He was groaning at almost every thrust, incoherent mixtures of yes's and your name falling off his lips with every breath.

You were holding on for dear life, fingers fisted in his hair, when he grabbed under your thighs and stood up, slipping his cock out of you while you were still in his arms.

Anakin turned around and laid you down on your back as he busied himself throwing off his shirt and pants until he was bare in front of you. Within two more seconds, he was inside you again, this time thrusting into you from above.

He was holding himself up on his elbows, so his face was right above yours, eyes locked onto yours. You could see every reaction, every groan fall from his lips.

Usually, he was rough and made his hips smack yours, but, today, his thrusts were slow and languid, like he was trying to make it last as long as possible. You could live in this moment for the rest of your life. A particularly strong twitch of his cock made you whimper.

"Fuck, baby. You're so gorgeous like this," he breathed, pressing a kiss to your forehead tenderly. You locked your legs around him, holding him close, so that this wouldn't end. So that you could always stay here.

His breath hitched, and you knew he was getting close. You loved that you knew things like that about him, that only you knew that about him right now.

"Shit, fuck. Your pussy is so fucking good, like you were made for me," he groaned into your ear, speeding up until he was going faster than you thought he could. The intensity made you grasp at his back desperately, your nails catching on his skin. He hissed loudly. Anakin's cock twitched inside you, and you knew he was seconds away from his release. And you were even closer, that delicious tension building with every thrust.

His hand came between you to rub small circles on your clit, and then you were gone. Your mind went blank, and everything became just sensation. Warmth, all around you. Him, everywhere.

Somewhere far away, while you were still twitching around him, he groaned, low and loud and raw, as he came while sheathed deep in your pussy. Anakin laid his head in the crook of your neck while he recovered. His breath hitched as he took a shaky exhale, then pulled his cock out of you.

You didn't need to say any words, you both knew what you wanted. He pulled you into his arms like you were the most precious thing on the planet, then let his eyes slip closed. All the tension that had been building in your body was released, gone into the wind. All that was left was him, and the rise and fall of his chest as you lay against it.

"I missed you, too," you ventured after a few seconds of comfortable silence. He hummed, letting the hand trailing through your hair cup your jaw and pull you up for another kiss.

This one was tender, not about fucking, not about anything but his feelings for you. It was addicting, and, when it stopped, you almost pulled him in for another round. But it was midnight, and every muscle in your body was screaming.

Anakin said something about cleaning up and getting out of here, and you nodded, but you found you were having trouble with coherent thoughts at the moment. Anakin gently kissed your forehead and then rolled out of bed.

"'Kay, I'm gonna go look around for a bathroom, be back in a sec!" He called out, putting his clothes back on quickly, but not quickly enough that you didn't have time to check him out.

Even when he left the room, you were still smiling. You grabbed your phone, discarded somewhere near the bed, and sat back down. You wanted to text Ahsoka to thank her for bringing you to this party, for introducing you to Anakin, hell, for being born, when your homescreen reminded you of something.

54 Days, 18 hours, 27 seconds until Thesis Due Date

That pit opened in your stomach. You thought you had gotten rid of it, but there it was again. Everything went tight in your body, and suddenly all you could think was how could you have let yourself get this far behind? You had to get to work.

Something bumped your leg. It was Anakin's hand. You hadn't even heard him come in.

"Everything okay?" Anakin asked, with that gentle smile that hadn't really left him since you'd made up.

You looked at him, the man who you kind-of-sort-of-definitely had feelings for, and you shot him a half-assed smile as you locked your phone.

"Yeah," you said, your voice tight as you put it away. But, for the rest of the night, even when he walked you home and kissed you in front of the building--in public--it echoed in the back of your mind.

54 days.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!):

@skywalkercinema @throughparisallthroughrome @anak1ns-wife @radiantvader @eloquenceinpurple @rosekillerdaughter @doblasftcisco @rhiannonhippiegirl @mistress-amidala @johnbassplayercutie @mortalheartache @xorilixx @sunnytotheend @olivia091108 @aniiuv @sotal3rsa @springnaiad @bettysgardenswift @ursogorgeous13 @avalovesjoe1 @anibeaar @anisluvrgirl @mcdonaldshelppage @usuck @sythethecarrot @lovrsm @ann4zw @gimmefood

#anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker/you #anakin/you #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x you #star wars prequels #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen imagine

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thestrangepoet · 3 months ago

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The Furrcinating Adventures of Champion, the Archives Cat | The Magnus Archives Fanfiction | Ch 4/?

Based on @ultramarinaa’s Cat!Martin AU

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

DISCLAIMER: As per usual, this is an unedited first draft that I haven’t proofread. Forgive any typos and roughness around the edges – I tend not to go back over fanfics, as they’re just a bit of fun writing for me. (I am a full-time professional writer, and if I start telling myself I need to edit and proofread my fanfics, it’ll cease being fun for me.)

← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

──── •✧• ────

Martin – no, Champion, for that was who he was now – crept through the institute, his ears flat against his head.

How long had he been technically missing for now? At least a week, if not more. And no one had notified the police. Not Jon, not Tim, not Sasha. Not his own mother, despite the fact Martin would call her almost daily to check in on her. Not his neighbours nor his…well. He didn’t have any friends outside the institute.

He didn’t have any friends inside the institute either, it seemed.

Champion padded past the grand oak reception desk in the front lobby. Almost immediately, his paws left the ground, which drew a purr of surprise from him, his little blue eyes growing wide.

“Oh, Champion! You came to visit me, did you?”

Rosie, Elias’ assistant, gathered Champion into her arms, her thin, angular face all smiles and framed with bouncing red curls. Everyone’s face was all smiles when Champion arrived. Champion, who did nothing at all to actually help the institute. He couldn’t read properly like this. He couldn’t research, staying up all hours of the night to finish reports. He couldn’t go investigate leads across the country, nor pitch theories for statements. He couldn’t even make a cup of tea like this.

Martin could do all those things. And not once had he been given a genuine smile in return, not a single sparkle in someone’s eye to say they were actually happy to see him. But as Champion?

All he had to do was walk on by.

The first few days, that attention had overjoyed Martin. All he’d ever wanted. But now, it stung, jabbing him in the chest and reminding him that all this fuss wasn’t for him. Not really.

That people liked him better as a useless cat than a man who tried too hard and apologised for existing.

“Oh dear, little guy, why the sad ears?” Rosie continued, sitting down and depositing Champion onto the immaculate desk in front of her. “Was Jonathan a meanie to you? Do you want Rosie to accidentally misplace his expenses form this month?” She scratched behind Champion’s ear with a perfectly manicured nail, but he couldn’t even muster a false purr in response.

Everyone liked him better as a cat. Hell, maybe he was better at being a cat?

Maybe he should just…stay a cat. Let Martin Blackwood become just another missing person, lost behind a veil of barely asked questions.

Something stirred under his skin at that thought, like a cold fog rippling through his blood, sending all his fur on end. Champion jolted in shock; all too easily, he had forgotten what he wrestled with here. Sure, being turned into a cat sounded silly enough, but the architect of all this had been a Leitner book.

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts, caring not for the jovial packaging they came in.

Champion, now dealing with an alarming amount of adrenaline, leapt from Rosie’s desk and scampered away. He dashed through the corridors, paw pads skidding on the hardwood flooring, his tiny heart hammering away.

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts…

He practically slid across the Research Department, not stopping even when one of the researchers reached for a bag of cat treats.

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts! What if it could see him or hear him or—

He bounded through the austere, silent library, not sure what he was running from or if anything was even truly chasing him. But instinct tore through his limbs, too aware now of the sense of some unspeakable shadow prowling after him and delighting in his isolation.

When the panic finally subsided, Champion had to take a moment to look around the room he’d bolted into. The room loomed around him, gloomy save for one desk light working hard to chase it all away.

His desk light.

Champion padded through the archival assistants’ office, wandering past Tim’s empty desk and Sasha’s neglected chair. Was Tim at the station, weaving a story as to why they hadn’t reported their colleague missing sooner? Was Sasha in Elias’ office, distracting him from the whole affair?

He hopped up onto his old chair at his own desk. He hadn’t been here since the day he’d read that damned book in the first place. Jon’s office took the place of his regular workspace, either curled up on Jon’s lap or snoozing under the radiator.

Being a cat, admittedly, had been a lot more comfortable than being Martin Blackwood. The temptation to remain like this had, he realised, not been entirely out of spite and anger of the others not being too fussed about Martin’s disappearance.

It had come from Martin’s own disregard for Martin’s disappearance. Like this, he couldn’t annoy people. He didn’t have to worry about messing up conversations or making a fool of himself. He could stay away from people in that way, yet reap all the benefits of getting affection and having his company be greeted with a smile.

But…he also couldn’t offer Jon a cup of tea and get to see that momentary lessening of his scowl, the only time his frown eased up in the office. The silly little bloom of pride Martin got at being able to coax that out of him with a nice cup of tea – a silent victory, proof he’d done something right.

He couldn’t sneak out five minutes early for lunch with Tim on a Thursday, because they both loved Thursday special at the German kebab shop three blocks away and wanted to avoid the lunch rush queues.

He couldn’t buy a lemon and poppyseed muffin on a Monday to drop off at Rosie’s desk before she got in, earning him first dibs when she baked her amazing Malteser brownies during charity bake sales at work. She pretended she didn’t know Martin brought her breakfast every Monday, when he knew she ran late for work because she had to drop her father off at the physio, but somehow, a hearty slice of brownie would be wrapped in a napkin in the fridge with his name on it all the same.

He couldn’t go to the little tea room five minutes from his house every Saturday and Wednesday, order the same cup of Earl Grey and the same ham-and-cheese toastie, and beam as the owner called him his favourite and most reliable customer.

Maybe…Maybe Martin Blackwood did get noticed after all. Little nods, little appreciations. Maybe…that was enough?

The cold retreated from his fluffy legs, though it didn’t fully subside. It loosened its grip on his tiny heart, but it didn’t uncoil.

He had to completely undo this, Champion – no, Martin decided. He had to find the answer. And the best place to start had to be the book itself.

Martin jumped down from his chair, flattening himself on the floor to scoot under the bookcase where he had bashed the book out of sight weeks before.

A few cobwebs…a pen he’d lost months ago…some paper clips…a scrunched up ball of paper that stole all of Martin’s attention for five minutes or more as he bapped it between his paws in delight…but no book.

Wriggling his way back out from under the furniture, he looked left and right. Where was it?

Martin headed out of the archival assistants’ office and made his way towards Jon’s. Had Jon returned to the office to retrieve the book? Martin hadn’t noticed him doing so, nor had the book shown up on Jon’s desk lately. Given that desk doubled as one of Martin’s many napping spots, he was sure he would have spotted it if it had.

Unless…he’d picked it up recently. Tim had just told Jon that there was no sign of Martin at all at his flat. Tim had done something incredibly important in that conversation, Martin realised in horror.

He’d given Jon a mystery to unravel. He’d sparked his curiosity and given him a challenge – could he find Martin before a professional?

Oh no.

Martin scampered into Jon’s office at full speed, miaowing in a vain attempt to yell Jon’s name. But the room was empty.

Panting, his head whipped this way and that. Where was he? It was 4:12pm – not a time that Jon would take a smoke break he thought no one knew about, nor a time he’d go for a tea or try to heavily hint for Martin to make one. He was always at his desk. Where was—

“Mrrrrowww…”

Martin blinked, his ears twitching. That…hadn’t come from him. “Miaow?”

A horrified pause stretched out across the office. And then, that same, low rumble of a miaow, sorrowful and irritated.

“Mrrrrrooooowwww…”

Plucking up his courage, Martin followed the sound, his fur already sticking up on end. He tip-toed around the leg of Jon’s desk, already suspecting what had happened, yet praying it hadn’t.

There, beside Jon’s chair, was The Ninth Life, open on the last few pages. And on top of the book was the saddest, skinniest, scabbiest-looking black cat that Martin had ever seen in his life. Flecks of grey mottled his fur, which was missing in great clumps all over. Most of his right ear was missing, leaving a ragged edge in its wake. His eyes were far too big for his head, a brilliant green that somehow didn’t complement his black fur. Worst of all, the cat was sitting with its hind legs in front of it, as though determined to sit like a person.

The black cat looked at Martin.

Martin looked at the black cat.

It scowled at him. Somehow, despite everything, the cat managed to scowl at him.

The cat knew who he was, Martin realised. He knew he was Martin.

…Jon? Is that you? Martin wondered, pacing slowly over to the scabby cat. He just wanted to get close enough to sniff him, to confirm that this was Jon and—

Bap!

A paw plonked down squarely on Martin’s head, followed by a warning hiss.

Bap! Bap bap bap!

Yes, Martin realised, as he lay down on his front and tried to cover the top of his head with his own paws to shield himself.

The scruffy cat before him was definitely Jonathan Sims.

──── •✧• ────

#cat!martin #tma cats #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #jmart #tma

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seventh-district · 1 year ago

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oh my god i can’t decide what to do with my time today

#Seven.txt #writing stuff #video stuff #it’s Sunday so i need to log into Genshin and do my weeklies and i also need to grind for primos to yoink Yelan’s C1 before Tuesday #but i also need to record that so it’ll have to be done later once the house is quiet but i also need to record Lyney’s story quest but #then i also want to record Kaeya’s hangout but i also need to see what events are ending soon but i also need to do other non game stuff #like i need to finish going thru my backlog of likes on here and i need to answer asks and i need to work on drafted posts #and i have GOT to start working on ES Ch.4 to get that up by my self-imposed deadline soon but i’m recording that so i can only work on it #early in the mornings or late in the evenings but i also wanna finish this one-shot i’m working on for Dew and get it up on here soon #and that’s easier cause i’m not recording it but if i work on it today that’s not the best use of my time when it’s SUNDAY so it’s GENSHIN #DAY but i don’t FEEL like playing genshin rn i wanna WRITE ugh #but i’ve also got Ao3 comments awaiting a reply and i need to get a few things updated over there and i wanna work on This Is Unconditional #but i don’t have the TIME for that right now and i’ve got a bunch of messages that need replying to and a many hours of videos to edit #and i slept bad bc Nightmares so i just wanna eat and take a nap but that’s such a waste of time and uuuuugh idk man #So Many Creative Endeavors So Little Time #*collapses onto the floor in a frustrated heap*#okay. deep breath. i think. i’m gonna go work on banging out the rest of Hold On to Something bc that’s nearly fully written anyways #and i am Dying to get it out of my system bc Ghost Band fixation u know #i at least wanna get the draft done. i’ll edit/post it another day #then i’ll probably hop on genshin for a bit and do the bare minimum (i only need like 15 more pulls worth so even if i don’t grind and have #to swipe its nbd) and then i’ll hopefully be able to record the first writing session for ES ch.4 later this evening!!!#‘cause good god i wanna get that fic back into production. i miss working on it it’s just so hard to get started again #okay enough rambling. gonna go make Bullet’s lunch and get myself some lemonade. then i shall work

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roosterr · 1 year ago

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white flag ✹ ch 4

note: i had to rewrite this chapter TWICE. im sick of it so pls enjoy. also forgot to mention on here that I have been away this week on a little holiday. didn't stop me writing tho lol.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 2.3k

no use of y/n

readers callsign is 'stingray'

summary: while you're gone on a mission, ghost has time to ponder your relationship, and comes to a long awaited realisation

warnings: ghost's pov, mentions of blood and injury, lil bit of angst

ao3

【prev】 || 【next】

ghost never knew how to feel about you.

at first, he really did hate you; you were the bright-eyed new recruit with seemingly endless optimism, he simply couldn't help but be annoyed by you. honestly, he half expected you to tap out a week into the job. you were just so… normal, he found it hard to believe you were cut out for this line of work.

of course, he trusted price's decision to hire you, and deep down ghost knew he wouldn't have recruited you if he didn't think you could handle it, but he looked down on you anyway. it didn't matter how good price thought you were, you'd have to earn ghost's respect.

it was infuriating, the way you fit so easily into the dynamic of the team. they all liked you right off the bat, even the captain, who was notoriously hard to impress. he observed you from afar, watching how you easily broke down their walls and fell into place next to them like it was nothing.

if he was honest with himself, he might have even called it jealousy. it seemed that everything was so natural to you; everything that he struggled with, you did with such ease you made it look like child's play. he especially hated the way you could just be a person. you didn't lock up every time someone spoke to you, you didn't need to sit with a visual on every available exit, and you didn't need to analyse every person you met in the fear that the second you turn your back they'll stab you in it.

you pissed him off, but what was worse than anything else about you, is that ghost had to fight with himself not to like you too.

it was the first time he got sent on an assignment with you that he began to understand why everyone seemed to get along with you so well. the ruthless efficiency with which you did your job was almost shocking to see. he couldn't have predicted how well the two of you worked together; like a well oiled machine, by the end of the mission he didn't even need to communicate verbally, you could just tell what his next move would be.

he finally understood why price fought so hard to get you on the one-four-one – and he finally found it in himself to respect you.

but that didn't change the way he felt about you beyond the field. you were soft, too kind, and too optimistic, you weren't hardened by the job like him. so he went out of his way to be tougher on you than he was with the others, and he rationalised it by telling himself he was helping you; that without a little toughening up, this world would break you, and for some reason, he couldn't stand the thought of that.

when you started to resent him back, it made his stomach feel heavy in a way he'd never felt before. it was new, and uncomfortable, and it scared him. he wasn't sure when he first noticed it, but it only got worse when he came to the realisation that you didn't care for him like you did for gaz and soap.

you could joke around so easily with them, but you go quiet when he enters the room. you never meet his eyes, and make sure to never be physical with him. when he addresses you over comms, you answer with a quick 'yes sir' and that's the end of it. ghost would never admit it, but the distance between you hurt – even if it was by design.

as he lay awake that night, he thought about what it would be like if you treated him the same way you treated the others. he couldn't stop the tiny smile that pulled at his lips as he imagined laughing with you, sitting next to you, touching you.

he imagined you, taking his calloused hand into your own, so gentle and kind like you always were, and the way his pulse skyrocketed scared him into staying up the rest of the night.

after that, the way he saw you changed. where he used to think you were soft – and therefore weak – instead he saw the way you chose to be kind. when once your constant jokes with the others was an inability to take things seriously, now it was your specialty way to keep up morale, and ghost actually found himself chuckling at a few of your quips.

it was like his entire perspective had shifted, everything about you that used to annoy him gradually became something he appreciated about you.

it took him a while, but he finally came to the conclusion that he… liked you.

but it was bittersweet, because he already knew you didn't want him, and he doubted you ever would. you'd never see him in the same light, he'd ruined his chances before he even knew he wanted one.

maybe it was for the best, though. you deserved better, someone who would treat you right, someone normal. he already knew you didn't want him, and he could never blame you for that. people like you don't fall in love with people like him, that's just the way it is.

so he resigns himself to burying the feelings he harbours for you. you never had to find out, if you did you'd surely be disgusted by someone like him being interested in you. he couldn't handle rejection like that, not from you.

when price told him he'd have to take you in when your house burned down, he was fucking terrified. it shook him to his core, how much he liked the idea of the two of you living under the same roof. he did his best to avoid you, leave you in peace like he assumed you wanted; but you – wonderful, kind you – wouldn't just leave him to his misery.

you were being nice to him, and he couldn't figure out why. he assumed it was because he was doing you a favour by letting you stay with him; he couldn't even trick himself into believing that you might be doing it because you liked him.

every night, he'd go back to that fantasy of existing with you, by your side instead of at arm's length. you were so close, just a single door separating you, his hands started sweating every time he passed by the living room.

he knew he was a goner the morning you woke up before him. he'd scarcely ever seen you in a casual setting, but walking into the kitchen and being greeted by you sitting at the table, the domesticity of it all hit him like a bullet to the chest.

it was exactly what he wanted, and it scared the shit out of him, so he panicked. he needed to stay away from you, for your own good, so he did what the ghost does best.

he ran away.

he didn't even consider what you'd think, he just had to get away, before he said something he'd end up regretting.

when you came through the door, soaking wet, and laid into him – which he knew he deserved – he immediately regretted leaving you behind. seeing you cry, knowing it was because of him, it made him feel sick. he knew he never wanted you to feel that heartache again, especially if it was because of him.

he'd give anything to start again with you, go back to the beginning and do it all right this time, but the only thing he could do was try and make up for what he'd put you through.

the hot chocolate was a peace offering; he knew you loved it – he even knew about the stash you had of it hidden in price's office, away from the other soldiers. he half expected you to just tell him to piss off, but when you accepted it, he felt his heart soar.

it ignited a spark of hope within him. more than anything, he just wanted you to like him, it didn't matter if you never saw him the way he wanted you to.

he intended on waking you up the next evening, before he left for the pub, but when he saw how peaceful you looked while you slept, he couldn't bring himself to disturb you.

you stayed with gaz and soap most of the night, and he spent the night watching you from the bar and dimly lit corners, assuring himself that you were okay. when it came time to drag you home with him, he had never been so nervous. taking care of people was the exact opposite of his strong suit, especially when they started crying at him.

he almost couldn't believe his ears when you said you liked him.

he'd dragged you home with an arm wrapped around your waist, his head feeling light as a feather. by all accounts, he should've been annoyed at having to look after you in your inebriated state, but he found himself smiling under his mask the whole way home – even when you almost threw up on him.

when you rested your head on his shoulder on the bathroom floor, he might've actually short-circuited. all thoughts except for you evacuated his mind, and a wonderfully warm feeling blossomed in his chest that made his stomach flutter like never before.

he came so close to spilling his guts to you, but then he remembered that you were drunk, and you most likely wouldn't remember it if he did. so he resigned himself to tucking you into bed with an uncharacteristically gentle touch.

the next day, sitting on that park bench with you, laughing with you like he'd wanted to for so long – it was everything to him. it sent his pulse through the roof, it was complicated, and it was so pleasantly warm.

the logical part of him knew that this would only end painfully for him, but found himself willing to risk that if it meant more of these moments with you.

but of course, he'd fucked it all up at the first opportunity. he'd screamed in your face and he had yet to even apologise for it – for any of it. he felt immeasurably guilty, but he was so scared he couldn't even force himself to be around you.

even price had yelled at him for how he'd treated you. you were traumatised, you had a very real phobia as a result of the house fire, and he felt like a fucking fool for not noticing. he swore to himself he'd make it up to you, he'd grovel at your feet for the rest of his life if he had to, and if you never forgave him he still wouldn't blame you.

he regretted it – of course he did. he let his fear consume him; the fear of you getting hurt, of losing you, and not being able to do anything to save you.

almost as soon as the words had passed his lips, he realised what he was doing, he heard himself. the anger in his voice, the fearful look in your eyes as they glistened with tears, it was everything he didn't want to be.

he felt just like his–

no. he refused to even entertain that thought. he'd never be… that. you deserved so, so much better than the broken husk of man that he was. no matter what he did, he would never deserve you; and it was selfish, but he still hoped that you could somehow forgive him.

it's only been a few days since you left on that assignment for laswell, but he's found that being alone in his house didn't bring him the same comfort it used to. the silence never bothered him before, in fact he greatly preferred it, but now it just felt empty. like there was something missing, leaving a hole in the space it used to occupy.

deep down, the rational part of simon knows that it's you, of course it is, but you wanted nothing to do with him right now. he knew he had to fix things, he would never get over the hollow feeling in his chest if he didn't. that's why he was currently standing at the edge of the runway in the middle of the night, watching the ramp of the helo lower to reveal you, gaz, and the captain.

you looked shattered, like you hadn't slept for days – which was probably true – and he was suddenly overcome with the urge to gather you into his arms and not let go. he wondered if the remnants of dried blood that were visible on your hands and face were yours.

he felt his heart rate pick up as you made your way closer to him, his icy stare softening when he sees how you drag your feet across the tarmac.

when you were close enough, he reached his hand out to grasp your arm, opening his mouth to speak, but he never makes contact.

you sidestep him, and he feels his heart break in his chest. any words he was planning on saying die on his tongue as he turns to watch you slip through the doors without a hint of acknowledgement to him.

price gives him a rough pat on the shoulder as he and gaz pass by. "fix it, simon." he murmurs, before disappearing through the doors as well, leaving him alone outside the building.

he will fix it – he'd do whatever it takes because simon doesn't just need you, he's come to the alarming conclusion that he loves you – he just has no idea how.

taglist p1: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @ghostslittlegf , @imonmykneessir , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona , @alanalanalanalanalanna ,

@cathnoneofyourbusiness , @madsothree , @geisterfvhrer , @lazyninjaphilosopher , @aliilium , @koi-feish , @chaoticgoblindev , @clear-your-mind-and-dream , @thrivig-n-jiving , @lesterous , @glitterypirateduck , @slu77ym4nw415ts , @livelaugh-light , @trulylavendedarling , @stateofcatatonia , @rivalriotrenegade , @yoichiislovie , @nirvanaaaonly , @ameliaamareeee , @batmanunicorns523 , @sapientiia , @thesecretwriter , @susanmukami , @ryze1113 , @stars-andfreckles , @spya1 , @tunaa-luvchrm , @tzutology , @kuruksenshi

if your name is crossed out, i can't tag you for whatever reason, sorry! ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #roosterr writes

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hivemuthur · 17 days ago

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The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 2.

viktorxfemale!reader mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes)

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.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 4K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: Reader is hit by a truck which is *university*. So, a lot of studying and a lot of frustrations. And the TA is being a pain in the ass, you know how it is. Some science talk, based on the remnants of my knowledge from uni.

author’s note: Guys, you have showered me with love, so I'm showering you with writing.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

Sue was so fucking right. It had only been one week of freedom, and then the workload came crashing down on you. Suddenly, every class had a welcome test attached to it, and you found yourself buried under a mountain of homework—chemical equations to solve and analyse, essays, books to read, lab practice, and lectures to attend. There wasn’t any snowball effect; it all hit at once, and by the time you and Sue returned on the first Monday of the second week, you were carrying enough work to fill two mules, and it would still have been too heavy even for them.

“Your mum is calling,” Sue’s voice pulled you out of a particularly boring passage about physical chemistry in one of your shared workbooks. You would usually put your phones on the cabinet for study time, but the vibration had startled Sue for the third time in ten minutes, so she decided to address it.

“Ugh, can you put her on speaker? I’ll deal with this quickly, and I don’t want to move,” you rolled your eyes, catching Sue’s judgmental glare. She’s your mum!

“Kochanie, finally! I’ve been trying and trying, how are you doing?” Your mum’s voice filled the room with her familiar heavy accent, though she insisted it was improving. Your dad didn’t speak a word of Polish, so Joanna had to switch to English entirely after you left.

“All good, Mum. Lots and lots and lots of studying,” you said, your voice so unamused you barely lifted your eyes from the book, though your gaze was unseeing. You had been staring at the same equation for about half an hour now.

“Have you been practising your affirmations?” Of course, you hadn’t. Silly idea.

“Yes, every day and every time someone pisses me off. How’s Dad?” You decided to deflect as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

“Dad went to Calais for a retreat, and I’m left alone for the entire week. He’s not allowed a mobile, you see,” Your mum rambled on a little longer, and you let her. You were happy to hear your parents were moving on after losing their only daughter. Even though Joanna insisted she could feel your presence in the house, in the clothes and trinkets you’d left behind, and could sense your moods through an invisible mother-daughter bond you shared. What a load of nonsense.

“Mamusia, I love you, but I have to go. I’m studying with Sue, and we’ve got a test in thirty minutes,” you added a round of loud pecks so she could hear the kisses through the phone speaker. She told you to wear red underwear and get Sue to kick you for good luck.

“Your mum sounds awesome,” Sue laughed under her breath. She tried to study but ended up listening to the entire conversation.

“Eh, she’s something. She’s pretty cool when she’s not suffocating you with love, you know?” You gave Sue a knowing smile, and she understood immediately. “Have you managed to learn anything? My brain is literally fuming.”

Sue groaned as she started packing up her notebooks to head toward the lab class. “Honestly, I don’t know. I think I’ll use my last resort—can I borrow some red knickers?” You snickered as Sue shot you a huge mocking grin.

“No, but I can kick you alright, sweet Sue,” you couldn’t help but laugh. You gathered all the papers scattered around you with both hands and shoved them into your bag. You glanced at yourself in the mirror before leaving your dorm room, and Jesus Christ, your youth had already fled. Dark circles under your eyes, a gaunt face, lips chapped—all of it painfully underlined by an ink stain on your t-shirt. Whatever, there was no time to do anything about it.

It was Viktor’s class again. You had slowly grown to dislike them, ever since he and Jayce began to switch every second day, after Jayce got a new girlfriend—beautiful Mel Medarda, a third-year theatre student whom Hale once called a close second contender to rule the planet one day. Second after you, of course.

All of Viktor’s initial friendly sass had dissolved into the mean kind, which he executed each time Heimerdinger’s students were supposed to already know something they didn’t—including you. Thankfully, most of the time, you knew. The times you didn’t, he relished it and squeezed the situation to the maximum, like a sad lemon.

“Alright, take a test from the tray on the teacher’s desk and take your usual seat. And as usual, you can have a calculator and periodic table on your workbench,” Viktor’s instructions boomed through the lab classroom as one by one, students dragged themselves through the door, each one looking more exhausted than the other. “Looking ravishing today, Y/N,” he sent a smirk your way as you passed by him without sparing him so much as a glance and a quiet ‘hi.’

“Bite me, Viktor,” you barked back at him. What the hell was he thinking?

“Gladly, but maybe after class.” Usually, the smug look on his face would get you to scoff; this time, you granted him a faint eye roll as you dragged your feet toward the workbench you shared with Sue. As Viktor strolled through the room, making sure no one had anything illegal on their tables, he snatched your phone from your desk just as you were putting it into your bag.

“No phones,” he slid it into his lab coat pocket with a wink. You whined, about to say something you’d regret, but were immediately cut off by “I said, after class,” coming from behind you as you watched his back, your eyes burning a hole in it.

You solved the test first; you were so angry. As soon as you put it back in the tray, a realisation washed over you, and what you realised was the mistake you’d made in one of the exercises. You wanted to retrieve it and fix it, but Viktor’s hand shooshed you away.

“Come on, Viktor, it was there for less than a second!”

“You put it away, it’s gone for grading. That’s the rule. Also—it’s a learning curve,” he smiled at you sweetly, and you wanted to choke him out.

“Learning curve of what? That you are being a dick?” The last part was barely a whisper, nevertheless, a whisper that was fuming with rage and could cut through steel.

“Patience. And decision-making, which is a process that you clearly haven’t mastered yet,” he said coldly, not even looking you in the eye. This time, you did scoff, and angry steps carried you back to your seat.

The class settled into a more familiar rhythm after the test, the shuffle of papers and the steady hum of Bunsen burners filling the air. Viktor moved around the room, overseeing his students’ chemistry lab exercises with the same detached air he always wore. You tried to focus, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the test—and Viktor's smug little smile as he watched your frustration unfold.

The task at hand was simple enough: a titration experiment to determine the concentration of an unknown solution. Viktor had given you all the instructions, but as you watched the beaker of sodium hydroxide mix with the diluted acid, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. Something about the instructions didn’t sit right with you.

You glanced over at Sue, who was carefully measuring out the chemicals. You leaned in, whispering so Viktor wouldn’t overhear.

“Sue, I think he messed up the ratios in the instructions. If we follow this, it’s gonna screw everything up. We’ll end up with a totally different result.”

Sue frowned, taking a closer look at the setup. “You sure?”

“I’m certain. The way he wrote it—if we add that much of the sodium hydroxide, the pH is going to overshoot too quickly. It'll neutralise the acid too fast, and we won’t get an accurate reading. If we’re supposed to get a neutralisation point, that change will mess with the whole titration curve.”

Sue was sceptical, but you were adamant. You felt it in your gut. "It’ll be off. Trust me."

Sue nodded reluctantly. "So, what do we do?"

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers tapping the edge of the desk as you thought. You pulled up a few formulas on Sue’s phone, glancing back at Viktor to make sure he wasn’t looking in your direction.

“If we use less sodium hydroxide, the neutralisation will occur more slowly, and we’ll get a more accurate pH reading. We’re supposed to use a much more diluted solution.”

Sue nodded, though she looked uneasy. “What the hell, let’s try it.”

You adjusted the solution as you suggested, making the necessary changes to the procedure. You proceeded with the experiment, and despite her hesitation, Sue followed your lead. The two of you worked in tandem, the smooth, natural chemistry of your lab partnership taking over. As you neared the end of the titration, it was clear you had achieved the neutralisation point correctly—without overshooting or leaving any room for error.

Meanwhile, the rest of the class was still fumbling through their measurements, the air thick with the sounds of Viktor’s quiet reprimands. You couldn’t help but glance at him every now and then, noting the small, almost imperceptible frown on his face as he inspected his students’ work.

When the clock pointed to fifteen minutes away from the class ending, Heimerdinger stepped into the lab, his eyes scanning the results with interest. He walked toward your workbench, eyes lighting up as he reviewed your calculations.

“Well, it seems we have at least one pair who didn’t follow the instructions blindly,” Heimerdinger said, his voice rich with approval. “Good work, you two. You’ve done the experiment correctly. Trusting your instincts—making adjustments based on the data rather than simply following authority—is key in science. After all, we’re here to discover, not just to repeat what’s been done.”

You allowed yourself a smile of satisfaction, while Sue breathed a little easier, glancing at you in admiration.

Viktor’s face, however, was unreadable. He stood at the back of the room, arms folded tightly across his chest, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes.

Heimerdinger didn’t seem to mind. “It’s a learning curve for all of us, even your teacher. Mistakes are inevitable. But sometimes when we challenge authority—question the procedures—that’s when we learn and grow. Science is born from curiosity and defiance. Respect is important, of course, but don’t be afraid to challenge when you feel something isn’t right.”

You raised an eyebrow at Viktor, who hadn’t said a word. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but his eyes were hard as steel. He wasn’t pleased by Heimerdinger’s praise of your independent thinking.

“That’s how science is made,” Heimerdinger continued, completely oblivious to the tension between his students and the teacher. “By asking ‘what if?’ and exploring the unknown.”

Viktor finally spoke, his voice cool and controlled. “That’s true,” he said, glancing at you. “But there's a fine line between innovation and recklessness. Don’t mistake one for the other.”

You met his gaze, your jaw tight. “I don’t think we did.”

Viktor’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t respond, turning on his heel and walking toward the front of the room. Sue nudged you gently, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, at least we didn’t screw up,” she whispered.

You smiled back, but your mind was still racing. You had challenged Viktor’s authority—hadn’t followed his instructions—and it had got you praise from the professor. This couldn’t be good. “Sue, I don’t think I’m getting my phone back,” you whined into your friend's shoulder, who giggled uncontrollably.

You waited for your group to disperse into the library or the cantina before the start of the next lecture, making sure Viktor wouldn’t be able to humiliate you in front of anyone. You took a deep breath and knocked weakly on the door of the assistant’s back office.

“Come in,” Viktor’s voice was as flat and unwelcoming as ever. You braced yourself as you turned the doorknob and stepped inside quietly. Viktor was sitting at one of the tiny desks you were cramped at with Jayce and didn’t even look up. You cleared your throat.

“Yes?” This time, he looked up. God, he looked angry. When he finally raised his eyes to meet yours, he only sighed. “I doubt I can do much for you, Y/N. Given that you know everything already.”

“That’s rich coming from a guy who broke into the lab to prove his point once. Yes, Jayce told me,” you smiled at him sweetly, referring to his second-year incident when he and Jayce breached the lab security at night and conducted an experiment they were forbidden to do by Heimerdinger himself. This got them secure spots for PhD and TA positions.

Seeing that there was absolutely nothing coming from his direction but a blank stare, you asked carefully, “Well… why did you fuck up?”

Viktor sighed again, stood up slowly, and walked toward you. “Some theatre girls got us drunk last night—Mel’s friends. And I messed up the notes. Chemistry is not my major, as you know.” A smirk started to paint his face as he observed your reaction to the mention of drinking with some girls.

Viktor decided to push you further, his smirk widening as he leaned against the desk. “It’s hard to focus when you’re surrounded by Mel’s friends, you know. A lot of distractions. I haven't quite shaken last night off me yet,” he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Your heart dropped at his words. You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, but something inside you shifted—you didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt. Viktor was deliberately drawing attention to some girls, and it stung more than you cared to acknowledge.

You scolded yourself internally. Stop it. Don’t let him get to you. But it was already too late. You could feel a pang of something—jealousy, maybe, or insecurity—but you refused to let it show.

Viktor, sensing your discomfort, didn’t let up. “By the way,” he said, his tone casual, “I took a closer look at your test. You know, given your answers, I understand how you worked out the correct proportions for the exercise. Same mistake you made on the test itself, right?”

Your stomach twisted, and your chest tightened. “So now you’re just going to relish in my defeat, aren’t you?” you shot back, your voice strained.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got far better things to relish in. Just making observations.”

You exhaled sharply, your anger bubbling over. “You know, because you were being such a dick, the thing I actually knew will probably lower my final grade now. Congratulations.”

Viktor’s smirk never faltered. “I wasn’t being a dick,” he said, voice smooth. “I was merely being a meticulous stiff bastard.” He leaned back, his tone laced with sarcasm. “You were quite vocal about that, if I recall. Something about me being a ‘pedantic pain in the ass’ when you were drunk.”

Your face flushed, your hand tightening into a fist at your side. That comment struck a nerve you hadn’t even realised was there. Your heart pounded. “Are you seriously so petty, Viktor, that you’re going to take revenge for some drunken slur by messing with my grade?” you snapped, your voice rising. You turned to leave, the weight of your frustration heavy on your chest.

But Viktor’s voice stopped you cold. “Wait,” he said, and for a moment, you thought he was going to apologise. Maybe even admit he’d gone too far.

You glanced over your shoulder, ready to hear some kind of redemption. But then Viktor’s tone shifted again. “You didn’t forget something, did you?”

You froze as he pulled your phone from his pocket and held it out to you, a mischievous gleam in his eye. The sight of your phone in his hand made your heart sink. You really are a bastard, you thought.

With strained composure, you took the phone from him. Your fingers brushed his, sending an unexpected jolt through you. Viktor’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary, and for the briefest second, you saw something flicker behind his usual cool façade. Something almost… uncertain.

Your stomach fluttered—No. Not now. Don’t let him do this to you.

You forced a tight smile, returning his gaze. “I can play this game too, Viktor,” you said, your voice low and controlled.

Viktor’s smirk faltered for a brief moment, and he leaned back against the desk, watching you with a hint of something deeper in his expression. His eyes softened, but he quickly masked it with another calculated look.

You turned to leave, your mind racing with frustration and another weird emotion you didn’t have the name for. Just before you reached the door, you felt a shift in the air. Viktor’s teasing had crossed a line, and somehow, the distance between you felt less like a joke and more like something real. Why does this matter so much to me?

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. Viktor hadn’t just teased you. He’d affected you, and you hated that. As you stepped out of the office, you could feel his gaze on your back, following you, studying your body. You scolded yourself internally for looking like a wreck and made your way to join Sue in the library.

Your friend regarded you with concern as you slid into the chair at the table, books already splayed out in front of her. “Did you get your phone back?”

“Yeah, it was a fight to the death,” you mumbled, sighing heavily as you opened a massive tome of genetics for the next lecture.

“And who died?” Sue asked, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Oh, definitely me this time.” You whined and dropped your head face-flat onto the table. “I don’t understand when this happened. Can you direct me to a point in time when Viktor woke up and chose violence?” you chuckled despite yourself.

“Um… I think it was some time after the party where that cute curly-haired guy with a poetic name clung to you the entire evening. Or—” she smirked—“you calling Viktor a meticulous stiff bastard.”

“Ambrose? I completely forgot about him,” you mused for a second. There had been an Ambrose sometime during your first weeks. He was from the theatre department too, full of big words, slightly obsessive, but overall nice. You never gave him your number, though, deciding it wasn’t meant to be.

“So you think Viktor loves me so much, jealousy rotted his guts?” you laughed a little too loudly, drawing a few irritated ‘shh!’ sounds from nearby students.

“Let’s say it’s my instinct,” Sue replied with a mischievous smile. “And remember, Y/N—trusting your instincts is key in science,” she added in a hushed, exaggerated Heimerdinger impression, causing you to suppress your laugh even further.

***

Viktor stretched in his chair. The last paper to check stared him in the eye, glaring at him almost as intensely as you had that morning. He groaned slightly at the pain in his leg as the door creaked open.

“Hi, partner,” Jayce greeted, shooting him a smile that was a mix of guilt and a plea for forgiveness. He’d left Viktor for an entire day to gallivant around campus with Mel. She had apparently needed strong arms to carry boxes of flyers advertising their winter show.

“Don’t ‘hi, partner’ me, Jayce,” Viktor huffed but smiled faintly under his nose. “How was it?”

“She’s really something, Vik. I can tell you over a beer?” Jayce offered, clearly still buzzing from his all-day hangout with his beautiful, smart, interesting, unique, elegant, new girlfriend.

“I think I’m going to call it a night. One last paper to check.” Viktor groaned slightly as he flipped your paper in front of his friend’s face. Jayce snatched it mid-air and studied it carefully for a minute.

“How come? I thought she was the only one to work around your… notes mishap?” Jayce tread carefully, noticing the frown forming on Viktor’s forehead. He knew exactly how Viktor had messed up the notes—sadly, it was partially his fault as well.

Viktor leaned back in his chair, still staring at the paper. “Yes, indeed, she was. She even tried to fix her answer when she put the test into the box,” he muttered quietly under his breath.

Jayce raised an eyebrow. “So why didn’t she?”

Viktor rolled his eyes, the motion quick and dismissive. “Because, Jayce, I don’t make exceptions for students who can't follow the rules.”

“Oh, Viktor,” Jayce sighed, shaking his head. “What did she do to get so deeply under your skin? Seriously, you're not usually like this.” Viktor was only mean and vigilant when he cared—or when he was hurt. That, Jayce knew. He just didn’t know which one it was.

Viktor shrugged nonchalantly, but there was an edge to his voice. “She’s just full of herself. Thinks she can do whatever she wants because she’s got it all figured out.”

Jayce’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “Oh, I see. Well, if someone’s getting on your nerves that much, it usually means they’re reflecting something about you that you don’t want to see.”

Viktor stared at him blankly, the words almost not registering. Then, he let out a short, mocking laugh. “When did you start spreading the wisdom of your people around the world, Jayce?”

Jayce leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms casually. “Mel teaches me how to talk to difficult people now. You know, learning to understand them and not just shut them down immediately.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, his tone sceptical. “Am I the difficult one here?”

Jayce’s grin widened. “Clearly. I mean, you’re willing to fuck up Y/N’s final grade over a sentiment. That’s not exactly… rational behaviour, is it?” He leaned into the desk, hoping for a moment of self-reflection from his friend.

Viktor was silent for a moment, then scoffed, trying to brush off the conversation. “It’s not like that. I’m not just doing it to be petty.”

Jayce leaned in slightly. “So, what did you tell Heimerdinger about the mishap?”

Viktor leaned forward as well, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. “I told him the truth—both of us fell asleep in the lab, working on our side project. I had to rush to class that morning. No big deal.”

Jayce nodded, processing this. “I’m sure Heimerdinger won’t bat an eyelid if you step up for Y/N, especially since she did well in class. If anything, she deserves some leniency.”

Viktor paused, looking at his friend thoughtfully. “I guess I could do that. Just… don’t think this is something I do for everyone,” he exhaled, rubbing his temple. “But I’ll talk to Heimerdinger.”

Jayce smirked, leaning back in his chair again. “There you go. Maybe Mel’s influence is working on you after all.”

Viktor shot him a look, clearly not amused. But deep down, he couldn't deny there was something about you that unsettled him—and, for some reason, it had started to bother him more than he cared to admit.

“Just keep your wisdom to yourself,” Viktor muttered. “And get out of my office. I still have work to do.”

Jayce chuckled but stood up, winking. “Hey, it’s my office as well! But yeah, I get the point.” As Jayce exited, Viktor stared at the paper before him, his mind occupied by frustration. A meticulous stiff bastard he was indeed.

#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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