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promenadewithme · 2 months ago

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Twelve days of Christmas - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem! reader Word Count: 1.8K words Warnings: sexual innuendo, mentions of sex, slight angst, established marriage, divorce, the holidays, idk what triggers you so tell me if I should add anything else. a.n.: sorry for taking a few days to upload this, i've been christmas shopping and got down with some kind of flu that has me feeling unwell. I promise I'll post more if you guys like this, though.

part 1 part 2 part 3

“He’s getting away, Barnes” Stark reprimanded through the com in James’ ear “Forget to eat breakfast today? Where is that abiding need to keep the streets of New York safe? That unwavering stamina? Don’t tell me you’re getting old.”

The pokes had him grinding his teeth and stomping harder down the stairs. He forced himself to calmly answer “Your mother had no complaints last night.”

A distant cackle came through the com, which he imagined could have only been Thor, before Stark quipped “Then where the hell is your head at, Barnes?”

At my daughter’s recital that started 40 minutes ago all the way across town, thanks for asking. James thought with a moody frown on his face as he started jumping down the flights of stairs.

“Why don’t you do the chasing for a change?” he sassed, catching a glimpse of the assailant’s clothes just as he turned a corner.

Having been in the military as a young adult, one would expect more respect for the boss. But James was cranky, would rather be with his family, and was not in the mood for Stark’s cockiness. Besides, he was the best private detective in the agency and Stark knew it.

James picked up his pace, mere meters away from the target, only for the emergency exit door to slam open into the criminals’ face, with none other than Tony Stark on the other side.

“I don’t do the running.” He answered, smugness written all over his face “That’s what I pay you for.”

With a roll of his eyes and a huff, James bent down to search the man’s pockets. Two guns, four knives and what sure looked a lot like chloroform, were handed over to Bruce – the forensics guy, who accepted them with a tight-lipped awkward smile.

The man on the floor, a stalker that had been chasing one of their clients for the past months, attempted to get up. ‘Attempted’ being the key word considering James handcuffed him in seconds, getting halfway to the vehicle before his boss could reach him.

“Nice work today, kid.” He praised as James closed the door to the police car that waited outside.

Stark had friends in very important places, friends who appreciated the help that his company provided. Both monetary and otherwise. The police force was one of them, despite their motto being ‘doing all the men in blue could not do’.

“Thanks, man.” He replied while nodding at Steve, the police officer they usually worked with and his childhood friend.

“You can go home now; I’ve got it from here.” Stark patted his back as Steve drove away.

“I still have to write up the report and tell our client we caught the guy.”

In all honesty, James didn’t know why he didn’t accept. He wanted to go home, to go to his wife and baby girl. He also knew that he had a job to do, a job that wouldn’t finish itself.

“I’ll do that.” He reassured, earning an eyebrow raise from James, who was sure he had never touched paperwork in his life. With a huff and an eyeroll, he admitted “Fine, I’ll get Pepper to do it.”

“Pepper already has enough on her plate having to babysit you.” James replied, walking to his car.

Tony followed close behind “How about you let me worry about Pepper and you go home to your wife. Unless you want to do it the other way around, I’d be fine with that too. Tell me, how has beautiful (y/n) been - ”

He was cut off by a low growl emitted from James’ throat. His wife was beautiful, it was a fact, one he did not mind people noticing. Except when it came to Tony, the biggest playboy known to man.

“Down boy.” Stark lifted his hands in surrender “You should really let go of all that pent up energy. You know, there’s this reiki place down the street from - ”

“I don’t need to unwind.” He lied through his teeth.

James desperately needed to let it all out, preferably in his wife. The problem was that most days he got home after you were fast asleep and left before you awoke. It was hell, it was torture. It meant jacking off in the shower to the thought of you while being careful to not make too much noise, even though it was never really enough, not the same as you. It meant having way too much sexual energy and lashing out on everyone.

“Whatever you say, Barnes.” He sighed in defeat “But I do think you should take the rest of the year off. You’ve been my top employee of the year, it’s almost Christmas, just… Have a little fun for once. Take your wife on a date, take your kid ice skating, hell go crazy and rent a cabin in the woods. As much as this James is good for business, I miss the old Bucky. Corny and in love as he might have been, he was also a pretty decent guy. Besides, the clients are starting to get scared of that scowl of yours.”

Maybe it was time for a break; to spend some time with his girls, God knows he missed them.

“I’ll think about it.” He nodded, unlocking his car.

And that he did. James thought about it on the slow drive to Olivia’s school, he thought about it when he saw that all the chairs were already stacked, he thought about it on his way home, and when he saw your disappointed face as he walked through the door.

You looked so beautiful, all dolled up and Christmassy. You also looked broken, tired. Bucky had a sneaking suspicion it was because of him.

Closing the door behind him, he measured his next words, but nothing came out. No excuses, no explanations. He knew he was running; he just didn’t know why.

“You missed her recital.” Your voice came out hoarse and he realized your eyes were puffy. The realization that he had made you cry made James’ heart sink to his stomach.

“I know.” He whispered, feet plastered to the floor, unable to move from the door. Like he was ready to bolt at any moment.

“You are never home.”

“I know.”

“You come home after midnight every single day.”

“I know.”

“She misses you, I-” you halted before admitting “I miss you.”

That was when he found it in himself to move, to kneel before you and kiss both your hands while apologizing.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Left his lips with every kiss he planted all over your hands, before resting his face on your thighs.

Tears filled your eyes again and it took all your strength not to back down, but you said it.

“James, I want a divorce.”

His heart stopped, and it sped, and it broke into a million pieces. You watched as his head slowly rose, his distressed gaze meeting yours.

“What?” he couldn’t have heard you right, could he? There was no way he could have messed up this badly.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You said, voice breaking “I can’t wake up every day knowing you won’t be here, I can’t listen to you coming home in the middle of the night and leaving before I can say goodbye, I don’t know what to do for you to love me. I’ve tried everything and I never seem to be enough for you.”

“No, doll, please.” He looked deep into your soul, holding both of your hands, afraid that if he let go, he would lose you forever, knowing there was a chance he already had “I love you. I love you so much. Please, we can work this out. Don’t leave me.”

“Leave you?” you seethed, untangling your hands from his and standing “No, James, I’m not the one who is leaving. You are the one who left. You are the one who runs away from his family, who overworks, who jerks himself off in the middle of the night instead of having sex with his own wife, who doesn’t even care to show up. If you truly loved me, if you loved us, you would be here. You would have been there today, when Liv needed you present.”

“I know I messed up but let me make it up to you. I can be present, I can come home earlier, I want to have sex with you.” He was on his knees; he did not know what he could say to make you believe him.

“James, it’s been eight months since I had an orgasm.” You said, walking into the kitchen to make yourself some tea. Anything to ease your nerves “I want a divorce.”

He followed you like a lost puppy; it would have been cute if your heart wasn’t weeping. James racked his brain, thinking of anything that could make you stay, that could help you change your mind. You were stubborn, the only person who could ever make you soft was Livvie. It was like a lightbulb went on in his brain. Liv. She was the key, the bond.

“Okay.” He said, even though it was the last thing he meant.

“What?”

It was what you wanted, right? So why did it feel like someone stepped on the already shattered pieces of your heart? Maybe, deep down, you wished he would fight for you.

“We can get a divorce.” He nodded slowly “But I want to give Olivia one last happy Christmas. Think about what it would do to her little mind if we separated during the holidays. It’s what, ten days till Christmas now?”

“Twelve as of tomorrow.” You answer, seeing his point.

“Stark gave me the rest of the year off. Let’s make the happiest memories with her, ones she will remember and not be traumatized by, let her have one last Christmas. Let us have one last Christmas.”

You considered his words. Liv was six now, she was definitely old enough to remember this divorce and James was right, it could potentially make the holidays traumatic in some way. That was the last thing you wanted. It was only twelve days, right? What’s the worst that could happen?

“Alright.” You conceded and James let out the air he was holding in “Twelve days.”

“We pretend nothing happened, we act happy and in love, we make this the perfect Christmas. Deal?” he outstretched his hand, afraid that any other form of contact would make you push him away.

“Deal.” You took his hand, letting it linger as you looked into his somber grey eyes. Oh, how you would miss those, how you missed them already.

What to Liv would be the perfect Christmas, to you was the hardest goodbye. Would you be able to spend 12 days without changing your mind? Would James be able to spend them without letting you down again? Remember all the times he wasn’t there. A small voice uttered in your mind. It was enough for you to remove your hand from his and say goodnight. Twelve days would go by in a flash, you could do this. For Liv.

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hivemuthur · 25 days ago

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What was that? - Ch. 1.

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

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,6K

tag: #what was that

summary: A romance that explores two insecure people growing closer together through snippets of their time at work.

author’s note: Can I post three things a day? Yes. This is the first fic I've written and I love it dearly. It connected me with @rennethen who has been beta reading it patiently and helped me create significant parts of it, and for that connection alone it was worth to write it.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“Renly, are you being serious right now?” John stormed into the lab’s kitchen visibly flushed with anger. Renly only blinked at him, a question in her eyes.

“I guess? Didn’t you get my note?” She definitely remembered sending the note asking John to take a raincheck. She even made a song about it to not forget, like the last time. Viktor had mocked the song at first but later grew annoyed with it.

”Please stop, this song is now rotting my brain. I get it, John is a nice guy,” Viktor rotated on his chair with a groan that has clearly been building up for at least one minute.

“Sorry, it’s the only way I don’t get distracted and forget!” to Viktor’s demise, Renly sang this line as well.

“Well, didn’t you get my note?” John said, already huffing, seemingly offended. He did get her note, he did see the little heart she drew on it and a coffee stain that suggested she wrote it hastily, while doing something else with her other hand. So, he sent a passive aggressive jokey note back stating that it’s tomorrow or he doesn’t know when, because he is also oh-so-busy.

“I can’t make it otherwise,” he laid his hands apart in apologetic gesture.

“Like… this week? Or ever?” light mockery in her voice, she said with her back to John, while pouring coffee into two cups. “It’s okay, we can have breakfast here. Do you want coffee?” Renly pulled out the third cup from the sink and waved it at John expectantly.

At which point, Viktor entered their tiny lab kitchen, scrunching his wet hair with a damp towel, his cheeks flushed and clothes slightly dishevelled, clinging to his hot-after-shower body. “Do I smell coffee? Hi John,” he said, waving at the doorway.

“Nothing will hide from you. Crisis averted?” Renly asked referring to fifteen minutes ago, when Viktor banged viciously on the bathroom door, demanding shower access immediately, as he spilled suspicious fluid from Renly’s workstation all over himself.

She said it was punishment for snooping. He said she’d taken his favourite pen, and her workstation was planned ridiculously, making moving around risky. Also, she took showers that lasted forever. She said her shower was only fifteen minutes, which is perfectly within bounds of morning toilet routine. He said she should shower at home and sleep at home; otherwise, she would end up a social pariah like him and Jayce. She said it’s a bit late for that as night is a perfect time for quiet work and she is one person away from the social pariah status. She meant John. So right now, it really did look like she was close to adding it to her work signature. She had to evacuate from the bathroom before she had the chance to dry off completely, which is why her hair was wet.

“Did you shower together?” John’s tone gained additional pitch to it as he asked his ridiculous question, visibly getting more and more distressed.

“Yes, John. We also have occasional orgies that I forgot to mention,” Renly couldn’t help about the snarky comment but when she turned around to take a look at her… boyfriend? They went out about ten times and slept together twice, so she guessed he was her boyfriend already. Well, he looked hurt, and she immediately wished she didn’t say it, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

“Please, don’t be like that. I pulled an all-nighter again, and it was too late to go home. We showered separately, obviously,” she said in a softer voice as the cups were placed on the tiny table in the middle of the kitchen, only three chairs.

“I will give the two of you some space,” Viktor swept his cup with Jayce’s face on it and gave both of them polite smile as he walked out faster, than Renly thought he was able to.

“So… are you very cross with me?” she waited for Viktor to leave the area and asked reaching out to place her palm on top of John’s forearm, but he winced away.

John had always been good at making himself seem indispensable. When they first started seeing each other, his charm felt effortless—little gestures like remembering her favourite tea or distracting her with a ridiculous joke when she was too stressed to focus. She had let her guard down with him in a way she rarely allowed herself to. It had felt safe, comforting even. But lately, the cracks in that façade were harder to ignore. He got offended easily and threw some stupid accusations at her when he was out of arguments. She did admit, she was quite oblivious to some of relationship savoir-vivre, but it was also discussed priorly! And he said he doesn’t mind, so the next part caught her off-guard.

“I… don’t think this will work out this way,” he said with a sigh and waved his hand around making her question if he meant them, or breakfast with Victor in near vicinity. “I didn’t know this is what I was signing up for frankly,” he finished and gave her a sad puppy glance. This made her… angry? Of course, he knew what he was signing up for. She told him from the very beginning how important her work was. And how bad she was at this, but he just called her cute. Surely, this was enough of a warning. Or maybe it wasn’t but John really didn’t seem like he heard anything of what she ever said in the long run.

He was a Piltie, and she was from Zaun. He liked posh places that were trying to pass as casual, she liked to hang out by the riverbank in the evenings and sneak into The Undercity to look at street art and eat street food. He always seemed to pay attention to what she was telling him about her lab work and how many lives it could potentially change but at the end of every test presentation and heated one-sided conversation (it was hot on her side only) when she looked at him expectantly, he praised her with a you are so smart or you look pretty when you get excited about science and it left her empty of all air like a sad balloon in the aftermath of a party. He probably had a politician’s career ahead of him, so in the future, he would be the person to decide whether she does or doesn’t get funding for her research and in her mind’s eye John was a person that would probably happily fund something else than the medicine for long term Grey exposure symptoms. But he was a good practice for that. And despite everything else, she did like him. He had his moments, as they say.

In a few seconds, that took very long in the pocket dimension of her brain, Renly tried to calculate how much fault in this situation was hers and if it was worth to back down and give him a peace offering in form of a dinner at her place, that she would cook, and they would be alone, and it would be romantic, and he would probably get to fuck her on the dinner table.

The plan started forming itself, when John said “I mean… you spend all your free time here, or you drag me around the lanes. Also, this Viktor guy? I got over Jayce, recently he is barely here. So…” he dragged his huge eyes across her face looking for a sign of understanding that wasn’t there “…you understand how I feel when you spend most of your time with another man.” It came out weak, but he decided to stand by it.

“Another man? It’s Viktor,” she scoffed. “Not even a day ago he stated how much I disgust him with Zaunian food in fridge. He works all the time. We sleep in separate rooms. He…” Renly inhaled, exasperated by this accusation. It’s ridiculous, how insecure John was to even suggest that.

“He is a friend. And that’s all. I assure you he is not interested in me.” She had a dead serious certainty about this. If something was fixed in this universe, it was the fact that Viktor wasn’t interested in her. And she didn’t think of him that way either. Except the one time she let her mind wander, and she did. Which was a lie, because she thought that at least twice.

Once, when they met for the first time. She already knew Jayce, who made her gasp the first time she saw him. The impression passed, but friendship remained. Jayce and Viktor, freshly acquainted, were passing her classroom when a quake shook The Uppercity. It caused one of her test tubes to fall into the vial she was working on, breaking and triggering a teeny-tiny exoenergic reaction (it exploded). The hero within Jayce’s body drove him straight in to help any casualties, of which the only one was Renly, face full of colourful goo. From the floor, she glanced at Viktor walking in shortly after his partner, and she gasped, even more than when she had met Jayce. She immediately knew it was wrong to look for so long. Her suspicion was confirmed when Viktor’s expression shifted from amusement to the realization that his brief chance to present himself as more than the guy with a cane had passed. From that point forward, he was very formal with her, though he occasionally joked about history repeating itself within the academy walls.

It was a lie though, as well. She first saw Viktor by the riverbank in Zaun, as a child. She had been maybe seven, and he could have been slightly older. Her eyes, round and curious, followed him trying to chase down his mechanical ship taken by the stream. She tried to shadow him that day, but he disappeared in the mouth of a cave she was afraid to walk into. He had a smaller cane then and she thought him a magician. So, she only lingered in disbelief that their paths crossed once more and that he was, indeed, real. And also, in awe of how beautifully he has grown up. But overall, Renly counted it as a one time.

Second time, after she decided to stay at university to continue her research and teach students, they were copying the notes together and Jayce was growing more and more bored, so he kept trying to start random topics.

"I wonder if all of them are as pretty as Mel,” he said, trying to trace down beautiful Mel Medarda’s heritage while fishing for reassurance from his friends about their imminent romance.

“But maybe it’s not a rule. I mean, looking at the both of you I would say the rule for Zaun is to be full of attractive people as well,” Jayce was waffling on, and Renly grew tired of it.

“And ugly people. And short people. And tall people. And fat people, and skinny people, Jayce. It’s all just people, like in Piltover, there is no rule to here or Zaun. Initially, it’s the same city, and we all come from different places,” she said harshly not lifting her sight from the notes she was copying.

“Oh relax, it was a compliment! And I am looking for reassurance from you guys, yes,” he traced his finger down the blackboard, wiping some of the old equations away.

“Not very progressive of you, the Man of Progress. I can give you reassurance – Mel seems fine. You will be fine. You are a big boy, Jayce. But I do not need compliments, not because I’m from The Undercity, nor because I’m a woman,” Renly’s dead stare made Jayce look for help from Viktor. She gave him a pass and went back to scribbling.

“Vik, any help?”

“I’m afraid with this one I have to place myself in Renly’s corner. Even though of the two of us, I probably am the one that needs compliments,” Viktor also didn’t glance up from above his paperwork.

“No, you don’t,” Renly didn’t notice she now got the attention of both of her friends.

“You are, yourself, quite…” her mind was absent at this moment, so it was probably the other part of her that spoke the rest “…dreamy.” A second past, in which her brain caught up with her mouth and a deep shade of red bled into her cheeks and chest. She cleared her throat, stood up quickly and threw barely audible excuse me leaving the boys to exchange their looks and make their fun of her. Jayce snorted when Renly was out of hearing range and Viktor only mouthed a what was that? That was the second time, infinitely more mortifying than the first one.

“You put a lot of effort into assuring me of this, but you never once said if you are not interested in him. From where I’m standing, you are definitely not interested in me,” John’s voice broke her out of reminiscing.

Renly’s face went into stupid mode, twisting her features with disbelief. How dare he.

“Are you really saying what I’m hearing? Are you accusing me of infidelity based on your own insecurity? Have I truly given you any reason to believe I’m involved with anyone else but you? When do you think I would have time for that? Or do you actually not listen to me when I tell you about what I’m doing here and how much of my time and energy it consumes?” John’s expression grew more and more panicked as he saw how far he has overstepped.

“This is not… I didn’t…”

“What you didn’t do is think. You are the one who is not interested in me, John. You listen to me, but you do not register, nor remember anything I tell you. What do you want from me? Should I drop everything I’m doing just to dangle from your shoulder at the parties? Should I change the way I speak? Should I cut all my friends and relatives loose because they are from The Undercity? Would that make you feel secure enough?” she spat at him, becoming more and more angry with every sentence, self-winding regret fuelling her.

“Gods, this is not what I want, and you know it,” John brought his hand to the back of his neck, his voice gentler this time. “I just don’t feel like you want me around, is all,” he whispered, his words making Renly’s shoulders drop and her chest sink.

His fingers tapped an idle rhythm on the table, his eyes darting toward the adjoining lab room. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him stealing glances at her colleagues’ workspaces, but she had always dismissed it as idle curiosity or stupid jealousy, first over Jayce, then over Viktor. Now, though, every stolen glance felt like a clue she should have picked up on sooner.

“I do,” she hesitated. “I did. I invited you to meet my people, come to my home, my work, my bed,” at which point, in the other room, Viktor—who was doing his absolute worst not to listen—squeezed a piece of chalk a little too hard, causing half of it to disintegrate into dust with a loud, whiny, bone-chilling sound that gave him goosebumps at the back of his neck. So, they slept together, great. Just great. It didn’t bother him at all, and yet… it bothered him greatly for some reason. Probably just because she will be a nightmare to be around for the next week or so.

Ridiculous, Viktor thought, though the word didn’t carry the weight he wanted it to. What did it matter who she invited into her bed? It certainly wasn’t his concern. The tightening in his chest wasn’t jealousy—it couldn’t be. No, it was irritation, that’s all. Irritation because she was so impulsive, so reckless, letting herself be distracted by someone so undeserving of her attention.

Why did it bother him? It wasn’t the first time she’d been entangled in some personal drama, and usually, he had the patience to tune it out. Yet here he was, bristling at every raised word, every pointed jab from John. It wasn’t his place to care. He had told himself years ago that people like Renly—bright, chaotic, and distractingly beautiful—were nothing but a complication. And yet, he found himself gripping his cane tighter every time John’s voice rose.

“Just realistically, I don’t think this is what you want. So, the obvious choice would be to put a pin in it until we both decide what we want,” her voice faltered. Breaking things off with John hadn’t been part of her plans for the day, and she could never have been emotionally prepared for this—especially not before breakfast. She wasn’t really breaking things off with him, either. Maybe a short, temporary break would do them good, cool things off. She fidgeted with her fingers under the table, becoming increasingly self-conscious about how much of the conversation Viktor had overheard.

“Really? So now it’s about me not respecting your Zaunian heritage, instead of you blowing me off at every opportunity?” at this point John knew that guilting her into giving it one more shot was probably his only chance. His father really wanted those hextech blueprints, and he would be very disappointed if John didn’t manage to get them. “Look, I don’t mind if we hang out here at all. But truth be told, you don’t really invite me here very often,” John said, his voice softer now, but there was an edge beneath it, like a scalpel disguised as a pen.

He had a way of twisting her words, making her feel like the selfish one for not prioritizing him more. It was a skill he wielded well, and for a moment, it almost worked. But the memory of all those little disappointments—the times he had brushed off her work as "just another experiment" or barely listened when she explained her progress—bubbled up like a pressure valve ready to burst. He did actually like her. She was his type – pretty, quirky, talented and driven. She could be a bit more elegant, but that would be polished with time. “We could make a schedule, meet here when nobody is around? Maybe you could even show me some hextech, hm?” with this, he knew he probably pushed a little bit too far, as her expression grew weary.

There it was again, that same calculated curiosity masked as casual conversation. At first, she had chalked it up to natural interest—what Piltover scholar wouldn’t want to know more about hextech? But now, with his eyes lingering too long on the blueprints and his questions steering the conversation in predictable directions, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about more than idle fascination.

“I… you know I don’t work with hextech,” she shook her head while her brain was glueing the pieces together. “Why would you…,” and it hit her gently, prompted by the guilt painting her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend’s face. Unbelievable. When she thought about it longer, he did usually snoop around innocently while waiting for her to wrap up work. He would wander between the lab rooms, seemingly just killing time, but she saw him linger on the blueprints more than once. When she told him about her experiments, he always drove the discussion towards Viktor and Jayce’s work. How are they doing? So does this hextech actually work? And what do they want to use it for again? And he tried to pin it on her sleeping with Viktor. The audacity.

Renly wanted to believe the relationship had been real, that it hadn’t just been about her work or her connections. But as she stared at him now—his charming smile just a little too polished, his words just a little too well-placed—she realized how many times she had ignored her instincts. How often she had pushed aside the nagging thought that he didn’t see her, not really. Just the parts of her that were useful.

“So… you come here and make a scene about the note that you seemingly wrote for me and that I didn’t get. You accuse me of cheating on you with my colleague,” at which point Viktor scoffed to himself in the other room. The idea of Renly and him being a thing was laughable. She was too stubborn, too unpredictable, too... distracting. And yet, John’s misplaced jealousy had struck an uncomfortable chord. Absurd, Viktor reassured himself. If anything, she deserves better than someone like me. She deserves better than both of us.

“You propose a solution – let’s hang out here,” Renly exhaled, and her eyes rested on her hands with the realization of being used all this time hitting her hard. She didn’t think she cared that much. Frankly, having a normal secure relationship also with someone normal and secure was a hope she didn’t dare to entertain very often. It was mostly work and friends for her. So, when John came along, she just let it happen, as maybe, she thought, it was a good thing happening to her. Realizing there was no love in it, left her feeling numb.

In the other room, Viktor stopped pretending to work and simply sat on a stool, his hands and chin resting on his cane. That was new territory, a kind of danger they hadn’t anticipated. Also, he did feel angry for Renly – annoying as she was, she really didn’t deserve this. He wondered if he should intervene and kick John out, but the act would have to be based on his authority, which as a fellow Zaunian in John’s eyes he had none. Any show of force would need to be purely verbal—calculated and precise enough to leave the boy speechless and make him back down without a fight. While he was negotiating the terms of this heroic act with himself, he heard Renly’s voice echoing across the corridors: “I think it’s best you go.”

“Can we talk this through?” one last desperate attempt on John’s side as he covered Renly’s palm with his. She slid her hand from underneath his, threw a quick no over her shoulder and stepped through a heavy metal door that separated living area form the laboratory. She locked it behind her with a loud crank and immediately sank to hug her knees. Well, shit. This wasn’t part of her plan for today. And she didn’t want to cry in front of Viktor. If Jayce was here, he’d make it better, but he was with the beautiful Mel Medarda having breakfast in her quarters, which was a secret. Viktor would make fun of her—or worse, he’d get cross for endangering their life’s work. On one side of the door, her mean ex-boyfriend, on the other her mean niggling friend. She could just stay here.

“Do you need help getting up?” Viktor’s voice made her gasp and release the tears that were gathering under her eyelids, now streaming down her cheeks. And just to be clear, they were angry tears, not sad pathetic tears.

“Maybe,” Renly said, wiping her face with a sleeve, unable to bring herself to look him in the eye. She accepted his offered hand, which was about to pull her up. Unfortunately, the sudden movement sent a cramp shooting down Viktor’s calf, leaving Renly standing while he folded in half.

“Oh shit, Viktor I’m sorry, let me grab a stool!”

“Ah, no need. It’s fine. Just a cramp, it’ll stretch,” he panted, sliding down the corridor wall. She crouched down by him, question in her eyes about what to do.

“Well, where is it? I can… rub it out?” she heard herself saying and a darker shade of pink flushed her already enflamed cheeks. Viktor noticed. Her hands were faster than her brain this time and she already had his calf in her grasp, looking for the knot.

The warmth of her hands startled him, a flicker of something unwanted creeping into his thoughts. He shut it down immediately. She’s just helping. Don’t make it into something it isn’t. But the gentleness of her touch lingered longer than it should have, and when she looked up at him, her face flushed with concentration, he had to look away. Focus, Viktor. This means nothing.

“How did you get this so bad, Viktor?” she gasped at the state of her friend’s muscle, contracted like a rusty hinge. Her eyes full of concern, and some guilt. She made him uncomfortable in his own lab, because of some stupid drama. Stupid, yet it tore a hole in her heart.

Viktor remembered this look. He remembered the way she had looked at him back when they first met—not the awestruck gaze she reserved for Jayce, but something deeper, sharper. It had unnerved him. People always noticed the cane first; it was a fact he had come to accept. But she had looked past it—no, she had lingered on it, and he wasn’t sure whether it was curiosity, pity, or something else entirely. It didn’t matter now. He had decided long ago to keep her at a polite distance.

“Too much sitting down, ah!” he gasped when more pressure was applied “I tried to work through your… quarrel,” Viktor’s voice grew breathier, his eyebrows pinching together. Absent-mindedly, he placed his right hand on Renly’s shoulder and closed his eyes, letting his body relax into her touch. She was very careful, almost… affectionate.

“I guess this would fuel John’s theory,” he chuckled slightly, forgetting himself. Did he just admit that something was possible? Renly was too focused on getting rid of the knot to notice the awkward grunt following this sentence, and without much thought to it she said, “don’t be ridiculous.”

Something sunk in Victor’s chest hearing that. Of course, it was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. All of it. He was about to figure out how to run away, take his leg with him and tell her this is good enough, when she continued.

“I mean, we are not responsible for someone’s insecurities. I refuse to be. Also, as I presume you heard all of it, you will know that it was all a play,” she put so much attention into rubbing Viktor’s calf that the words just went out of her mouth. “Just to get his hands on hextech. So, I’m guessing this accusation was also fabricated to guilt me. Or he was obsessed with you. Which I understand… gotcha!” she exclaimed as the muscle relaxed under her fingers, and Viktor gave an involuntary moan, making both of them flush slightly.

The tension in his calf eased, but his chest felt impossibly tight. He was about to thank her—briefly, formally—when the look on her face stopped him. She was glowing, not with the self-satisfaction he often associated with Jayce, but with genuine care. It was infuriating. No, not infuriating—irrelevant. Why do you even notice these things? he scolded himself, rising awkwardly to his feet and turning away before the warmth in her eyes could undo him further.

“Forgive me, I… thank you,” was all he was able to say.

“That’s… it’s nothing, no worries.”

“I believe you know this, but in case you don’t—he’s a donkey, and you’re brilliant, yes?” Viktor tossed over his shoulder. “Ah, I’m not… thank you,” she said, standing in the corridor, confused, her face burning. What was that?

#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 #what was that

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littleredwing89 · 3 months ago

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FAMOUS [PART THREE]

Bodyguard!Jason Todd x Singer!Reader

Summary: There was something about the way the dim light softened his features, made his usual tough-guy exterior seem more approachable.

Warnings: None really. Building tension between you & Jason.

A/N: So here is a very-very-VERY long overdue part 3 - Wooo!! 💛💛 if it makes you all feel better - I have completely written this story (40k words approx) so I’ll just post 1 or 2 chapters a week for you. I’m sorry this took so long my loves 😘😘 - sending all my love & please enjoy the next chapter - I really hope it was worth the wait.

Elle xoxo ❤️❤️❤️

———

HARDER THAN NECESSARY

———

***

The apartment was eerily quiet, the soft hum of the city beyond the window the only sound filling the space. You tiptoed across the hardwood floors, your oversized college sweater hanging loosely on your frame, hoping to make it to the door without disturbing the brick wall of a man currently asleep down the hall.

Just as your fingers brushed the doorknob, a loud click echoed through the room.

“Freeze,” Jason’s deep, gravelly voice commanded, his gun trained on you in an instant. His eyes were sharp, scanning you for a threat before recognition dawned on his face.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, raising your hands slowly. “Slow down, cowboy.”

Jason cursed under his breath, quickly holstering the gun. “Shit. Why are you sneaking around your own house?”

“Because!” you snapped, not wanting to admit why you were really sneaking out. The idea of telling him you were trying to repay him for the burger and chips he got you last week was… embarrassing, to say the least. “I am… I just…”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Why are you dressed sketchy?”

“It’s comfy, sue me,” you huffed, tugging at the hem of the oversized sweater.

“Don’t tempt me,” Jason muttered, crossing his arms and planting himself between you and the door like the human wall he was.

“Look, just go back to bed,” you sighed, trying to push past him. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

But Jason didn’t budge. “You’re not going out.”

“Yes, I am,” you shot back, frustration bubbling up. “Alone.”

Jason’s expression darkened, his body language shifting from casual to protective in an instant. “No—I’m going with you. Let me just get a jacket.” He reached for his brown leather jacket draped over the kitchen barstool.

“No!!” you blurted, panic rising in your chest. You hadn’t planned for him to come along. “I’ll be fine! I do this all the time on my own! I really don’t need an escort.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed as he grumbled, “This is why Mr. Sionis hired me. You can’t do this shit alone anymore—it isn’t safe.”

“Roman’s an overprotective idiot,” you muttered, arms crossed over your chest. “He doesn’t know the half of what I do.”

Jason sighed, clearly losing patience. “We either go together, or you don’t go at all.”

You looked down at the floor, knowing you were defeated. All you wanted was to repay Jason’s kindness from before, but now it felt like the universe was against you. Keeping your emotions in check, you let out a long breath. “I’m not used to this…” you muttered.

Jason softened just a little, sensing your frustration. “Let me go with you. I’ll pay. If we pretend it’s a date, people are less likely to even recognise you.”

Your face flushed pink at his suggestion. “What?!”

Jason fumbled, his own face heating up. “Just—just pretend! Look, I’m here to stay, okay? Mr. Sionis wants you safe, so we should probably get to know each other better. I mean, I am living in your box room down the hall.”

You shot him a look. “It’s not a box room—I gave you a room with a nice view of Gotham.”

Jason smirked, clearly amused. “You’re deflecting.”

With a dramatic sigh, you threw your hands up. “Fine. But I’m driving.”

Jason tossed you his keys, surprising you. “Don’t scratch it. I just got it fixed up.”

You smirked, twirling the keys in your hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt your baby.”

Jason’s face flushed slightly as he looked away. “You better not, or you’ll be paying for her next paint job.”

You grinned mischievously. “Her? Does she have a name, tough guy?”.

Jason ignored your teasing, shrugging on his jacket. “Come on—I thought you were hungry.”

Stifling a laugh, you headed out the door, calling back over your shoulder, “Yes, sir.”

Jason bit back the smile threatening to spread across his face, trying to ignore the way that “sir” made his stomach twist in a way it definitely shouldn’t.

——

The diner was quiet, the low hum of neon lights flickering above as you and Jason sat across from each other in one of the old booths. When the food arrived, Jason reached for his wallet, but before he could pull it out, you quickly slipped your card over the machine with a smug smile.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Jason grumbled, clearly caught off guard.

“I know,” you replied, giving him a teasing smile. “But it’s nice to repay the favor, y’know?”

Jason gave you a rare, small smile. “Thanks.”

You nodded, a little flutter of satisfaction warming your chest. “However, if I’d known that, I would’ve ordered more,” Jason teased, leaning back in his seat.

You rolled your eyes, playfully scoffing. “Jerk.”

“Eh, sue me.”

You tried to focus on your food, but your eyes kept drifting back to Jason as he casually leaned back in his leather jacket, looking more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. There was something about the way the dim light softened his features, made his usual tough-guy exterior seem more approachable.

Jason noticed you staring and raised an eyebrow. “What? Is there something on my face?” He wiped at his chin, checking for stray ketchup.

Flushing red, you shook your head quickly. “No! No… sorry, I just zoned out. I was thinking about a new song I’m working on.”

Jason smiled, the edges of his lips tugging upward. “Yeah, I heard some of it last night. Or, well, early this morning.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh shit, sorry—I didn’t realise the noise carried that far down the hall.”

Jason shrugged, his smile still lingering. “It’s not a complaint. It sounded great.”

You were about to say something in return, something sweet and appreciative, but Jason—being Jason—slurped his drink loudly through the straw, completely killing the mood. You furrowed your brow, muttering, “Mood kill.”

Jason looked at you, confused. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said with a sigh, glancing at the clock. “We should probably head back.”

——

The drive back to the apartment was quieter than usual, but not uncomfortable. Jason had his elbow resting on the car door, his other hand draped casually on his thigh, looking out at the city lights. You glanced at him every now and then, trying to shake the lingering thoughts of how natural it felt having him beside you.

As you stopped at a red light, you couldn’t help but ask, “So, you really heard me working on the song last night?”

Jason nodded, glancing over at you. “Yeah. You’re good. Like… really good. You’re not just some pretty face in a band.”

You felt your face heat up. “Thanks, but you don’t have to say that just because you’re protecting me.”

“I’m not,” he said, his tone more serious than you expected. “I mean it. You’ve got talent. Don’t let Roman’s overprotectiveness make you forget that.”

The compliment caught you off guard. Jason wasn’t the type to throw praise around carelessly, and hearing it from him made it feel different. More genuine. You smiled, turning back to the road as the light turned green. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Jason shifted slightly, as if uncomfortable with the sentimentality. “Yeah, well… don’t get used to it. I’ve got a tough reputation to keep.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound filling the car. “Sure, big guy. I’ll keep your secret.”

The rest of the drive passed quickly, and soon enough, you were pulling into the underground parking lot of your building. You killed the engine and sat there for a moment, neither of you moving to get out.

Jason was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat. “You really didn’t need to sneak out earlier, y’know. I get that you like your independence, but… I’m here to help. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

Your hand hesitated on the car door handle, his words sinking in. He wasn’t just talking about tonight. He was talking about more than that—about your habit of handling things solo, even when it wasn’t safe. You bit your lip, looking down at your hands. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the help… It’s just hard to adjust to having someone around all the time. I’m used to taking care of myself.”

Jason watched you carefully, his voice softer than before. “I get it. But you don’t have to anymore. Not with me.”

You glanced over at him, meeting his steady gaze. The sincerity in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. It was as if he wasn’t just saying it because it was his job—he meant it, and that scared you a little.

“Thanks, Jason,” you said quietly, feeling the weight of his words.

He gave a small nod, reaching for the door handle. “Come on, let’s get inside before Roman tracks us down.”

As you both stepped out of the car and made your way toward the elevator, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you. It wasn’t just the professional relationship anymore. It was different…in a good way.

When you reached your apartment, you turned to face Jason before unlocking the door. “Hey,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks for tonight… and for everything.”

Jason gave you a half-smile, his eyes softening just slightly. “Anytime, princess.”

***

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #red hood fanfiction #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader series #jason todd fluff #jason todd reader smut #red hood x reader series #bodyguard!jason todd x reader #bodyguard!jason todd x singer!reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader insert #red hood x reader smut #red hood x you

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vettelsvee · 7 months ago

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GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 2: LOVING HIM WAS RED [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

ferrari sebastian vettel x ex gf!female reader

word count: 3972

summary: seb, after not knowing about her for almost five years, finds out that y/n just went viral on youtube after posting a song that might be written about him

warnings: settled on april 2018 and narrated on seb's pov. curse words, mentions of sex and one night stands. apart from that, just a little bit of background story from seb and reader's relationship

taglist: [@saltycomicsanimalssalad @hc-dutch @mycenterfold @simplyamberj @spitesfvl-blog @jaydaaasworld @lottalove4evelyn @zoeyjadetice2010 @nhfls @jehun @ferralari @cosmoscoffeee @mcmuppet @myescapefromthislife ]

a/n: i know i'm supposed to be posting oscar fics but migraine is killing me today (been quite stressed for the past few days i believe). in the meantime, as i already had it written, here you have part 2 of goodbyes are bittersweet! hope you liked it as much as you liked part 1 (even if it's a bit different). part 3 coming tomorrow if you want so? PLEASE let me know your thoughts and opinions in comments! feedback is appreciated, as well as reblogs <3

2018 April 27th Baku, Azerbaijan

Sebastian

I woke up as soon as I felt the sun’s rays hitting me in the face, and at the same moment I noticed a surprisingly strange warmth next to me, in bed.

I looked at my phone and saw that it was already half-past seven in the morning. Not only had I realized that my alarm hadn’t gone off and I had overslept by an hour and a half, but it was also Y/N’s birthday.

Like every year, there was no response from her to the email I had scheduled to be sent at midnight.

After almost five years of knowing the bare minimum about her and having seen her a couple of times from afar in Heppenheim, I knew why, deep down, I kept doing it. I still loved her as much as the first day, or even more. I hoped for a reunion where we could tell each other about our lives and start a simple friendship as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t chosen to leave my life and act like she didn’t know me.

I decided to turn over to see what was getting closer and closer to me, almost pushing me off the bed. It wasn’t hard to find myself face to face with blue eyes that were not the green ones I had dreamed of that night.

Suddenly, memories from just a few hours ago started to form in my mind. A few beers I shouldn’t have had at a local pub just because I wanted to escape the blurry memory of Y/N were responsible for me meeting this charming young woman with a wonderful smile.

My head couldn’t piece together how we ended up here, but I suppose her insistence, my invitation for her to accompany me to the hotel, and possibly a taxi ride I paid for were the final results of the goal to escape reality.

This had been my routine since I realized my ex-girlfriend wasn’t coming back into my life. I didn’t like being this way, and although I had tried to find a stable partner, kindness, fun and a temporary refuge had been the best way to try to forget Y/N Y/L/N, who always found a way to slip into my thoughts at the least expected moment.

I quickly got out of bed and, almost without thinking and without needing to undress, jumped into the shower and did my best to let the warm water make me forget everything I had allowed to happen the night before. I closed my eyes and let myself go as much as I could. I tried to organize my thoughts and find the easiest possible way out of the problem I had gotten myself into, but it was impossible to find one that worked.

I got out of there faster than I would have liked. When I returned to the room, with just the towel wrapped around my waist, leaving my entire torso exposed, I found the person I had been avoiding at all costs.

The brunette was already stretching in bed, dawdling and, surely, not wanting to leave.

“Would you mind leaving?”

My rhetorical question made her just look at me in surprise, her eyes still sleepy.

“Why, Seb? Can’t we spend the day together? I could go with you to the paddock and repeat what we did last night in your room or whatever you call it,” she suggested with a playful smile. “You know as well as I do that it would be fun.”

I felt a knot forming in my stomach at her suggestion. It wasn’t that I hadn’t enjoyed her company or was forbidden to do so, but the simple fact of knowing who was turning thirty today, and that this exact proposal was something I used to do with her...

“I don’t think it’s a good idea...”

Damn, I didn’t remember her name.

“Alessia.”

“That’s it, Alessia,” I confirmed. “You know how these things are and what it could mean for us to be seen together. We could meet another day as... friends.”

Neither my response nor hers were what the other expected. After hearing her name, I remembered the brief introduction she gave me: a musician just starting out and a member of a highly successful Italian orchestra.

An Italian version of Y/N and, unfortunately for me and possibly the blonde, a successful one.

“The way you moaned my name last night so many times is not something friends usually do. You made me feel special last night. A lot, in fact.”

“I’m sorry, Alessia, that wasn’t what I meant,” I clarified, my cheeks blushing slightly at her statement. “I hope you enjoyed what we did last night, but it’s time for you to get dressed and go back to your hotel or wherever you’re staying. I have to go to work,” I added, trying not to succumb to her obvious charms.

After several more attempts to convince me, the girl finally resigned herself and reluctantly accepted my suggestion. I felt uncomfortable when she threw off the sheets and began to gather her clothes, completely naked. I felt even worse as I watched her slow and deliberate movements, as if she were prolonging the inevitable farewell and trying to arouse me.

I bit my lip and refrained from doing or saying anything when she asked for help zipping up her dress. I could have said no, but I didn’t want to seem rude, especially considering that the time I spent with her had made me feel just as I had with my ex-girlfriend.

Once we were finished, the Italian approached me with determination. Before I could react, her lips sought mine with clear intention. I instinctively turned my face, causing the kiss to land on my cheek instead of my lips.

“Alessia…”

What could I say in a situation like this? Did she deserve the hurt I was going to cause her even though we had only had a night of wild sex, like so many others I had had with other girls?

“I’m sorry,” she murmured hastily, looking away. “I thought… you know, that we could have something more than just a one-night stand.”

My heart sank at her words, and as I had already foreseen, because it always happened in these cases, guilt overwhelmed me.

I knew I had been unfair to her by allowing this to happen, by letting her believe there could be something more between us, and that the problem was hers when the only one to blame was me, who hadn’t gotten over the love of my life after four years, now closer to five, of no contact.

“Alessia, you’re an incredible person,” I began to say, trying to find the right words and not hurt her more, “but right now, all I want to focus on is my work and working on myself. It wouldn’t be fair for you to be part of all this and end up getting hurt.”

“I understand,” she said softly, nodding with a sadness that, although expected, still surprised me. “Thank you for letting me spend this night with you, Sebastian.”

I felt overwhelmed and at the same time a great mixture of relief and remorse as I watched her leave without even looking back.

When enough time had passed to be sure I wouldn’t run into her, I went down to the hotel lobby still feeling that heaviness invading me. I tried to shake off all of them, but as soon as I saw Britta standing in front of the entrance, arms crossed and with an angry look fixed on me, I knew it was going to be difficult.

“Sebastian, again?” she asked, full of frustration.

“Yes, and I’m not going to apologize for something I don’t regret,” I replied sincerely, knowing there was no way to avoid the upcoming conversation.

“Are you going to keep playing this game much longer?” she reproached as she quickened her pace, trying not to cause too much of a scene or draw attention. “You’ve gone longer than I’d like to say without settling down.”

“I will when I get tired of sleeping with girls I don’t know, I suppose. Having sex is good for health, you know? Be thankful I don’t cause you many problems after these nights.”

Britta sighed, and I knew my response was making her lose the little patience she had left.

“I know you didn’t ask for my opinion, but I think what would make you tired of sleeping with strangers almost every Grand Prix week would be to have some kind of interaction with Y/N.”

The mention of the blonde’s name made the wave of emotions I had tried to bury for years resurface, hitting me suddenly.

“You know I can’t do that. It’s impossible. I’ve tried, but she doesn’t want to cooperate.”

“You should at least try once again, at least. I know there’s nothing, nor anyone, who can change her mind,” and it was true. Y/N was the most stubborn person, for better or worse, that I had ever met in my life. “But I also know that if you keep avoiding facing your feelings and trying to forgive yourself for what happened, you’ll never find the peace you’re not only wishing for but also deserving of.”

“I know, Britta, but…”

“But what, Sebastian? It’s just that…”

“Have you ever heard of the invisible string theory?”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the change of subject and possibly for not letting her finish. She slowed her pace, and for the first time in the short time we had been together that day, I felt calm and even understood.

“Yes, I’ve heard something about that,” she said after a few seconds that felt eternal. “What does that have to do with getting over your ex-girlfriend?”

“Well, everything, really,” I declared. “Y/N and I dated, if you can even call it that, for ten days during Christmas of ’99. She was 11, and I was 12, and I was a bit stupid because I ended up breaking up with her when I fell for a classmate who had just moved to Heppenheim and who eventually started dating my cousin.”

“But…”

“Then Y/N and I became friends again,” I continued, trying not to let her interrupt my impromptu speech, “and it took six years until she told me she loved me. I didn’t want to admit my feelings and decided that not talking to her for four months was the best, not even to offer my condolences after her grandmother’s death… And look, in the end, I asked her to go out with me!”

My PR sighed, possibly tired of hearing that story once again, a story I never got tired of telling because sometimes reality was weirder than fiction.

“I’m going to tell you what I’ve always told you since Y/N left, and I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it: you’re still clinging to the hope that everything will go back to how it was, even though you know it’s not possible,” she said without a hint of doubt. “Even if you ran into her and had a deep conversation, your lives have changed. At least yours has, and I’m sure hers has too.”

“I mentioned the invisible string theory because I feel like there’s something else. I feel, besides there being something unknown that ties us together for some reason, that the third time's the final one,” I finally confessed.

My confession seemed to have caught her off guard. Now, she slowed, and she was passing her accreditation to enter the paddock much more slowly than she usually did.

Maybe she was right, that I was holding on too tightly to the hope that everything would go back to how it was before, but I had been dreaming about Y/N again for many nights after months without doing so. It had never happened before, but the last few days had felt like she had never left my life and had always been there, just apart.

The last time I had that feeling it ended with me seeing her from a distance playing with a little girl she was probably babysitting to earn some extra money.

Obviously, I didn’t dare to approach her because she seemed... happy. Quite happy, actually.

“I’d like to keep talking about this, but I want you to stop thinking about Y/N, at least for a few hours, and focus on today,” my PR’s change in tone let me know she was serious. “We have a lot to do.”

“Then enlighten me, master.”

“First, you have a meeting with the team to discuss possible strategies for practice and what might work for tomorrow’s qualifying,” the blonde began to explain, taking out her planner and going over the day’s schedule. “Then I think you have an interview with SkySports with Nico Rosberg, and maybe a talk for a collaboration with a brand, but I have to check that again.”

“What time am I supposed to meet with the engineers?”

“Around nine-thirty, but...”

I yawned, not bothering to cover my mouth as my PR continued talking. The heaviness in my eyelids was getting worse, and I felt the exhaustion from the previous night starting to take its toll. I looked at my phone and saw that, unfortunately, it was only eight-fifteen.

Was the day going by that slowly?

“Understood,” I replied, pretending I had been paying attention to everything Britta had said. “By the way, do you mind if I go to my driver’s room to have some rest?”

“Sebastian...”

“I had a fantastic night,” I admitted, causing her to cross her arms and once again look at me with a stern expression, “but I didn’t sleep at all, and if I want to perform well, I need to sleep at least for a bit.”

“You have forty-five minutes at most,” the blonde snapped. “Don’t you dare be late, or we’ll have problems. Set your alarm and make sure your phone is on in case someone calls you.”

It won’t be Y/N, that’s for sure.

“I will, don’t worry.”

I left Britta after exchanging a few more words with her and hurried as much as I could. With every step I took, I felt more tired. I knew I should have slept at least six hours, but I succumbed to the temptation last night to, why not say it, have a good time and, as was more than obvious and had become routine since 2014, try to succeed in the mission of forgetting Y/N on her birthday.

Another year, it had been impossible.

I didn’t know if it was due to lack of sleep or lack of attention, but the voices around me seemed increasingly distant. The only thing I could hear as I walked through the pit lane was a growing murmur where the words “viral” and “song” seemed to be the main topics, especially from the mouths of Max, Daniel, and I’d swear Charles.

“Have you heard this song?” I heard Verstappen say. I stopped when the first piano chords began to play. “It’s like a pandemic; it’s everywhere.”

“I don’t know who the girl singing is, but she’s incredibly talented,” Ricciardo continued. “Do we know who...?”

“You don’t know if it’s a girl!” Leclerc reproached, hitting the Australian on the arm. “What if it’s a guy with a high voice?”

I laughed at the younger guys' antics, wondering if my former teammates saw me that way when I was their age.

Losing him was blue like i’d never known Missing him was dark gray all alone Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met Cos’ loving him was red

If my eyes were almost closing automatically, after hearing the chorus, or whatever it was called, it felt like I had taken an energy drink that had woken me up.

The moment that voice, both raspy and sweet at the same time, penetrated my ear, my hair stood on end. Its familiarity was incredible… but no, it couldn't be her. It was impossible.

"God damn, who can play the piano while singing?"

"I have two questions," Daniel blurted out, ignoring Charles' words. "The first one is who the fuck it could be, and the second is how the hell they've gotten so much attention out of nowhere."

It's Y/N, who else could it be, I thought.

I tried to control all kinds of thoughts that were running through my head. I knew my ex-girlfriend's voice perfectly, and the one coming from the Dutchman's phone was quite similar to hers.

"Maybe it's a marketing strategy. At least that's what Fernando thinks," Max always had the Spaniard's name in his mouth. "What if it's a marketing strategy by some record label? It could be a plan to generate interest in an artist or a song."

"I highly doubt it. If they wanted to do that, the YouTube account wouldn't be named 151206010614."

Lewis appeared next to me out of nowhere. Quickly taking off his headphones, he also unplugged them from his phone, letting the song play at full volume.

"Seb, are you okay?" insisted the Brit.

"Yes, yes. I was just a bit distracted," I hurried to say.

He didn't seem very satisfied with my answer, but I didn't care. The only thing I was thinking about at that moment was how much I wanted to get to the hospitality area, and how much I wanted to take a micro-nap at this point.

"Are you also distracted thinking about that anonymous person?"

"I can't be distracted by someone I know nothing about other than what I've heard from them," I replied, pointing to the three drivers who were still engrossed in the conversation about the topic.

"I've managed to hear a bit, yes," replied the dark-haired one. "I think I understand music a little more than they do. I'm almost sure it has nothing to do with a record label, and that someone simply uploaded it without any expectations. And look how it went from them."

I looked at him intrigued, understanding little to nothing of what he was saying.

"Since you look confused, I'll explain a bit," Hamilton continued, realizing that I didn't seem to understand much. "It seems they uploaded this song, which happens to be called Red, to YouTube," he hit play and put it on again, now from the beginning, "It seems to be about a failed relationship, but no one knows who sings it or what the real story behind it is."

"Does no one really know anything?" I insisted, finding the situation very strange.

Why was the voice only familiar to me? Could it be because today was Y/N's birthday, and everything reminded me of her much more than usual?

"The only thing we know is that the song is wonderful. Really, I don't know who’s behind this, but if they discover that girl, if it is a girl, and give her a chance, I’m almost sure she can achieve great things."

We decided to move a bit further down the pit lane, exchanging a few words with those we met. Lewis kept talking about the song. I couldn't stop thinking and analyzing the melody, the lyrics, the voice, and especially the user. I knew there was something hidden behind that combination of numbers, and now the priority of sleeping a bit before the first free practice session had taken a back seat.

I tried all possible combinations. Numbers from front to back, in pairs, trios, and even quartets, but nothing seemed to convince me. While the melody of Red continued to resonate from the Mercedes driver's iPhone, my mind kept trying to get the information because something inside me, which was nothing like the feeling I had every April 27th, knew it was Y/N.

I managed to come up with the supposed answer shortly after, recalling some of the important dates for us. If I divided the username into three different sections, with two pairs of numbers each, the first one corresponded to June 15th, 2006.

That was the day I asked Y/N to be my girlfriend.

If that was right, the second pair of numbers corresponded to January 12th, 2014. I was no longer dating Y/N at that time, but I knew her perfectly, and not to brag, but I was convinced that date must be extremely important to her if it was alongside our anniversary.

I wish I could know what it is that about.

“Are you listening to me?”

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go

But moving on from him is impossible

When I still see it all in my head

In burning red

I ignored Lewis after hearing, for the first time paying extremely attention, that bridge.

Somehow, the song described my feelings perfectly, and I didn’t know why I felt that way. I couldn’t let go of Y/N, not when she had been, and still was, the love of my life.

I entered WhatsApp almost automatically and went into Y/N's profile. She had no profile picture, but I knew perfectly well that it was her because her contact was still saved with the same name. I quickly wrote to her that I knew it was her hiding behind the song and that somehow, I knew she was talking about me.

I saw Britta approaching us quickly. She was also engrossed in her phone, her fingers constantly moving over it. I didn’t pay much attention to her because once I showed my desperation to Y/N, I moved on to conveying it to Hanna, trying to convince her to reveal that it was her best friend.

“Seb, we need to talk,” Roeske hurried to say, almost out of breath. Her gaze was still fixed on her device.

“Britta, I can’t right now, I’m sending…”

“Sebastian Vettel, this is serious.”

When she yanked the phone from my hands and I made eye contact with her, I assumed things didn’t seem to be going very well. The moment she turned her gaze to Lewis and he walked away, patting me on the shoulder, I knew.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, quite angry. “Why are you acting like a neurotic who seems to have lost a million euros on a ridiculous bet?”

“I don’t want you to answer anything related to that song that went viral, Red. I’m telling you, Sebastian, don’t you dare answer anything about that damn song.”

And again, this was another sign that happened to make me feel like I hadn’t gone crazy.

“Sebastian, trust me,” Britta remained firm in her expression, crossing her arms. “I don’t want you to get into trouble because the song was uploaded by…”

“Y/N.”

I saw the answer in her eyes. I knew her and knew she longed to answer me and at the same time, she didn’t.

Britta knew that, but I also had the feeling she seemed to want to hide something.

“It’s her the one singing, right?” I insisted, but she didn’t answer. “Britta, please: tell me.”

I was desperate, and it was more than obvious. A sigh and a few seconds filled with uncertainty preceded her response:

“If you already know, why do you ask me? You know the sunshine of your life, as you still call her, much better than I do. Of course it’s Y/N,” she revealed, lifting a great weight off my shoulders and, above all, making me believe I could have faith in the future.

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dumbseee · 2 years ago

Text

bro code. pt3.

part 1. part 2.

carlos sainz jr x reader.

fc: bruna marquezine.

note: sorry for the mistakes this might have, english isn’t my first language and this is the longest fic i’ve ever written :) btw this will be the last part.

liked by landonorris, y/n, charles_leclerc and 1 589 008 others.

carlossainz55: happy birthday to the person who owns my heart. you helped me experience true love, and for that i’ll forever be grateful. your heart is pure and you always want the best for people, i love every little detail about you, like the way you always count to three before jumping into the pool because you were afraid of it when you were younger, or the way you always kiss my forehead before every race because you say it’s my lucky charm. you are my lucky charm, mi cielito. i love you so much y/n, thank you for giving me the chance to show you how you deserved to be loved.

y/n: how dare you making me cry on my birthday carlos sainz :( i love you more <3

carlossainz55: @.y/n not possible, i’m bigger than you so i can hold more love for you.

fan1: I JUST FELL TO MY KNEES

fan2: WHEN IS IT MY DAMN TURN

fan3: god it’s me again…

fan4: im going to kms in front of them to change the trajectory of their lives istg

fan5: GOOOOOOSH CARLOS IS ABISDODLLD

landonorris: damn sainz, even i am tearing up

fan6: just get married already

fan7: after n*ymar, y/n deserved a man like that

liked by marquinhosm5, carolcabrino, neymarpai_ and 3 788 082 others.

neymarjr: my heart is empty without you, you’ve blocked me so i can’t wish you a happy birthday privately but please y/n come back to me. you succeeded, that stunt you pulled with that random driver hurt me, you can stop now. i know that you miss me and want to comeback so please y/n be reasonable. i made a huge mistake and i’ll never forgive myself for what i did to us.

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your day went terribly, it was your birthday and you were excited for it but your day was completely ruined with neymar’s post. because of course, you saw it the second he posted it. your agent called you, panicked and told you to avoid social media, but it was too late. you were home when you saw it and had a huge panic attack. you didn’t tell carlos and you prayed that he didn’t see the post which was very unlikely since neymar mentioned him. you were more mad at the fact that he disrespected carlos because he didn’t deserve it. even if your relationship was fake to the world, carlos was nothing but a sweetheart to you. you even hoped that the moments you shared with him were true.

carlos texted you to come at his house to have a small party with some friends but you almost had a heart attack when you entered the house and saw all those people screaming "happy birthday!" filming you to have your reaction. carlos had a very different definition of « small party ». you saw him walk towards you with a huge smile, he was breathtaking, wearing nude pants and a blue shirt, letting the top buttons open, showing a bit of his torso. you were completely mesmerised by him, that was the effect carlos had on you.

"surprise cielito." he said after kissing your cheek, he wrapped his arm around your waist and gave you a hug. you melted in his touch and smiled at him. "you didn’t need to do all that, carlos." you said. "nonsense, it’s your birthday after all." you smiled at him and kissed his cheek before some friends of yours came to greet you and wish you a happy birthday. carlos’ purpose was to make your birthday special, especially with what happened earlier with your ex. he knew how this whole situation affected you deeply, even if you tried to hide it from him, carlos saw right through you. he could tell if you were upset just by looking at your face.

"umm, carlos?" lando’s voice took him out of his thoughts, he looked at his friend but frowned when he saw the look on his face. "look who showed up." lando whispered as if the whole room didn’t see who came uninvited. you gotta be kidding me. carlos turned around to see where you were and his heart tightened when he saw the look on your face, pure sadness. anger took over him immediately, that son of a bitch made you sad on your special day. carlos wasn’t going to let that slide. the spaniard quickly made his way to neymar who was asking people about where you were. the driver roughly turned the brazilian around so he could face him. neymar was about to say something to the person who just interrupted him but he only rolled his eyes when he saw carlos.

"what do you want sainz? where is my girl?" he asked, looking over carlos’ shoulder. neymar looked very drunk. carlos could feel anger buildup inside of him. how dare he? "you’re in my house so, i’ll ask you once and once only, leave before i make you leave." carlos said through gritted teeth. neymar scoffed before taking a step closer to the spaniard, being almost forehead against forehead. "are you threatening me, hijo da puta?" carlos was about to respond when charles and lando quickly appeared to separate the two of them. "okay, it’s enough now boys." charles said trying to lighten the mood. "move! i’m not done with him!" neymar pushed charles away which made carlos even more mad. "listen here, little boy. first you steal my woman and then you disrespect me in front of all these people. you think i’ll let that slide, coño?" the brazilian added while pushing carlos with his finger. at this point there was nothing charles or lando could do to stop them. "let me clarify one thing, junior, she was never yours to begin with. and trust that now that she has tasted true love, she’s never leaving." carlos said with a smile, which made neymar go crazy. the footballer grabbed carlos’ collar. "you made her cry for weeks, you destroyed her completely, and now you dare to show your face and claiming her as your woman? how dare you call yourself a man and make the woman you’re supposed to love and cherish, cry?" the spaniard said before getting closer to neymar’s ear. "if you dare to even whisper her name in your sleep, i’ll come for you, neymar da silva santos junior."

neymar finally let go of carlos before leaving quickly. the driver was now concerned about where you were hiding. as he was looking at the crowd of people, who were still talking about what just happened, lando approached his friend. "she’s with luisa and charlotte, they’re on the balcony." carlos nodded before patting his friend’s shoulder as a thank you. he quickly made it to his balcony where the girls were talking, luisa noticed him and patted charlotte’s shoulder to tell her that they needed to go. carlos sent them a thankful smile before walking towards you. your back was facing him and you were too lost in your thoughts to even notice his presence. he gently hugged you from behind which made you jump before you recognised his fragrance. "carlos." you simply said. "yes, cielito, are you okay?" he asked, resting his chin on your shoulder. you sighed before looking up at the moon, shining on the both of you. "i guess? is he gone?" you asked with a small voice, feeling the tears threatening to fall again. "yes, for real this time." you frowned before turning around to face carlos.

you were still extremely close as his hands were on your waist and your hands on his chest. he looked ethereal under the moonlight. "carlos, what am i to you?" you finally asked the question you were scared to even ask yourself. carlos smiled before moving his face closer to you. "you’re the love of my life." and then he kissed your lips. he kissed you like you’ve always dreamed to be kissed. with love, respect and passion. carlos was the first one to break the kiss, he looked at you and replaced a wild strand of hair behind your ear. "none of this was fake to me, every word, every attention, everything was real to me."

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, charlottesiine and 1 789 007 others.

y/n: thank you everyone for all the birthdays wishes! and thanks to my amazing boyfriend for throwing this party for me. i love you to the moon and back, handsome and i thank god everyday for giving me the chance to be your girlfriend.

comments have been disabled.

taglist: @mjaudrey @champomiel @lorarri @watersquirtpewpewboomm @ndunad @shrimpyshrimp @gaviypedrisbride @little-angel-07 @ironmaiden1313 @leclerc16s @xjval @elijahslover @hearts4esmee @love4lando

thanks for the support 🤍🥹

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egcdeath · 6 months ago

Text

out in the open

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: your wedding night doesn’t go as smoothly as you expect it to. succession au - tomshiv adjacent (previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3)

word count: 8.8k

warnings: failmarriage, fluff in the beginning, cheating, angst, jealousy, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol and smoking, suggestive content, insecurity, patrick is kinda the worst in this. he does get better though.

author’s note: full disclaimer things are pretty angsty and they only get angstier from here. cheating is a major plot point from this point forward. there will be a few happier moments but it’s mostly bad vibes and tension from this point on.

i say this with every fic i post in this universe but i truly could not have written this without the help of my succession anon!! weddingnightgate (WNG) is such a big moment in this au and they really helped me get my thoughts in order and helped me world build. i hope you all enjoy the upcoming pain!

When you were young, you always dreamed about your wedding. You fantasized about a huge venue somewhere halfway around the world that would easily fit all of your closest friends and family members and of celebrity guests who would give you well wishes for the marriage and smiled at you in spite of their envy at your beautiful event. You imagined a gorgeous, intricate dress with a train so long that you’d need assistance going down the aisle, a cake the size of your tallest guest, and a groom who was as handsome as he was loving, pressing the promise of True Love’s Kiss onto your lips after he read you his vows.

Maybe your enthusiasm for weddings was fueled by a few too many movies where the princess found her prince charming and lived happily ever after with him, but you still fell in love with the idea of love, and the thought that a wedding should be as beautiful as the love itself was.

You would never forget the first wedding you attended, despite being so young that you shouldn’t have really recalled it. You somehow managed to worm your way into being the flower girl at your aunt’s wedding, skipping excitedly down the aisle of the beachside venue, tossing flowers with reckless abandon. As you watched the rest of the ceremony from the safety of your mother’s hip, you couldn’t help but to imagine yourself being the one to walk down the aisle someday.

Much like your first wedding memory, you also couldn’t forget the first time you learned about divorce. Though you were young, the memory of your best friend crying next to you during recess as she sobbed out the news that her parents were splitting forever stuck out in your mind. You’d been fed the idea that love was strong and everlasting for so long, that the very notion that there were some things that love couldn’t withstand rocked you to your core.

From that point on, you became more grounded in your approach to love. Love was rarely a fairytale, and it was naive for you to assume that your future wedding would be one either.

As the years went by, you grew more realistic about your expectations for the future. You found a boyfriend who you dated throughout the latter half of your undergraduate years and through your time in business school, and fully expected to settle down with him—though you knew you’d be settling in the most literal sense. While he was a stable figure in your life, he was boring, and his aspirations in life for both you and himself didn’t align at all with what you saw yourself doing. He wanted a wife, and you wanted to make a name for yourself doing the work that was meaningful to you.

When he got down on one knee in front of you, you realized that you had two options in front of you: follow your own dreams or follow his.

Naivety be damned, you chose yourself and never looked back.

In your pursuit of making your non-love related aspirations come true, you abandoned all hope that your pipe-dream of a fantasy wedding would ever come to fruition. It occasionally felt like your hopes were incompatible—to be a successful businesswoman meant giving up all prospects of a romantic life. It seemed like everyone you encountered was put off by your lack of work-life balance, or wanted to hunt you for sport and turn you into a trophy wife.

You’d practically given up all hope by the time you met Patrick, fully expecting to be able to use him for a brief fling and a connection to get into his family’s company. What you weren’t expecting was to find someone whose company you genuinely enjoyed, who understood you on a level you hadn’t experienced with anyone else, and a love that occasionally left you wondering if you were a protagonist in the movies you loved watching as a girl.

If someone told you that years after meeting Patrick, that one day you would be gazing into his eyes with tears in yours as you listened to his vows, or telling him that you do take him to be your husband, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘till death did you two part.

Your wedding ceremony felt straight out of your girlish dreams, with Patrick’s beautiful family castle serving as the venue, paparazzi-worthy guests, a dress that felt like a direct product of your wildest imagination, and a groom that seemed to be as close to a prince charming as reality could get.

You were on cloud nine throughout the ceremony, basking in every single moment. You felt like you were floating by the time you got to the reception, your brain in the clouds as you and your now-husband cut your massive cake and gave toasts.

It was all a blur in the best way possible, your elation making what you thought might be an embarrassing moment of a first dance exciting, and the subsequent socializing with guests substantially more bearable.

What was slightly less bearable was the speed at which you were separated from your husband, the two of you occasionally catching the others eye from across the room, but otherwise being separated from surprisingly demanding guests who wanted to wish you luck on your marriage or excitedly share how amazing they found the ceremony to be.

Occasionally, you were able to squeeze in a brief moment with your spouse, bringing him a flute of champagne and momentarily pulling him away from an exceptionally chatty shareholder, but you seemed to be frequently whisked away from each other.

After what felt like a lifetime apart from each other, you felt the familiar, comforting warmth of Patrick’s hand on your lower back as he approached you from behind. When he announced to the extended family members standing across from you that he needed a moment alone with you, you almost leapt with joy. Nothing seemed more appealing than a private conversation with him after a long night of socializing with friends and colleagues.

It almost felt ironic that during an event that should’ve been focused on the two of you as a pair, you were separated and kept apart by people with business pitches and opposing interests, excited to hop onto whatever opportunity your union might bring them.

Patrick took you by surprise as he led you up the stairs and to your bedroom. It seemed a little early to begin your wedding night festivities, but if he was really that enthusiastic about it, you were certain that you could share some of his excitement.

“Thanks for getting us out of there,” you commented as you shut the door behind you. “So much for not talking about work at the wedding. I guess it’s too much to ask for one day to celebrate you being my husband before talking about the business again.”

You walked over to the vanity, preparing to touch up your makeup. You shot a glance over at your partner, who cautiously sat himself down on your bed, fidgeting with his hands as he did so. Not paying him any mind, you began to reapply your lipstick in the mirror and looked at his reflection, catching that he seemed to be in deep thought, but not thinking too much of it. It was probably something a shareholder told him. Maybe his sister was planning yet another attempt at a hostile takeover of the business.

“Husband. Wow, you’re my husband now. That feels so crazy to say. Husband, husband, husband,” you mused, a ball of excited energy. “Well, husband, what did you pull me in to talk about? Is it Sherry’s dress? It’s really hideous. I can’t believe she would wear something like that to our wedding,” you continued to ramble. “Or do you want a sneak peak of what I’ve got going on under this dress?”

You were shocked to find Patrick mostly unresponsive to your rapid words. He was never one to turn down the opportunity to gossip about his social circle or flirt with you. You pulled your attention away from yourself in the mirror and turned your head back to look at your husband, only to be met with a mostly unreadable expression, apart from the hint of a sad smile on his face.

Suddenly, things didn’t feel so fun. For some unexplained reason, you felt a small pit appear in the depths of your stomach. While you didn’t know exactly what was wrong, something obviously didn’t feel right. There was no reason for your partner to be looking as unsettled as he did on his own wedding night.

“You’re not having second thoughts already, are you?” you stood up and began to approach him from where he was sitting on the bed, making it more apparent to you that his brows were drawn together in what could only be the beginning of a frown.

“Of course not,” he assured you, though guilt was written all over his face. You weren’t sure how you should interpret your husband looking like a child who just broke an expensive vase on your wedding night, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. “But I need to tell you something.”

“What?” you laughed nervously, the small pit that appeared in your stomach growing into a slightly larger pit. As much as you wanted to dismiss it as nothing, the heavy tension hanging in the air warned you that the odds of his confession being nothing were growing slimmer and slimmer with each passing moment.

“Uh,” he paused as if he was considering his next words very carefully—almost as if he didn’t want to say them at all. You desperately wanted him to speak, rather than keep you hanging. With your nerves exponentially growing with every passing second, you began to feel like if he didn’t say anything soon, you might throw up all over your reception dress.

“Patrick, please spit it out. You’re kinda scaring me,” you could already feel yourself growing upset, despite the fact that he hadn’t said a single word to indicate what was going on with him. Your heart quickened in your chest as you anticipated his next words, despite not having a clue about what might come out of his mouth.

“We always said that if something happened, we could handle it like adults,” the statement was vague and simple, yet Patrick seemed to be choking it out. His cryptic message rattled around in your brain as you desperately searched for meaning in them. Before you could even begin to ask him what he meant, you registered the dismissive, callous language.

Though he didn’t say it often, he had confused you with those very words before—the verbiage alarmingly reminiscent of what he told you before your bachelorette party, or when you brought up the lack of an infidelity clause in his prenup.

If anything ever happened with anyone else, we could both handle it. We’re adults and we can handle things like adults.

Though his words were curious, you dismissed them at the time, never expecting that to be an issue. Of all of your problems with Patrick—his difficulty expressing his emotions, his complicated relationship with his family, his lack of experience in love—you never expected infidelity to be one of those problems.

You swallowed, your saliva feeling thick and poisonous as it slowly crept down your throat. “Honey, what do you mean?”

Patrick didn’t speak, looking down at the pristinely folded sheets in front of him rather than at you. “I’m sorry,” was all that he managed to get out.

You looked at Patrick blankly, waiting for him to tell you that whatever you were assuming wasn’t true or that he was pulling some sort of cruel prank on you. Instead, all you were met with was the sound of blood urgently rushing through your ears and the faint bassline of whatever song the DJ was playing at your reception.

“You know that love is complicated for me,” he looked in your direction, but couldn’t sustain eye contact with you. “Can we be adults about this?”

Once it became clear to you what exactly Patrick was trying to tell you, your knees gave out on you, the rest of your body overwhelmed with the unfathomable information that your brain was trying to process. Patrick cheated on you—and he was telling you just hours after you got married.

The truth of the situation sucked the air right out of your lungs and the strength right out of your body. Your knees buckled under you, and you desperately seeked out anything you could sit on. You settled on the foot of the bed, across from where your husband nervously sat.

“Fuck,” you dug the palms of your hands into your eyes, surely smudging the makeup on your eyelids as you attempted to collect your thoughts. “Who was it?”

“It didn’t mean anything to me,” he pathetically attempted to explain away. It all sounded like gibberish to you. For all you knew, your husband was speaking a totally different language to you.

Despite your question and Patrick’s non-answer, you somehow felt like you knew exactly who he’d been with. The answer was all over his discomfort when he saw you talking to the woman without him by your side, and the way she sized you up and attempted to psych you out of marrying Patrick not even 24 hours ago.

“Was it Tashi?” you asked, not even listening to his empty words and keeping your face frighteningly neutral. You spoke the words like you were playing a round of Guess Who, calm and even despite the budding feeling of dread in your stomach.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. His deafening silence was answer enough

“Can I kick her out?” you asked with an alarmingly stable tone, still mostly unable to process this information, but knowing that it wasn’t good.

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, head still hung and unable to make eye contact with you.

As you took in the truly depressing sight in front of you—your husband’s hunched over posture, a shame so strong that he couldn’t even look at you, and his clipped, short answers—you couldn’t deny that you were tempted to comfort him. In any other situation, if Patrick was feeling a fraction of the negative emotion he seemed to be feeling in that moment, you would instantly be at his side, holding his hand reassuringly or holding him close in a way that told him that if no one else was there for him, you would be, but you weren’t sure you could legitimize his bad behavior with such a response.

Instinctually, you reached out to touch him like you’d done a thousand times before, giving him a hug before a big event or spooning him after a family member said something that got under his skin, but you instantly reprimanded yourself. Despite how sad he looked, Patrick was the one who hurt you. You were the one who deserved comfort.

You opted to pat Patrick’s back instead, a strange and impersonal action. For a moment, you felt less like his wife and more like a practically estranged family member, not sure how to greet you after meeting you for the first time three Thanksgivings ago.

Your husband barely reacted to the stiff action, only looking at you wordlessly with glossed-over eyes. You got up from the foot of the bed and left wordlessly and neutrally, a robot whose only orders were to get out of the bedroom and shut the door behind you.

The moment the door closed, the next goal settled into your mind—you couldn’t let Tashi spend another second in the venue, socializing with your family and drinking the wine that your parents so kindly provided to the wedding, as if she hadn’t been partaking in an affair with your husband.

You felt half a bride and half a zombie as you left the confines of the bedroom and wandered the hallways. You were stone faced as you made your way back to the reception, trying to wrap your head and heart around devastating information that was shared with you at the most inopportune time possible.

You made a slow march down the stairs, movement hindered by your dress, and imagined what you might say to Tashi once you saw her. You should’ve known something was off from the start. You should’ve trusted the bad feeling you had when she sized you up at the bar, smirking at you like the cat who got the cream before feeding you anecdotes about how sleazy your husband used to be for no apparent reason. You should’ve trusted that feeling when Patrick rushed over to pull you away.

You wished you paid attention when Patrick faintly smelled of feminine perfume when you surprised him by coming back from a business trip earlier than anticipated, or when you noticed a bracelet that didn’t belong to you sitting on your coffee table, one that disappeared the very next day. It was so easy to write the signs off at the time–the fragrance of your personal chef and the jewelry of one of his sisters–but it no longer felt that simple. Patrick was a lot of things, but you never expected that a cheater was one of those things.

The thought of Patrick with someone else made you nauseous, especially in your own home. You faintly wondered if they’d fucked in your bed or on the couch. If the answer was yes to either, you desperately wanted to burn the pieces of furniture. In fact, that would be the first thing you set out to do when you returned home after your honeymoon. Maybe you would even beg Patrick to move to a new place, one not haunted by the memories of him and another woman.

That was, if your relationship even survived through the honeymoon. Let alone the night. You didn’t have a clue what your next steps would be. Would you be the fool who stays with a man who proved himself to be disloyal? Or would you be the fool who offered herself to the wrath of one of the most powerful families in the world? You would lose your husband, your job, and your livelihood in one fell swoop, surely being banished back to your family home in Minnesota, destined to be a receptionist at your father’s law firm for the rest of your life.

The entire situation felt surreal in the worst possible way. You couldn’t believe that while you were dealing with the aftermath of this information, Tashi was waltzing around at your reception. More than that, you couldn’t believe the information itself: Patrick cheated. Your fiancé cheated. Your husband cheated on you.

The same Patrick who became a groomzilla, laser-focused on giving you your dream wedding, cheated. The same man who confessed that he didn’t know what love felt like before he met you cheated on you. Your husband, who went out of his way to do anything to make you happy, even at the expense of his very powerful family, hadn’t been loyal to you.

None of it made sense. Maybe you would walk back into the room and your guests would jump out from behind tables and reveal that this was all a cruel joke—a little hazing as you officially became a Zweig—their laughter filling up the room at the thought that you would ever believe something as ridiculous as Patrick cheating on you.

You bit back bile as you walked into the room, the party continuing on the same way it had before you left and before you reentered—no prank to be found. The cacophony of loud music and the chatter of your guests filling your ears once more—what felt fun and exciting just moments before, now being far too overstimulating for someone trying to process information that could fundamentally alter the course of their relationship. You did your best to block out all of the extra noise and focus on your goal at hand.

Find Tashi. Send her home.

You weren’t sure what you would actually do when you saw her. Would you yell at her? Slap her for being a homewrecker? Cry at the sight of her? Laugh at the absurdity of your husband telling you that he’d been having an affair with her on your wedding night?

Peripherally, you heard someone call your name excitedly, only slightly pulling you out of your trance. Still, you couldn’t find it in you to acknowledge whatever excited friend or family member as your eyes set on your target. Tashi Duncan, Patrick’s coworker and ex-girlfriend.

Where you admired her beauty and confidence just a day before, you found you now resented every positive aspect about her. As she stood by a table and talked to one of Patrick’s sisters, surely bored out of her mind by the delusional ramblings about his sister someday being the president, she nodded and smiled diplomatically.

As you really began to think about it, you realized that she was the perfect candidate to be Patrick’s wife. She came from a background similar to his, his sisters liked her far more than they liked you—though that didn’t mean much—and physically, she seemed to be exactly your husband’s type.

Part of you wondered if she was feeling as miserable as you were; if she’d spent the day imagining your wedding to be her own, if her own jealousy was blinding her the way that yours currently was blinding you, or if she’d begged Patrick not to marry you during their work meeting the previous night. The other part of you wondered if she thought of you as pathetic as you currently felt—a stupid woman so blinded by her own love that she overlooked every beaming, bright red flag.

Your pace quickened as you walked towards Tashi, heels clicking annoyingly as they marked your pace. As you made your way to the table, you found yourself growing more anxious, the first real feeling you’d felt since Patrick shared with you the truth about his infidelity.

“Hey,” you greeted Tashi and Patrick’s sister, voice surprisingly even for how agitated you were. “Mind if I chat with Tashi?”

“Go ahead,” Cornelia shrugged. “Let’s stay in touch?” she asked Tashi, who politely agreed and watched the other woman walk off.

Tashi opened her mouth to speak to you, presumably to comment on something asinine about the wedding, or to make an observation about your wedding that you’d already heard a thousand times that night. If you weren’t so upset, you would make a bet with yourself on whether she’d tell you how beautiful the wedding was, or how beautiful you and your husband looked at the altar.

“Your housing for the night fell through,” you explained in a very level tone. It wasn’t the best excuse, but it was what came out of your mouth.

“Oh?” she asked, sounding more than a little skeptical, before lifting her drink to her lips. “Do you know where else I might be able to find lodging at this hour?”

“No,” you replied quickly and with ease. “Actually, it’d probably be best if you just went home now.”

“Home like…?” she trailed off and eyed you curiously.

“Like back to New York. I’m sure you can find a flight.”

She laughed in slight disbelief. “You realize this is a work function for me, right? I have work to do.”

“I’m sure you can do that work back home,” you dismissed, not backing down. By now, it was clear that Tashi was putting together the pieces of what you knew. In fact, you could pinpoint the exact moment when it occurred to her why the two of you were having this conversation in the first place.

Maybe it was the lack of your now-husband beside you, or the barely concealed emotion on your face. Regardless of what was your biggest tell on the situation, you continued to stare her down, resenting the way her lips shifted into a small smile, as if she still had the upper hand and knew something that you didn’t. It was almost as if she found the whole ordeal to be a little amusing, which only bothered you more.

“No need to make a scene at your wedding. I’ll be on my way.” She lifted her glass up once again to finish the drink off, but you stopped her.

You returned intense eye contact with her as you took the stemware right out of her hands and put it to your own lips, finishing the drink in a few large gulps. Though your action was impulsive, it felt like somewhat of a necessity. You desperately needed the liquid distraction from your less-than-ideal situation, and you didn’t want to give her an excuse to linger at your party a single moment longer than she needed to.

She continued to stare at you, her expression somewhere in the middle of being impressed and weirded out. “Alright then. Well, congratulations on the wedding.”

“Fuck off,” you spat out, turning on your heel and walking away without bothering to see if she stayed or left.

You made your rounds around the reception, smiling and talking to your guests with a fake smile plastered on your face. The shock of Patrick’s initial confession wore off shortly after you told Tashi off, but you still couldn’t help but feel completely numb to the situation. How else were you supposed to react when you found out the love of your life was sleeping with someone else?

You continued to man the reception on your own, occasionally scanning the room but not catching a glimpse of your husband. You wondered if he was still in your bedroom, head in his hands as he wondered if he just opened a Pandora’s box on your relationship, or if Tashi went to go find him to discuss how poorly you reacted to the information. For all you knew, the two of them could be laughing at you or having sex in your wedding bed at the same time that you attempted to pretend that everything was perfectly fine. You grew faint at the mere thought.

Eventually, you felt a familiar hand on the small of your back, something that typically was a welcome, comforting gesture. Instead, you wanted to flinch away from his hand like it was hot. You couldn’t believe that Patrick had the nerve to touch you like everything was fine after dropping such devastating information on you. Then again, at least he wasn’t hooking up with Tashi one last time.

Still, even under the spell of a sadness that hadn’t quite settled in yet, you leaned into his touch instinctively. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t feel as comfortable as it did a few hours ago.

“Such a beautiful ceremony,” a family friend of Patrick’s gushed to you. “You two have something really special.”

You felt Patrick’s eyes sear into you, desperately pleading for you to look back into them and show him that everything was going to be okay. That what you had was special enough that you’d be able to move past this. Like adults, as he said to you earlier.

You weren’t so sure that you could.

The rest of the night moved painfully slowly. Where the two of you socialized separately before his private conversation with you, he seemed to be attached to your hip now, bringing you apology offers of champagne flutes and hor d'oeuvres.

Though he pleaded with you to handle your situation like adults, you wanted to act more like a petulant child. If you had it your way, you would reject his offerings of food by tossing them onto the floor, or throw a glass of sticky alcohol in his face as if you were a Real Housewife.

If you had it your way, Patrick wouldn’t have cheated on you in the first place, and you’d be celebrating your wedding without the baggage of uncertainty for the future of your relationship.

As you walked through the reception, you weren’t particularly angry or sad, you just felt numb. There was a strange concession in knowing that what happened in the past already happened, and that there was no way for you to change your husband’s behavior. For a moment, you wondered if the numbness was a symptom of the shock that was Patrick’s confession, or you would feel the dull thud of nothingness for the rest of your life.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as you watched the last of your guests filtered out of the venue, relieved to finally drop the façade of being a happy newlywed and to embrace the true feeling of shock that had been biting at you all night.

Somehow managing to break away from your suddenly very clingy spouse, you wasted no time gathering an unopened bottle of wine for yourself, along with a cigarette and a lighter, which you unceremoniously exchanged with a caterer for a Venmo payment. You then headed outside to a balcony that overlooked a beautiful sprawling garden.

You looked out on the neatly trimmed hedges and the bench where you sat with Patrick not even twenty-four hours ago and distantly thought about how perfectly the night should’ve gone. You got married at a beautiful venue, had every detail down to the positioning of napkins meticulously planned, and most importantly, were marrying someone you genuinely loved and couldn’t see yourself living without.

It was all rather devastating now, to see how just a few words managed to ruin what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

You took a swig from the bottle, lamenting the fact that his affair partner had been drinking this very wine earlier that night. At the thought of Tashi, you took yet another hefty swig.

Just as you reached for the lighter to light the cigarette you so desperately needed, Patrick burst through the doors of the balcony, slightly out of breath and sweat beading on his forehead. In between his heavy breaths, you swore you caught a sigh of relief.

You couldn’t say that you were pleased to see him—after all, you’d escaped to the balcony to get a little time alone and to think through the night—but as you took in his dramatic entrance and disheveled appearance, it became abundantly clear to you that he’d been urgently looking for you.

“Want some?” you asked, gesturing to the bottle. Your question was more than just an offer for a drink, but a peace treaty, offering Patrick to stay outside with you despite your more complicated feelings towards him.

“Sure,” he agreed, still slightly out of breath. He collected himself as you passed him the bottle, locking eyes with you as he took a swig from the expensive drink. It felt like time moved a little slower as you watched his lips wrap around the opening of the bottle and the way his Adam's apple bobbed while the drink went down.

You suddenly realized that complicated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt towards Patrick. You loved him more than anything, and you were sure that you needed him in your life—but beneath the thick layers of numbness was a reservoir of hurt, far deeper than you ever imagined you could harbor for the man.

He passed the bottle back to you, his hands gently brushing over yours. Momentarily, you felt scandalized by the action, unsure if you should feel your cheeks heating up from the small touch or if you should flinch away from it. By the time the brief moment was over, you hadn’t done either, electing to set your gaze back over the rail instead of at your partner.

Patrick stood silently beside you, not requesting anything more to drink or even attempting to make small talk. It seemed that he was just as aware as you were that he’d changed your entire dynamic with just a few words. You wondered if he realized just how much he’d fucked both of you by fucking someone else.

You shivered in the cold night, your dress not providing you much coverage in the elements. If your wedding night had gone any differently, Patrick would’ve offered you his suit jacket, draping the item over your shoulders and kissing you sweetly. Then again, if the night had gone differently, you likely wouldn’t be shivering on the balcony in the first place.

You squatted to set down the bottle on the ground and rediscovered the cigarette and lighter. Though you weren’t usually one to smoke, you desperately needed it after the shitshow that was your wedding night.

Though you put the stick to your lips, you struggled to light the cigarette, the frigid breeze making everything slightly more difficult. It didn’t help that you hadn’t smoked since you were a teenager, giggling with your friends as you clumsily attempted and failed to light up the stick, the match pinched between your fingertips quickly burning down. The contrast between the silly memory and your far less silly reality felt jarring, to say the least.

“Here, let me,” Patrick said softly, taking the lighter from you and cupping his hand around the tip of the cigarette. You tried not to look at him too closely as you listened to the soft clicking sound of the lighter. Though he should’ve focused on the action so he didn’t burn his finger tips or the palm of his hand blocking the wind, he didn’t seem to be able to look at anything but you. The light of the flame briefly illuminated both of your faces, momentarily giving you a better look at his sad eyes.

You inhaled as the flame touched the tip, and turned your head to exhale the smoke, not wanting to blow it in the face of your partner or have to spend another second under the scrutiny of his intense eye contact.

Even as you looked away and into the garden below, you could feel Patrick’s eyes burning into you. You were sure that if you looked back over at him, you would see him looking particularly downtrodden, lips parted for words that were on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite say yet, and eyebrows drawn together in a way that only seemed to highlight the sadness in his eyes.

Unspoken questions lingered in the air like the smoke from the cigarette dangling from your lips. Though you didn’t care for the smell, you were pretty sure you preferred the smoke to the questions.

Finally, a quiet question was spoken into the air, “Can I?” Patrick asked, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips.

“Sure,” you replied noncommittally as you pulled the cigarette away from you and passed it to your husband. Electing to watch him instead of the unchanging garden, you observed as Patrick’s lips closed over the space where yours had just been, covering the hint of a lipstick stain that you’d left on it. After a long drag, he passed the cigarette back to you, his hand brushing softly over yours once more as you did so.

This pattern continued, a heavy silence falling between the two of you as you shared the cigarette, your hands caressing the other’s softly.

“Here,” you murmured as you approached the filter. Instead of passing it back to Patrick, you brought it up to his lips, watching him intently as he breathed in the smoke.

For a moment, all you could see was his face, illuminated by the burning end of the cigarette, pupils blown with something you couldn’t quite place. You weren’t sure if you wanted to ravish him right there on the balcony or push him off of it.

He blew the smoke right back into your face, electing to still share the last of the cigarette with you. You wondered if that meant anything. It probably didn’t.

The two of you stood looking at each other, staring wordlessly as you waited for the other person to move a muscle or say something—anything. For a moment, you considered telling Patrick that you wanted an annulment. But then again, that wasn’t exactly the truth.

“I’m going to bed,” you broke the silence with your announcement. “I need to change out of this dress.”

You wished it were that simple. You desperately wanted to scrub the day off of you and to pinch yourself until you woke up. Surely, this couldn’t be your actual wedding night. Maybe you could wake up in the morning and find that this was all a bad dream—the manifestation of anxiety before your big day.

But, as Patrick trailed behind you in the hallway as if you would disappear if you left his sight, you were pretty sure that this was the reality. You wouldn’t wake up and find that your husband had been loyal to you.

Your return to the room was a silent one. The moment you stepped foot through the door, it felt like you were back in that horrible moment; like Patrick was moments from revealing to you that Tashi was the tip of the iceberg.

Bile rose in your throat once more. You made a beeline to the bathroom, hoping that the change of scenery might halt your thoughts altogether.

You stepped out of the bathroom with an entirely different mindset than what you had as you entered. Sure, your wedding night wasn’t at all what you expected it to be, but it didn’t mean that you couldn’t put it back on the right track. In the bathroom, you slipped on a silky nightie, what you hoped would be a reminder to both of you that this wasn’t any old regular night, but your wedding night. Though, with the day you just had, you weren’t so sure that either of you would be up for a particularly romantic night. You guessed it couldn’t hurt.

You left the bathroom as a woman on a mission, your eyes set on Patrick as you crossed the bedroom floor to get to him. Though he’d been laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling like it had the secrets to the universe written on it, the sound of your entrance drew his attention over to you. You gently bit your lower lip and hoped that your face said ‘sexy’ rather than ‘so nervous you might be sick.’

His eyes stayed locked on you as you crawled into bed, and you hoped once more that the action of you moving towards him on your hands and knees didn’t appear as desperate as you felt on the inside.

It felt like your evening consisted of one desperate plea after another: Please don’t do this to me. Please just pretend that everything’s fine. Please don’t leave me.

He followed your lead as you trailed your hand up his arm and looked at him as seductively as you could manage before pushing him down onto the bed and straddling his lap. Distantly, you wondered how Tashi imitated things with him—if she did anything that Patrick liked more about her than you. You did your best to push that thought away, but failed miserably.

Mechanically, you ran your hands through his hair and kissed him passionately. You tried to ignore the lump in your throat and reminded yourself that it was just Patrick. Things weren’t all that different, except for the fact that he was your husband now—and that he cheated on you.

You tried once more to push that thought out of your mind as you moved your hips against his lap, but your attempts were in vain. It certainly didn’t help that as you kissed him, you tasted the cigarette you shared earlier in his breath—an unwelcome reminder of the awkward tension that lingered between the two of you after he shared the truth about his infidelity. And surely, it was just your mind, but his lips almost tasted like the chapstick of another woman.

Suddenly, all you could think about was Tashi with your husband. Him and Tashi in your bedroom, or in a hotel room, or on your couch. Did she do anything special that drove him crazy? What did she have that you didn’t?

Your body said one thing, but your brain said something completely different. You did your best to power through the thoughts of your husband being with another woman, but you were beginning to realize that when it came to cheating, you weren’t all that tough. You bit down on Patrick’s lip in what you hoped would be a light nibble, but the taste of iron quickly filled your mouth.

You slowed down your movements as your thoughts sped up before you gave up entirely. You supposed it was a classic case of mind over matter, and your mind was not nearly as strong as any of your physical urges.

You shifted off of Patrick far later than you should’ve, feeling like a complete and utter failure. You couldn’t even do the one thing you should’ve been able to do during your wedding night. No wonder he found solace in someone else’s body.

“I’m sorry,” you said weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

It took you rolling off of Patrick to realize that his face was damp, eyes glossy with a thin layer of tears threatening to fall. The pit in your stomach that had been steadily growing since Patrick pulled you aside to tell you something finally came to a head when you realized that your husband was crying.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, his voice cracking on the last syllable of his question.

A fresh tear rolled down his cheek, which was then followed by a few other droplets. He turned his head away from you and wiped them away quickly so you wouldn’t notice them, but the damage was already done.

You’d never seen Patrick cry before—not when you watched sad movies that left you bawling, not when the two of you watched advertisements for puppies in shelters, not even when he thought his dad might be dying. To see him shed tears over you felt particularly unsettling.

“Patrick?” you said his name softly, like he was delicate and going to break.

“I should be the one who’s sorry,” he looked towards you once more, eyes now rimmed with red. “I ruined everything already. I'm so sorry.”

This was a complete wild card on top of a stack of wild cards. If someone told you that your wedding night would end with your husband telling you he cheated on you, a pathetic failed attempt at sex, then watching your partner cry for the first time in front of you, you would’ve laughed in their face.

His crying continued, becoming slightly more intense as sorrow racked through his body. You’d never been in a situation like this before, so you were completely unsure of what to do.

With all prior restraint to show him physical affection gone, you awkwardly slotted your arms around your husband. He automatically leaned into you, burying his face in your shoulder as he continued to shed quiet tears. Your shoulder quickly grew damp as you threaded your fingers through his curls, the repetitive petting being just as soothing for you as it was for him.

Despite it all, you still felt a general sense of nothing at all. You were beginning to grow concerned, knowing that deep down there were certainly emotions that weren’t ready to approach the surface. You worried about what it might look like once those feelings finally came out, but that was the least of your worries when it came to your weeping husband.

Patrick continued to cry quietly, the only sound in the room being his soft, occasional sniffles. You couldn’t even place how you felt or how long you sat there stone faced as you cradled your husband.

Eventually, the tears on your shoulder dried and the intervals between sniffles grew further and further. Soon, the soft sounds of weeping turned into the long and deep breaths of rest. Between you playing with his hair and holding him, he must’ve fallen asleep. You couldn’t really blame him—given your eventful day, your all-nighter the previous day, and the energy it took for him to cry.

You gently laid Patrick back down on his side of the bed, pulling a blanket over his chest and pushing back the hair on his forehead to press a kiss to him. He stirred slightly against the forehead kiss, but didn’t seem to wake up all the way. Even when your feelings were complicated towards the man, you couldn’t help being affectionate towards him. In some ways, you felt like you needed that affection just as much as he did.

You let out a long sigh as the reality of everything truly began to set in, and you no longer had to be strong for your weeping partner. You couldn’t wrap your head around the sight of Patrick crying for the first time, or the fact that he cheated on you. You flicked off the bedside lamp, the only source of light in your otherwise darkened bedroom.

You rolled over in bed and laid on your back, setting your hands on your stomach and staring up at the ceiling. You traced your eyes over the pattern of the ceiling, though it was dark and not all that clear. You wondered if you looked at it long enough, if you’d be able to make some sense out of it. You glanced over at Patrick and wondered the same thing.

You just couldn’t understand why he’d cheat on you. You’d always been under the impression that he was just as happy in your relationship as you were. Despite his promiscuous past, he never seemed like the type of person to not be loyal to you.

You noticed a teardrop trail down his cheek in his sleep, and you gently thumbed it away. The small movement turned into you tracing a line down his nose and over his lips, then over his eyebrows and back down through the few freckles that dotted his face. Maybe if you watched him long enough, if you learned every detail of his face, someone would reveal to you why he’d done something so illogical and cruel.

You worried about how the two of you could move forward from something like this. Though Patrick always approached the topic of infidelity with a dismissive attitude, cheating had always been a deal breaker for you in your past relationships. It shattered your trust in a way that was so foundational, you couldn’t fathom a world where your relationship with Patrick stayed exactly the same after this.

Part of you knew already that moving forward, you’d constantly wonder if he was genuinely working late or if he was having an affair, or if his eye was wandering at events despite you standing by his side. And that was just trust when it came to relationships—obviously his lie was far deeper than just that. Now, you knew that Patrick had the capacity to hold a secret that massive from you, then share it at the worst possible time.

In fact, his timing felt so terrible that you momentarily wondered if it was some sort of power play. Was Patrick trying to remind you that you weren’t equals in this partnership? Was he trying to manipulate you by only sharing this information to you after you were married to him and couldn’t easily call everything off?

Your stomach turned at the possibility that Patrick wasn’t really who he said he was, and that you’d been baited and switched. You recalled the first time you met Patrick’s family, how he switched on a dime and became far more calculated and cruel to them than you’d ever seen him be with you. Was that the realest version of your husband, and the person he was with you just a façade? Was this some sort of long game he was playing with his family to piss a few people off? Did Patrick even love you?

For the first time in your relationship, you felt like you didn’t know who you were sleeping next to. Surely, this couldn’t be the same Patrick who you set out to have a quick hook up with, and ended up talking to him for hours. It couldn’t be the same Patrick who held you tight at night and gave you kisses every morning in your kitchen. The same Patrick from your vows a few hours ago, whose hands shook as he read from notecards and declared his love for you.

You frowned as you looked over Patrick once more. You resented how he was able to sleep so peacefully after inflicting such hurt on you. Did he even understand how destroyed you were? You couldn’t see yourself sleeping through the night in the foreseeable future, your head too filled with questions about your relationship and questions about his relationship with her. Would they continue the affair? Would they still work together after this, leaving you to wonder for the rest of your life if they were still going behind your back?

You desperately wished the thoughts would stop, but they kept coming, punctuated by the sounds of Patrick’s soft snores behind you.

By the time the sun began to peek through the blinds, your hand was on Patrick’s face once again. You wondered how it was possible for him to hurt someone he loved as much as he loved you, if his definition of love was so skewed by a lifetime of abuse labeled as love from his parents, and siblings who used cruelty as a form of affection.

Maybe you should’ve listened to the warnings everyone gave you, from your parents who warned that your husband and his family may be more than you bargained for, from his sisters who never seemed to be able to fully wrap their head around Patrick committing to someone, let alone you. Maybe you should’ve even listened to Tashi’s coded warning about his inability to commit and stay loyal. It seemed like everyone saw the fate of your relationship coming except you.

With the early morning light illuminating the room, things felt a little clearer for you. Beneath the numbness that protected you the previous night was a more painful undercurrent of hurt that was already beginning to eat away at you.

For the past several years of your life, you hadn’t had to deal with any painful feelings on your own. Patrick was always there beside you to hold you tight and reassure you that everything would be okay. As you laid next to him, you realized that despite all the pain he’d inflicted on you, all you really wanted was to be held by him.

Knowing that he was sleeping peacefully beside you, you opted to hold him, draping your body over his and pulling yourself as close as you could manage to him. You leaned your ear against his back, taking in the warmth he gave you and listening to his heart beat. As the two of your breaths and heartbeats began to match the other’s pace, you lamented that even now, your hearts beat as one.

For the first time that evening, your eye prickled with the threat of tears.

You lost track of how long you held your husband, but it was long enough to notice the pattern of his breath changing. You’d woken up beside him enough times to recognize that he was clearly awake, yet he made no other indication to you that he was awake. He wanted you to hold him. You wondered if he thought this might be the last time you ever do that for him. You wondered if it was the last time you’d ever do that for him.

The two of you pretended to be asleep despite the fact that you were both obviously awake, but no one commented on anything. After your arms began to grow numb, you turned your back to Patrick, hoping that he would return the favor and give you what you really wanted. You were pleased to find that he just as eagerly wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and breathing quietly in your ear.

The two of you sat in complete silence, pretending you didn’t know what the other person was doing. Somehow, it felt like that was about to become a recurring theme in your relationship.

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #challengers x reader #challengers fic #patrick zweig smut #art donalson x reader #reader insert #josh o'connor x reader #josh o'connor #patrick zweig angst

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gldnstrngs · 1 month ago

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thoughts post merlin season finale rewatch for the anniversary:

(let me preface that ive never cried to the finale despite me watching it twice and rewatching arthurs death scene several times— i definitely got emotional but never cried)

1.) …so i cried… from the beginning of the episode… i just hated how gwen never got a proper goodbye from arthur and was aiding all of his men, wondering where he was and if he was okay😭 and then later on, when leon tells her that arthurs missing and she turns around and silently cries, but quickly recovers… that was SO heartbreaking. she just keeps going and cries to herself like she deserved so so so much better and i hate that she never got closure

2.) i know that merlin has really truly become emrys but im not sure if it was necessary for dragoon to be his Final Form. i didnt watch the first part so maybe i missed the importance of that, but i feel like the scene would’ve been so much better if merlin looked like himself and casted all those badass spells and everyone would see him

3.) WHEN ARTHUR WAKES UP TO MERLIN AND THE FIRST THING HE SAYS IS “merlin, where have you been?” IM NOT OKAY??? it wasnt “merlin, what are you doing here?” or “merlin, how did you get here?” it was merlin, where have you been? that whole time arthur was in battle all😭he😭wanted😭was😭merlin😭

and then the magic reveal. the goddamn magic reveal. that entire scene is so heartbreaking. tell me why i was so distraught when ive seen that scene more times than i can count. and he doesnt just say “i have magic, i used it to protect you” NO. he says i use it for you, only for you. THAT IS A CONFESSION. it’s such a subtle shift of words but it says SO MUCH.

arthur immediately being in denial kills me. it was never a thought in his head that merlin would actually have magic because he associated it with evilness and cruelty. but then he finds out that merlin has always had magic and the way his eyes become so sad… the way his finger brushed his merlins chin right before realizing the truth… im so…

4.) i couldnt stop crying when the scene cut to gwen in the castle, staring out the window and feeling that arthur is alive. her eyes are so sad. i just can’t get over the fact that she never had the goodbye she deserved

5.) as much as i hate the way arthur reacted to merlin having magic, i do understand. he was literally just in battle, was mortally wounded, and found out that the only person he thought he could trust had been lying to him from the moment they met. i dont believe arthur actually thought merlin was dangerous— he’s prone being angry before being sad as a defense mechanism and that was only fueled by finding out that gaius was also lying to him. at that point, it must’ve felt like every person he’d ever known and trusted only ever lied to him. its so tragic I CANT.

BUT ALSO on the other side of that i actually cannot handle how utterly heartbroken merlin looks. his red rimmed eyes because he was crying all night😭 thinking that arthur would hate him forever…

5.) this entire scene bro…

“why did you never tell me?”

“…i wanted to, but…”

“…what?”

“you would’ve chopped my head off.”

“…not sure what i would’ve done.”

“and i didn’t want to put you in that position.”

“…that’s what worried you?”

“some men are born to… plow fields, some live to be great physicians, others… to be great kings. me… i was born to serve you, arthur. and i’m proud of that. and i wouldn’t change a thing.”

UMMMM SO I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS. i have rewatched this scene so. many. times. it is genuinely one of the most beautiful scenes ever written in cinema call me dramatic but im just speaking facts

arthur’s face when he realized that merlin really did care for him. the way he instantly lights up, despite being in pain. and his eyes… theyre glued to merlin. the whole time, he couldn’t look at him directly, but now he was. he was just scanning his face, memorizing all of merlin’s features AND MERLIN IS JUST STARING AT ARTHURS LIPS

also. ALSO. how have i seen this so many times and never. NEVER. caught onto the fact that gwen and arthur’s theme (which is originally titled the love theme) WAS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND. there was no mention of gwen at all in that scene. that was all merlin and arthur. this just confirms to me that this is the moment arthur fully realized and accepted that he was in love with merlin

6.) gwen deserved to know that merlin was a sorcerer FROM MERLIN. they were best friends. THEY WERE BEST FRIENDS!!! HE SHOULDVE BEEN THE ONE TO TELL HER!!! they deserved a scene where merlin comes back from avalon and he and gwen hug and cry.

7.) gwaine and percival should NOT have gone after morgana. i understand their rage but there was no way they were going to defeat her unless they had excalibur or something…

and gwaines death was so unnecessary. that was clearly for shock factor and i hated it. but i did get emotional when percy was able to free himself because he heard gwaine was being tortured… and then hes there when gwaine dies… their foreheads touching… (im not ok)

8.) it breaks my heart that morgana felt no guilt or remorse when she saw arthur, wounded and on the verge of dying. you can so clearly see that arthur feels that way when he sees morgana die, but there’s nothing on her end. i know it’s meant to show how far gone she is but it genuinely doesn’t feel right. i really do think she would’ve experienced some sort of internal conflict when seeing her own brother dying… like maybe she realized that none of this was worth it. it didnt feel as good as she thought it would

and when she’s stabbed by merlin😭 and he says he blames himself for what she’s become. people don’t recognize it enough how merlin feels so much guilt for the way he treated morgana. i just know he didn’t want to kill her, but he had no choice and he knew it was his fault…

9.) is there a reason why merlin didnt call for kilgharrah. i know kilgharrah said in the previous episode that he would finally be lying to rest for eternity, but i feel like this was an especially dire situation where he was needed😭 AND MERLIN SUMMONS HIM LATER ON!!!

or what about aithusa??? LIKE THEY DID NOT HAVE TO BE ON HORSES THE WHOLE TIME

(if anyone can explain the reasoning then lmk otherwise it was just a plot hole and that pisses me off bruh)

10.) arthur’s death did not need to happen, yet it was one of the best death scenes i’ve ever scene. it was just so raw and painful. “just… just hold me…” WHAT IF I DIE??!?!,,!!, he thanks merlin, he pats his head, he brushes his cheek, he tries to hold his hand like im fjwjdjsjjswhshshsj

also originally i was not fully convinced by the theory that the breath arthur took before saying “thank you” was “i love you.” i didnt want to be delusional but i actually do think he did say that he loves merlin. AND THAT CAN BE INTERPRETED AS ROMANTIC OR PLATONIC!!! i def see it as romantic but yes… im so Normal…

11.) “i’ve failed?” just. don’t talk to me.

12.) when merlin stands by the boat arthur is laid to rest in, trying to hold back his tears only to sob as he touches his forehead. the way he tries to gather himself. the way he struggles to say arthurs name and cast the spell. the way he watches arthur drift off, shaking. just. pls.

13.) gwen my baby girl. i cannot emphasize this enough. you deserved so much better. my heart broke when she played with arthurs royal seal and then when i saw the empty throne beside her. she had no time to prepare for this. she just lost the love of her life.

14.) it cuts to leon and then percival. and then i realize theyre the only two left in the round table. they both look so distraught. they lost everyone they ever loved.

15.) gaius :( he was waiting for merlin with his favorite meal :(

16.) bro the truck always jumpscares me omfg why is it so loud😭😭😭 then i get sad because merlin is old and walking alone and its the present and he’s still waiting for arthur :(

they should’ve had the show end with arthur saying “merlin” instead of kilgharrah saying it. that’s literally all we needed. it would’ve been so perfect but here we are…

final thoughts:

i love that this episode wasnt just the battle and action. the focus of it was merlin and arthur, navigating their feelings from the magic reveal and arthurs mortal wound. its so painful and heartbreaking but that just symbolizes the love they have for each other. this entire episode was filled with their gentle moments, softly speaking and touching each other. then arthur dies in merlin’s arms but i dont think he’d want to be anywhere else

also!!! colin and bradley’s acting in this episode… it was absolutely PHENOMENAL. they are already such great actors, but they really nailed it in the series finale. i can’t get over how they speak with their eyes the whole time. you can the love, fear, and acceptance they experienced throughout the whole episode. it was just so beautiful and i think that was what rlly made this ep

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queeneamidala · 6 months ago

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𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

{𝙳𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙾𝚗𝚎}

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Joel never knew what summer felt like. Until he met you.

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: fluffy fluff fluffiness. Pining!Joel. Jackson!Joel. Post-Outbreak. Soft!Joel. Some alcohol consumption. (Age gap or no age gap, you decide). Close proximity. Joel is disgustingly in love. Light swearing. Coffee consumption. Flippin�� POVs like a burger at McDonald’s. Slow burn. Like, slooooooooow. Sort of kind of proofread (don’t hurt me). F!Reader, but has no description of any kind, so it’s all you bby <3

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: <3k

ᴬ/ᴺ: Baby’s first fic!!! God, I’m so nervous. I really hope you guys enjoy it! This literally came to me while I was manic as fuuuuuu- and it was inspired by a Taylor Swift song (don’t judge!) So far I’ve written 2 1/2 parts, I think I’ll post part 2 this Sunday? Theres a LOT more to unpack in part 2, so stick around… Please let me know what you think!!! Likes, reblogs, comments, anything and everything is appreciated!! Thank you and happy reading <3

~*~*~

Joel was eating idly in the cafeteria when he heard Ellie’s voice. He glanced back, and noticed her talking to a woman he had seen around the town of Jackson. She was a friend of Tommy and Maria’s, he knew that much. But, he hadn’t spoken a word to her.

She was beautiful, but that was just a general observation.

You were beautiful, and he had made this observation several times while passing you by in town. He had noticed you speaking to nearly every person in town. You had a very easy going air about you, friendly. Open.

So, he steered clear. Forming personal connections outside of immediate family was not something he was keen on. He has had a life fraught with grief, seen and done unspeakable things. He wasn’t meant to be loved, not after everything he’s done.

But, the way you talked to Tommy, Maria, and now Ellie more and more often had Joel at an uncomfortably close proximity to you. Your presence was drawing near, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

He sort of didn’t want to stop it.

But, just when he thought you were going to approach the table to sit, you broke away from Ellie and walked to a different table. He felt something drop in his chest. Was that really disappointment that he felt?

“Makin’ friends?” Joel questioned as Ellie sat down, and she snorted.

“Right. ‘Cause I have friends.” She said dryly, and Joel cocked up an eyebrow.

“Looks like it.”

“You could use a friend.” Ellie replied, and Joel shifted a bit uncomfortably.

“I don’t need anyone.” He said into his food, and Ellie made a face, rolling her eyes.

“Everybody needs at least someone.”

Joel’s eyes shifted to you sitting at the table just across from them. Your smile was radiant, and he felt something twist in his chest.

No.

He wasn’t meant to be loved.

~*~*~

Winter was coming, and the people in town were preparing. You were busy but still managed to make time for people. For everyone really. Joel was almost envious about how easy you talked to people. He didn’t have the same talent, and he was fine with that.

So, one day, when he was called upon a house to help with some faulty wiring, he was taken aback when it was your house he was called to.

You didn’t need help. Not really. You were fairly self sufficient, and made your own way through town. Joel knew this, and it made him nervous when you called upon him specifically to make sure you were prepared for the wintertime.

But, he took his toolkit and went to your place. The door was open, but…

You weren’t home.

He felt disappointment in his chest again. He shook it off though and walked to the side of the house outside. He opened the box and began to work diligently, his mind wandering to other things.

“You look so serious.” A voice said, and Joel jerked back like he had been electrocuted. His head swiveled to the side and he saw you standing there, leaning against the side of the house with your arms crossed. You looked so effortless and cool, and-

How long had you been standing there?

“Job’s gotta get done.” Joel said, gesturing to the box, “as you requested.”

You nodded, and a smile creeped into your face that he hadn’t seen before. He had seen you smile plenty of times- laughing and talking with the people in town, with Maria, with Ellie. But this felt different. Or was he just imagining it?

“Yeah, you came highly recommended.” You said, and Joel scoffed, turning back to the box and tried to get back to work. But, he was horrible at multitasking, especially when it came down to you while he was preoccupied with something else.

“Don’t sell yourself short. Ellie was insistent that you were the best the town had.” You said, and Joel lost his concentration and nearly dropped the screwdriver he held.

Christ, I’m gonna kill that girl.

He furrowed his brow like nothing happened and kept working. He was definitely going to talk to Ellie later. The last thing he needed was the whole town to be depending on him for maintenance.

But for you…? Well, it wasn’t so bad.

“Sorry I wasn’t there to receive you. Work held me up.” You said, gesturing behind you. Joel finally flicked a switch and the box buzzed to life. He felt himself deflate a bit. Guess it was time for him to go.

“No worries.” He said, putting his tools back in the toolbox and stood straight. He held the box in hand, and regarded you with soft brown eyes. You pushed off the corner of the house, and smiled that smile of yours.

“You… let me know if there’s- if there’s anythin’ else.” Joel said, trying to keep it drawn out but it sounded rushed to his ears. He nodded minutely and you stepped out of the way.

“Thank you. It means more to me than you know.” You said, and shifted, your shoulders brushing by accident. Joel simply nodded, and made his way home.

He rubbed his arm after a few minutes of walking, and swore he felt warmth there.

~*~*~

Tommy and Joel were sitting at the local “bar” (if you could even call it that) and were talking over a few drinks.

You had requested Joel’s help two more times now. Both small and trivial, but Joel was more than happy to help. You weren’t there the second time he came, but when he was there the third time, you offered him coffee. He was an idiot, and turned you down. But, that smile never wavered.

“Next time.” You said.

Next time, Joel thought. There was going to be a next time? He hoped so.

“I see you’re helping some people out. Good for you to get some socializing in.” Tommy noted after taking a sip of his drink. Joel shrugged,

“It’s fine, I guess. Just doin’ my part.” He said. Tommy nodded, and regarded his brother with a peculiar expression. Joel felt like he was plotting something, but didn’t have time to really think about it before a voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Well, you two look like you’re having fun. Mind if we cut in?” Maria questioned, and Joel barely looked up, until it registered in his mind.

We?

You settled into the seat beside Joel while Maria took the one by Tommy, boxing the boys in. Joel instinctively stiffened, and hoped you didn’t notice. If you did, you didn’t show it.

“What are we drinking tonight, boys?” You questioned, and Joel glanced at you. He cleared his throat, looking down, and held up his glass slightly.

“Whatever they’re trying to pass off as beer.” He said, and you looked at him. He felt like a deer in the headlights, watching you look at him. It felt like time was suspended, and he gulped. But, you smiled like it was nothing and turned to the bartender.

“I’ll have what he’s having.” You said, jutting your thumb at Joel. The bartender slid the glass into your hand with ease. Joel thought everything you did was effortless. You certainly made it seem so.

It dawned on him that Tommy and Maria were knee-deep in their own conversation, promptly blocking off you two. Joel felt put on the spot, under your eye.

“Thanks for all your help by the way.” You said, taking a sip of the beer. Joel nodded, his brown eyes casting down to his beer.

“Anytime.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. It wasn’t lost on you that Joel was slowly becoming a bigger part of the community. He wasn’t just keeping to himself, but helping others with house repairs or such. You hadn't seen him offer such services until you had reached out to him.

But, he didn’t do it for them. He knew that deep down inside.

He did it for you.

“I gotta say, Mr. Miller, you’re an enigma.” You said with a light laugh. Joel’s eyebrows furrowed, and felt his stomach lurched at you saying his name, even if it was his last name.

“A what?”

“An enigma. You know; a mystery, something hard to explain.”

“I ain’t no mystery.” He said, shaking his head. You grinned, and tilted your head to the side. Joel felt his mouth go dry, so he took a sip of his beer to quell it.

“Okay, okay.” You said, shrugging and turned your gaze across the bar. He felt your elbows becoming achingly close. If he just shifted just slightly, he could feel you against him.

But, he’s not meant-

“Mind if I stop by tomorrow?” You said so abruptly that it threw his thoughts off.

“Sorry?”

“I got Ellie a new book. Something about space and aliens and shit. Something I think she’d like.” You said. Joel felt a twinge of appreciation there. So, somebody was looking after Ellie besides him. He liked that. It warmed his hardened heart.

“Sure. You can drop it off.” He said, and he stole a glance your way. You were grinning, but trying to hide it. You took a sip of your beer to try to mask it, but he could see the way the corners of your lips quirked up.

“I’ll be there then.”

~*~*~

Joel had waited for you for a day or two. He found reasons to stay home, claiming he wasn’t feeling well, that he was sick. So, when you finally knocked on his door towards the end of the second day, he was surprised to find you holding a dish in your hand as well as the book.

“Heard you weren’t feeling well. Made you a little something.” You said so casually it was like you were talking about the weather. But, Joel was floored. You heard about him, and went out of your way to do something for him?

He felt bad for faking his illness. But, the fact you did this? It made him… feel.

“Thank you.” He said, and went to take it but then paused. You laughed,

“I don’t care about getting sick. Here.” You said, and handed him the dish, barely crossing over the threshold. He took it gingerly, and looked down at it. Whatever it was, it looked damn good.

“Do you… would ya want to come in?” He offered. You suddenly beamed, and god, if that wasn’t a sight to see, Joel thought there wouldn’t be anything better in the world.

“If you want.” You responded, and Joel moved to let you inside. As you passed, he could smell your soap, or personal scent- whatever it was, he felt lightheaded in the best way. He closed the door and walked to the kitchen, you following him along.

“I also have the book. Hope Ellie’s not too mad it took me so long.” You laughed and set the book on the kitchen table. Joel walked to the other side, setting down the dish.

“‘M sure she won’t mind.” He said, and his eyes shifted to you. You and all your beauty, your kindness, the way your eyes smiled even while you were sharing a passive look.

“Do you want some coffee?” He questioned, and there he went, sounding rushed again. He just wanted you to stay, to share you sunlight with him just a bit longer.

When you agreed to it, he got busy. He nearly knocked off the mugs off the counter trying to prepare everything. You sat at the table, and glanced down at the book. Joel looked back to see your attention on something else other than him, and felt a little more at ease.

“I got a patrol coming up.” You said, and Joel poured the dark liquor into one of the faded mugs. He turned and carried it to you at the table, sitting across from you.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. This will be my first one.” You said, and he could see for the first time something else in your expression- anxiety. Fear.

He didn’t like it, to see you facing such emotions. He wished he could wrap them all up and throw them away. Whatever it took to see your smile again.

“Who’ya going with?”

“Jim Harris.” You replied with a nod, and Joel sat up a bit straighter. He didn’t like Jim, he always came off as loud and imposing. He didn’t have the best reputation when it came to women, either. He was rude and disrespectful, and there had been some complaints about harassment made against him.

“I see.” He said. Why did anyone assign you with Jim Harris, of all people? They knew of his ways and his complaints. The last thing they needed was to put you with him, all while alone.

No, he wouldn’t stand for that.

“I’ll get ‘em to switch things around. I’ll go with you.” He said, and nodded with finality. You looked at him, a bit surprised if not shocked.

“Oh. You really don’t have to-“

“I insist. I can get some strings pulled so you won’t have to be near him. Besides, I just… I can’t stand someone like him being near you. It ain’t right.” He said, his fingers gripping the coffee mug a bit tighter at the thought of Jim laying even a finger on you. You looked at Joel, the shock really settling in now. Joel was unaware of the gravity of his words in the moment, something he would regret later. Not that he said them, but that he hadn’t said more.

“… Thank you.” You said quietly. Joel looked at you, and felt his chest bloom with warmth. Your words, though short and few, were filled with gratitude and relief that didn’t go unnoticed by Joel.

“Anything you need, darlin’.” He said, the name rolling off his lips before he could stop himself. You smiled, and Joel would have given you the moon right then and there if you asked.

He cleared his throat as if it would clear the air, and he visibly relaxed. Knowing you would be under his care and away from Jim Harris’ whole being made him feel better. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a strong need to be by your side when the time for patrol comes. It just felt right that he would be there to protect you.

“A true southern gentleman.” You mused as you took a sip of your coffee. Joel’s face flushed, and he averted his gaze, and began to speak but you cut him off.

“I like it.”

Joel felt the ghost of a smile on his lips, and he glanced at you, shrugging.

“Old habits die hard, I guess.” He said, and rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel his hair curling under his fingertips as he did so. He needed a haircut, and sorely.

But, the town was lacking a barber, so he figured he would do it himself one of these days.

“A good habit to have.” You said, and he chuckled.

“Whatever you say, da-“ but he quickly cut himself off and hurriedly spoke your name instead. You smiled, regardless of what he called you. He found he liked saying your name. It felt personal, more grounded to reality. He was having a hard time grappling with reality ever since you crossed the threshold of his home. He couldn’t believe you were here, in his kitchen, drinking his coffee. He wanted this moment to last as long as time would allow- he would commit it to memory. Every word, every glance, every piece.

He found he did that often with you- just taking in any bit of you you had to offer, when he was feeling brave enough.

“I gotta get back.” You said, and stood up, rubbing your hands together to conserve the warmth of the coffee mug. Joel stood up, and nodded hurriedly, though he already felt the air grow cold at the absence of your presence.

“Of course. I’ll… I’ll walk you out.” He said, and stood up as well. He walked with you to the door at a snail’s pace, and you talked about your work for the rest of the day. The walk was all too short, and Joel’s hand rested on the doorknob. He looked at you, his brown eyes taking you in before he released you back to the world.

“Take it easy. I’ll see you on patrol. Okay?” He said, and you gave him that gut wrenching smile. Could have brought him to his knees if you so desired.

“Sounds good, Joel.” You said, and he opened the door, the chill coming in as you wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself. You smiled and gave him the lightest wave, and headed out into the cold Texas winter.

He watched you go, and his name still hung in the air. Despite the door being open, the cold sweeping in, he felt warm.

Oh, he was such a goner.

~*~*~

Part Two out now!

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #tlou #the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #daylight series

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0cta9on · 2 months ago

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One Year of 0cta9on

Hello everyone! :]

Today marks exactly a year since I debuted as a writer! In an ideal world, I would’ve had some crazy story planned for today, but my current circumstances didn’t allow for that, so enjoy this semi-sappy yap session instead :>

I started writing during a particularly low point in my life where my mental health was in the gutters and I had an insane amount of free time. I’ve always liked imagining stories in my head, so the next obvious step was to start writing those stories down. Hence, 0cta9on was born :]

Channeling my energy into something creative provided me with a distraction from all the things that weighed on my mind and become a source of joy for me. While I know I’m not the best or most well-known writer in this community, seeing even a single comment on my work fills me with such an unexplainable amount of joy. To know that there’s people out there that enjoy the silly little stories I put out is genuinely insane in the best way possible <3

Since I’m mainly a fluff writer, I wasn’t sure what other writers in this community would think of me. But my worries were almost immediately quelled when I first joined the writer discord and became friends with a bunch of amazingly talented writers. Shout out to @msafterhours, @writerpeach, @octoberautumnbox, @gangplanksorenji, @prael, @kooyabooya, @okaylikeschaewon, @mintwithchoco, @defmaybe, @sinswithpleasure, @midnightdancingsol, @capslocked, @svndaysaweek, @usedpidemo, and of course many, many more for being so kind and welcoming <3

Recap of my past year of writing:

Wrote 8 chapters of Unlikely Duet, my cute little slice-of-life romance series starring best girl, Minji <3 Chapter 8 is the longest piece I’ve written so far at +18k words!

First Snow was the first fluff one shot I made. Rough around the edges, but we all start somewhere.

Beach Day and Good Idea were my first attempts at writing smut and they are… alright, I guess :> Part of me wants to go back and revise them, but I barely have the time and motivation to work on new drafts ;[

Masterpiece is still probably my favorite fluff one shot I’ve written so far, and while it’s not the best written by any means, I still really like how it turned out :]

FFF2+4 and Train Ride to Heaven for me marked the start of when I started becoming more comfortable writing smut. I’m still not that great, but it’s fun and I think that’s all that counts for me :]

Stuck with You was the first commission I ever did! Writing someone else’s idea is always difficult, but I’m glad the buyer liked the final product :]

Stroke of Luck was the first time I ever wrote a threesome. I think it went okay :>

Wrote And We Danced and Sunscreen for a fun prompt challenge hosted in the writer’s discord (You can thank @mintwithchoco and @msafterhours for these <3). The latter ended up turning into a quaint little mini series :]

Lessons was my second ever commission and my first attempt at femdom. While femdom isn’t really my thing, it was a fun challenge writing about something new and I really like the little gimmick I threw in there :]

I wrote Today, like, two days ago at 1am without much revising or editing (Shoutout @defmaybe for reading through it before I released <3). Go read it if you haven’t yet pls n thenk yew :>

Wrote 15 shorts from ideas submitted by you guys! Some of my favorite stories I’ve written have been shorts and they’re always nice when I’m low on ideas :]

While I likely won’t have anything out for a while, I think it’d be fun to pull back the curtain a little bit and hint at what I’ve been working on :]

🐰🦋// She’s just your coworker. Just that. Nothing else.

🐻👖// It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?!

🍁✨// Upcoming New Variety Show: Fan Date! Episode 1, starring [REDACTED]

🍔🧀// Time changes, but summer stays the same

I’ve run out of things to talk about, so this concludes my one year anniversary post :> Despite my unplanned and prolonged hiatus, I want y’all to know that I do NOT plan on retiring anytime soon. I have so many stories I still want to tell, whether you like it or not >:]

Have a good day/night and I love yall <3 Have a Minji :]

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rnadett · 3 months ago

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Here is your Big Fat Hero- Cailtyn 'defender' post

I somehow get that you think Caitlyn went too far, but so did the fandom. A lot of you talk about her as a 'dictator' and compare her use of The Grey to make her sound like Hitler, it seems people forget that she purposely used it only on her targets, not on civilians or all of Zaun. In fact, she even did a bit of a favor for Zaunites in the long term.

So let’s start analyzing the important aspects in a somewhat objective way. (Don’t mind my profile picture—I promise I'll try to be objective… or maybe not, who knows?)

EVEN after her mother died, Caitlyn still tried to protect the innocent in Zaun and tried to convincing the council not to start an invasion.

She even disagreed with Vi’s opinion on using the gauntlet (Hextech as a weapon), which we saw when she discussed it with Jayce.

This was her last scene before the attack on the memorial.

After that, we can clearly see how much it affected her; it fueled her anger (Good job, Ambessa—a true politician! No wonder Mel learned from her - except she is using it for better reasons). Yet, her anger wasn’t directed at civilians or all of Zaun.

Even then, she managed to call off the invasion, which she didn’t support in the first place. And after the attack, Vi talked her down in just two minutes—a point that hasn’t gotten enough credit, especially since it was her mother’s memorial.

This scene is also telling: there’s a storm brewing inside her, and while she wants to do the right thing, like protecting innocents from war, events escalate too quickly for her to reason through them and find a solution alone. Vi staying as her only remaining pillar in all this madness.

But yeah, her anger hasn’t faded just jet, but with Vi, they found an alternative—morally gray, but still better than risking a massacre between Zaun and Piltover.

And this is what they did. In the clip at the beginning of Episode 3, we see that they targeted ONLY gang members, not civilians in Zaun. I need to mention this a few times because there's already a misconception that Caitlyn and Vi are targeting or harming civilians.

But if you look at every frame, you’ll only see them going after gang members responsible for suffering and exploitation—Margot's and Chross's gangs, for example.

Oh, and let’s not forget, these were the people Isha was running from in the first place. A children!

So, Overall, this is just a continuation of what Vi tried to do in Season 1, but now with Caitlyn instead of Jayce (or alone).

So why does Caitlyn get all the blame?

As I see it, these actions were not hers alone; Vi was part of it too. In fact, this was Vi’s original plan (except the Jinx part, of course).

So, the point of my post is this: Yes, Caitlyn is heading in a bad direction, and killing—even gang members— with gas isn’t a good thing. But at this point, she and Vi haven’t harmed innocents. Despite how it looks, at least these actions prevent more innocent children, like Isha, from being harmed. Another question is where things will go now that Caitlyn has pushed Vi away (which I think was her only truly wrong action in Act 1).

Now Ambessa has taken Vi's place (in meaning of influence, not in any other way you little pervert) , and rather than calming her, Ambessa will fuel Caitlyn’s anger, grief, and self-hatred even more.

Oh my god, I love this scene. You can see the micro-expression on Ambessa's face, how satisfied she is, knowing how good she’s pulling the strings so far.

But I think we all feel that this match is far from over.

I also leave this here:

In the end, though, I believe that Caitlyn, no matter who’s currently influencing her, will have to decide her own path and who she truly is—without relying on anyone else. Even if we love her with Vi, this is something she needs to figure out ALONE.

Anyway, I might have written more in detail if Tumblr didn’t have a 10-image/post limit. Maybe I’ll make another post about the things I left out or would have expanded on.

#caitlyn kiramman #caitvi #arcane #arcane vi #vi arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane season 2 spoilers #ambessa medarda #mel medarda #jinx #jinx arcane #arcane s2 spoilers #arcane spoilers #arcane s2 #arcane discussion

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storiesfromafan · 6 months ago

Text

Obsessed Pt 3

A/N: I am finally back with part 3!! I am sorry for my absence, as I mentioned in anther post, I had taken time off work and it was my birthday on the 11/7. So I took some me time, haha.

I hope this part is alright, I finished it not long ago, so sorry if its not edited properly. Please don't come at me for mistakes or anything, haha.

Also, the last week or so, I have been thinking of a new series for one of Austin Butler's characters; Benny from The Bikeriders. Lets just say Austin has me in a choke hold right now lol. After this post I will be putting up something I wrote for him. I am finally branching out in my writing, which is terrifying lol.

With that, please enjoy the next part of the Obsessed Series.

Part 1 & Part 2

What was he thinking sending you that poem? What possessed him to act on his thoughts? Mattheo questioned himself over and over, tired from lack of sleep from his mind trying to figure out what was going on. It was like he was on autopilot when he done it. Mattheo had thought about the words, which his hand had written down and then mindlessly sent the words to you.

What had you thought when you got the letter? Did you read it? Did you like the muggle poem? Or did you hate it? No, you would like that poem as he had seen you reading it numerous times. Were you interested in knowing who sent it to you? Did you know it was him? Or did you think it was someone else?

“Mattheo, pass the juice” Theodore’s voice brought the worried boy from his thoughts.

Blankly looking to his mate, Theodore gestured to the pitcher of juice. Finally putting two and two together, Mattheo grabbed the pitcher and passed it to the male sitting down from him with their hand out.

“You alright?” Theodore asked taking and pouring the juice into his cup. “You seem out of it”.

Straightening up in his seat, Mattheo nodded his head. “Yeah, all good”.

From the look Theodore shot him, he didn’t buy Mattheo’s words, but let him be. If Mattheo wanted to talk to him, he would when he was ready. Mattheo went back to sitting silently, pushing his food around his plate, taking a bite here and there. He didn’t have much of an appetite, as his stomach was in knots with worry.

Looking up from his plate, Mattheo looked across the room to the Ravenclaw table. From where he sat, he could just see you sitting with your friends. You were talking and laughing like nothing was a miss. Maybe you hadn’t opened the letter he sent. But that still didn’t put him at ease.

Once breakfast was done everyone began to make their way to classes. Both Theodore and Lorenzo had gotten up before Mattheo, Theodore clapping him on the back in passing. With a look to you, he saw you were getting up with your friends, that was when Mattheo got up too. He wanted to follow you, even if you had different classes. But you had left The Great Hall before he could catch up to you and your friends. So reluctantly he followed his two friends, and went to morning classes.

First up Mattheo had flying class with Gryffindor’s. It was a pretty normal lesson; a few students falling off their brooms, Malfoy’s snarky comments, Potter facing off with Malfoy. Just a typical Slytherin and Gryffindor class.

Walking back into the castle, Theodore and Mattheo were pushing each other and laughing while Lorenzo strolled behind them. Pushing Theodore into a passing group of girls Mattheo roared with laughter, his friend apologizing for his mates actions. He then took off after his friend, grabbing him in a headlock. A small battle between them ensued before their next Professor made herself known.

“That is enough Mr Knott and Mr Riddle!” Bellowed Professor McGonagall. “This a hallway, not a dueling area”.

Both boys separated at her words, standing beside each other with their hands behind their backs. Lorenzo stood behind McGonagall snickering at his friends, all the while the students in the halls watched on with curiosity. The Professor took to scolding both boys, much to the amusement of those watching. To finish it, McGonagall escorted both boys to her class, which only gained more stares and snickers from their passing peers.

Once entering the classroom; Mattheo, Theodore and Lorenzo made their way to seats in the back of the room. Lorenzo and Mattheo sat at the back row, while Theodore and other Slytherin student sat in front of them. Throughout the class Theodore turned back to make comments to his friends, or share drawings he did out of boredom. Only after McGonagall caught them, did they finally settle down and take her class more seriously.

Now left to himself, Mattheo's mind went back to you and the letter. His stomach churned at the questions surfacing again. His mind was all over the place. The usually calm, cool and collected Mattheo Riddle was a worried mess. Part of him didn’t care about sending you a muggle poem, while the other half was worried about it getting out to the students. It would look bad for his reputation.

When class finally wrapped up, the three Slytherin mate’s packed up their stuff before getting ready to head to lunch. Theodore was already off a head with the Slytherin he had been sitting with, deep in conversation. While Lorenzo and Mattheo followed a few meters behind.

“You alright mate?” Asked Lorenzo with concern. “You seem out of it”.

‘So, it’s obvious then’ Mattheo thought to himself. He gave his friend a half smile, “do I seem like somethings wrong?”

Lorenzo nodded. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Looking to Theodore, Mattheo called out that they’d catch up later. Theodore looked back, not thinking much of it, but called back he’d see them then. With that sorted, Mattheo dragged Lorenzo off to an empty corridor. Out of the two friends, he knew Lorenzo would be the one to give him less shit for what he did.

So, taking a deep breath Mattheo began to explain to his friend what was going on. Starting from a year ago when you helped him, how he thought about that moment and you. Then how every time he saw you, he studied you, noticing minor things about you or what you did. How he wanted to be around you. And finally, the poem he had sent you.

“I sent her a bloody muggle poem!” Mattheo said holding his head. “Now I can’t help but think a million questions that I probably wouldn’t get answers to! I was an idiot!”

Lorenzo, still processing what his mate had just shared with him, lent back against a pillar. Part of him was amused at the situation Mattheo was in, while the other half didn’t think he had it in him to catch feelings for one singular girl. All three of them were known for their rotation in girls, never staying with one more then a few weeks to a month. But here was Matthe Riddle, looking to finally have grown out of his Playboy ways.

Lorenzo smiled at his friend. “You look to have gotten yourself into quiet the situation, huh?”

Mattheo groaned. “No shit. What do I do?!”

Lorenzo pondered his friends words. “Honestly, I don’t know” – Mattheo groaned again – “but maybe wait and see if you get a letter back? Surely, she wouldn’t just leave you hanging, maybe she is trying to think of what to say?”

Thinking over Lorenzo’s words, Mattheo slowly nodded standing up straight. “Maybe…maybe you’re right”.

Lorenzo nodded. “Yes, we will see if I am. But I have to say mate, this is a new side to you. How feminine of you” he laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Haha. Have a good laugh” he sulked, putting both hands in his pockets and pouting.

“All jokes aside, I am happy to know you fancy a girl whole heartedly” comment Lorenzo moving from the pillar.

The pair began to walk from their secluded space, and head to The Great Hall for lunch. No doubt by now Theodore would be wondering where they had gotten to. Mattheo smiled at his friend, feeling less stressed after finally confiding in someone about his mindless moment.

They were laughing and joking as they walked when a head of them, they heard a whooshing noise. It only got closer before a letter came hurtling to them, suddenly stopping before Mattheo’s face. Blinking a few times, realization kicked in and he grabbed the letter, in case if anyone had been near by could or had seen. He stuffed the letter in his pocket, while Lorenzo gave his friend a sly smile.

“I told you” was all he said shoving Mattheo’s shoulder.

Mattheo shook his head. “It might not be from her”.

“Then open it, dare you to” Lorenzo laughed.

Looking around, the hallway was empty, but he wouldn’t take the chance. “Not now. After classes” Mattheo replied.

With that decision made, which when Mattheo thought back on and decided was a stupid one, the two males made their way to The Great Hall for lunch. And now Mattheo’s appetite had returned a bit, well compared to breakfast it had returned. After that he managed to get through his afternoon class, but barely. The letter in his pocket felt hot, warming his skin, itching for him to read it.

Finally free the three Slytherin’s emerged from the castle into one of the few courtyards of the school. Theodore complained how the building had been so stuffy, and that they were missing out on a beautiful day outside. So, they decided to lounge around in the courtyard till dinner. Crossing the yard to a large tree that they usually hung out at, Mattheo was fidgety, wanting to open the letter and finally know its contents. Seeing how his friend was, Lorenzo nodded at him. And so, they both came up with an excuse – the ruse of meeting up with a Hufflepuff girl – to let Mattheo slip away.

Without a second thought Mattheo re-entered the castle, making haste to his dorm room. He didn’t know if it would be empty, but he’d find out as soon as he got there. Thankfully, upon entering he was relieved to find not a soul there. Dropping his bag by his bed, he pulled the letter from his pocket before sitting on his bed. Holding the envelope in both hands he noted the lack of a name on the front. What did he expect? His name? Yes, as many girls addressed their letters to him, but there were a few that kept it blank. Yet he had never signed his letter to you, so there would be no name on a letter. Turning it over he saw the wax seal, the last thing holding him from the contents and who the sender was.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Mattheo finally worked up the courage to break the seal. He sat there for a minute, as if rushing to get the letter out it would cause it to escape his grasp. Eventually he slowly pulled the letter out, before opening the parchment he took another breath and thinking to himself how silly he was being. It was just a letter. He gets them all the time from his fangirls. But if this was from you, it meant so much more.

Finally, he took the leap and unfolded the parchment. He was meant with a fair number of words, which read as such:

Dear Mystery Sender,

Thank you for the poem. I am glad to see there is someone else who knows of the muggle Lord Byron. Do tell, are you fond of his work? I can honestly say that poem you wrote would be my favorite of his.

Do you possibly have any other writers, poetry or anything, you enjoy? As I feel you know my enjoyment of literature, you could recommend something new for me to read.

Finally, if this was some kind of prank, please don’t bother to reply. I have entertained this for almost a day. I don’t like to be made the butt of someone’s joke.

Sincerely,

(Y/N) – don’t mess with me – (L/N) ❤

Mattheo stared at your letter, his brain slowly processing not only that you had wrote him but what you had written. You were messing with him, you thought he was pranking you. That was far from what he wanted to do. His intention was to show you, in a language you understood, how he thought about you. Cursing himself, Mattheo dropped the letter on the bed while hitting his head.

“Great” he sighed. “She thinks I’m fucking with her!”

Just then the dorm room opened, making Mattheo grab the letter and hide it under his leg. Lorenzo stuck his head into the room, upon seeing Mattheo rushed in and closed the door before crossing the room to his friend.

“So?! Is it from her!?” He asked in a hurry.

Mattheo would have laughed at Lorenzo if he hadn’t been in such a slump from reading your words. He nodded his head, to which Lorenzo pushed him further. Not knowing how to put it, Mattheo pulled out the now crumpled parchment before handing it over to his friend. Without wasting time, unlike Mattheo, Lorenzo read your words. Excitement dropping after reaching the last sentence of the letter.

Lorenzo dropped to sit at the end of Mattheo’s bed, placing the letter on the bed between them. “Well, that was not what I was expecting” he comments. “It started out promising, before crashing and burning”.

Mattheo half moaned and half groaned snatching the parchment up in hand. “I know! What am I going to do!?”

Silence settled between them, both thinking over the situation and possible solution. “Write her another letter, this time your own words would be best” Lorenzo stated, stressing ‘this’ and ‘time’.

“I figured as much” muttered Mattheo. “But do you think she will believe me? And not think it’s a prank?”

“Only one way to find out; write her. You won’t know if you don’t try mate” Lorenzo said, voice of reason.

Mattheo slowly nodded his head but decided to let this new revelation swim in his mind for a while. Opting to waiting till after dinner to construct a response to your letter. He didn’t want to rush a reply and make things worse. But to be fair, no matter what he reply’s with could go badly, as you might think it was still a stitch up.

Thinking Mattheo’s choice to wait to reply was a good idea, Lorenzo ushered his friend from his thoughts and their dorm, and to dinner. Before leaving Mattheo stashed the letter in his bag, silently hoping it would be safe and trying to think of a better hiding spot for future.

A/N: as always, let me know what you think and feel free to request :)

#mattheo riddle x fem!reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x y/n

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hivemuthur · 15 days ago

Text

What was that? - Ch. 9.

viktorxfemale!OFC explicit!

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,6K

tag: #what was that

author’s note: My dear people, who actually read this, I salute to your patience. Without much spoilers, @rennethen, who is my lovely beta reader and at this point a lovely friend as well, has co-written a crucial part of this chapter, which must be one of my favourite love scenes. Enjoy!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“So,” Jayce began, leaning against a nearby table with a raised eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me what happened after the party, or do I have to pry it out of you?”

Viktor didn’t look up from his work. “There is nothing to tell,” he said evenly, though the faintest twitch of his jaw betrayed him.

“Really? Because from what I saw, Renly looked ready to melt into you by the time you left,” Jayce said, not bothering to hide his grin. “And don’t even try denying it. I saw the two of you. Did you walk her home?”

Viktor exhaled sharply, setting his pen down. “No, she didn’t want me to. I don’t think I exactly met her expectations that night,” he added wearily.

Jayce frowned, his grin fading as he studied Viktor's expression. “Her expectations? Viktor, what are you talking about? I am worked up from the tension between you two, and from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s tired of the games.”

Viktor's lips tightened into a thin line as he rubbed his temple. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “But it is not so simple. I cannot—” He cut himself off, searching for the right words. “Renly… deserves someone whole. Someone who can give her what she needs, without limitations or complications.”

Jayce groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Oh, for the love of Gods, Viktor, not this again. You’re doing that thing where you convince yourself that you’re the problem before anyone else has even said a word about it. Do you honestly think Renly cares about your so-called ‘limitations’?”

Viktor’s gaze hardened. “It is not a matter of what she cares about now, Jayce. It is a matter of what she will care about, eventually. People always say such things at the beginning. They make promises they cannot keep because they do not yet understand the full reality.”

Jayce crossed his arms and stared at Viktor incredulously. “You really think Renly’s like that? That she’s just going to up and decide one day that you’re not enough for her? Have you even given her the chance to prove you wrong?”

Viktor’s jaw clenched. “I am giving her the chance, Jayce. By not allowing this… whatever it is to escalate into something we both regret.”

Jayce shook his head, letting out a low chuckle that was equal parts frustration and disbelief. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You’re so damn smart, but when it comes to feelings, you’re a complete idiot. News flash, Viktor: the world isn’t going to wait for you to feel ready. And neither is Renly.”

Viktor didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the blueprints before him, though his focus was clearly elsewhere. The weight of Jayce’s words hung in the air, pressing down on him like a tangible force.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but no less resolute. “I am not like you, Jayce. I cannot afford to be careless with matters of the heart. Not when there is so much at stake. If this were to fail…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It would break me.”

Jayce softened, his frustration giving way to something more understanding. He stepped closer, placing a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Look, I get it. You’re scared. But don’t you think that’s kind of the point? If it wasn’t terrifying, it wouldn’t be worth it. You don’t have to have everything figured out right now, but you do have to try. Otherwise, you’re just going to push her away—and I promise you, Viktor, that’s going to hurt a hell of a lot more than taking the risk.”

Viktor finally looked up, meeting Jayce’s gaze. There was conflict in his eyes, a battle between the walls he had spent years building and the growing crack Renly had managed to carve into them.

“I will consider your words,” he said after a long pause, his tone measured but tinged with something vulnerable. “But I make no promises.”

Jayce smiled faintly, patting Viktor on the shoulder before stepping back. “That’s all I’m asking. Just… don’t overthink it, okay? Not everything in life needs a blueprint.”

As Jayce walked away, Viktor returned to his work, though the words of his friend lingered. For all his logic and reason, he couldn’t deny the truth in what Jayce had said. And yet, the fear remained, an ever-present shadow that refused to let go.

Because Viktor knew one thing for certain: the closer he allowed himself to get to Renly, the greater the risk of losing everything he had fought so hard to protect.

***

Renly trudged up the steps to the lab, her feet dragging with a heaviness she couldn’t shake. She checked the time on her pocket watch for the third time that morning—or rather, the early afternoon—and winced. Nearly four hours late.

She’d debated whether she should come in at all, entertaining the idea of calling out sick, but even the thought of leaving Viktor alone to stew with his thoughts made her restless. It wasn’t as though she could escape him, anyway. His voice was in her head, his touch still lingering in the ghostly way that made her chest ache.

She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, despite the warmth of the late morning sun. The sky above Piltover was clear, but inside, her thoughts were anything but.

Renly stepped into the lab building, keeping her head low and her pace brisk. The familiar hum of machinery greeted her, but for once, it didn’t calm her nerves. Every step toward the lab’s main floor felt heavier, as if her body were actively protesting her decision to face the day.

She didn’t bother peeking in to see if Jayce or Viktor were there. If she did, there was a chance one of them might spot her, and she wasn’t ready for either of their voices—Jayce’s friendly concern or Viktor’s infuriating calmness.

Slipping past the main work area, Renly made a beeline for the tiny side room she sometimes used when she needed privacy—or an escape. The room was little more than a glorified closet with a workbench and a stool, but it was quiet, and, more importantly, it had a lock.

She shut the door behind her softly, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Setting her bag down on the bench, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

She wasn’t ready for this. Not for Viktor, not for Jayce, not for anything.

Despite the promise of a weekend to recharge, she’d spent most of it replaying Friday night in her head. The way Viktor’s voice had softened when he said, “I don’t have an answer, Renly.” The way her heart had dropped at his hesitation. And, worst of all, the way she’d turned away from him, leaving them both in that miserable, unspoken limbo.

She rubbed her temples, trying to push the memory aside, but it clung stubbornly.

“I should’ve just stayed home,” she muttered to herself, kicking off her boots and curling up on the stool. The bench in front of her was scattered with leftover components from her last experiment—a half-finished mess she didn’t have the energy to clean up.

She stared at it for a moment, willing herself to start something, anything to keep her mind off Viktor. But her hands stayed still, too heavy to lift.

Her mind raced as she picked apart the weekend in her head. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so direct. Maybe she shouldn’t have cornered him. Maybe… maybe he was right, and this wasn’t something she should push.

But another part of her, the part that refused to let go of the way Viktor’s heartbeat had sounded beneath her cheek, wasn’t ready to give up.

The sound of muffled voices outside the room made her stiffen. She recognized Jayce’s booming laugh first, then Viktor’s measured reply. She couldn’t make out the words, but the low timbre of Viktor’s voice sent a fresh wave of frustration rolling through her. She decided to bury herself in work once again.

She had no idea how much time had passed. She also didn’t really know what she was doing, aside from aimlessly fiddling with the properties of the formula. That was, until something went wrong and one of her vials exploded without warning.

She snapped. Letting out a frustrated snarl, she shouted, “I fucking hate viscosity!”—forgetting entirely that she’d meant to stay quiet.

The sound echoed sharply in the confined room, and before the realization of what she’d just done could sink in, she heard a soft knock at the door.

“Ugh… come in,” she groaned, her voice heavy with resignation as the door opened with a faint creak.

“Renly.”

Her movements froze mid-motion, halfway through wiping the mess off her desk. She didn’t turn around. “What is it, Viktor?”

Her voice was flat, her tone clipped. The sharpness of it stung more than he cared to admit, but he pressed on, leaning heavily on his cane as he entered the room.

“Did you mean to be distant?” His voice was quiet but weary, laced with an edge of vulnerability. He hadn’t heard her come in earlier. And he definitely hadn’t expected her—of all people—to hide.

She let out a sharp, humourless laugh, finally turning to face him. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

He flinched at her words but held his ground. “I deserve that,” he admitted, his throat tightening. “But I…” He paused, struggling to find the right words. “I want to talk.”

Her arms folded across her chest, a defensive shield he longed to break through. “About what? How things are better if they’re left unchanged? I don’t think I have the strength for that today. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“That is not—” He stopped himself, frustration flaring in his chest. Exhaling slowly, he gripped his cane tighter. “That is not what I think.”

“Really?” she shot back, her gaze sharp and unrelenting. “Because you were pretty blunt about it last time.”

His knuckles whitened on the cane. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I spoke with Jayce,” he added wearily, searching her face for any cracks in her guarded expression.

“Did he tell you what an idiot you are, so I don’t have to?” she muttered, turning away to sweep shards of glass from the workbench.

Viktor stepped forward, calculating whether he should touch her hand, guide her to face him. Instead, he walked up to the desk and stood beside her, placing his palm close to hers.

He hesitated, his breath catching. “I am weak around you,” he said, his voice small, barely a whisper.

Renly froze, though she didn’t move away. Their shoulders brushed lightly. Viktor gathered his courage and ghosted his fingers over hers, the faintest touch. “From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me. And I have projected that disgust onto others—onto you.”

Her brow furrowed, her lips parting in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve spent my life fighting to overcome my limitations,” he said, his voice low but steady. “My body has been nothing but a reminder of fragility, of failure. I hate it. And I... I feared you might one day hate it too.” He looked at her then, his amber eyes raw with vulnerability. “So I pushed you away. I thought it was mercy.”

Renly’s arms fell to her sides, her expression softening as the weight of his confession settled between them. “Mercy?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Viktor, this is torture. It’s inhumane. It’s… it’s—”

His lips twitched into a faint, rueful smile. “Yes,” he said. “I am aware.”

She took a shaky breath, a laugh escaping despite herself. “You wasted so much time. So much pain—for nothing.”

“Not nothing,” he said softly. “For you.”

Her chest tightened, and she turned to him, her hands trembling. “Viktor,” she began, her voice barely audible. “You’re wrong. About your body, about what you think I see.”

He blinked, his breath hitching as she closed the distance between them.

“I don’t see failure,” she said, her words firm even as her voice quivered. “I see someone who fights every day, who inspires, who... who has my heart, whether he wants it or not.”

His cane clattered to the floor as his hand reached for her face, his fingers brushing her cheek as though he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “Renly,” he murmured, her name a prayer on his lips. “You undo me. Entirely. Completely,” he whispered, his hands already wrapping around her. “I am at my limit. I surrender to you—if you will have me.”

His lips brushed against hers as he spoke. Hers remained still, tentative, as though she hadn’t yet caught up to the reality of what was unfolding.

Without waiting for her reply, Viktor’s hand slid beneath her shirt, his touch seeking the warmth of her skin. His other hand rested gently on the side of her neck, keeping her face close, their noses brushing in an intimate collision. He kissed her deeply, longingly, wrapping all of himself around her, as if to shield her from the world.

Renly’s fingers finally tangled in his hair, her touch hesitant yet possessive, grounding herself in the moment. His hands moved with quiet confidence, slipping around her waist and pulling her firmly against him. The intensity of his hold sent a shiver racing through her, a wordless plea not to let go. Their kiss became a delicate dance—a push and pull, her lips pressing forward, his retreating, both testing the fragile boundary between longing and surrender.

The taste of him was unexpected—warm, intoxicating, layered with a quiet intensity that mirrored the man himself. The faint scent of parchment and oil clung to him, grounding her even as the rest of the world blurred around them. His fingers pressed into her back, firm yet gentle, a reminder that here, in this moment, she was his focus, his anchor, his everything.

When they finally broke apart, it was only by the smallest fraction, breathing each other in. Renly’s chest heaved, as if she had surfaced from deep water, her lips tingling from the lingering warmth of his. Viktor’s gaze burned with molten intensity, his pupils wide as he studied her face, as though committing every detail to memory. His voice, when he spoke, was soft and reverent. “I waited for this… far too long.”

They stayed like that, holding each other in the quiet, the lab around them forgotten. For the first time, they were not scientists, not colleagues—just two people who, after so much fear and hesitation, had finally found their way to each other.

“Viktor,” Renly broke the silence hesitantly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her nerves. “I don’t mean to be blunt or pushy, but…” Her cheeks burned impossibly hotter, and she forced herself to continue. “I might… implode sometime soon if you don’t—” Her words caught in her throat. Fuck me.

Viktor laughed, the sound catching her off guard. She blinked, startled, realizing with a jolt that this might have been the first time she’d seen him smile like this—teeth and all. “Here?” he asked, his disbelief tinged with amusement.

Renly dropped her head in embarrassment, but Viktor gently caught her chin, tilting her face back up to meet his gaze. “No,” he murmured, his voice soft but sure. “I want to do this…” His lips brushed her cheek in a feather-light kiss. “…Properly.”

His next words were a whisper against her mouth, just before another delicate kiss. “Your place, or mine?” he asked, his hands cradling her neck, long fingers meeting at the base of her skull in a way that made her shiver.

“Mine… no. Yours,” Renly corrected herself quickly, her face flushing anew as the image of her cluttered apartment flashed through her mind.

Viktor chuckled again, the sound warm and disarming. “Are you worried I will, trip over something at yours?”

“Something like that…” she replied, attempting to match his teasing tone. But beneath her words, she dreaded the possibility of Viktor being confronted with the chaos she had let her apartment fall into over the past two days.

They walked together in silence, hand in hand, their steps slow and deliberate. Thankfully, their apartments were close, nestled within the academy’s nearby residential area.

Renly’s pulse thundered in her fingertips, and it didn’t take long for Viktor to notice.

“Are you nervous? Or… excited?” he teased, his tone low but playful.

“Um… both?” she admitted, though the truth was far less composed. She was scared out of her mind. And for the life of her, she couldn’t fathom Viktor’s calm, steady demeanour. It was as though, once he’d decided, nothing could shake his resolve.

She glanced up at him, studying his profile in the dim light. For a fleeting moment, she saw him as he must have been once—a fearless boy from the Undercity, driven and unshakable.

“Ladies first.” Viktor gave a slight bow, his hand gesturing toward the open door of his apartment.

Renly stepped inside, her eyes flickering over the space as she fought to steady her nerves. His apartment was modest, neatly kept, but with a distinct personality. Books were stacked in uneven towers, some with notes and diagrams spilling from their pages like secrets waiting to be discovered.

She opened her mouth, ready to tease him about being more of a hoarder than she’d expected, but before the words could form, Viktor’s arms were around her. In a swift, fluid motion, he twisted her toward him, claiming her lips with a greediness that sent her heart racing.

She barely registered the feel of the wall against her back as his hands roamed her body, their touch unhurried yet decisive. One hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers curling against her skin in a way that made her shiver. He was entirely in control, and for once, she let herself surrender to it.

“You have bewitched me,” he murmured softly, his voice quiet and thick with the accent. “You have pursued me longer than anyone else would.” His lips ghosted her cheeks, her eyelids, her neck, and she felt parts of herself clenching on nothing but air. Her neck still in his grasp, he guided her to look up and meet his gaze.

He could feel her hesitation, like a delicate tension in the air between them. It was familiar, yet it thrilled him all the same. He was not in a rush, though—he knew exactly how to navigate the moment, how to make her aware of the weight of his presence without overwhelming her. There was power in control, and for once, Viktor knew he would wield it with precision, just as he had in every aspect of his life. But this wasn’t about conquest—it was about trust, something she would give him only when she was ready.

“You have been pushing my buttons for months now.” Viktor stopped momentarily to study her face. She looked at him dazed, her eyelids hooded, her gaze pensive. “It’s about time you tell me…,” he whispered into hear ear and she could feel the curve of his confident smirk on her earlobe. “…Which buttons would you like me to push for you.”

Her pulse raced, but it was a strange, quiet excitement. She had never quite felt this way before, this drawn in by a person, this willing to be vulnerable. She wanted to trust him, she wanted to lean into the pull, but there was something inside her that hesitated. It wasn’t fear—it was uncertainty. She wanted to know what it would feel like to give in. Her heart seemed to beat faster with each breath, her body betraying her, melting under Viktor’s touch. She always thought him a shy lover. The realisation of how wrong she was almost made her chuckle.

As Renly collected herself enough to answer, Viktor hugged the curve of her ass with both of his hands and grazed his still clothed, half-hard cock through the spot where her thighs met, earning himself a full volume moan falling from her lips.

The last walls she had built came crumbling down. Her body felt lighter, as if the tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding had dissipated, another building up in its place. She wasn’t controlling this moment, but that felt right. Viktor’s presence was a steadying force, grounding her, guiding her through the vulnerability she’d never allowed herself to embrace before. It was terrifying and thrilling at once—this feeling of surrender.

He could feel the shift in her—how she had gone from uncertainty to openness. That realization brought him a quiet sense of satisfaction. She was trusting him with more than just her body now; she was trusting him with her mind, her heart. There was something in the way she responded to him now, the way she let herself go, that was pure. Viktor felt as if he had been granted access to something so delicate, so personal. And he knew that, with her, he could never betray that trust. His heart, usually so guarded, opened just a crack, and he let her in—just enough to feel her as she truly was: beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly his in that moment.

Viktor leaned close, his voice low but deliberate, his breath warm against her ear. “Tell me, Reynard Huxley of Zaun… what do you want from me?” The question was spoken with an unshakable calm, a kind of authority that left no room for doubt, only for her to answer truthfully.

Renly swallowed hard, her pulse hammering as she searched for the right words. There was so much she could have said—so much she wanted, but every thought tangled into a mess in her mind. Finally, she breathed, “Your voice.”

His brow arched in faint amusement as he tilted his head, waiting for her to explain.

“Your voice,” she repeated, this time a bit steadier, though the heat in her cheeks betrayed her nerves. “I love it—your accent, the way you talk. It… it gets under my skin, in a good way,” she added quickly, her fingers gripping his sleeve. “So, keep talking. I want to hear you.”

The corners of Viktor’s mouth lifted into the barest of smiles, a glint of mischief flickering in his golden eyes. “Ah,” he said softly, drawing out the sound as if savouring her admission. “So, you will leave me to do all the work tonight, then?”

She let out a nervous laugh, her head falling forward slightly until he tilted her chin up with a single finger. “No,” she murmured, though her voice faltered under his gaze. “I just… I want to hear you. All of you.”

Viktor chuckled lightly, his thumb brushing over her jaw. “All of me?” he repeated, the words deliberate, his tone playful yet commanding. “You will have to keep up, then. I am not known for being gentle when I am… inspired.”

Her heart stuttered, but she found herself nodding, her voice barely a whisper—“I’ll try.”

“No,” he said simply, his voice lowering an octave as he leaned in closer. “You will do more than try. You will let me guide you. Trust me… and listen.”

The words sent a shiver through her, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. There was no teasing in his tone anymore—only a quiet assurance, a certainty that somehow melted away her fears and left her entirely at his mercy.

He took her hand in his and guided her silently toward the bedroom. The room was small, slightly more cluttered compared to the rest of his quiet space. Various trinkets, tools, and souvenirs were scattered across the shelves.

Before she could ask about any of them, Renly saw Viktor propping his cane against the bed frame.

“Come here,” he said softly, beckoning her closer.

Seeing her expression remain neutral as she approached, he added, “You will tell me if anything is not to your liking, yes?”

Renly nodded, momentarily taken aback by his authority.

“I would like you to undress me,” he said firmly, steadying himself on her shoulders. “And I will do the same for you.”

This. This was Viktor was doing his magic. She knew exactly where this came from—the brace. This was his way of reforging a memory of shame into one of intimacy and pleasure.

With shaky fingers she decided the obvious place to start was the cravat. She pulled it gently through his button-down band, revealing the pool where his collar bones met. The density of his freckles increasing under the material.

She was so focused on her task that she didn’t realize her shirt was already unbuttoned until Viktor’s fingers grazed her skin—his handiwork, as always, precise and swift. She stole a glance at his face and saw it filled with awe; his eyes transfixed on her chest. “You are… astonishing.” He smiled at her, the words bringing back the memory of a compliment that had earned him mockery not long ago.

She managed to catch up, and a few moments later, she hesitated. Should the brace stay or go? Viktor caught the question on her face and answered before she could ask—“This thing too,” he murmured reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I won’t fall apart.”

They stood opposite each other, their torsos bare. At last, Renly got to trace an invisible line with her fingers, connecting all of Viktor’s freckles and beauty marks, leading down to his hip bone. She stared at him, her brows pinched together and her mouth slightly agape—he was so beautiful. Scars scattered across his ribs, where the brace had scratched his flesh, forming opalescent, delicate brush strokes of pearly white.

He pulled her closer, leaning forward to press his face against her breasts, inhaling deeply. “To think I was willing to leave this world one day without ever experiencing this,” he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin.

“Is there a poet hidden within you that I wasn’t aware of, Viktor?” she teased, desperately trying to break the tension that had overtaken her. She leaned into the joke, though the truth was, she felt overwhelmed by his reverence. It was ironic, really—their roles reversed, with her now the one under his microscope in this moment.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable. But…” He lifted himself gently from her chest to meet her gaze. “I certainly hope you’re not. I could study you endlessly.” His voice carried a quiet confidence, and he looked on, clearly satisfied, as a blush crept up her neck.

“Can I...?” Renly asked, glancing down at his leg.

“Oh, yes, you may,” Viktor replied. “But for that, I need to sit down. So, allow me to go first.” Not entirely sure what he meant by ‘go first,’ she let herself be guided toward the edge of the bed. Viktor sat down and then gently settled her between his legs. He placed a kiss on her belly before starting to undo the buttons on the back of her skirt. Oh. She was going to be very naked soon.

When her last piece of serious clothing formed a pool around her feet, Viktor started playing tentatively with the band of her underwear. She observed him from above, as he allowed himself a touch through the material, discovering her wetness—the effect of his thorough courtship.

“All this… for me,” he gasped, his tone breathy. Seeing her like this – flushed, aroused, all because of him, sparked an idea inside him. A new plan started to formulate. He pulled her into his lap. If she could, she would have hesitated, but Viktor’s grip was firmer than it seemed. Leaning into her ear, he whispered, “I would like you to take a seat,” pointing to his lips. “Here.”

Renly’s eyes widened, a quiet protest flickering within them. Her breath hitched as she remembered Viktor’s words—how he had expected her to speak up if anything felt wrong. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded instead.

“I will tap your thigh if I need to take a breath,” he murmured into her ear in a low, steady voice, balancing on the verge of the tone he used when explaining something in the lab. “And, most importantly,” a gentle squeeze of her thigh followed, “you will not abandon your seat until you come into my mouth, understood?” he finally commanded, more than asked. All she could manage was a quiet ‘yes.’

Viktor lay down on his back and guided Renly to hover above his face, her hands grasping the headboard behind him. A smirk curved his lips, when he instructed her to lower her hips, but she felt unsure about pressing all her weight onto him. Seeing her hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her thighs in a strong grip, his hands kneading the flesh of her hips, as he yanked her down to press her core to his face. His eyes flickered to hers from beyond the curve of her cunt, as he reassured her in a husky voice, “I promise I won’t break.”

He stroked the line of her with a long teasing lick, gently parting her with his tongue. Viktor could feel Renly shiver above him at the teasing sensation spreading itself through her body. She spotted his whisky eyes watching her hungrily, as his nose brushed itself gently against her clit, dragging a half-gasp half-moan, a weak attempt at mumbling out his name.

“Did you like that?” His chuckle reverberated within her core and seeing no response coming, Viktor teased her again and again, until she granted him with a shaky ‘yes.’ He smiled against her skin and placed his tongue where his nose hovered a second ago, switching between small kitten licks and splaying his tongue flat against her in long drags, searching for what made her body tremble the most.

Feeling her slick drip down his chin, his ears filled with the sounds of her imminent release, he placed his mouth back at her entrance and ground his face against her clit, his own groans making her body jerk and twist.

He was eating her like a man starved. Feeling her walls clench around his tongue, he searched for a spot that made her toes curl, causing her hand to fall from the headboard into his locks as she pulled his face closer, her body bowed in pleasure over him.

He picked up his pace, fuelled by his name falling from her lips like a mantra, when her walls broke, her pleasure crashing over her. Viktor tightened his grip over her thighs, his arms holding her close as she rode her orgasm on the vibrations of her own name coming from his throat in muffled moans.

When he felt her body cooling, he slid her down to straddle his lap, lifted himself up, and kissed her longingly, stroking her back. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Viktor, I…,” she tried to formulate a sentence but could only rest her forehead against his. “I don’t think I’ve ever… I… I…,” she stuttered, causing Viktor to genuinely laugh for the first time she could recall.

“Have I achieved the impossible? Are you at a loss for words, my dear scholar?” he asked, a smile still painted on his face.

“You have no idea,” she replied, leaving a dozen feather-light kisses on his face. “Can we take your trousers off now?” she asked, having recollected herself from the post-climax haze.

“Certainly. But wasn’t it your task tonight?” She caught him smirking again. Soon, they were both equally naked. Renly kissed the scares on his knee as she removed his leg brace. He winced slightly but decided to let her do it, since she let him probe through all of her defences tonight. Viktor finally got to trace the line of her tattoo with his fingers, sending shivers down her spine.

He shifted on the bed, bringing her from kneeling at his legs back to straddling his lap. His fingers ghosted over the plane of her face, briefly cradling it with his hand before moving down her neck and her chest. Gently cupping her breast with one hand, he brought the other to do the same. His palms gave them a gentle squeeze before Viktor leaned forward and latched his mouth onto one of her nipples, the other not forgotten as he delicately stroked it with his thumb.

Renly gasped at the sudden attention, her hands finding purchase in his hair to steady herself against him. He switched between her breasts, to give each the same amount of his careful attention, taking note in how she reacted and continuing the same gestures that caused her to writhe against him.

He gave her sensitive skin a gentle nip, causing Renly to moan in pleasure, before one of his hands travelled down her torso to reach her cunt. The free palm went to cup her face again, bringing her into a heated, passionate kiss. His tongue played against her mouth, coaxing her to open and she met him in the middle of a tug war game between their lips.

Viktor’s fingers spread her cunt gently to reveal all the slick she gathered for him, his thumb giving her clit a slow, experimental rub. Renly gasped against his lips at the sudden touch, and he repeated the motion in response. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, pressing a lingering kiss there, as he explored the pressure and speed she desired. It wasn’t long before he had her panting and grinding herself on his hand, a hot pressure building up in her lower belly.

As she was edging toward another release, Viktor cupped her cunt and pushed one finger inside, releasing a whine from her lips at the change of touch. She was a panting, flushed mess on his lap, Viktor’s finger fucking her slowly. He kept adding one when he felt her loosen, flexing her walls by scissoring his fingers apart and grinding the heel of his palm against her clit. He retreated his hand once he was happy with his ministrations and licked his fingers clean, making sure her eyes were fixed on him. “You are simply divine,” he whispered as Renly pulled him into a sloppy kiss, tasting herself in his mouth.

Her palms drifted down his abdomen, trailing along the freckles spattered on his skin. She slid her palm flat down his lower belly to grasp his cock and give him a long, languid stroke. her forehead resting against his. Viktor shuddered at the attention to his length—he was long with a gentle curve to it, something he was rather insecure about previously, but now found himself adoring the way her hands explored him.

She gently rubbed her thumb on the tip, spreading the leak of pre-cum to add some slide to her strokes. She studied which movements made him gasp, watched him as his composure began to faulter and his head fell back against the bed. “Fuck,” he mouthed a voiceless curse, making her lips curl into a smile. Finally, she brought him carefully to her entrance, coating him in her slick. His hands found her hips as he steadily guided her down onto him, pausing to let her adjust. By the time she had him hilted they both gasped tentatively at the sensation, as if it were too much.

Viktor pulled her torso flush against his, holding her tenderly as he rolled his hips in the first experimental thrust, gauging on how she was taking him. His mouth fell open against hers, their breaths mingling together with a sound full of yearning. Renly ground her pelvis against his until they found a rhythm that was inching them both toward completion.

“Fuck, Renly,” Viktor’s voice strained as he was chasing his pleasure, fucking her with everything he had. Each thrust deep, earning him small gasps falling from her lips. For Viktor, it was a quiet kind of undoing, a descent into something both utterly foreign and achingly familiar. Every touch, every breath, felt like it stripped away the layers of armour he’d spent a lifetime constructing. His world, so often dominated by calculations and control, was suddenly governed by sensation—her warmth, her quiet moans, the way her hands clung to him like she feared the moment would slip through her fingers.

It was humbling, almost terrifying, to be so seen. And yet, it wasn’t the frailty of his body or the imperfections he had so long despised that held her gaze. It was him. The way she looked at him—as if he were something precious, something more than the sum of his flaws—shook him to his core.

Her trust was staggering, her surrender an offering he scarcely felt he deserved. But the way she responded to him, the way her body moved with his, left no room for doubt or hesitation. Here, there was no weakness, no failure—only a shared rhythm, a harmony he hadn’t known was possible.

And in that moment, as he let himself drown in her, Viktor felt something unexpected: not power, but peace. A rare and fleeting quiet in the chaos of his mind, a fragile stillness born of connection rather than control. She had given it to him freely, and in return, he gave her everything he had left to offer.

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