#What I post will surprise you and me both

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter five

⭐︎ Watching cityscapes turn to dust

Warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of death, gore, mentions of killing (zombies?), post apocalypse au, grumpy x sunshine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You find out the truth's of this world, ones you weren't prepared for.

Word count: 5.1k

Author's note: This one is a little emotional... but Steve and Sunshine are finally getting closer. Also @hellfire--cult wrote the whole upside down conversation part and everything that came after, y'all are gonna squeal the way I did when you read a specific part aaaahhh

⭐︎ series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

“See this? Eucalyptus. If we run out of toilet paper, we can use this as a replacement.” 

Steve scrunches his nose, staring at the plant that you are picking apart now, gathering the leaves and stuffing them into your bag. 

“You’re telling me I can wipe my ass with a plant?” He asks, not sounding convinced of your words. 

“A leaf, but yes. It’s non irritating and soft. Koalas not only eat it but use it as such.” You explain without looking back at him, continuing to pick at the plant. You were hoping to find some mulberries or chokeberries out here but instead you stumbled upon this. 

Steve nods at your words, a small smile grazes his face, “is there something you don’t know?” 

Your braid falls to the side when you turn to face him. In all this time since you have been on the road, he hasn’t seen you with your hair open once, it’s always in a braid or a ponytail but never open. 

You give him a sheepish smile and a small shrug, “...math.” 

His eyes crinkle when he smiles, a low chuckle falls from his lips, “alright.” He furrows his eyebrows when he sees the amount of leaves you are stuffing into your backpack, “what’re you gonna do with all that?”

You zip the bag and throw the strap over your shoulder again, adjusting the backpack before you bend down to pick up your machete again, shrugging at him, “it can be used for a lot of things! We can put some in the shower for the good smell, we can make some tea with it or use it as a decongestant if someone gets sick.”

Steve nods again, he starts walking beside you, looking down at you with curious eyes. He is impressed by your knowledge. His first impression of you was false, he thought you were a clueless, lost girl, someone doomed to die in a world like this but it turned out that you know more than he thought.

You showed him how to build a water filter from scratch, you know what berries are edible and which are poisonous, you know your way around medicine, you’re fast on your feet and your reactions are quick. He is not so convinced that you are much of a fighter or that those knives strapped to your belt have ever been used for anything other than cutting fruit or opening cans. Your arms seem weak, they shake every time you lift heavy things, he can’t imagine how you have gotten yourself out of certain situations before but you know how to survive, he knows that now too. 

“I was hoping to find some berries, we could’ve made jam, we still got a bunch of sugar.” You speak quietly, looking around the trees around you, careful not to miss anything creeping up on the both of you. 

“I’m sure we’ll find some soon,” Steve murmurs as he keeps a tight hold on his rifle. He looks up into the sky, noticing the dark clouds. “It’s getting darker earlier now.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh with a frown on your face. “I don’t like it, it means that winter is coming.” 

“Yeah, hopefully we’ll make it to California sooner rather than later.” 

You hum, giving him a skeptic look, shrugging. 

That look on your face surprises him, amuses him even, he can’t help but chuckle, “is that pessimism I see on your face, sunshine?” 

“Never!” You chuckle and nudge him with your hand. “I’m just being realistic–”

“What every pessimist says ever,” he laughs, shaking his head. 

“No, I’m just experienced, Steve! It took me a while to even get here, there’s a lot of things that get in the way, obstacles. Sometimes you gotta do detours, there are a lot of towns and cities you have to avoid, that unfortunately makes the journey longer.”

“How do we know what places to avoid though?” Steve frowns, looking down at you curiously. 

“Well, big cities and everything around it, those places were bombed, remember? When the government and the military still thought that they could prevent this from happening… whatever the hell this is.” You mumble, gesturing to some of the rotten plants you’re passing by. 

“Right,” Steve mumbles and looks down. He sometimes forgets that you don’t know what caused the end of the world. He hasn’t told you yet, Nancy and Eddie haven’t either.

“It’s dangerous there, they thought they could take out those monsters that way but they only made it worse, cities are crawling with those things, along with infected people.”

He didn’t know. He was stuck in Hawkins since the beginning of the end, he never turned on the radio until you, he never even thought about what happened to the rest of the world, he was stuck in that town, he was busy grieving her. 

“How do you know?” He asks, glancing at you. 

You continue to look ahead, taking a deep breath before you open your mouth. 

“I got myself in deep shit when I took a detour to Washington DC. I ran into a couple who told me about a refugee camp in DC. I should’ve known it was a mistake to change my route and go there but it was only the beginning of everything and I was alone and scared, I wasn’t thinking.”

“What happened?”

You look down as your lips curl downwards, wincing a bit. 

“The place was crawling with infected people, it was overrun. I tried to go back, take the same way out and get back on my old route but… I swear it was a blink of an eye moment and those things had me surrounded.”

Steve frowns, his breathing becomes a little shaky as he thinks of the fear you must’ve felt when death was creeping up on you. 

“How’d you get out?”

“I had to fight my way out,” you murmur, looking up into his eyes, revealing the mark it left on you as you allow him to look into your eyes. “It was the first time I had to kill sick ones.” 

He can see it wasn’t easy on you, it’s written all over your face. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, and then it took forever to get out of there. The city was crawling with infected, with monsters, everything. Not to mention that most buildings were falling apart and it wasn’t easy to find places to hide.”

As you continue to tell him how you got out of the city of horror, Steve realizes that you have seen far more than he has. He might’ve been roped into the upside down years ago, he might know more but you have made experiences that he was spared from. That you have encountered things that he can’t even think of. 

Shivers ran down his spine when he overheard your conversation with Eddie back in Hawkins, knowing how it could have ended for you makes him feel sick still when he thinks about it. 

“I have avoided cities and big towns ever since. The journey is longer that way but safer.” 

Steve nods. 

“Guess it’ll take a while for us to get to California then.” Steve mumbles, spotting the RV in the distance and the small fire Eddie had made. 

“Yeah, it’s gonna be tough with the cold weather but as long as we stock up on everything, we’ll be fine.” You shrug, surprising him with how relaxed you seem about all the things that he feels anxious about. 

“Let’s hope we’ll find enough lakes on the way so we can keep filling up our water tank.” 

You always make sure that the water tank in the RV is filled so the shower and the toilet can be used but you save up on it as much as you can. Bathing in the lakes is getting more impossible by the second, the water turning colder and colder, but it works for hair washes and quick cleaning on the most needed areas.

“Yeah and let’s hope they won’t be frozen or else we’ll have to use snow and baby wipes to clean up,” you chuckle. 

“If there is gonna be any snow,” Steve points out. 

“I’m sure there will be, so we better find some warm clothes, you can’t walk around in this leather jacket,” you gesture to his trusted brown jacket. “You’ll freeze to death.” 

He shakes his head as he looks down at the flannel you are wearing, “funny coming from you, you’re not even wearing a jacket.”

“This thing is warm!” You argue, tugging your flannel closer to your body. 

“Yeah right, that’s why you’re shivering!” 

“Am not!” 

Eddie looks up at the both of you, grinning a little when he sees how close you two are walking next to each other. 

“Don’t you dare say anything right now,” Nancy warns him as she stirs the soup in the pot, giving him a strict look. 

Eddie sinks deeper into his camping chair, his eyes flash with amusement when he turns to Nancy, “wasn’t planning on saying anything.”

Nancy knows her friend well, she knew he was going to say something to tease Steve, something that would’ve only made him tense again and she doesn’t want that, not when you two are starting to get along. 

“Mhmm sure, Munson.” 

Eddie takes another look at the two of you before he leans closer to Nancy, “but he is smiling.”

Nancy tries to be subtle when she looks towards you and Steve. He is grimacing. She has to admit, it’s funny to watch your interactions with him, how you talk his ear off, trying to get him to smile or even laugh – it’s a challenge, he doesn’t smile very often these days, let alone laugh. It’s cute how you keep trying though. 

“Don’t mention it to him or he’ll stop.” 

Eddie snorts and leans back again, his eyes sparkle and a grin appears on his face when you wave at him. 

“Hey, what’d you got there?” He raises his eyebrows at your backpack. “Did you find your berries?”

“No, unfortunately not but we found some eucalyptus!” 

“Ah, nature’s toilet paper!” Eddie grins. 

Steve raises his eyebrows at him, he stops beside you and places his hands on his hips. 

“How’d you know?” 

Eddie tilts his head to the side, placing his hand on his chest in offense, “I don’t like that surprised look on your face, Harrington. Why wouldn’t I know?”

Steve shrugs, “maybe because you don’t look like a guy who’s into plants?” 

“That’s very offensive considering I used to sell ‘em.”

Nancy snorts and shakes her head. 

You straighten your back, eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

“You sold plants!?” You ask, smiling brightly. 

Steve shakes his head, chuckling at the look of enthusiasm on your face, “no, he–”

“Why yes, sweetheart. I sold all the good greens,” Eddie grins. 

When Steve and Nancy shake their heads at him again, laughing, and Eddie’s eyes flash with amusement, you realize that you are missing something, an inside joke that you don’t get. 

Nancy notices how your head is tilted to the side, your lips curled downwards as your eyebrows knit together. 

“Alright,” you shrug, throwing your backpack down and your machete next to it. You plop down on your camping chair, scooting closer to catch the warmth of the fire. The smell of soup filling the air around you, making your stomach grumble in anticipation. “Is that chicken noodle soup?” 

“Yeah with fresh chicken and everything,” Eddie nods, watching as Nancy pours you the first bowl. 

You give him a deadpan look, eyes flickering back and forth between his and the empty cans of soup in the grass. 

He chuckles at you, handing another empty bowl to Nancy. 

Steve is still standing, looking around, looking through the trees and over the large field. He is gripping his rifle tightly still. 

“Dude, sit down, we’re safe here.” Eddie tells him. “We checked the area, it’s clean.” 

You look up at the brunette, noticing the worried look on his face. 

“Yeah, it’s safe, you saw for yourself, Steve. The forest is green.” 

He nods, though still unsure. He takes another look around before he sits down beside you. A sigh falls from his lips as he takes the rifle off his shoulder, placing it down on the grass. 

You’re right, the forest is green, no vines or rotten plants around, no ashes covering the ground. Places like these are usually safe from monsters. Usually. Steve can’t ever rest, no matter how safe they look or feel. 

“Here.” Eddie pulls him out of his thoughts, handing him the bowl filled with soup. 

“Thanks,” Steve murmurs, giving him a tight lipped smile as he takes it from his hands. He glances at you, your bowl is on your lap, the spoon in your hand as you stir the hot soup. A strand of your hair falls in front of your eye and you try to blow it away but to no avail. His hand itches, fingers twitching. He tears his eyes away from you, looking down at his dinner instead, and he begins to eat in silence. 

“Hey,” Eddie nudges his chin at you, eyes flicking back and forth between your face and your machete on the ground. 

“Yeah?” 

“Have you ever actually used that thing?” Eddie asks, tilting his head to the side. 

Steve watches you from the side, curiously. You look confused, eyebrows furrowed and lips curled downwards. 

“Uh, yeah…” You murmur. “Why?”

How could you have survived without it? It would’ve been a miracle if you didn’t have to use it. 

Nancy raises her eyebrows at Eddie, she hugs her blanket tighter around her shoulders, sipping the soup from her spoon. 

Eddie shrugs. He knows you’ve had to fight at some point, to kill, you wouldn’t have survived for so long if you didn’t. Yet he can’t imagine you lifting that thing to kill something or someone, not because you are weak or incapable, he just thinks that you are soft – too soft to kill, even monsters. You are the type to pull away, to run, to hide, to fight but not to kill. 

You look into his brown eyes, trying to find the look of judgment in them but you can’t, just curiosity, nothing more or less. 

“Just haven’t seen you use it, that’s all.” 

“Yeah and I’m relieved about that, Eddie! It means we avoided danger successfully. I really hate using it.” 

Nancy nods at you, smiling. 

You’ve been on the road for nearly two weeks and it’s been nothing but a wasteland – empty roads, empty towns, empty houses. Nothing but the ghost of what the world once was. You haven’t come across monsters or infected yet, not even people. It’s almost as if everything disappeared completely but the screeches of the bats at night remind you of the danger still out there. It’s only a matter of time until you run into something or… someone. You got lucky so far but how long will luck stay on your side? 

“Well, the same goes to you all,” you shrug. “I haven’t seen you use your axe, Eddie. I also haven’t seen you use that bat, Steve.”

Nancy chuckles when you challenge them both, leaving her out of it. 

“Are you doubting my axe wielding skills, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, smiling in amusement. 

“Are you doubting me and my machete?” You retort, glaring at him playfully to which Steve chuckles, smiling at the look on your face. 

“Hell no,” Eddie shakes his head, “I was just curious! I don’t doubt you at all, I bet there’s a cold blooded killer behind that cute face.” He smirks, winking at you. 

Your eyes widen and heat rises to your cheeks as you grow flustered. 

Eddie’s eyes fill with pride when he notices your reaction, he can’t help but chuckle softly. He glances at Steve who rolls his eyes. 

“What about you, Steve?” Eddie grins. “When was the last time you used your bat?” 

Steve shrugs. 

As he thinks about it, he realizes that it’s been a long time since it was used. He relied on the axe that Eddie stole from him and the rifle Hopper gave to him on the day he left, on the day they were all supposed to leave. He didn’t even pack the bat then, Robin did. That’s the reason why he took it with him nearly two weeks ago. 

“Probably in ‘84.” He mumbles without thinking. “When Dustin and I went looking for Dart after he ate his cat.”

His words sink in slowly and it takes you a moment to fully realize what he just said. 

Nancy straightens her back as she notices the line between your eyebrows and the way you slowly put your spoon down into your half empty bowl. She looks at Steve who hasn’t even realized what he just said as he keeps eating his soup. 

“‘84?” You mumble, turning your body to face Steve. “What…?” 

Steve’s eyes bore into the grass, his forehead puckers, his heart sinks a little. 

“A what ate Dustin’s cat!?” 

You look bewildered, completely mortified as those images must run through your mind. The situation is not funny at all but the look on your face is and Eddie can’t help but chuckle, something that earns him a punch to his arm from the girl beside him. 

Nancy glares at him. 

“Goddamn, woman,” Eddie hisses at her, rubbing his arm. 

Steve can feel your eyes on him, your intense stare. He slowly looks up, turning towards you. 

They haven’t told you anything, you are just as clueless as the rest of the world is or what remains of it. To you, the world just flipped over. A mysterious virus wiped out more than half of the earth’s population. The sickness spread and people started turning into monsters. Monsters crawled out of hell or fell from the sky as many believed. He remembers all the things said about the upside down creatures, he remembers how some called them demons while others called them aliens. 

They didn’t mean to hide it from you, to hold back the truth. The conversation never came up and they also didn’t know how to explain it all to you without sounding like they had gone insane. 

Where would they even start? 

Would you even believe them? 

“Uh…” Steve panics a bit, turning to face Eddie, looking at him for help but the metalhead only shrugs at him. He glances at Nancy who seems to enjoy his struggle. She shrugs at him too, giving him a look that says ‘go ahead’. 

He hates this and even more so, he hates the smug looks on his friends’ faces. 

For a moment it’s quiet, nothing but the crackling of the fire filling the space. 

“What do you mean?” Your voice pulls his attention back on you. Your eyes are filled with confusion, your lips slightly parted. 

Steve takes a deep breath. 

He knew this conversation was going to happen sooner or later, he just didn’t think that he would have to be the one to explain this world to you. He is not good at these things. 

With a sigh he leans down, placing the bowl on the grass before he leans back again, turning his body towards you. 

Where does he even begin? 

He clears his throat, glaring at Eddie when he cackles. 

“I uh… listen, what I’m about to tell you is gonna sound… crazy.” 

“Can’t get crazier than this,” you chuckle nervously. 

Steve smiles a little, taking another deep breath. 

“Well, this has been going on for longer than you think.”

You narrow your eyes at him, shaking your head a little. 

“I’m not following…”

Steve runs his fingers through his hair, he looks back and forth between your eyes and the fire, unable to find the right words. 

“The uh…” He pauses, clenching his jaw. “Fuck…” He whispers. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie sighs loudly. “You’re the worst storyteller ever, dude!” 

“Well, why don’t you tell her, Munson!?” Steve snaps in frustration, huffing loudly. 

“I might be the master of story telling thanks to being a Dungeon Master… but I wasn’t in this shit from the very beginning.” Eddie says with another shrug and a cocky smile on his face which makes Steve sigh and roll his eyes. Your attention goes back to the brunette, your head tilted, ready to listen.

“There… There’s another dimension.” Steve starts and Nancy now knows it’s gonna be a long story, looking down at her bowl and continuing eating.

“Another dimension? Like a parallel universe or something?” You ask and Steve scrunches up his nose.

“Not exactly. It’s this world but a more… devastated version. What you saw back in Hawkins, it’s not as bad as it is in that dimension.” You were getting lost now, his words not making any sense and he noticed it in your face. “This started back in 1983…”

You listened. 

For the first time in weeks, you sat there without any words coming out of your mouth except for a few questions, letting Steve talk. Nancy gave her input every now and then. They told you everything… from beginning to end. How one of the teens got taken away, how one of them was an experiment, how the others solved the mystery, how the government was involved, then–

“Wait… so… the Russians… they did what to you?” You ask and Steve clears his throat, looking at you.

“Kidnapped me and Robin, almost beat me to death and then they drugged us, thinking we would spill the beans or something.” He chuckles and your eyes were just glued on him, a worried frown in your eyebrows. His laugh ceased as he looked at you completely confused. “What?”

“Are you okay?” 

He blinked a few times at that. It’s something that had happened years ago, back in 1985… Robin was one of the only people who asked. Dustin… then everyone saw him and the one thing that they asked was ‘what happened?’. You, years later, when his bruises are no longer there, maybe a scar on his lip from it that is barely visible… you ask him if he’s okay. He doesn’t know how to answer, completely taken aback by your question. Eddie notices, clearing his throat, which makes you turn your head at him.

“He is perfectly fine as you can see. Annoyingly so.” He comments and Steve is a little grateful for your attention, for your care, to no longer be directed at him. He cracks his neck a bit, not noticing the eyes of the other girl sitting in the circle, who is holding back a smile.

“So… After that, we came to find out so many other things… one in particular was that this whole thing, this whole… dimension, not only was opened by El, but another person got sucked in it… A dangerous person.” Your eyes went back to Steve as he continued his explanation. 

You couldn’t believe this was all done by a single entity, a thing that was once human, a monster that was once a child. He explained how the gates worked, how the craters were created and then… your eyes landed on Eddie as Steve told you about the final battle. 

“We thought we hadn’t killed him… but then– El told us he was dead. She could see him dying in his mind… but he didn’t leave without a parting gift.” Eddie states as he looks at his arms, seeing the scars and then back at you. “With the craters open, he gave one last order.”

“What was that?” You ask and Steve clears his throat, your attention back to him.

“To take over this side. To bring the Upside Down… up.” 

You didn’t know how to react now. Your eyes drifted to the floor. They have been in this war for so long. For years. Kids. Fucking kids were involved in this and you just felt anger. Good people were involved in something that should have been dealt with by adults. The people who died, they recounted each one of them, but your eyes were on Nancy, who was looking at the horizon, as if absent minded.

She lost her best friend to this monster… and her father.

Steve lost his soulmate… Eddie almost lost his own life… They all almost died at some point and– it was hard to imagine that while they were suffering like this, when they were fighting and getting beaten up… you were picking up sunflowers with your parents. You were off partying. You were out with friends or going to concerts.

It felt unfair. You feel so guilty for some reason. You feel guilty for having had the time to be a proper teenager. To have a proper childhood. To have a family while theirs started to break apart slowly. The scars they all have, on their skin, on their minds, on their hearts… you don’t think you will ever comprehend. You won’t ever understand that pain. 

“Sweetheart…” You heard Eddie calling you, but you were still shocked, the information dawning on you, and then– you flinched slightly when a thumb grazed your cheek, making you look to the side to see Steve, worriedly looking at you as he wiped something off your face.

“You don’t need to cry…” He softly spoke to you and… cry? You shook your head to get out of your shock, at least a bit, and you raised your hand to touch your right cheek and– You were crying. Tears fell down your eyes and you didn’t even notice it. Your heart felt as if someone was crushing it in their bare hands and your stomach was in a tight knot as Steve’s words kept replaying in your head.

“How… How can I not cry?” Your reaction was not something they expected. They expected you to yell in fear, or to appear nervous, or to be at least a bit skeptical of their story… but you were crying. Eddie’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, your eyes finding his. 

“Why? We’re here… we’re alive.” He says with a soft smile, but you shake your head, the lump in your throat bigger than ever.

“Your lives were ripped away from you… normal lives… Your friends… family– How can I not cry?” And it dawned on them. They haven’t thought of it that way, not once they stopped and regretted or wished for things to be different. But now, the thoughts linger… if the upside down never happened, or they never interfered… where would they be right now?

“It… it made us who we are now.” Nancy tries talking, not wanting to show how her voice started to break. Your tears kept coming down as you tried to nod, yet it didn’t erase the sadness. It didn’t erase how bad you felt.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry this happened to all of you…” Your eyes fell on Steve. His eyes were red as well as the other two people in the circle. Soon, you weren’t the only one shedding tears. They all sat, looking at the fire in the middle, letting the world sink in. Letting their story be heard by themselves this time. 

“Wow, sweets… thought we were done crying over this but damn, you come along and break the fucking dam.” Eddie jokes as he wipes his tears away, a wet chuckle escaping him and Nancy barely smiles, wiping her own tears, sniffling. You looked at him, a small smile on your lips as you saw him trying to diffuse the tension.

“We can’t afford to cry, we have to save our water and our hydration.” She says as joke, which makes you and Eddie chuckle. Your eyes turned to the one person who was still silent, looking at the firepit. Your smile fell a bit and you hesitantly raised your hand up and you returned his gesture. You wiped the stray tear that fell down his cheek but he didn’t flinch away from you. He wasn’t startled.

Steve looked at you as you retreated your hand back to your lap. He gave a few blink as he gulped the lump that formed in his throat. You were a nuisance. He knew that. You were making him have emotions he thought he was better without, and now…

“Thank you.” He softly spoke, and you gave him a small smile in answer. He reciprocates the gesture, the sadness slowly leaving his body as warmth fills his body once more. It was better to blame the fire for that. 

He wanted to hate you for what you were doing to him. But he couldn’t help but thank you… because having these feelings, these emotions, reminded him of who he once was. With Dustin. With the other teens. With Robin. He’s once again vulnerable, but being able to laugh with Eddie, with Nancy… and you… He doesn’t want to lose that again. 

“Don’t want to break the cute and intimate moment, but the chicken soup– I think it was fucking expired–” And all of your eyes widened as the loudest thing was heard through the field. Eddie’s face reddened as he cleared his throat. “That– I bet it was a demogorgon.”

The first to break was Steve. He laughed loudly, cackled, grabbing his belly as his face reddened from the strain of his laughter. Eddie had just let out a huge fart that echoed against the very far trees. You instantly followed as well as Nancy, all of you almost falling off the chair as Eddie scrambled up, rushing to get toilet paper inside the RV.

“IT’S NOT GONNA BE FUNNY WHEN IT HAPPENS TO THE THREE OF YOU!” You all heard him yell as now tears of laughter and joy escaped your eyes, your head hurting a bit from how hard you were laughing, pretty sure Steve was in the same or worse situation as you were because his was the loudest.

You all saw Eddie rush out with the small shovel and the toilet paper, running towards the woods, and your eyes caught on Steve. It was the first time you saw all of his teeth. His mouth wide with laughter, his eyes clenched, his hand on his belly as he complained it was hurting. Nancy’s own laughter was like a background noise, the volume was low on her, while Steve’s was on high.

You hoped to see him like this more often. He looked… good like this.

He looks good when he is happy.

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[outer-andromeda]

Usually I try to better clean up and color these... But I REALLY wanted to share 'em as soon as possible cuz I really like how they look already, sue me :')))

Some story time under the cut for those of you who want context >:000

((EDIT - Small TWs for some negative talk and mentions of grief. Also spoilers for the ending on Chapter 4 :00)

As mentioned in a previous post, Gabby and Doey's relationship is... Very strained after the events of the fourth chapter.

Doey joined the group (Gabby, Kissy and Ava) eventually while they were venturing as subtly as possible to avoid running into Huggy. It was a surprise, obviously - they all thought he was six feet underground since the aftermath of him crashing down. They were all relieved to know he was still alive, but something was different. He wasn't as jovial as his usual self was... He was just... Off. Quiet. Monotone.

(Which is understandable since the guy is literally GRIEVING the loss of the kids of the Safe Haven y'know- and he feels immense guilt for what happened)

At some point, they get separated - Kissy and Ava stick together, while Doey and Gabby venture on their own way, both groups hoping to join each other again eventually. Doey and Gabby still have that quiet dynamic going on, because the human guy doesn't want to make things any worse than they already are. So he tries to be the cheerful one. For both his and Doey's sakes. He tries as hard as he can. But it falls flat. And Gabby, despite himself, grows more and more irritated by Doey's unusual calmness. Something's obviously going on and he won't say anything about it.

Something happens that puts them in a dangerous situation, and everything spills out. Gabby wants to talk, he wants answers. Doey is trying to ignore it, but he's being pushed. And suddenly his anger blooms back out. And he lashes out on Gabby. Shouts all the words he hadn't gotten out. How he was never any good for the kids. How he could've done so much more. How if it wasn't for him, "they'd still be breathing and standing right now". How Gabby can't understand. And Gabby... Takes it. He stands there, listening to every single thing he says. Silently.

He's not afraid. And Doey notices. It's unnerving. It catches him completely off guard. It's like something is starting to break inside of him. Something he's not sure he wants to let shatter much more...

And then Gabby hugs him. And the thing in Doey's core is completely obliterated. And the crocodile tears are finally, finally let loose. And his shoulders finally relax to wrap themselves around the short man.

They talk after some VERY good comforting words from Gabby. They find Kissy and Ava after some searching, and they're back on track.

And from then on, their relationship changes back slowly to the small friendship they had formed in the past, plus more. They both understand and trust each other, and Doey feels relief from having someone he can confide in and let himself relax with. And just... Be a kid. Even if just for a bit. All three kids need that so badly, and Gabby tries his best to give that to them. To Doey. Because he, out of anyone, deserves a break the most.

[aspenmissing]

Hi! Love your arcane posts and headcannons! Could you write a comfort fic with arcane characters with a reader who doesn’t like to celebrate their birthday. I have negative feelings regarding mine and had a bad depressive episode on my last birthday. The reader’s reason can be up to you.

ᴜɴᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇʀꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ/ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ? || 7228 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏɴᴇʟɪɴᴇꜱꜱ, ᴀʙꜱᴇɴᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ/ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛꜱ!! ɪ'ᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇ ɪɴ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ! <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

Jayce had always been the kind of person who loved celebrating. Achievements, milestones, even the little things—he believed life was meant to be enjoyed to the fullest. So when he found out Y/N’s birthday was coming up, he took it upon himself to make it special.

They hadn’t been together for long—just under a year—but in that time, Jayce had come to care about her in a way that made her feel like home. They shared an apartment in Piltover, and while it wasn’t the grandest place in the city, it was theirs. The walls were filled with little moments that spoke of their growing connection: a pair of mismatched mugs in the kitchen, a collection of books they both loved to read, and the way their shoes always seemed to end up scattered in the same corner. It was a place where both of them could just be—no need for pretence.

And now, Jayce wanted to show Y/N just how much he appreciated her. It had become clear over the last few months that she didn’t often let people get too close, that she was careful with how much of herself she shared. Jayce didn’t know much about her past—she kept that to herself—but he could see the occasional flash of sadness in her eyes, as if something, or someone, had left a mark on her.

So, when he realized her birthday was coming up, he decided to make the day about her. He went all out—decorating their living room with soft golden lights, scattering delicate rose petals across the table, and, most importantly, cooking a homemade meal. Jayce wasn’t just decent in the kitchen—he was skilled. He had grown up learning from his mother, and over the years, cooking had become second nature to him. He spent the entire afternoon preparing a carefully crafted meal: roasted herb chicken, buttered vegetables, and a rich, velvety sauce to tie it all together. The aroma filled the apartment, warm and inviting.

A beautifully wrapped gift sat waiting on the coffee table, next to a cake he’d carefully ordered from the best bakery in town. He couldn’t wait to see the smile on her face when she walked in.

Everything was set. The only thing missing was Y/N.

=

When she finally walked through the door that evening, looking exhausted from a long day at work, Jayce’s excitement was palpable. “Surprise!” he beamed, stepping aside to reveal the cozy, intimate celebration he had prepared.

But instead of the joyful reaction he expected—maybe a laugh, a hug, something—her face fell. Her body seemed to freeze, her shoulders tensing up like she’d just been hit with a wave of cold. It was subtle, but Jayce knew her well enough by now to notice the shift.

“Y/N?” he asked, his smile faltering as concern replaced his earlier excitement. “What’s wrong?”

She swallowed hard, not meeting his eyes. “You did all this… for me?” Her voice was quiet, distant.

Jayce felt a pang of confusion. “Of course! It’s your birthday. I wanted to make it special. Don’t you like it?”

She looked around, her gaze skimming over the soft glow of the lights, the perfectly arranged table, the thoughtful little touches he’d put together. It was clear she wasn’t upset about the effort. But there was something behind her eyes—a reluctance, a hesitation.

“I—” She let out a long sigh and crossed her arms in front of her, as though she was trying to shield herself from everything around her. “Jayce, I don’t really celebrate my birthday.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. His brow furrowed, and he took a small step toward her. “You… don’t?”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I never really have.”

His confusion deepened. “But… why?”

She paused for a moment, her expression shifting as she searched for the right words, then finally spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, “Because it just reminds me of everything I lost.”

Jayce’s heart sank at the weight of her words. The smile he had been wearing slipped away as he took in her expression—one that was tinged with grief and something else, something much older than their relationship. The excitement of the evening suddenly seemed small, almost irrelevant.

Her birthday had never been a day of celebration for her. It was a reminder of the people she no longer had in her life, the family that had fallen apart, the friends who had moved on, the empty spaces in her past that no amount of time could ever fill. It wasn’t a day to celebrate; it was a day to mourn what was gone, what had never been.

Jayce exhaled softly, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance. He could feel the tension in her shoulders, the way she was closing herself off. “Y/N, I… I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” His voice was soft, sincere.

Her eyes met his at last, and there was something fragile in her gaze. She shook her head slightly. “I know you meant well, Jayce. And… this is beautiful. Really. But I just—” She faltered, her voice wavering. “I don’t know how to enjoy it. I don’t know how to make myself believe I’m supposed to.”

The vulnerability in her words made his chest tighten. Jayce wasn’t one to give up easily, but this time, instead of pushing her to celebrate, he did something he hadn’t expected himself to do. He reached out slowly, brushing his fingers against one of the candles on the table. He blew it out gently, the small flame flickering for a moment before dying completely.

“There,” he said quietly, offering a small, understanding smile. “We don’t have to celebrate if you don’t want to. We can just… be here. Together. Just us. No expectations.”

Y/N blinked at him, the surprise evident in her expression. She hadn’t expected that. Maybe she thought he would insist, maybe even pressure her to smile, to make a wish, to “enjoy her day.” But Jayce had never been about forcing things—he just wanted her to feel safe. And, for the first time, he wasn’t trying to fix anything. He was just trying to give her space.

Slowly, Y/N’s posture relaxed, and a soft, tentative smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “You don’t have to take everything down, though,” she murmured. “The place looks nice. And it does smell really good.”

Jayce chuckled, relieved by the small shift in her tone. “Well, I’ll have you know that I slaved away in the kitchen for hours to make sure it was perfect.” He grinned, playfully nudging her. “So, how about this? No birthday expectations. Just dinner, just us.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then finally, she gave him a real, small smile. “I think I can do that.”

Jayce grinned and pulled out her chair for her. “Perfect. Let’s eat.”

They sat together at the table, the warm glow of the lights making the space feel intimate and safe. As they ate, Y/N found herself relaxing more and more, letting Jayce’s presence soothe the lingering ache inside her. And maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t so bad. Maybe it wasn’t about celebrating a birthday.

Maybe it was just about being with him.

And that was enough.

VIKTOR

The morning light streamed through the windows of Viktor’s lab, casting long, delicate beams through the dust-speckled air. Shadows stretched over the cluttered workbenches, where blueprints, half-assembled inventions, and the lingering scent of metal and parchment created a world entirely their own. The rhythmic clink of metal against the wooden floor broke the stillness, a quiet but familiar sound that heralded his arrival before he had even spoken.

Viktor paused in the doorway, leaning on his cane, his sharp, knowing eyes settling on Y/N. She was hunched over her work, utterly absorbed, as she always was. The soft glow of a lamp cast golden light over her features, highlighting the slight furrow in her brow, the way her fingers delicately adjusted the components of whatever intricate project had captured her attention today.

A familiar fondness tugged at his chest.

It was February 25th.

He knew what that meant.

Most people would have arrived with an eager grin, a cake in hand, candles at the ready, eager to celebrate another year of life. But Viktor wasn’t most people. And Y/N… Y/N didn’t celebrate her birthday.

He had learned this in passing, the way one might stumble upon an old, forgotten book wedged between the shelves. A casual conversation, a date mentioned in some offhand way. When he had pressed, even gently, she had tensed—just for a moment—before brushing it off.

"I don’t like it. Just another day."

That should have been enough of an answer, but Viktor was a scientist, and scientists were not satisfied with vague explanations. He had watched, observed, until eventually, the truth had slipped through the cracks.

Her birthdays had never been warm, never filled with the kind of joy that people spoke of when they reminisced about childhood celebrations. They had been reminders of loneliness, of expectations never met. A day where she had once allowed herself to hope—only to be left with nothing but silence, an empty room, and the realization that no one was coming. No one had remembered. No one had cared.

So, she had stopped expecting anything. Stopped wanting it.

And so, Viktor did not say happy birthday.

He did not drape streamers across the lab or offer her some grand, well-intentioned gift. He did not try to convince her that this year could be different, that this day could be redeemed. That wasn’t what she wanted.

=

Instead, he walked over to her desk, cane tapping softly against the floor, and set down a cup of tea—freshly brewed, still steaming, made just how she liked it.

She blinked up at him, her expression shifting from focus to something softer, something warm. A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips before she reached for the tea, fingers brushing his for just a second.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” His voice was teasing, but there was an unmistakable intimacy beneath it, a quiet concern wrapped in familiarity.

Y/N exhaled a short laugh, shaking her head. “Did you?”

Viktor chuckled, settling into the chair across from her with the slow, careful movements that his leg required. He sighed as he leaned back slightly, cane resting against the side of the desk. “A scientist never sleeps, můj drahý. You know this.” (My Dear)

She rolled her eyes but took the tea anyway, holding the cup close, letting the warmth seep into her fingertips. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was thoughtful—him.

And that meant something.

=

The world outside was moving, rushing, celebrating and forgetting, just as it always did. But here, in the quiet sanctuary of the lab, time moved differently.

Eventually, Viktor broke the silence. “I made some adjustments to the schematics for your stabilizer design,” he murmured, sliding a few papers her way with his free hand. His thumb traced slow, absent-minded circles against the back of her hand. “Thought we might test them later.”

Y/N reached for them, scanning over his precise, detailed notes. Her fingers brushed his once more as she took them, gaze softening.

He always did this—always found ways to show he cared without making it feel like pity, without making it feel forced.

For the first time that day, a genuine smile tugged at her lips.

She knew what he was doing.

No grand gestures, no forced celebrations—just quiet companionship. Just another day, but one where he made sure she wasn’t alone.

And for that, she was grateful.

Viktor, who had always been so consumed by his work, who had spent so much of his life surrounded by brilliance but little warmth, had learned to understand her in ways no one else had. He had learned when to push and when to simply be there.

He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. It was soft, barely there, but it sent warmth curling through her chest.

"Would it be terribly forward of me," he murmured, "if I said I was quite glad you exist?"

Y/N inhaled slowly, watching him, her heart catching in her throat. She could say a thousand things. Make a joke, tease him, brush it off like she always had before.

But not with him.

Not today.

Instead, she leaned forward, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. Viktor sighed into it, fingers tightening around hers, his other hand reaching up to cradle her face as if she were something fragile.

When they parted, her forehead rested against his, her breath mingling with his own.

"You could say it," she murmured, "or you could just keep kissing me."

Viktor chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "Ah, můj drahý, you truly do have the best ideas."

And for the rest of the day, no one spoke of birthdays. No candles, no gifts, no reminders of the past. Just quiet love, warm hands, stolen kisses, and a man who had never needed a reason to cherish her.

And for Y/N, that meant more than any celebration ever could.

JAYVIK

You never liked celebrating your birthday.

It wasn’t because you feared aging or found parties annoying—no, it was because the day itself held nothing but bittersweet memories. The kind that lingered in the back of your mind, creeping in like an unshakable shadow no matter how hard you tried to ignore them.

It was the day your mother died.

She passed on the very day she had brought you into the world, a cruel twist of fate that turned every birthday into a mourning period rather than a celebration. You were too young to remember the first few years, but as you grew older, you learned to recognize the sadness in your father’s eyes, the way he would sit at the table in silence while neighbors offered pitying smiles.

The house was always too quiet on that day. Too empty.

Even as a child, you never wanted cakes or candles, never wanted people to sing or toast in your name. Other children at school had balloons and parties, but every time someone asked you, “What are you doing for your birthday?” you would shrug and change the subject.

As an adult, that habit remained.

Working in the bustling halls of Piltover’s Academy meant you had plenty of colleagues, many of whom thrived on gossip and social events. The first year you were there, someone had tried to throw you a small get-together, completely unaware of your distaste for the occasion. You had left early, stomach tight, heart heavy. The forced joy made you feel even more isolated.

Jayce and Viktor were the only ones who truly understood.

Which was why, when the morning of your birthday arrived, they were already on high alert.

=

Jayce, ever the charismatic golden boy of the Academy, was the first line of defence. He intercepted professors, engineers, and assistants with a charming smile and a firm “Don’t even think about it.”

He knew how these people worked—how they’d see an excuse to celebrate and turn it into a grand affair, no matter how personal it was. But this wasn’t about them. This was about you.

When the first person casually brought up your birthday, Jayce cut them off mid-sentence.

���She doesn’t celebrate,” he stated plainly, rolling up his sleeves. “Respect that.”

Most people backed off quickly. Jayce’s reputation made him difficult to argue with, especially when his normally easygoing demeanor shifted into something more serious.

Viktor, meanwhile, played his own part. He loitered near your usual workspace, leaning on his cane, golden eyes sharp as he redirected any well-meaning colleagues before they could get too close.

“She does not want this,” he reminded them, his voice carrying the kind of finality that made people think twice.

If Jayce was the first line of defence, Viktor was the last.

And yet, people were persistent.

By midday, Sky tried sneaking in a small wrapped box, her expression hesitant yet hopeful.

Jayce sighed, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Sky,” he said, his tone somewhere between patient and exasperated. “We talked about this.”

“I know, I know! But it’s just something small—”

Viktor exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “You know she will not accept it.”

Sky hesitated, looking between the two of them. “But… doesn’t she deserve something nice?”

That was the thing. You did deserve something nice. But not a forced celebration. Not something that made the weight on your heart feel heavier.

And so, with careful words, Jayce and Viktor turned every well-meaning colleague away, ensuring that by the time you arrived in the lab that afternoon, there wasn’t a single hint of birthday cheer in sight. No decorations, no cake, no whispered happy birthday from a passing researcher. Just another ordinary day.

Just how you wanted it.

=

The only difference came when the three of you finally made it home that evening.

The exhaustion from the day lingered in your bones, sinking deep into the spaces between muscle and marrow. You weren’t sure if it was from the weight of the date itself or from the constant effort it took to suppress it. Keeping up the mask. Pretending not to notice the hushed whispers from colleagues who meant well. The tension of dodging sympathetic glances. It all piled onto you, a quiet but relentless pressure.

The moment the door shut behind you, the tension cracked just a little.

Jayce didn’t hesitate. Strong arms wrapped around you from behind, his warmth pressing into your back, solid and steady. His chin found its way to the crook of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he exhaled slowly, deliberately, as if trying to breathe some of his ease into you.

Viktor, already making his way to the couch, watched with quiet understanding. His amber eyes, sharp with intelligence yet endlessly soft when it came to you, traced over your face, noting the tired slump of your shoulders. He didn’t speak right away—he never did when words weren’t needed.

Instead, he set his cane aside and shifted to one end of the couch, making room. One hand reached toward you, fingers curling slightly in silent invitation.

You let Jayce guide you forward, your movements slow and heavy, as if wading through thick fog. The moment you sank onto the couch beside Viktor, his hand found yours, fingers cool but firm. He ran his thumb in slow, deliberate circles over your knuckles—soothing, grounding. Jayce followed close behind, settling in on your other side, draping an arm around both you and Viktor with ease.

The room was dim, illuminated only by the golden glow of the city filtering through the windows. Outside, Piltover was still alive with its usual hum—distant chatter, the occasional clang of machinery, the faint whistle of a steam-powered transport. But here, in this small sanctuary of an apartment, it was quiet.

No one said happy birthday.

No one tried to make it a special day.

Instead, Viktor leaned his head against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “Long day?”

You let out a slow, steady breath. It wasn’t quite a sigh, more like an unspoken admission. “Yeah.”

Jayce tightened his grip around your waist, his palm pressing against your ribs in a steadying warmth. He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple before murmuring, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You swallowed, shaking your head. Your throat felt tight, the kind of tightness that came from holding too much in for too long. “Just… stay like this.”

And they did. The three of you sat there, tangled together in the quiet.

Viktor’s fingers never stopped their slow, soothing circles against your skin, while Jayce’s thumb brushed absentmindedly along your side, a silent promise that he was there. No words needed. No grand gestures. Just warmth. Comfort. The kind of love that wasn’t flashy or loud but strong in the way it simply existed—constant, unwavering.

The weight in your chest didn’t vanish entirely, but it loosened, just a little. The kind of looseness that let you breathe a little easier. That reminded you that, even on a day you’d rather forget, you weren’t alone.

VANDER

The air in The Last Drop buzzed with quiet anticipation. Vander had made it abundantly clear to the kids that Y/N didn’t like celebrating her birthday. He respected that, understood that some wounds weren’t meant to be reopened, even by well-intentioned hands.

For Y/N, birthdays weren’t something to celebrate. Not anymore. The memories attached to them were too heavy—ghosts of the past lurking in every candle’s flicker. She had once celebrated, long ago, before she lost everything. Before she learned that birthdays only marked another year of surviving, not truly living.

So when Vander had told the kids to leave it alone, he had truly believed they would listen.

But when had they ever?

=

So here they were, barely containing their excitement, whispering and snickering in hurried voices as they scrambled to put the finishing touches on their secret little plan.

Powder had drawn a picture of all of them together—crayon strokes slightly smudged from how many times she had reworked Vander’s beard and added extra details to Y/N’s smile. She clutched the paper close to her chest like it was the most important thing in the world, her fingers twitching as if eager to hand it over already.

Milo had stolen a few extra rations of sweets, stuffing them in his pockets with a cocky smirk, convinced that the slightly stale biscuits and hardened chocolate were a necessary sacrifice for the occasion. He had even swiped a handful of sugar cubes from behind the bar, arguing that they’d make the cake taste better—though no one was entirely sure how.

Claggor, ever resourceful, had somehow acquired a half-melted candle that leaned dangerously to one side when stuck into the lopsided mess of a cake they had put together. "It’s still good!" he insisted, rotating it to try and find an angle where it didn’t look like it was about to fall over entirely.

Vi, of course, had taken charge.

She stood in the middle of it all, hands on her hips, directing them with the confidence of someone who had no plan B if this whole thing went sideways. "Alright, Powder, you stand by the lights. Claggor, make sure Milo doesn’t eat half the cake before Y/N even sees it. And for the love of everything, act natural. We don’t want Vander sniffing this out before she even gets here."

Milo scoffed. "You act like the old man’s got some kinda sixth sense."

Vi shot him a look. "He does."

And sure enough, Vander was already suspicious.

From behind the bar, his sharp gaze flickered toward them every so often, narrowing slightly when he caught them huddled too close together, whispering like little criminals. He let out a low sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. He didn’t know what they were planning—yet—but he could tell it was trouble.

And knowing them?

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

=

Y/N walked through the door, rolling her shoulders from a long day of work, already looking forward to a quiet evening with Vander. The familiar scent of ale and warm spices from The Last Drop wrapped around her like a well-worn cloak—comforting, familiar.

She had been looking forward to him.

A drink in hand, his gruff voice teasing her about taking on too much, and later, the weight of his arms draped over her shoulders as they sat together in silence. That was all she needed.

But the moment she stepped inside—

“SURPRISE!”

The word hit her like a sudden wave, the air crackling with the energy of young excitement. The dim lights of the bar flickered to life, revealing a scene she had not been expecting.

Powder practically bounced on her heels, blue eyes wide with joy. Vi stood at the centre, arms crossed in smug satisfaction, chin lifted as if to say, I told you we’d pull it off. Claggor grinned, clearly proud of whatever part he had played, and Milo—well, he looked impatient, like he was waiting for her to collapse into gratitude at their grand effort.

Y/N froze.

The room had been hastily decorated, mismatched scraps of fabric strung together in an attempt at banners. A small cake—lopsided and definitely not store-bought—sat on the table. And in the centre of it all, carefully propped up, was Powder’s drawing.

A picture of all of them. Together.

Her stomach twisted.

From beside her, Vander’s reaction was immediate. His broad shoulders tensed, his brows pulled into a deep frown, and his large hands planted firmly on his hips as he took in the sight before him.

The decorations. The makeshift cake. The eager, hopeful expressions of the kids who had clearly gone behind his back.

His voice was low, sharp, unmistakably displeased.

“Oi.” His gruff tone cut through the moment like a blade. “What the hell is this?”

The kids flinched—just barely. Even Vi, the most defiant of them all, hesitated under the weight of his stare. But she recovered quickly, lifting her chin again.

“A party. For Y/N.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge.

Vander exhaled slowly, nostrils flaring as he ran a hand through his graying hair. His gaze flickered toward Y/N, searching, already prepared to shut this whole thing down at the first sign of distress.

And Y/N—

She should have been angry.

She wanted to be angry.

They had no idea what birthdays meant to her. How every year, the weight of those she lost pressed down on her like an iron chain. How she had once celebrated before everything fell apart, before the world had taught her that growing older wasn’t a gift—it was survival.

But the kids—

They were beaming.

They weren’t doing this to hurt her. They weren’t trying to dredge up old wounds or make her feel obligated. They had done this because, in their eyes, she was someone worth celebrating.

And damn it all—how could she be mad at that?

Y/N swallowed hard, forcing down the tightness in her throat. She glanced at Powder first, the girl nearly vibrating with anticipation. Then Vi, still trying to act like she didn’t care about Y/N’s reaction, even though she clearly did. Claggor, hopeful. Milo, already looking like he wanted to roll his eyes if she didn’t react fast enough.

They had done this for her.

So, she did the only thing she could.

She forced a smile—small, but genuine enough.

“You little brats,” she muttered, shaking her head as she stepped forward.

Powder gasped, practically bouncing in place. “Do you like it? We worked really hard!”

Vi nudged her, grinning. “Told you we should celebrate. You’re part of this family, Y/N. You don’t get to just ignore your birthday when you’ve got us around.”

A chuckle slipped past her lips.

This wasn’t about a date on a calendar. It was about them. About the people in front of her, the ones who—despite everything—wanted her to know she mattered. But even as warmth settled in her chest, something in her remained guarded.

She turned her gaze back toward Vander.

He was still watching her, his frown lingering, the tension in his stance refusing to ease. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. His protective nature warred against the situation, his first instinct to keep her from something that might hurt.

But she wasn’t breaking.

Not tonight.

She brushed her fingers against his arm, a silent reassurance.

His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a firm line. His shoulders remained stiff for a moment longer before he finally exhaled, long and slow, the fight draining from him.

He sighed again, running a large hand down his face before his voice dropped, low and meant only for her.

“You don’t have to do this, love.”

Y/N met his gaze, her expression softer now, a quiet acceptance in her eyes.

“Just this once.” Her voice was steady, but there was a finality to it. A warning that this was an exception, not a change.

Vander studied her for a long moment, weighing her words. Then, after a beat, the smallest, most reluctant smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You’re stronger than me.”

She huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Damn right.”

And for the first time in years— Just this once—

She let them celebrate her.

SILCO

The Undercity was a cruel place to be born, filled with smoke-choked streets, back-alley dealings, and the ever-present reminder that survival was never guaranteed. Crueler still was being reminded of it every year, as if the simple passage of time was something to be celebrated rather than endured.

Y/N never saw the point in marking the day she entered this world—not when all it had ever done was take, take, take.

She had learned young that birthdays were little more than a cruel joke, an arbitrary measurement of time that only served to remind her that each passing year did not bring change, did not bring hope, did not bring anything but more of the same struggle. In Zaun, surviving another year was less of an achievement and more of an inevitability, a slow march toward an end that came for everyone eventually. And yet, people insisted on celebrating as if it meant something.

She could still remember the last time she had indulged in the notion.

She had been a child then, still foolish enough to believe that love and effort could outweigh the weight of the world pressing down on them. Her parents had done their best with what little they had, scraping together a meager but heartfelt attempt at a celebration—scavenged sweets wrapped in old paper, a candle stuck into a piece of stale bread, and a broken music box that had once belonged to someone else, given to her as though it was something new. She had loved it anyway. She had cherished it, wound it up every night just to hear its fragile, warbled tune, a melody that trembled on the edge of silence like a secret too delicate to hold.

But that was the last time she had both of them.

=

By the time the next year rolled around, they were gone, swallowed up by the Undercity’s insatiable hunger, lost to violence or sickness or some other inevitable fate. She never learned exactly how they had died. Perhaps it had been Piltover’s enforcers, another brutal culling of those who dared to scrape too close to the surface. Perhaps it had been the Chem Barons, ruthless in their control, never hesitating to snuff out lives that no longer served a purpose. Or perhaps it had been the city itself, bleeding them dry in the way it always did, with slow, grinding inevitability, until there was nothing left.

Either way, they were gone. And the day that had once been hers became something else entirely.

A reminder.

A grave marker.

Since then, Y/N had avoided birthdays altogether. No counting down the days, no laughter, no candles, no meaningless words of well-wishing from people who had no idea what they were actually celebrating. Just another day lost to the endless churn of time, another twenty-four hours of survival in a city that did not care whether she lived or died.

She never spoke of it to anyone.

But Silco was not just anyone.

He knew.

He always knew.

And so when the day arrived, he did not acknowledge it, did not force a smile or offer some insincere platitude, did not drape the moment in pretence. He treated it the way she wanted it to be treated—like any other day. A kindness, though neither of them would ever call it that.

But Silco was not a man to do nothing.

=

The air inside The Last Drop was thick with the familiar scent of smoke, sweat, and spilled liquor, the murmur of voices blending seamlessly into the pulse of low, vibrating bass that thrummed through the floorboards. Even this late at night, the bar was still alive, though the energy had settled into something slower, something heavier—the way all things did when exhaustion began to set in, when the night grew long and patience ran thin.

By the time Y/N climbed the stairs to Silco’s office, the weight of the day had already settled deep into her bones. She had spent the past few hours dealing with the kind of people who made survival in Zaun all the more exhausting—smugglers trying to squeeze extra coin from their dealings, desperate men willing to sell out their own for another taste of shimmer, debtors who thought they could outrun the inevitable. It was nothing she wasn’t used to, nothing she hadn’t done before, but today, it felt heavier. Today, it felt like the air was pressing against her ribs just a little too tightly, like the exhaustion ran deeper than just her body.

Pushing the door open, she expected to find Silco exactly as he always was—seated at his desk, a cigar burning lazily between his fingers, his mind already several moves ahead in whatever endless game he was playing.

Instead, she found something different.

The usual stacks of paperwork, half-finished letters, and bloodstained reports had been pushed aside, leaving his desk almost uncharacteristically clear. And waiting at the center, as though it had been placed there deliberately, were two glasses of her favorite drink, the liquid catching the dim candlelight as it reflected off the glass.

The invitation was silent but unmistakable.

She hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside and shutting the door behind her.

"You look tired," Silco murmured, his voice smooth as ever, measured and precise, though his mismatched eyes studied her with the same quiet intensity they always did, searching for something unspoken, something unsaid.

"Long day," she replied, moving toward the chair he had left open for her, dropping into it with a sigh that she didn’t bother to suppress.

"Mm. As they often are."

The silence that settled between them was not uncomfortable, nor was it unfamiliar. It was something steady, something known. A thing that had long since lost the need for words.

For a while, they sat like that, drinking in the silence the same way they drank the liquor in their glasses—slowly, without urgency, without expectation.

Then, after a long moment, Silco reached for something and pushed it across the desk toward her.

Y/N frowned slightly, her fingers pausing over the rim of her glass before reaching out.

A silver pocket watch.

She had expected something sleek, something expensive, something that bore the telltale touch of his wealth and power. But this—this was old, worn but well-kept, the casing smooth from years of use, the chain aged but still strong. A relic, not an ornament. When she flipped it open, she found an inscription carved into the inside, the letters delicate, almost too fine to read in the dim light.

Time owes you nothing—take what you will.

Her breath caught.

"It belonged to someone who never waited for time to give her anything," Silco said, his voice softer now, as though speaking too loudly might break whatever unspoken thing had settled between them. "I suspect you share that sentiment."

Her fingers traced the inscription, lingering on the words, feeling their weight settle into something deep, something heavy.

She swallowed.

This was not just a gift. This was a message, a statement, an acknowledgment of something neither of them had ever put into words.

"You didn’t have to," she said finally, her voice quieter than before.

"I know," Silco replied simply, taking another slow sip of his drink.

The clock inside the watch still ticked, faint but steady. A reminder that time did not stop, did not slow, did not wait for anyone.

A reminder that it belonged to her now.

Y/N exhaled, closing the pocket watch with a soft click and tucking it away.

For once, she didn’t mind that today wasn’t just any other day.

At least, not with him.

JINX

Zaun never really slept.

It never had, never would.

Its streets pulsed with a restless, feverish energy that never truly died down, not even in the dead of night. Machines whirred and clanked somewhere in the distance, metal on metal grinding in an endless, mechanical heartbeat. The occasional burst of shouting—sometimes laughter, sometimes anger—echoed through the narrow alleys, bouncing off corroded walls. A loud crash rang out, a telltale sign that someone had knocked over a crate they probably weren’t supposed to be touching.

And then there was the air—thick, heavy, pressing against her skin like an invisible weight. It carried the scent of smoke, scorched metal, and something sharper, the acrid tang of chemicals that settled deep in the lungs and never quite left. It clung to everything, just like the grime that covered Zaun’s bones, woven into its very foundation.

Sometimes, Zaun was deafening. The kind of loud that made your head throb and your ears ring, a never-ending buzz of industry and life.

But some nights felt quieter than others.

The kind of quiet that wasn’t really quiet at all—the kind that made every little sound stand out, the faintest creak of metal groaning under shifting weight, the rhythmic drip of water leaking from old pipes, the soft hum of distant neon signs flickering like tired eyes struggling to stay awake.

The kind of quiet that made your thoughts louder.

The kind that pressed against your ribs, curling in the hollow spaces between your bones, filling your chest with something heavy and unwelcome.

The kind that left you with nothing but yourself.

Y/N sat on the edge of a rusted metal platform, legs dangling over the side, watching the city below with an expression caught somewhere between longing and detachment.

The glow of chem-lamps burned low in the distance, their eerie green light casting long, shifting shadows across the streets, stretching them until they seemed to dance and twist. Zaun’s underbelly was always moving, shifting, breathing. Alive.

Most nights, she liked the view.

Most nights, it reminded her that there was still life here, that the world hadn’t stopped turning, that time hadn’t frozen the way it sometimes felt like it had.

But tonight, she wasn’t looking to be distracted.

Tonight, she was thinking.

She let out a slow breath, curling her fingers into the worn fabric of her sleeves, gripping them so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Because tonight was different.

It was her birthday.

Not that it mattered. Not that it had mattered in a long time.

Once, a lifetime ago, birthdays had meant something. They had been warm, familiar, filled with soft voices and flickering candlelight, with cakes that always came out a little lopsided but never tasted any less sweet, with laughter that filled the air like music.

Once, birthdays had been something to look forward to.

Something to cherish.

But that was before.

Before she lost people. Before she realized that marking another year alive only reminded her of the ones who never got to. Before she learned that time didn’t care who it took and who it left behind.

Before she stopped wanting to count.

So she didn’t.

She stopped celebrating. Stopped acknowledging it. Stopped pretending that it was anything more than another number she didn’t need to keep track of.

Jinx knew that.

She had told her—sat her down once, forced the words out, made her listen. And, in a rare moment of stillness, Jinx had actually been quiet.

For a whole three minutes.

Which had to be some kind of record.

And, for the most part, Jinx had respected it.

But Jinx was… well, Jinx.

=

The unmistakable sound of rapid, uneven footsteps against hollow pipes reached her before the voice did.

“HEEEEEEY, FIRECRACKER!”

Y/N barely had time to groan before something crashed into her back, nearly sending her lurching forward off the platform. A pair of wiry arms locked around her shoulders in a half-hug, half-tackle, squeezing her so tight she almost lost her breath. The familiar scent of gunpowder, metal, and motor oil filled her nose, accompanied by the weight of a body practically draped over her like a human-sized ragdoll.

Jinx clung to her like a koala, her legs swinging freely in the air, her chin resting on Y/N’s head as if she belonged there.

“Whatcha doin’ up here all alone, huh?” Jinx chirped, voice muffled slightly by Y/N’s hair. “Broodin’? Starin’ dramatically into the abyss? Pfft—that’s my thing.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head but making no effort to push her off. “Just thinking.”

Jinx hummed. “Uh-oh. Dangerous game, thinkin’.”

She swung herself around, flopping down beside Y/N with a clang of metal against metal, her boots tapping an impatient rhythm against the platform. She was practically vibrating with energy, fingers twitching at her sides, electric-blue eyes darting between Y/N and something hidden behind her back.

Y/N shot her a sideways glance. Something was up. Jinx was many things—reckless, unpredictable, explosively chaotic—but she wasn’t subtle. The silence stretched.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “…What did you do?”

Jinx gasped, pressing a hand to her chest like she was offended.

“Pshh, what? Me? Do? Something?” She scoffed, throwing her hands up in an exaggerated motion. “Pffft—ha! As if!”

Y/N raised an eyebrow.

Jinx grinned, wide and impish, the kind of grin that said ‘I absolutely did something, but I want you to guess first.’

“Jinx.”

The grin wavered slightly.

“Okay, okay! So, uh—funny story!”

Y/N exhaled, already regretting this conversation.

“I may or may not have kinda-sorta-totally forgotten that you don’t like birthdays.” Jinx gave a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Buuuut—before ya get all grumpy-pants on me, I didn’t do much! Like, really, barely anything!”

Y/N stared, unimpressed.

“No giant banners! No confetti bombs! No fireworks! I reeeaaally dialed it down!”

As if on cue, a small explosion rattled somewhere in the distance. Jinx winced.

“Okay, but that one wasn’t for you. Probably.”

Y/N groaned, dragging a hand down her face. Jinx perked up, grinning. Too wide. Too forced.

“Well! Lucky for you, this isn’t a birthday celebration!”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

Jinx beamed and pulled something from behind her back—a small, slightly crumpled, suspiciously warm package wrapped in mismatched scraps of fabric.

“This, my dear friend,” Jinx declared, waving it in front of Y/N’s face, “is an ‘I-Know-You-Don’t-Like-Birthdays-But-I-Still-Wanted-To-Do-Something-Nice-For-You’ gift!”

Y/N hesitated.

Inside was a small metal pendant, crudely shaped into a star. Uneven. Jagged. One point longer than the others, the edges rough where they had been cut by hand. It wasn’t perfect.

But it was hers. And for the first time in years, she didn’t hate the day quite as much. Not because it was her birthday.

But because she had someone like Jinx.

[thedragonofbadasstemple]

I don't normally comment on posts like this, but obsessed with the take as well that the point of this is to "cheer for them". The project is collecting testimonies from people who were involved with the MAGA movement, explaining why they fell into it, and why they left. We NEED stories like this to understand others and their viewpoints. We can't change people's minds, much less help them, if we can't understand why they think they way they do, or why the made the decisions that they did. Not everyone who voted for Trump did so for the same reason. Not everyone who wears a MAGA hat wears it for the same reason. A personal example, my father and my sibling both voted for Trump. My father blindsided me by this. He didn't vote for him the first two times, but did this time. With a sigh he explained his reason as "I watched the debates. He had a plan for the economy. Kamala didn't." He's a disabled vet. He works two jobs and my mom brings in more money than him. He's sick. He's a wounded dog that reached out for a shred of hope where he saw it. I know its misguided. I know that he made a lot of mistakes in life that led to where he is now, and that the economy is not to blame for his current predicament, but he can't see that. He has an entire lived experience different than mine that led up to this. My sibling is bisexual and transgender. He is 1.75 years younger than me. He is autistic and very mentally ill. He has never moved out from our parent's house, despite having thousands of dollars saved. He enjoys Warhammer 40k. He is a MAGA cultist. This is a change that happened out of nowhere for me. He blindsided me three years ago when we were hanging out on Christmas Eve and he wanted to show me Ben Shapiro stuff. I was surprised. I asked how could he watch that kind of stuff when he was queer and trans. He just responded "why are you bringing identity politics into this?" Its only gotten worse from there. Despite being trans himself, and despite me being his biggest ally and supporter for coming out to our parents, he misgenders me and says that he "doesn't believe in non-binary". He gets mad when I shit talk Trump and Elon. He is someone who doesn't always have a grip on reality, treats everything as a personal attack against him, and has little self-confidence. He has always been someone easily persuaded by others. Hes always had a nasty selfish streak. it makes absolute sense to me that he would end up falling into a hateful cult that would make him feel better than other people. If you have a loved one in the MAGA cult, you need to understand how they got to that point if you want to help them and get them out. If you want to be politically active and engage with other people of opposing viewpoints, then you need to know what those viewpoints are and why they hold those views in order to debate them. If you don't care, then you don't care. Not your circus, not your monkeys. But this information is valuable, even if its not relevant to you. No one is asking you to bend over backgrounds and congratulate anyone. This is just information for those who would seek it. That's all.

This is an interesting thing. Looks like testimonies of people who left the MAGA movement- how they got into it and why.

Leaving a cult is really hard, so I really respect the people who are speaking from this place.

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Bonus Chapter]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 5.6K

Chapter warning(s): Slightly suggestive at the end.

"Happy birthday!" Wooyoung burst into your bedroom. You groaned and hid under the covers, snuggling closer to Seonghwa. But of course, Wooyoung put his whole body on top of yours to squish you with all his affection.

"Where's Yunho hyung?" Jongho asked, realising it was Seonghwa beside you and not your boyfriend.

"He said he had something on in the afternoon that he couldn't change and we'll celebrate my birthday tonight so Seonghwa came over at midnight to wish me and spend the night." You yawned.

"What?! And you didn't invite us?" Wooyoung screeched.

"Just know I am the first to wish her happy birthday like a true best friend." Seonghwa said with a smug smile on his face.

"It's just a birthday, guys. Like every other day. It's not that big a deal." You said, scooching over to the middle of the bed so Wooyoung could lie beside you instead of on top of you.

"You really know how to put a damper on a birthday, huh?" Wooyoung scoffed.

"It's my birthday. I can celebrate it however I want and right now, I want to stay in bed and do nothing." You declared, reaching over to pat Willow as she slept in her dog bed.

"Let's see if you can say the same when you find out your surprise." Jongho said. Seonghwa and Wooyoung both snickered. Now that got you more alert. Even if they knew your sentiments towards birthdays, the boys never fail to celebrate it with you somehow. Seonghwa always planned some sort of surprise.

"What surprise?" You asked.

"Now you're interested? I thought you wanted to stay in bed the whole day?" Seonghwa asked. You shot him a dirty look and jabbed his side, making him wince and curl up.

"Get dressed and ready to go out! Then we'll bring you to your surprise." Wooyoung patted your butt and pulled you to sit up.

"Alright, alright." You yawned and stretched your arms, getting out of bed and shuffling to your bathroom.

"Hwa, do you need your towel?" You asked before you closed the bathroom door. He came in to get it himself, getting his toothbrush at the same time.

'Happy birthday, love~ I'll see you tonight! Enjoy yourself with Seonghwa hyung, Wooyoung and Jongho. I love you.

- Your yuyu'

You saw the post-it on the mirror in Yunho's familiar handwriting, making you smile. You didn't enter the bathroom after Yunho left so you guessed he left this behind for you.

'Thank you for the note. I have no idea where the 3 are dragging me to, it's a surprise they say. I'll see you tonight, I love you too. - (y/n)'

You sent a message to Yunho and finished getting ready. Seonghwa came to tell you not to dress too fancily, which only made you more curious and slightly worried that they might drag you to do some sort of physical activity.

"Is jeans and a t shirt okay...?" You poked your head out into the hallway.

"Yes. Now hurry and eat breakfast." Wooyoung rushed. You rolled your eyes and went to get ready, grabbing a black t shirt and a pair of simple jeans to dress in.

"You know, considering it's my birthday, you're actually making me feel slightly concerned about this surprise." You said to them.

"We won't kill you." Jongho assured.

"That's not very reassuring, Jong." You scoffed, sitting at the counter. Seonghwa slid you a coffee and a slice of toasted sourdough bread that he made fresh yesterday.

"I have whipped mascarpone in the fridge. Can you get me that and the cherry jam, please?" You asked.

"Sure." Seonghwa went to retrieve it. You spread both on your toast and took a bite. Seonghwa hummed as he made one for himself.

"There's something different about this cherry jam that you made. It doesn't taste like the regular one. Like there is a caramel flavour." Seonghwa noted.

"Yeah, I did something different. You know the homemade maraschino cherries that Jongho and I made last time with the rainer cherries? The ones that were soaked in rum. I added a few inside with the liquid they're soaking in. Thought the after taste of flavoured rum would add more depth." You explained.

"It's good. I like it and it doesn't taste alcoholic at all." Seonghwa nodded in approval. Wooyoung and Jongho came over to steal bites from you.

"The cherries didn't go bad?" Jongho asked. You shook your head.

"I think we added too little alcohol last time, that's why it went bad. This batch was just right." You said.

"Hurry up and eat or else we won't have time for your surprise." Wooyoung whined, rushing you. You laughed and shook your head, he was more excited than you were.

"I'm done, I'm done. Let's go." You finished the last bit of your coffee and kissed your pets goodbye.

"We'll drive." Jongho shook his keys. You all climbed into his car, with you and Seonghwa in the back seat, Wooyoung in the passenger.

"Do I get a hint?" You asked, looking out the window. The place didn't seem familiar and considering you just ate breakfast, you assumed they weren't going to drag you to another location to eat.

"Nope." Seonghwa was quick to shoot you down. You pouted at him and took your phone out to text Yunho. He felt really bad for missing half your birthday but you assured him you didn't put much importance on your birthday, it was just another day.

"Okay, blindfold time!" Wooyoung declared and Seonghwa nodded, taking the eyeshades out of his pocket.

"You guys are gonna drive me to a forest and leave me in a ditch to die, aren't you?" You looked at your best friend suspicious, backing up slightly towards the door.

"You are so dramatic, just as much as Wooyoung. Which says a lot." Seonghwa scoffed.

"Hey!" Wooyoung yelled out in protest. But you sighed and gave in, knowing you couldn't argue against the 3 of them on your own.

"Hold my hand so I know you aren't gonna do something to me." You said as Seonghwa put the eyeshades over your head, making sure not to mess up your hair too much.

"Fine, you're such a scaredy cat." Seonghwa teased, reassuringly grasping your hand in his.

"You guys are the ones who say I'm the cat." You reminded.

"Shhh." Seonghwa shushed you, carefully guiding your head so you could lay on his shoulder. Being blindfolded, you didn't know where to lean and he didn't want you to accidentally bump your head.

"Okay, we're here. Don't move, we'll get you out." Jongho said as you felt the car stop after he parked. You obediently didn't listen, continuing to lean on Seonghwa. Then you heard the door open and someone carefully guide you out of the car. You stood there, unsure of what to do next.

"Follow us. Walk slowly, there are no steps in front of you." Wooyoung told you and you cautiously took steps in front of you, each arm being held by someone.

"Alright, that's good. Stop here." Seonghwa said. You stood still, not really hearing or sensing anything until there was popping heard.

"Surprise! Happy birthday, (y/n)!" You removed the blindfold and gasped. All of the boys' families were there.

"Yunho!" Your eyes widened in surprise before you ran over to hug him. He laughed and wrapped his arms around you, leaning down to press his cheek against your head lovingly.

"You really know where her priorities lie." Mingi teased.

"Thank you all for coming." You said shyly, greeting all 8 sets of parents and siblings.

"I'm sure you're wondering why we got all our parents here, (y/n). Yes, it is to celebrate your birthday but basically, we needed mouths to feed for your real surprise." Seonghwa told you.

"This isn't the surprise?" You blinked in confusion.

"We're just a part of it, dear." Mrs Park giggled. Yunho grinned at you and pulled away the cloth that was covering a huge contraption. The moment your actual surprise was revealed, your jaw dropped at what you saw. You were in disbelief.

"Shut up, you didn't..." Was all you could say. Although Yunho's friends didn't really understand it, Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho did. After all, they planned this.

"Isn't that a kebab spinning thing? You know, where the meat goes." San leaned over to ask.

"It's her dream to operate one and carve meat off it. We've never got a chance to use it before." Wooyoung explained.

"Eeeee heheheh thank you! Thank you!" You squealed exictedly, unable to contain your excitement. Honestly, you didn't know who to hug so you hugged Yunho.

"You shouldn't thank me, love. They spent a long time explaining this to me." Yunho said, patting your head.

"Thank you." You hugged Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho.

"You're welcome." Jongho patted your back. Wooyoung held your shoulders and led you to the doner spit. You rubbed your hands excitedly as you looked at all the ingredients laid out.

"She's really something. Only she would have such a wish on her birthday." Yeosang chuckled.

"That's what I love about her. She's so unapologetically her and she's so driven by food, which is her passion. I'll never understand it but I love seeing how happy it makes her." Yunho smiled, watching you excitedly put the meat on the spit with the biggest smile on your face. You were truly in your element.

"So how does this work?" Yunho came to stand with you.

"You put the meat on here. As the outside cooks, you carve it off and eat it on rice or in pita. Some people even have this machine that shaves off the meat." You told him.

"That's cool. Can't wait to eat it." Yunho kissed your temple since you were busy focusing on the meat.

"Did you manage to settle what you needed to do?" You asked.

"Oh yeah, I did... I'm all yours for the rest of the day. So don't eat too much because I'm taking you to dinner tonight." Yunho declared. You laughed and nodded.

"You guys are so gross." Hongjoong gagged. Yunho rolled his eyes at the older male's words.

"You're just jealous." He shot back. Wooyoung turned the doner spit on and the meat started the turn.

"Ooooh." Mingi went close to take a video but you instinctively grabbed the back of his shirt to pull him back, making him stumble and almost fall.

"Sorry! It's hot, Mingi. I didn't want you to burn yourself." You said. Mingi laughed and nodded, wrapping his arms around you to show how grateful he was that you stopped him. Seeing that, Yunho frowned slightly and plucked Mingi's hands off you.

"Aigo, Yunho ah. Don't be jealous." Yunho's mum giggled, making the other mums coo at him.

"I'm not!" Yunho squeaked, his ears turning a bright red. Hongjoong and Yeosang went around to give drinks out to people, as well as some plates and cutlery.

"We're ready for when the meat is done." San smiled.

"Yes, help yourself if you want rice or a pita. The sauces and vegetables are at the side." Seonghwa directed everyone.

"Go on, my love." Yunho said, holding his phone up to take a video of you carving meat. With a large knife, you began to carve the outer layer of the meat.

"It looks so good." Mingi said.

"It smells so good!" Yunho grinned excitedly. Of course, you weren't too interested in eating it so you fed some to him.

"So good." Yunho melted at the taste. You took turns with Seonghwa, Jongho and Wooyoung, each carving the meat and tossing it in the juices at the bottom of the spit before giving it out.

Yunho watched you from the side, eating his food and occasionally feeding you a few bites. He knew you weren't too interested in eating, just carving the meat off the rotating spit. You were really so happy, giggling to yourself and asking if people wanted more just so you could carve more meat off.

"I know you're having fun but you got to eat too, dear." The parents fussed over you, as usual. You were like the adopted daughter of each family, both fathers and mothers loved to fuss over you.

"I will! I will! Thank you!" You grinned. Mr Jeong patted your head with a fatherly smile.

"And we also want to give you this. Happy birthday." Mrs Jeong handed you a money packet.

"Omma?! Appa?!" Yunho blinked in disbelief. He usually get wishes from his parents and an occasional gift but never a money packet. You received it with a bow.

"Thank you." You hugged them.

"Us too!" Mr Song raised his hand and with his wife, they held out the money packet to you.

"Don't forget us." Haneul giggled, giving you an actual gift while her parents gave you a money packet. The 8 boys watched in disbelief, shock and jealousy as their parents gave you money.

"Spend the money on yourself, okay? Not on things to feed our sons." The parents said. You laughed and nodded your head. It was moments like these, you didn't need your biological father and stepmother in your life. You had 8 sets of parents and siblings here.

"This is so pretty! Thank you." You said, unwrapping Haneul's gift to find a Dior lipstick inside.

"So, will we get money during our birthdays too?" Hongjoong asked.

"Why would we give you money? You're already working." Mr Kim raised an eyebrow at his son's questions. Hongjoong's jaw dropped slightly at the blatant biasness.

"But you gave (y/n) money." Wooyoung protested.

"So? What's your point?" His mother asked, slapping the back of his head as she chided him.

"Wow, all this FAVOURTISM!" The boys protested. Yunho stood behind you, wrapping his arms over your shoulders. You looked up at him and he smiled down at you.

"Are you enjoying the food?" He asked.

"Mhmm but I enjoy the cooking and carving part much more. I mean, look at that thing." You giggled.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. Even if I don't really get it, I'm happy as long as you're happy." He leaned down to kiss your forehead upside down. You closed your eyes and smiled up at him, he was really the sweetest person ever. You put your hand over his own and squeezed it tightly.

About halfway through the little gathering, Yunho announced his leave. Of course, you were confused because you thought you were going to dinner after this.

"I actually have something to prepare." Yunho confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yun... You don't have to. I'd much rather you just spend time with me." You admitted, hugging him.

"I know. I'm sorry I'm leaving but I promise it'll be worth it." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You nodded, disappointed to part from him but you let him go.

"I'll see you." Yunho bid everyone goodbye, including his parents and Gunho before running off.

"Don't worry, he'll be fine." Seonghwa patted your shoulders.

"I know. But he doesn't have to do much, having him with me is all I need." You said, beginning to carve the remaining meat off to distribute it to the families and the other boys to take home.

"Now that you're done with that, let's have some champagne." You were whisked away by the mothers and a champagne flute was placed into your hand. There was a small toast, with everyone lifting their drink cups.

"Happy birthday, (y/n)!" They all cheered and drank whatever was in their cups.

"Thank you for the surprise and for coming down to spend my birthday with me. It was truly amazing." You smiled softly as you looked at everyone.

"Any time. We're family afterall." Gunho slung an arm around you.

"Take a picture of us and send it to my brother please." He requested. Of course, Mingi stepped up to do it.

"You are purposely trying to rile your brother up." Mr Jeong shook his head at his younger son's behaviour. Gunho nodded in confirmation, not even going to deny it.

RINGGGGGG

"Look what you did." You stepped aside from Gunho to take your phone out and saw Yunho's contact ID.

"Hey, love. Do you mind putting me on speaker please?"

The moment you did, Yunho's voice was no longer the sweet tone that he spoke to you in.

"JEONG GUNHO! YOU BETTER KEEP YOUR ARM OFF MY GIRL OR YOU'LL REGRET IT! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'LL DO YET BUT I WILL MAKE SURE IT IS SLOW AND PAINFUL! And it's not just me! You'll be dealing with Whiskey and Willow too! Okay, maybe not Whiskey since he doesn't care BUT WILLOW...!"

"You're not here to stop me though, are you hyung?" Gunho teased. You tried your best not to laugh at their banter but imaging Yunho's pouty angry face made you giggle.

"Baby~ Don't laugh at me~ Omma, they're bullying me."

"Yunho ah, you shouldn't be whining and complaining to me in front of your girlfriend." Mrs Jeong chuckled.

"Alright, alright. Don't whine, Yun. I promise I won't let Gunho have any physical contact with me anymore, okay? I'll see you soon." You hummed and hung up.

"Time for some pictures." Seonghwa declared.

"I'll take them!" Wooyoung raised his hand, taking his DSLR out of his bag and holding it up.

As you took pictures with people, you were kind of sad that you didn't have the chance to take a picture with Yunho before you left. But you swallowed that feeling, knowing you'll see him later.

"My turn! My turn!" Kyungmin jumped excitedly, running into your arms and posing immediately. You smiled and patted his head, smiling for the camera. Once everyone was done with their pictures, you bid them goodbye.

"Thanks again for making the time to come down here." You hugged all the parents.

"Stop sounding like you're inconveniencing us. You always make time for family and always spend time with family, even if there's no big occasion to." Mrs Kang wrapped an arm around you.

"Thank you for showing me what real family is." You tried your best not to get choked up.

"Nothing to thank us for. Don't forget, next week we're going for brunch." Mrs Kim reminded with a chuckle.

"Yes, I won't forget." You said, hugging her before they all left with the boys' siblings.

"Look at you, making brunch plans with our mothers and we're not even invited." San laughed, hugging you and lifting you up slightly. You giggled and patted his shoulder.

"Thank you again for the surprise and just being here with your families." You said to all of them.

"Stop thanking already! You know we will always celebrate your birthday, even if you wanna be a grumpy little cat about it." Jongho teased, making you playfully frown at him. It was still weird for you, even if your friends always celebrated your birthday. But to have family celebrating your birthday, it was still foreign.

"Sorry to break the mood but we have to get you home to get ready for your dinner with Yunho." Seonghwa cut in, having checked the time on his phone.

"Bye! I'll see you next week." You bid everyone goodbye. Wooyoung, Seonghwa, Jongho and yourself climbed back into Jongho's car.

"Do you know anything about Yunho's dinner surprise? Like where he is taking me or the cuisine?" You asked.

"Nope." The 3 replied.

"Now I know you guys are lying because you replied a little too quickly..." You crossed your arms with a scoff, knowing Yunho probably roped them into this surprise.

"Alright, we're here. See you tomorrow." They wished as they pulled up to the drop of point.

"Aren't you guys gonna come in?" You raised an eyebrow. They always invited themselves into your house.

"Sorry! We're busy!" Wooyoung quickly closed the door and Jongho drove off before you could say anything, leaving you standing there, dumbfounded. You blinked in confusion but shrugged and went up.

"Willow, Whiskey, I'm home." You opened the door, announcing your arrival to your pets. You were surprised to find your house lights already on, maybe you forgot to turn them off when you were rushed out of the house this morning.

"Surprise!" Your eyes widened when you saw Yunho standing there in the kitchen, wearing an apron, cooking something.

"What the..." You didn't even know what to say.

"Oh, my poor baby. Did I scare you? Your shocked face is so cute." Yunho laughed and came over, arms wide spread as he engulfed you in one of his bear hugs.

"How did you... When did you... What...?" You still couldn't even form coherent sentences.

"We always go to nice places to eat but as a surprise, I thought that I would try cooking for you." He explained.

"When?"

"I've been practicing with the help of Seonghwa hyung, Wooyoung and Jongho. That's why I wasn't here last night, I was busy preparing stuff at my apartment." Yunho revealed.

"Y-Yun, I don't know what to say. This is the best surprise ever." You looked up at him, tip-toeing to press your lips against his. You didn't know how else to express your gratitude. Yes, the others always do nice things for you and give you presents but this was a whole new level and you're not just saying that because its Yunho.

"Come! Sit down and wait to be served." Holding your hand, he guided you to sit down at the bar to watch him work.

"It'll only take a second for me to plate." He smiled. You nodded and observed him, taking a look around the kitchen too. There were amazing smells and the kitchen looked clean.

"Wow, this looks amazing." You said as Yunho placed the first dish in front of you.

"It's a kumquat infused confit tomato tartlet with balsamic caramelised onions and crumbled feta." He recited.

"Wait, let me take a picture." It was plated so beautifully that you had to take a picture. After that, you took a bite of it. The burst of flavour was so good.

"Yun, this is delicious!" You complimented.

"Really?!" He grinned. You nodded and gestured for him to eat one, you wanted him to taste his own creation.

"It is good... The pastry is homemade, I made it last night after practicing with Jongho multiple times. It's a shortcrust pastry with fresh thyme and a grating a nutmeg to enhance the tomato flavour." He explained as he chewed.

"It's really good." You were surprised that Yunho made his own pastry crust. It wasn't easy and with the complexities of the toppings, you wouldn't have judged him if he used store bought.

"Ah! I forgot the wine!" Yunho exclaimed and ran off.

"Yun! It's fine, please don't rush and hurt yourself!" You stood up, trying to see where he disappeared to.

"Wooyoung brought me to a nice wine shop. So this a pinot noir, light tasting to suit appetisers. Then with the main, we have a heavier, full-bodies cab sauv." He popped the cork.

"Ooh, exciting. I love wine pairings." You rubbed your hands as you watched Yunho fill two glasses.

"I know." He chuckled and placed the glass in front of you.

"Happy birthday, my love." Yunho beamed and held his glass out. You melted slightly with a soft smile, lifting your glass to lightly clink it against his own.

"Thank you, Yun. For everything, not just today." You leaned forward to give him a kiss again.

"You're always welcome, baby. Now, let's go to the next course. It's a soup course." He placed his glass down and grabbed a bowl, going to the stove. You tried to look at what soup he was serving but his body was blocking the hobs. When he turned around, he saw you trying to peek and laughed at your face.

"You look like Whiskey trying to take a peak at things." He teased but put the bowl down. You gasped, you knew the look of this soup and if it was really what you assumed it to be...

"Smoked chicken consomme." He confirmed.

"Oh my gosh." You stared at it. The soup was so clear and golden, a well made consomme indeed.

"I..." You didn't think you'd be so overwhelmed with emotion before even tasting the soup. But consomme is one of the hardest soups to make and for Yunho to execute it perfectly.

"WHY ARE YOU CRYING?! You haven't even tasted it yet!" Yunho panicked, seeing tears stream down your cheeks.

"I promise it doesn't taste bad, love. Are you scared to eat it?" Yunho came over to hug you to his chest.

"You idiot! Of course, I know it won't taste bad... I just know how hard it is to make a consomme. And you made it..." You cried into his chest. Yunho chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

"Baby, it's just a soup." He rubbed your back.

"It's not just a soup! It's consomme!" You wailed. A part of you felt guilty too, that Yunho did so much for you, it probably wasn't easy learning how to make this and to make it so perfectly. Imagining Yunho slaving away to make all these things for you, you did feel bad.

"But do you mind trying the soup before it gets cold? And I haven't even impressed you with my main yet." He whined. You let out a little laugh and pulled away from his embrace.

"You can cry again after the meal, okay?" He laughed and gently wiped your tears with his thumbs.

"You're mean." You frowned and turned to taste the soup. As expected, it was delicious. Full of chicken flavour with a hint of smoke.

"I didn't think you would cry two courses in." Yunho teased. You rolled your eyes.

"I have high expectations for the main now." You teased back.

"Which reminds me, it needs to go into the oven." He said and turned back to the kitchen. You saw him put something in the oven and set a timer. But he used his body to block you so you couldn't see.

"Why won't you let me see?" You pouted. Yunho playfully shrugged and refilled your wine glass.

"By the way, where are the kids?" You finally noticed that Willow and Whiskey were not around. And usually by now, Willow would be pawing at your feet for a bite of your food. Like you, most of the time, Whiskey would chill on his own so half the time, you wouldn't even realise he was in the room.

"They're in the room. Whiskey is chilling in his usual spot by the window and Willow's in her crate. Both have been fed. I wanted it to be more relaxing while you ate." Yunho informed.

"Yeah but honestly it's kinda weird to not have Willow whimpering for my food." You giggled.

"I, for one, do not miss it. She always eats my food." Yunho sighed and went back to the hob to work on other things.

"Because she knows between the two of us, you're the weaker one." You replied. Yunho pouted but knew you were not wrong, he gives into the animals way too easily.

Just like how you give into Yunho easily.

"I still can't believe you did all this. Got secret cooking lessons, spent last night preparing the stuff..." You smiled.

"I want your birthday to be special." Yunho put an arm around your waist. Even if you were on an elevated bar stool, he still towered over you greatly.

"Yunho, it'll be special no matter what. As long as I can spend it with the people I love. Everyday with you is special to me, it doesn't just have to be on my birthday or any other occasion." You smiled softly, reaching up to cup his cheek.

"I love you." He turned his head to plant a soft kiss against your palm. Just then, your moment was interrupted by the kitchen timer. Yunho broke away to retrieve the main from the oven.

"I'll just quickly plate up while it rests." Yunho smiled and turned around to plate the dish.

"Take your time." You chuckled, watching his back move.

"Beef wellington with garlic pomme puree and charred winter vegetables... With pan jus on the side." He put the plate with a gravy boat before you.

"Yun! This looks beautiful! A beef wellington?!" You exclaimed, snapping a few pictures while he changed your wine.

"The beef didn't cook like I intended. It's a bit more medium than medium rare..." Yunho said with slight frustration.

"No, it's great, Yun. Give yourself more credit." You rubbed his knuckles with your thumb. Taking the cutlery, you cut into the wellington and poured some of the jus over it.

"Yunho, it's absolutely delicious. The layers are so flavourful and the textures are perfect." You said as you chewed. Yunho thought you were adorable, kicking your feet and letting out little sounds of happiness. He rarely saw you like this, only when you were really content and happy.

"Eat it, Yun!" You laughed.

"I feel full just by watching you eat." He cooed teasingly with a smug smile on his face. You shot him a disgusted look, knowing he was doing this on purpose.

"I will not unleash my wrath on you only because you cooked this amazing meal." You threatened.

"Now, I understand why you guys get annoyed when the meat is cooked slightly over or under." Yunho chuckled.

"That's all that matter, Yun. I'm so proud of you, you've come so far with your cooking and all these dishes are not easy. Looks like I've lost a cooking assistant." You joked.

"You know what I'll always be your assistant, any day, any time." Yunho grinned.

"Shall I talk to Manager Kwon?" You asked.

"Okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves, I cooked one meal for you, love. I'm definitely not qualified to work at Anne Sophie's michelin starred restaurant." Yunho laughed, holding onto you.

"Are you ready for dessert?" Yunho turned to you. You nodded, giving him a kiss before he returned to the kitchen. He fixed a plate and turned around. There was a small sticky toffee pudding with a candle stuck in it, hovering his hand around the flame.

"Happy birthday to you~" Yunho began to sing with a big smile on his face. You clapped softly, watching him as he sang to you.

"Happy birthday, my love. Make a wish."

"Thank you, Yun. I don't need to make a wish, I already have all that I need." You still closed your eyes. You wished for the people around you to always stay happy and healthy, and blew out the candle.

"Here." You and Yunho each held a spoon, digging into the dessert to share it together.

"This has been an amazing meal, Yun. You'll have to cook for me again soon." You smiled after taking a bite.

"I'll continue to practice and cook for you any time you'd like." He winked.

After the dessert was done, you insisted on helping Yunho with the cleaning. But he cleaned as he cooked so there wasn't that much cleaning to do. Then you both got ready for bed.

"Happy birthday again, love." Yunho said, hovering over you, caging you in his arms.

"You made my birthday perfect, Yun." You reached up to cup his cheeks. Maybe with Yunho around, you would start liking to celebrate your birthday. Your birthday was always a bitter reminder that your mother got sick after giving birth to you, that's why you never liked to celebrate it.

"Hey... Come back to me, love..." Yunho's voice pulled you out of your deep thoughts. You looked up to meet his eyes, feeling his thumb wipe a stray tear off your cheek.

"Sorry." You whispered, leaning into his touch.

"Nothing for you to be sorry about." He shook his head with an understanding smile.

"I still miss my mom. And my birthday was always a reminder that she started to get weak and sick because of my birth. My dad always told me that." You looked at him through your tears.

"It's not your fault, baby. I'm sure your mother doesn't blame you." Yunho comforted.

"If I wasn't born, she would still be here." You breathed.

"If you weren't born, I wouldn't have met you. I wouldn't have you right here, in my arms." He leaned down to hug you. Now, Yunho knew why you didn't like celebrating your birthday.

"I'll make you love your birthday again. Every year, every day." He vouched, voice filled with determination. Yunho would show you the care and appreciation you needed, he wanted to erase what your dad did, he hated how your dad made you hate your own birthday.

"Thank you for loving me." You hugged his neck. Yunho pulled away and gave you a sweet kiss, his forehead resting against yours.

"Now, about that picture you took with Gunho. Why did you allow him to put his arm around you for the photo?" Yunho asked with a small frown.

"Honestly, I thought I was going to take a picture with him and your parents. But he came in and asked Mingi to take the picture."

"I knew it. Trying to take what's mine." He rolled his eyes.

"He was just trying to get under your skin, Yunho. There's no one else but you. I love you and you only." You giggled.

"Good. Because you're mine and I'm not afraid to remind you of that... over and over again." He smirked and leaned in again, fingers caressing the exposed skin of your hip. You gulped, knowing you were in for a long night.

~

Series masterlist

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Reading over your Savanaclaw clothing rant, and I don't know how I missed all the details you pointed out, especially about the sleeves.

I was mulling over why Ruggie has sleeves but literally everyone else doesn't, and then it hit me.... Could it be because Leona altered his uniform so that he could fully show off that lion bicep tattoo? It seems like he totally would, in a show of dominance and all that lolol. And then the mobs thought it was cool too so they followed suit. Djdnzjdjjs I could definitely see Crowley pitching a fit about the cut sleeves and then Leona would grumble, "Save your squawkin', Headmage. All the uniforms are uniform now ain't they?"

Also for the boob window thing, for an in universe theory, I think it might be to show off his jewelry? Some very quick and possibly inaccurate armchair googling shows that jewelry in Africa or Sunset Savanna I guess?? Tends to be intricate and detailed, and can indicate power, wealth, or status. I wouldn't be surprised that Leona likes a subtle way of showing off his status with his traditional accessories.

[Referencing this post!]

ONE OF MY FRIENDS (who shall not be named, but you know who you are) BULLIES ME FOR NOTICING THESE DETAILS ABOUT THEIR OUTFITS… “Wooow, you’re staring at [redacted] so much and finding excuses to do it?? You’re obsessed.” IT’S MY NEUROTICISM, IT’S WINNING OTL

You know what, that’s actually a plausible theory 😭 If I recall correctly, Leona became dorm leader in his second year at school. At that time, Ruggie would have enrolled as a first year. Once Leona came into power, he’d have the privilege of being able to alter his dorm uniform. He could remove the sleeve just to show off his tattoo and assert his dominance as the proverbial “leader of the pack.” (Side note: for the longest time, I thought the tattoo was temporary or just makeup… like the Heartslabyul card suits on their faces 💦) However, Leona would still have the dorm uniforms with sleeves from his first year, which he could have passed onto Ruggie (since it is canon that he gives Ruggie his hand-me-down clothes). And the Savanaclaw mobs are such diehard Leona stans that they’d probably go, “What, the boss is wearing his uniform like that? Cool!! Let’s do it too!” and follow his fashion statement… This might also explain why Rook appears to have (ripped off) sleeves on his Savanaclaw uniform, as he was in that dorm as a first year. He is the same year as Leona, so they would have both had the sleeves still on. This would also explain why Jack, the straight-laced first year, seems to have his uniform tailored when he enrolled. At that time, the common Savanaclaw dorm uniforms would have already been altered to have no sleeves in order to follow the leader.

BabcsqdAdSEracqvw Why can I totally see that unfolding between Crowley and Leona 😭 Crowley lamenting that it’s only supposed to be the dorm leader’s uniform that differs, so why’s it suddenly the entire dorm’s uniforms have been altered? Have they no respect for tradition??? And Leona would definitely twist the situation to turn it around on Crowley, riding on the fact that the uniforms are technically still “uniform” now.

Mmm, I guess that reasoning could make sense since Leona does have that really gaudy, chunky gold necklace, though I don’t think he’s necessarily doing it out of a sense of tradition. Leona is the type of person that usually gets annoyed with tradition and wants to make practical changes. (For example, he wants to remove the feathers from his staff but complains he would get scolded for it since the feathers represent the King of Beasts’ hornbill advisor.) However, I do believe he’s arrogant enough to want to show off his status as dorm leader and I guess being more decked out in jewelry + having a more open shirt could call attention to that. But SUBTLE??? 💀 Maybe it feels subtle in-universe but with how the devs constantly flaunt his boobs, it certainly doesn’t feel that way irl, lmao 😂 Bro’s constantly got shots of his hakuna matatas cleavage, even in other characters’ cards (*stares at Jack’s birthday boy groovy*).

He’s so pathetic and desperate to assert himself as Top Dog 🙄 Gross 💀 COVER UP, SLUT… NO ONE NEEDS TO SEE THAT…

P.S. Father Flamme 🙏 pray thee forgive me for spending all this time hyperfixating on and analyzing the Savanaclaw boys… Give me a pass, their dorm uniforms are confusing as hell 💀

[adgaea]

@beastgreen

Your art is amazing!

Have a fic inspired by it! ( This is chapter one and can be read as a standalone. Chapter One is safe for anime only and is the only one posted here, others will be on AO3 eventually because they will have spoilers.)

Gen gasped as he suddenly felt an agonizing amount of pain radiating from multiple points on his chest. There was only one thing that could mean.

Tears began to fall down his face as he felt a tightness in his chest as the pain continued.

His head bent forward and his hair billowed around his face as he dropped to his knees, one hand on the ground, and one over his heart as he whispered, “What did you do?”

He was shaking as he gnashed his teeth, looked up, and screamed, “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

~~~~~~

Maya furrowed her brow in confusion as she observed the little spy suddenly collapse.

She proceeded to watch as he broke down into tears before she heard him whisper something before he screamed, “WHAT DID YOU DO?

She watched as he kept a hand over his heart and started pulling at his hair with the other before releasing a loud anguished scream. She couldn’t help but cringe. 

She then heard Xeno’s slightly confused tone as he entered, “What is going on here?”

~~~~~~

Xeno had just received confirmation that his protege was dead. He released a breath as he clenched his jaw. A bright mind was now lost, but it was a necessary action.

He then jumped in surprise when he heard an agonized scream that sounded like it came from where they were keeping the spy. He hadn’t ordered any torture, and he doubted Maya’s singing would lead to that bad of a reaction, so he was confused. If any of his subordinates had gone against his orders, it would be their heads!

However, when he emerged on the scene and saw nothing but a confused Maya and Gen appearing to have a breakdown, he looked towards Maya and asked, “What is going on here?”

Before Maya could answer, Gen had raised his head as he screamed, “What did you do to him?”

Xeno raised a brow as he said, “To whom?”

Xeno watched the still shaking boy make his way to his feet before getting as close to him as he could and saying, “Senku! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SOULMATE?!”

Xeno’s eyes widened slightly and Maya stiffened. 

This had not been anticipated.

Xeno said, “Your soulmate?”

~~~~~~

Gen was now shaking with rage as he yelled, “ANSWER ME!”

He could still feel the pain radiating across his chest. Knowing that Senku was feeling that very same pain. His only consolation was that Senku was still alive. If the pain suddenly stopped….

No, that wouldn’t happen!

He watched as Xeno stiffened and an odd look passed over his face before saying, “Well, this was unexpected. I must apologize for the pain you have recently felt and are likely still feeling. From what I understand, a broken soulbond is excruciating.”

Gen bit his lip and tasted blood. No matter what, he wasn’t going to even give them any indication that the bond was still active. Senku was still alive, but they apparently were not aware of that fact. 

Gen was feeling pain, that was for sure, but he was definitely going to have to play this up some more. His initial reaction had been out of pure panic, and he’d unfortunately revealed his status as Senku’s soulmate. He’d have to play this carefully if he wanted them to remain in belief that Senku was dead.

He’d met people who’d lost their soulmates before. It was hard for them to describe the exact sort of pain felt when a soulmate is lost, but from what he’d learned in his undergraduate classes, it felt like you were dying because, in reality, a part of you was dead.

Well, time to play it up a bit.

He grimaced and dropped back to the ground and cradled both of his hands to his heart. He released the most agonized sounding scream that he could and wept as he curled into himself. He didn’t have to fake his tears. He was still feeling the pain of his soulmate being shot after all.

He then listened as Xeno simply left. 

He didn’t uncurl. He was still worried. The pain wasn’t stopping though, and now that he had confirmation that they thought Senku had been killed by Stanley, he hoped that he’d keep feeling that pain until he and Senku could be reunited.

~~~~~~

Stan was surprised when he returned and saw that his soulmate was tense. He knew that Xeno’d be feeling pretty bad, considering he’d just had his former mentee killed, but this seemed to have another layer to it.

Xeno hadn’t even looked up at him yet.

Stan gently sat a hand on Xeno’s shoulder as he furrowed his brow. 

Xeno then sighed as he said, “The little spy is currently inconsolable. He likely won’t be of any use to us any longer. There is also no chance that we will have his aid in getting his friends to surrender and join our forces.”

Stan grimaced before questioning, “He took the news of Senku’s death that bad?”

Stan was then slightly surprised as Xeno then turned his face towards him. His eyes were red as if he’d been crying. 

He then tensed as Xeno said, “Not only did I have my own protege killed, but I also played a part in severing a soul bond. They were soulmates. Hearing the agonized screams was a second confirmation that Senku is dead.”

Stan grimaced and cursed under his breath.

He then sighed as he said, “You couldn’t have known, Xe.”

Xeno then growled as he said, “I’m well aware of that, Stan. That is not my only reason to regret this.”

Stan frowned as he felt Xeno lean against him. 

He said, “I know, but there’s no going back.”

He felt Xeno’s shoulders begin to shake. Xeno had started to cry. Again. Stan held him close as he held his lips in a grim line. 

His soulmate was getting what he wanted, but it had come at a heavy cost.

~~~~~~

Gen remained curled on the floor for hours. His only consolation was that the pain was slightly muted in comparison to what it had been, but that it was at least still ever present. 

He only uncurled when Maya had called out to him in an uncharacteristically soft tone that she had brought him something to eat. He didn’t even glance at her face. 

He had no doubt that he looked absolutely horrible. He had cried for an ungodly amount of time. 

He simply sniffled and got up to retreat to sit against the closest wall with his knees against his chest. He heard Maya sigh before finally leaving again.

He hoped that his friends had a good plan in the works.

It was agonizing to know that his soulmate was still in pain and that he couldn’t get to him.

Being soulmates is a blessing and a curse...

[rcklessheavn]

𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫 ── ★ ˙🏎️ ̟ !!

f1 driver!matt x influencer!reader au

summary: after influencer!reader is invited to give interviews at the grand prix event, she meets matt and everything changes for both of them.

intro pt1 pt2

warning: none

wc: 2.2k

note: i know ive taken so long but i am new to the F1 world and really really wanted to educate myself properly, so i am now writing as a fan!!! i still have a lot to learn so bare with me :)

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ༉‧₊˚.

Three knocks on your door jolted you awake. For a moment, you couldn’t remember where you were—or why you were sleeping on what felt like a giant marshmallow. Seriously, this bed was the perfect level of comfort for any mortal human.

“Y/N! If you don’t hurry up, you’re going to be late for practice!” Hailey’s voice came through the door, sharp and urgent.

“No, Mom, I don’t have practice today. Remember?” you mumbled into your pillow, clearly still half-asleep. But then your alarm—set the night before—blared, dragging you back to reality.

You jumped up with a start, just as Hailey knocked twice more, her hand poised for a third. You scrambled to open the door. “Sorry, sorry! In my defense, I did set an alarm... and woke up.” You flashed her an innocent smile, but she just rolled her eyes. Clearly, this wasn’t her first rodeo with you—which was exactly why you loved her so much.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, unfazed. “Now, we’ve got practice and an official paddock tour, but first—breakfast. Get ready. Chop chop!” She clapped her hands for added drama.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you made your way to the bathroom for a shower.

The first time you stepped into this suite, it felt like you’d walked into a palace. Everything was so elegant, so delicate—it practically screamed luxury. Even the toilet paper felt like it cost a fortune, and that’s no easy feat. You couldn’t believe you were here, experiencing all of this. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and you were going to make the most of it.

“Okay, I’m done!” you called as you emerged from the bathroom, fully ready to face the day. Makeup done, hair styled, outfit on. You’d kept it low-key—just a casual yet cute look, with a Ferrari hat to show off your passion. No need to go overboard, since you weren’t expecting to run into anyone just yet.

“Well, that was faster than I expected. Eager much?” Hailey teased, glancing up from her phone, probably checking if the Uber had arrived (it had).

You just shook your head, chuckling. She knew exactly how to push your buttons.

You grabbed your phone and double-checked your purse. Wallet? Check. Charger? Check. Portable charger? Check. Camera? Check. Extra batteries and SD cards? Check and check. Tylenol? Check. Various lipsticks, glosses, and liners? Check, check, and check. Powder and extra blush? Check and check. You mentally went through your checklist, sure you hadn’t missed anything... until you froze.

The passes. You mentally smacked your forehead. Almost forgot the very thing that would let you experience all of this.

“Okay, ready to go?” you asked Hailey, who gave you a nod, standing up from the couch.

Time to get this day started.

Arriving at the paddock felt surreal. As you stepped out, you were greeted by the sound of a huge crowd of F1 fans. Polite smiles all around, you made your way through the crowd—but then, you heard your name being shouted. You turned and saw a teenage girl waving at you. You glanced at Hailey, silently asking for permission to approach, and she nodded.

“Y/N! Y/N!” the girl called out, her face lighting up.

You smiled and waved. “Hi! You know me?” you asked, surprised.

“Yes! Yes! Are you kidding? I love your content! I saw your Instagram post yesterday! I swear I’m not stalking you, I just happened to already have plans to be here, and somehow, I low-key manifested meeting you!” She spoke so quickly, her excitement palpable. “Is it okay if I take a picture with you?”

You chuckled, taking her phone. “Of course, we can!” You smiled. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“I’m Emiliana,” she said, her bright smile warming your heart. “Thank you so, so much!”

“It was so nice to meet you, Emiliana,” you said, still smiling. “I’ve never had a fan interaction before. You’ve made this trip so much more special.” You waved as you walked away, and she waved back with a grin.

As you entered the paddock gates, Hailey turned to you with a proud smile. “Wasn’t that your first fan interaction?”

You took a deep breath and turned back to glance at Emiliana one last time. “Yes, it was,” you said, smiling up at Hailey. She pulled you into a side hug.

“I think Monaco is already changing your life,” she joked, and you laughed.

“Maybe I’ll end up on Vogue or something,” you joked back.

You both made your way further into the paddock, and you took a deep breath, pulling out your camera to film some b-roll. As you were filming, a woman approached you.

“Hello, I’m Claudia! You must be Y/N, right? And Hailey?” She asked, and you blinked in surprise. Then you saw her Ferrari badge, and everything clicked.

You extended your hand to greet her. “Yes, hi! It’s nice to meet you, Claudia!” you said, a little too cheerfully, but Claudia seemed pleased by your energy.

“I’m with Ferrari,” she said, holding up her badge, “and I’ll be with you both this morning. Practice starts in 45 minutes, so we’re going on a quick track tour. Our car is waiting, so we need to hurry. After that, we’ll head back to the Ferrari quarters and watch practice. Does that sound good?”

Her words were like music to your ears. You nodded eagerly, and Hailey spoke up.

“Sounds perfect. We really appreciate it!” she said, and Claudia smiled.

“Is anyone else coming with us, or…” you trailed off, your curiosity piqued.

“Well, not really. Each team can select one to three creators they want to sponsor or collaborate with, and due to the connection with Matthew Sturniolo and his brothers—who have huge platforms—they’re usually on board for this. They come every year, so they know the drill.” She led you toward the car.

“So, I was chosen as the third creator?” you asked, a bit surprised.

“Yes, but not at random. At Ferrari, we focus on quality over quantity. We’ve been closely following your content, and your passion for our team really stood out. We knew we could achieve something big with you,” she explained, her tone formal yet warm.

Those words hit you hard, and a warm sense of pride washed over you. You had no idea what you’d done to deserve this, but you were certainly not complaining.

You walked past the garage where all the cars were, sneaking a quick peek. None of the drivers seemed to be around, so your body relaxed a little, saving the anxiety for when you came back.

Outside the track, the car was waiting for you. You climbed in, and the driver, Francisco, introduced himself. Both you and Hailey returned the greeting. You pulled out your camera and started filming for your vlog. The ride was mostly quiet, with Hailey asking a few questions here and there. You knew the answers to most, but you paid close attention to the ones you didn’t know.

Then Claudia spoke up, her voice cutting through the silence. “So, Y/N, why Ferrari?”

You smiled, leaning back a little. “Truthfully, I grew up alongside Ferrari. My dad’s a huge Schumacher and Vettel fan, so when race season rolled around, he’d make sure to explain everything to me and my brother. He thought my brother would be the one to sit down with him and watch the races, but to be honest, I was the one who never missed one.” You chuckled, reminiscing about your childhood. “My favorite movie growing up was Cars, so that probably explains a lot. Yeah, I guess red’s been my color since I was born,” you said with a proud smile. Both Hailey and Claudia smiled at you, and you were pretty sure even Francisco grinned.

As you finished your story, on your way back, you noticed the paddock approaching. Your heart began racing again, knowing that any driver could be there right now.

“Who’s your favorite, then?” Claudia asked as you reached your destination, getting out the car.

“Hard question,” you said, glancing up at her. “I really love a lot of them, but Charles Leclerc and Matt Sturniolo have really changed things for the Tifosi. Especially Matt. He has a talent and passion I admire—honestly, I’m surprised he isn’t a world champion yet.” You said it casually, trying not to sound like a crazy, obsessive fan.

“Maybe this year,” Claudia said with a knowing smile.

“Maybe,” you replied, walking past the Ferrari garage.

You had peeked at it before, but now, standing in front of it—knowing you were about to walk inside—it felt utterly surreal. Everything you’d dreamed of, being in a Formula 1 paddock in Monaco, part of the guests, all of it had come true in this moment.

“Shall we go in?” Claudia asked, coming up behind you with Hailey. Apparently, they were already buddies now.

Too afraid to say anything wrong, you simply nodded. Claudia led the way, starting her tour from the ground floor. You took a closer look at both Charles and Matt’s cars. They were even redder in person than you’d imagined. Claudia introduced you to the mechanics and engineers—everyone was so welcoming. The middle floor had the pit wall, with a slight balcony overlooking the track. Finally, the guest area was on the top floor, and, unexpectedly, there were two familiar figures sitting out on the balcony.

“And here I thought we were meeting later tonight,” you said, a little too confidently, to your amusement.

“OMG! Y/N!” One of the figures jumped up, meeting you halfway at the door.

“HI NICK!” you chuckled, embracing him. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“I know! I can’t believe we live in the same city and still haven’t hung out!” Nick said, laughing. He turned to introduce you to the person beside him. “Oh! This is my brother Chris. Chris, this is Y/N. I think I’ve mentioned her to you.”

Chris stood up and stretched out his hand. “Oh yeah! You were watching her this morning. Nice to meet you,” he said with a polite smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too. I love your brand! Big fan, not gonna lie,” you admitted casually, and Chris just smiled, clearly pleased.

“Are you excited?” Nick asked, giving you a spot to sit beside them.

“Yes, totally! It’s my first time, so I’m super hyped right now,” you said. Just then, you heard Claudia’s voice behind you.

“Hey, guys!” she greeted Nick and Chris, who waved back. Then she turned to you. “Y/N, is it okay if we leave you here with the guys for a bit? Hailey and I need to talk about some business things, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I’m not in trouble, am I?” you asked, half-joking.

Claudia chuckled, shaking her head. “No, not at all. Just call me if you need anything,” she said, then left, leaving you with your new friends.

Before practice started, you decided to take a few pictures, handing your camera to Nick.

“Can you take some pictures of me?” you asked, and Nick’s face lit up, clearly excited. Photography was definitely his thing after all.

Meanwhile, on the ground floor, the two Ferrari drivers were getting ready to head out. They were bantering about who was better—Spider-Man or Batman. This definitely wasn’t their first time having this debate. Matt, bored of the conversation, glanced up at the balcony, maybe to wave at his brothers, but instead, he noticed a new figure posing for a photo. Nick was clearly assigned to be the photographer.

“Yo!” Matt said, playfully hitting Charles on the arm, clearly distracted. “Who’s that?” he asked, catching his teammate’s attention.

Charles turned to look where Matt was pointing and shrugged. “I don’t know, probably just one of those influencers they invite every year,” he muttered.

Matt sighed, a hint of curiosity in his voice. “She’s wearing a Ferrari hat.” He paused. “Do you think she’s a fan?” He tried to mask the excitement in his voice, but the hopeful look in his eyes betrayed him.

“I don’t know, man. Maybe she’s wearing it for promo or just as a benefit for her,” Charles shrugged, sounding uninterested.

Matt let out a disappointed sigh but kept it to himself. He wasn’t one to show his emotions so easily.

Charles looked at him, lifting an eyebrow in playful teasing. “Are you interested, Matthew?” he asked, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Matt swatted Charles’s hand away, rolling his eyes. “No. Why? Are you?” he shot back, his tone light but challenging.

“No, bro, I’m taken,” Charles laughed, stepping back toward his car to get ready. “You should be too,” he shouted over his shoulder, still chuckling.

The sound of Charles’s shout made you turn around, and in that split second, your eyes met Matt’s. You felt a jolt of nervousness before quickly turning back to your conversation with Nick.

Matt held your gaze for a brief moment, a sudden rush of electricity surging through him. Racing cars were an electric sport, but this—this was something different, something he couldn’t quite explain. And he liked it.

“Matt, they need you now, you ready, man?” Nate, Matt’s performance coach, called from behind him, breaking the moment and making Matt drop his gaze.

“Very,” Matt responded firmly, shaking off the unexpected rush.

Chris’s voice pulled you out of the daze you’d slipped into after locking eyes with Matt for the first time. “Ready to experience your first F1 weekend?” he asked with a grin.

You sighed, smiling back at him. “More than ready,” you assured him, eyes drifting to the track ahead.

a story by rcklessheavn

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ series link

⋆˙⟡ tag list

⤷ authors note: ok this was wayyyy too long so i had to divide this, pt. 3 will be out sooner than this one was. i hope the length makes up for my absence!! thank you for your patience :)

@courta13 @matthewsroses @mattswifeyy @sturniolomatthewb @nessabarretswhore @nickmillersn1gf @mattslefttoenail @thecrawlys @tuttifruttixx @obsessedwiththesturniolos @period-queen1 @pair-of-pantaloons @b4by-hon3y @idkwhatthisis2009 @malsmind @matts-247 @baileysturnz @sturniololover1738 @emely9274 @stitchlover324

[slytherinshua]

☆　PURELY PLATONIC　( 高山りき )

genre fluff , friends to lovers , taki x fem!reader   cw none   wc 602   request no   note previous posted to my f1 account as well but i thought it fit taki too !!   net @kstrucknet @lune-net

You knew Taki like the back of your hand. Being best friends for too many years to count meant picking up on all the little things that others would have to dig deep to find out. Taki was the one person who never took you by surprise, who you could read like an open book. 

But on the rare occasion, he still managed to catch you off guard.

“You want me to cuddle you?” you echoed the words that had left the boy’s mouth seconds ago, frozen in slight shock. 

It wasn’t the cuddling that particularly surprised you. Taki was affectionate and so were you. Cuddling wasn’t foreign for you two— platonic cuddling, of course. But in terms of who was the big or little spoon, there were always silent set rules. Taki seemed to always be the one spooning you whenever hugs turned into cuddles. His request to be the recipient was uncharacteristic for him. 

“Yes. Is that weird?” His tentative and slightly confused voice at your reaction made a smile start to form on your lips. Your best friend was adorable. Always clarifying and questioning as if the world was spinning too fast for him. It wasn’t that he was slow or unable to pick up on things, but rather he prioritized your comfort more than anything. Even if he knew what all your expressions and inflections meant in his head, sometimes he wondered if one day he would misjudge. It was always safer to just ask.

“For you? Maybe. Just never figured you for a little spoon,” you replied, your smile now growing into a grin, one that teased Taki without words.

“Well, when you put it like that—“

You grabbed his arm and pulled quickly, yanking you both down onto your bed.

“What are you doing?” Taki pried, rushed words falling from his lips as your arms quickly encircled around his torso.

“Cuddling you. Just like you wanted.” 

The smile that you gave Taki— that self satisfactory mischievous one that he didn’t like to admit he adored so much— made his heart drop to his stomach. 

Hugs with you were never weird. Cuddles with you were never weird. Always in a platonic, best friend kind of way, naturally. Except, this suddenly didn’t feel like something best friends did. 

Heat crawled up Taki’s neck as he tried desperately to ground himself to something before he made things weird. It was a classic cliche— that boys could never just stay friends with a girl. He had always joked about it with you in the past, proudly boasting how you both defied the odds. He remembered saying how he would never be able to see you in a romantic light. 

That was almost 5 years ago now, and the Taki back then felt very different from the Taki now. The one that you were holding in your arms, way too close for him to focus on anything else in the room except for you, you, you. 

Your gaze drifted over his look of surprise and the slight flush on his cheeks. You noticed him slowly start to relax in your hold after a few seconds, slow blinks of his brown eyes staring into yours. You couldn’t help but find it comforting, how he fit so well in your arms, curled up so close.

Taki was the one person that you could read like an open book, and right now your eyes were skipping over the words, putting together the sentences in your brain, the understanding clear as day. 

Maybe what you had with Taki wasn’t as platonic as you had thought.

&team taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @kpoprhia,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,, @seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @talking-saxy,, @hursheys,, @loserlvrss,, @voikiraz,, @hyukabean,, @nicholasluvbot,, @i03jae

[starconstruction]

I really love your 🌙 smut, as a f-reader, I like how you consider f-reader as well in the kinks post, even it’s for m-reader I still like it so much , I want to see more about cosplay kink of jinsoul hehe~ I do think her fav one is student and teacher (because she love school uniform a lot🥰)

Classroom Cosplay

Allow me to give you some more Jinsoul cosplaying, i was going to do both readers for these thoughts but i didnt have the motivation.

I'll keep writing female readers for non fic asks, because it doesn't require it to be wrote twice. If im suggested any really good f!reader fics i might do them but they seem to be less popular so idk.

Smut Tags: Classroom, uniform kink, clothed sex, table sex, blowjob, creampie, rough, cosplay.

wc:1111, not proof read.

The faux classroom wasn't majorly convincing, but it would do. You had rearranged the guest room, scrapping the bed in place of tables. Buying a cheap whiteboard which had hastily drawn equations on it, the walls painted a soft beige. The walls had several pieces of paper on it, class work that Jinsoul had written in her last year of college.

You were sat at your desk, the "lesson" just concluded. The phantom students walked out the door, Jinsoul was about to join them. But you couldn't let that slide. "Jinsoul. Come here." You spoke firmly, gesturing at the desk in front of you. Jinsoul complied, sitting on the wooden surface.

She was wearing her last year college uniform, a black skirt that had well and truly rode up her legs. Giving you a view of her lace panties, her white shirt was mostly obscured under the accessories. A black tie laid on her chest surrounded by a grey and maroon cuffed blazer. Her hair was in a neat ponytail, she always looked beautiful but she was in her element here.

"What do you want professor?" Her voice turned the sweetness up to 100. Like she was innocent and not a class disrupting bitch. "You keep disrespecting me, distracting others and disrupting the class." You barked, "What do you have to say for yourself!" You felt strong in this moment.

Jinsoul paused, pretending to give a fuck. Tapping her fingers into the desk, "Oh nooooo.. I'm so sorrryyy." Your chest tightened as you got up from your desk, you towered over her body trying not to fly into a fit of rage. "You are a disrespectful pest." You breathed, Jinsoul smiled in your face. "If I've been such a bad girl, why don't you punish me?" She said, a gaze of defiance over her face. "Fine, I'll give you another essay to do."

Her smile disappeared, "No professor.. Not like that." Jinsoul grabbed your hand, pressing your long fingers against her panties. Now slightly wet as she fell into character. "Like this, if I'm such a bad girl make me regret it." She gasped.

"Oh really now?" You said, rubbing her clothed cunt. Her body reacted to your touch, gasping as her legs started to close in pleasure. "Yes professor..." That wasnt going to do, she had to learn. "Call me sir." You demanded, pulling her tie against her neck. Her lips met yours with the taste of flavourless sugar. Jinsoul's hand wondered against your slacks. Fingers brushing against your clothed hardness, they started to rub as Jinsoul kissed harder into your mouth.

You two pulled away from each other's lips, a string of shared saliva connecting you two. Jinsoul's pink tongue sliced it up as she looked at you expectantly, "Sir, are you going to punish me or what?" She smirked, baiting a reaction out of you like she was dangling fish food. "You fucking slut." You growled.

In an instant hands found her legs, roughly shoving her into the floor as she fell on her knees on the ground next to you. A yelp of surprise came from her sensational mouth, now inches from your clothed dick. "You want a punishment so bad?" You asked, Jinsoul nodded eagerly. "Then you'll fucking get one." You unzipped your pants, boxers falling suit with your cock firmly pressing against her mouth.

"You will take everything I give you." Before Jinsoul could react you forced yourself into her mouth, eyes widening as your length was firmly inside. She was warm and inviting, saliva coating your cock as her tongue was dragging against the bottom of your shaft. Every bump brought a whirlwind of pleasure, Jinsoul's cheeks tightened as they hollowed out.

"Such a great throat for a good slut.." You moaned, but if she wanted a punishment she was going to have it. You monuvered her body, pushing her against the throat of your desk. Still planted deep inside her mouth, the new angle gave you deeper access into her college mouth pussy. Slamming into the students throat "God, your slutty throat takes me so well.." You groaned, her eyes pooled with tears as your cock hit the back of her mouth. Sliding down her throat as you pulled back and forth, "You want my cum in your stomach?" She tried to nod, struggling against the frequent assault. "Too bad, you don't deserve it in anywhere but that cunt of yours." You moaned, her hands trapped against her side as you used her.

You grew bored of her greedy throat, pulling out the slick cavern. Saliva dripped against the floor as your cock was now dirty in her spit. Jinsoul started to catch her breath, heaving as she coughed up more saliva onto the carpet. Your hand grabbed her collar, picking her up as she looked at you with a pitch black lust. "Sir.. I'm so wet, please.." Her voice was whiny, hand tugging at your shirt. "Fuck me." You had to comply, cleaning off the desk as the equipment rained down onto the floor.

Jinsoul fell against the desk, body hitting the surface as she laid there. "I'm going to keep this uniform on you slut." The way she looked in her uniform was irresistible, moving the soiled fabric between her legs to the right, cock rubbing against the eager folds. Soft and supple as it coated your tip, you lined up with her hole. "I'm going to penetrate this cunt, make you regret ever disrupting my class." You pressed in. A shared moan erupting in the classroom as you entered her tightness.

You and Jinsoul had sex several times before, she was always tight but this was different. Clenching against your cock, suffocating it as you were drowned in her juices. This angle made it hard to thrust into her, an uphill battle that was rewarded with hitting her g-spot. "Yes s-sir! Ram that cock into me!" She begged, locking eyes with you as you entered and left her gripping walls. Balls slamming against the desk as you thrusted into her wanton body.

"Jinsoul!" You accidentally called her name, hand reaching towards her mouth. "Open up." Her mouth complied, finger weaseling in as her tongue licked it. Sucking on your digit as you slammed into her crotch, cunt reddening as every slap of your body drove her wild.

Her earlier head made you sensitive under the cunt of your student. "I'm gonna cum!! Fuck!" You blew into her body, spurts of semen shot up into womb as you pulled out, dripping onto the classroom ground.

"Thank you Y/N, you are an excellent actor." She said, kissing you passionately.

[maybege]

Take-Off - FBI 14

Summary: Your nightly rendezvous with Morgan has some unexpected consequences.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.0k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: CM typical stuff

I love how I said this would be out by mid-January and yet here we are … Anyway, sorry not sorry. I had to move back to my parents for like 6-ish weeks, my country’s election resulted in a drastic shift towards conservative/right-wing policies and January (being the awful month that it is) had my depression returning for an unwanted sequel, you know how it is. Anyway, Part 15 is not yet finished so idk when it will be out but rest assured I am thinking about Hotch and I hope that after reading this next chapter you do too! Let me know what you think 🥰

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

There was still sleep in your eyes as you made your way from the car to the elevator, searching for your badge in your purse. “Thank you for letting me sleep at your place,” you said, looking over at Derek, “I – I have no idea how this would have panned out if not for you.”

Derek pressed the button and the metal doors closed before the little jolt of the cabin notified you of the movement.

“We are all here for you, kid,” he smiled, “You are one of us, you hear me? Anyone in that office would help you if they could. Garcia, Rossi, Reid, Hotch,” – your heart jumped at that – “Prentiss, me. All of us, okay?”

The elevator stopped, and you smiled. “Okay.”

Arriving at the office was nothing like what you had imagined your glorious return from PTO to feel like. For one, you had seen yourself wearing a glamorous new outfit that showed everyone just how happy you were to be back and how confident you were in returning to your post. Most importantly, it would’ve given you the emotional support to think that Hotch’s presence wouldn’t have any impact on your confidence.

Admittedly, what you had not thought about during your holiday was what it would look like to your colleagues when you and Derek would arrive at the same time, both carrying coffee mugs that said his name, and his shirt thrown over a dress that you clearly had not planned on wearing.

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest?” JJ teased you, rounding the corner of your desk to sit down opposite you, “Disappearing without another word to get some,” she drew bunny ears in the air, “relaxing and,” – another set of bunny ears – “soul-searching done and now you show up with Morgan? Way to go, my friend.”

“Shut up,” Derek laughed, throwing back the last of his coffee, “You don’t want to know what she looks like under that shirt.”

You laughed, too, your heart feeling fuller by the minute of being surrounded by your team again. “It really isn’t –”

“You look like shit,” Emily greeted you dryly, a teasing smile on her lips as she crossed her arms, “Was it worth it at least?”

“We have no time for small talk,” Hotch’s voice sounded from the door to the conference room, “Everyone at the roundtable now.”

It should have stopped being surprising how put together he could look in the middle of the night, but your eyes still lingered on the white shirt he was wearing, how his tie seemed a little loose and how that was the only indicator that maybe it had been a little too early for him as well.

Reid and Rossi were already at the table when you entered and you sat down next to the older man with a smile. He threw a pointed look at your shirt and he did not even need to open his mouth for you to know what he was about to say.

“Shut up,” you grinned and he only laughed, good-naturedly patting your knee when JJ threw on the presentation.

“Alright, we have a child abduction in Montana,” Hotch opened. The image of a teenage girl was projected onto the wall. Blonde, blue eyes, preppy cheerleader outfit.

“Grace Donovan, 15 years old, was last seen at dinner with her parents when they reported her missing two hours ago.”

“It’s the middle of the night, how do they know she is missing?” you asked, frowning at the image, “Are they sure she is not out with her friends?”

You watched as Hotch opened his mouth to say something when his eyes met yours. And then they roamed over you, landing on the shirt you were wearing and Derek next to you and you could see the frown forming on his face.

Shit.

“She is not in her room and none of her friends know where she is,” JJ answered smoothly, not having noticed Hotch’s pause, “That and the security system seems to have been tampered with. This is beyond anything a fifteen-year-old could do.”

You nodded, looking down at the table and trying to avoid Hotch’s eyes on you.

“All right,” he said, throwing a look at his watch, “Wheels up in 10. We have 22 hours left.”

He caught up to you at the door, a dry hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you back into the room. If the others noticed, they did not show it, simply leaving the room as Hotch pulled you back to the front.

The blinds were still closed, you noticed, and as the door fell closed behind JJ, you were completely alone with him. Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes completely taking him in. Standing tall at the end of the desk, he eyed you and your skin tingled wherever his eyes seemed to land – your calves, your thighs, your torso, your face.

When you had handed in your PTO request after an entire week of being ignored by him, you had fooled yourself into thinking that maybe distance was what you needed. That distance would get you to see him in another light and not the one where you thought about what dirty things his voice could whisper in your ears late at night.

Clearly, the racing of your heart proved that that was not the case. That even time and distance away from him didn’t get rid of the sudden need to feel his arms around you. Or his lips on yours. Or his hand between your –

Until he opened his mouth.

“Need I remind you of the fraternisation policies the FBI has in place, Agent?”

“Hotch –“

“I understand that you have been gone for two weeks and, quite frankly, it should be none of my business what you two get up to in your private time so make sure it remains none of business. Understood?”

“It – it’s not what it looks like!” you protested, knowing what must have been going through his head. But what was worse was that you weren’t sure if you wanted to convince him of the truth because of the FBI rules or because you wanted him to know the truth.

He made a big step towards you and you gasped, feeling his body heat radiate so close to you, “And what does it look like?”

You could not say anything, the lack of sleep and confusion at Hotch’s angry demeanour catching up with you. You could not remember the last time you had seen him so upset at you. Openly upset.

“I see you, wearing clothes that clearly have been worn a whole,” he started again, his voice cutting through the silence, “Shorter hem than usual, deeper cleavage, formfitting. Obviously showing off the best parts of your body. On top of that, I see a shirt that clearly does not belong to you. When I called Derek at four in the morning, he said JJ needn’t contact you because you were already there with him, which leads me to believe that this,” he tugged at one of the buttons, “is Agent Morgan’s shirt. Am I wrong?”

Had he just said you were attractive?

He scoffed, “I didn’t think so. So now, what does it look like?”

“Josh kicked me out,” you blurted out, swallowing thickly at how close he was to you, “Derek found me in a diner after, uh,” slowly you lifted the hem of the shirt, revealing the red-yellowish condiment massacre on the fabric, “He gave me his couch to crash on.”

Hotch did not say anything, a tiny furrow between his brows. You glanced down and saw his forefinger and thumb pressed together.

“I know the FBI rules, Hotch,” you continued with a small voice, “And I, uh, I am really not interested in Morgan like that. He was a friend when I needed one.”

“Why were you in a diner of all places?” he asked.

“I – I didn’t know who to call,” you shrugged, “I was emotional and confused and it was the closest thing that was dry and warm and open.”

For the longest time, he did not say anything and you kept looking at him. Your hand was still in his and sometime during his speech they must have slipped from your wrist to interlace with your fingers and you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

He was so close.

“Next time you call me,” he said slowly, his other hand going to grab something from the inner pocket of his jacket.

You looked down at the little white square in his hands, “I already have your business card, Hotch,” you reminded him gently.

“This is, uh,” he cleared his throat, letting go of your hand like it was burning him, “This is my personal contact information.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, looking at him with wide eyes before the reality of the situation hit you, “oh.”

You took the offered card, keeping it close to your chest as if he would decide to snatch it away from you any second. “Thank you,” you mumbled, cheeks and ears warm as your heart began to race, “I should probably go and – “

“Yes,” he nodded slowly, “You probably should.”

*

Hotch did not know what he had been thinking when he confronted you in the conference room.

He probably had not been thinking at all.

And when was the last time that had happened?

The team was quiet as everyone found their place on the jet, settling into their respective routines. Even after years of work, late-night and early-morning calls never got any easier. And despite the worry for the missing girl on everyone’s mind, exhaustion was slowing everyone down.

The first talk over the files had already happened as soon as the jet had started. Now all they needed was to wait.

“We won’t get any new information until we are there,” he announced, “So everybody get some rest while you can.”

General murmurs of agreement sounded all around him and as he set up his laptop on the table in front of him, he saw Reid settling down on the couch, Derek and JJ sitting opposite each other, each occupied with their own books while Emily seemed to be choosing which playlist to listen to.

He tried to ignore the fact that the only free seats now were with him and Rossi.

“How long will the flight be?” your voice piped up from the galley way at the back of the plane. You were wearing different clothes now. Jeans and a colourful blouse. Flowers, he recognised at a second glance at the same time as he turned away, because why did he need a second glance?

“Come join us,” Rossi offered, opposite to him and motioned to the seat right next to Hotch. His jaw tensed but he kept his eyes on the laptop screen, trying to focus on what the PD had already sent him.

“Thank you,” you smiled, sitting down next to him and he tried to ignore how your thigh brushed against his.

“Tired, huh?” Rossi commented motioning to his face, “You got that look of someone who had a long night.”

“Well, it is five in the morning, Rossi,” you answered good-naturedly, “I don’t think any of us have gotten enough sleep tonight.”

“Right, you are,” the older man said, reaching into his bag in the seat next to him,

Silence fell over the jet. “What are you doing?” you asked quietly, looking up at him. Not because you wanted to, obviously, but because you tried to show him you were not trying to look at government documents without his permission. And the soft look in your eyes, he argued, was just because you were tired.

“The responsible detective sent over some of his personal notes from the first victim,” He explained, his fingers tingling as he remembered how your hand had felt in his, “I wanted to get a head start on them.”

You hummed in understanding. “Always working, Agent Hotchner.”

His lips quirked up, “Is that critique I hear, Agent?”

“Sorry, Sir,” you grinned, a sparkle in your eyes that made his heart jump in his chest in a way he had not experienced in a very long time.

This was going to be a long flight.

And well, if your head fell onto his shoulder while you were sleeping, who was he to wake you?

[aspenmissing]

hello hello !! glad to always see your work on my tumblr :DD is it possible to make arcane characters (mainly viktor but the rest is good too >:)) x s/o that just got really good grades after working so hard the entire semester ? maybe its them telling the reader how proud they are of them ! (totally not inspired by irl events rn) once again i love your work ! <33

ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 4645 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴏʜ ᴍʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ! ᴡᴇʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅʏ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ!! ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ʙᴇ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ!!! ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴜɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ

JAYCE

The moment the grades were posted, Y/N nearly stopped breathing.

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through the list, her vision scanning over names and numbers, heart hammering against her ribs like a drumroll. This was it—the culmination of months of effort, of sleepless nights hunched over textbooks, of ink-stained fingers and exhausted sighs. Every moment of struggle had led to this exact second.

Then—there it was.

Her name. Her score.

Top of the class.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Her brain barely processed it at first, as if her eyes were playing some kind of cruel trick. But no, the number didn’t change, her ranking didn’t shift. She had done it.

A sharp inhale. A flood of emotions.

A joyous laugh bubbled up in her throat, a mixture of relief, disbelief, and overwhelming pride. The weight of stress and self-doubt she had been carrying for weeks suddenly lifted, leaving her light, almost dizzy.

She didn’t even think—her feet were already moving.

Jayce. She needed to tell Jayce.

She knew exactly where to find him—his lab, where he spent hours buried in research and blueprints, half the time forgetting to eat because his mind was too occupied with hextech. The moment she reached his door, she didn’t bother knocking. She burst through, panting slightly from the rush.

"I did it!" she blurted out, the words tumbling from her lips before she could catch her breath.

Jayce, who had been bent over his workbench, straightened in surprise at her sudden entrance. A wrench clattered onto the table as he turned, brows raised. But the moment he saw her face—her wide eyes, the way she was practically glowing with excitement—a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips.

"You did it?" he echoed, stepping toward her.

"I got top grades!" She was breathless, grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. "All that studying, the late nights—it paid off!"

For a moment, he just looked at her, taking in the sheer joy radiating from her. Then, without a second’s hesitation, he moved.

Jayce scooped her up effortlessly, his arms wrapping around her waist as he spun her in the air, laughter rumbling deep from his chest. She let out a surprised squeal, clutching onto his shoulders as the room spun around her, but all she could do was laugh.

"Y/N, that's amazing!" he exclaimed, setting her back down but keeping his arms locked around her. "I knew you could do it!"

She was still dizzy, still floating, both from the spinning and the sheer happiness surging through her. "I worked so hard, Jayce," she murmured, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. "There were times I thought I wouldn’t make it."

His hands found her face, warm and gentle as he cupped her cheeks, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. His brown eyes were soft, filled with nothing but admiration and pride.

"I saw how hard you worked," he said, his voice low, sincere. "I saw you push yourself, even when you were exhausted, even when you doubted yourself. And I never doubted you for a second." His thumb brushed her cheek, a soft caress. "You're incredible, Y/N."

Her heart clenched, warmth pooling in her chest.

"I couldn’t have done it without you," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "You kept me sane. Every time I wanted to give up, you were there."

Jayce chuckled, the sound low and affectionate. "I was just reminding you of what you were always capable of," he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. "This? This was all you."

Her throat tightened with emotion. The exhaustion of the semester, the pressure, the nights spent doubting herself—it had all built up to this moment, and now, standing here in his arms, she felt seen. Truly seen.

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, but they were happy ones.

Jayce noticed and let out a soft laugh, brushing his lips over the top of her head. "Hey, no crying," he teased, his tone light, but his grip on her was steady, secure. "This is supposed to be a celebration, not an emotional breakdown."

She let out a watery laugh, playfully swatting his chest. "Shut up, I’m happy!"

"I know," he grinned, his arms still wrapped firmly around her. "And I’m happy for you."

Then, his expression turned mischievous, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

"So," Jayce drawled, tilting his head. "How are we celebrating? Fancy dinner? A whole day off where you don’t think about education? Or maybe—" he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, "—I just kiss you until you realize how insanely proud I am?"

A delighted laugh escaped her as she tugged him down by the collar of his coat, her fingers curling around the fabric. "Why not all of the above?"

His grin softened, his eyes filled with something deeper, something tender. "Sounds like a perfect plan to me," he murmured before pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss was warm, lingering, filled with everything he couldn’t say with words alone—pride, admiration, love.

And with that, the celebration began.

VIKTOR

Y/N sat at her desk, staring at the paper in her hands as if it were some sort of mirage. The bolded letters at the top confirmed what she had hoped for all semester—she had done it. A perfect score. The highest marks she had ever received.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she set the paper down, exhaustion weighing heavy on her bones from countless sleepless nights. It had been worth it, every long hour spent in the dimly lit library, every page of notes scribbled in frantic handwriting.

A knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts. Before she could even respond, Viktor stepped inside, his cane tapping softly against the wooden floor. His golden-brown eyes were filled with their usual warmth, but when he saw the stunned expression on her face, his brow furrowed.

"Y/N?" He limped closer, resting his weight on his cane as he glanced down at the paper in her hands. "Is everything alright?"

Instead of answering, she turned the sheet toward him. Viktor's gaze flicked over the numbers, and his lips slowly curled into a proud, affectionate smile.

"You did it." His voice was gentle, full of something deep and unwavering.

"I did it," she breathed, the weight of all her effort suddenly crashing into her at once.

Viktor set his cane against the desk and, without hesitation, pulled her into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around her securely, as if he could shield her from all the stress she had endured.

"You worked so hard for this, láska," he murmured into her hair, pressing a soft kiss against her temple. "I knew you could do it." (Love)

She melted against him, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. "I just… I was so scared I wouldn't make it."

Viktor pulled back slightly, just enough to cup her cheek. "Nonsense. You are one of the most brilliant minds I know. Your dedication, your passion—it is inspiring." His thumb brushed against her skin, a silent reassurance. "I have seen the way you push yourself, how much you care. You earned this, and I could not be prouder."

Her throat tightened with emotion, and she managed a shaky laugh. "You're going to make me cry."

He chuckled softly, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Then let me give you another reason to cry—with happiness, of course."

Before she could ask what he meant, Viktor carefully pulled out a small, wrapped package from his coat pocket and handed it to her.

"You got me a gift?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Of course," he said, nudging her hands gently. "Go on. Open it."

With a mixture of curiosity and excitement, she peeled away the paper to reveal a beautifully bound leather notebook, its cover embossed with delicate golden designs. She ran her fingers over it in awe.

"It's for your next journey," Viktor explained softly. "I figured you would need somewhere to record all your brilliant ideas."

Y/N's heart swelled with warmth. "Viktor…"

Before she could even think, she leaned up and pressed a kiss against his lips. He hummed in surprise, but his hands immediately found her waist, pulling her closer as he returned the kiss with soft, lingering affection.

When they finally parted, his forehead rested against hers, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

"You are incredible," he whispered. "And I will always be here to remind you of that."

Y/N smiled, gripping the notebook to her chest as happiness bloomed within her.

"Thank you, Vik. For everything."

He kissed her forehead one last time, the warmth of his love wrapping around her like the safest embrace in the world.

And in that moment, with Viktor by her side, she knew that every late night, every ounce of effort, had been worth it.

Because she wasn’t just celebrating alone—she was celebrating with him.

JAYVIK

The crisp evening air of Piltover carried a gentle hum of celebration. Inside the shared apartment of Y/N, Viktor, and Jayce, the atmosphere buzzed with warmth. A small table was adorned with a modest spread—your favorite pastries, a bottle of sparkling juice, and a single candle flickering in the dim light. It was a celebration of your incredible achievement.

"To Y/N! The smartest and most hardworking person we know," Jayce declared, raising his glass. His golden eyes shimmered with pride as he looked at you.

Viktor, sitting beside you with his cane propped against the chair, gave a small, pleased chuckle. "I believe you may have outdone even Jayce's old Academy records. And that is quite the accomplishment." His amber eyes softened as he gazed at you, his voice filled with warmth.

You grinned, cheeks heating up under their combined attention. "I just... worked really hard. I wanted to make you both proud."

Jayce scoffed playfully, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "As if we weren’t already proud of you every single day. But this? Y/N, this is huge! You pushed yourself so much, and now you’re top of the class." He pulled you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "Of course, we’re celebrating you."

Viktor nodded, his hand settling gently over yours. "Hard work should always be acknowledged, moya lyubov'. And you, můj drahý, deserve nothing less than admiration." His thumb traced absent circles over your skin. "I hope you know that no matter your grades, we would still be immensely proud of you. But seeing you achieve what you set out to do—it is remarkable." (My Dear)

Your heart swelled at their words, the exhaustion from months of studying melting away under their praise. You had worked tirelessly, pouring over textbooks late into the night, attending extra lectures, and pushing past the limits of your own endurance. But in this moment, with their unwavering support surrounding you, every sacrifice had been worth it.

Jayce nudged the plate of pastries toward you. "C'mon, indulge a little. You earned it."

You picked up a pastry, savoring the sweetness as it melted in your mouth. Viktor watched you with a satisfied expression, sipping his drink as he relaxed beside you. "You should allow yourself to enjoy moments like these more often," he mused. "It is easy to get lost in ambition, but balance is just as important."

Jayce nodded in agreement, his fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair. "Exactly. And besides, we’re always here to remind you to take a break when you need it."

You smiled, warmth filling your chest. "I know. And I appreciate it more than I can say."

Viktor smirked. "I would offer to carry you to the couch to rest, but, ah…" He tapped his cane lightly against the floor. "Perhaps Jayce should do the honors."

Jayce laughed and easily scooped you into his arms, earning a surprised squeak from you. "Your wish is my command, Y/N." He grinned, carrying you toward the couch while Viktor followed, shaking his head with a fond smile.

As you settled between them, Viktor leaning comfortably against you while Jayce held you close, you felt an overwhelming sense of contentment.

Jayce rested his chin on top of your head, sighing happily. "You know, we should make this a tradition. Whenever you accomplish something big, we celebrate like this."

Viktor chuckled. "I like that idea. And perhaps, next time, we go beyond our apartment—dinner at a fancy restaurant, perhaps?"

You giggled at the thought. "I’d like that. As long as you both are there."

Viktor and Jayce exchanged amused glances, their hands entwining with yours. "Always," Jayce assured softly.

Viktor pressed a lingering kiss to your knuckles. "Forever."

You had worked hard, you had succeeded, and most importantly—you were loved.

And that was worth celebrating.

VANDER (PLATONIC)

The Last Drop was always full of energy, but tonight it had a different kind of buzz. The usual clinking of glasses, shouts of drunken laughter, and the occasional scuffle were still there, but they were mere background noise to the excitement at the far end of the bar. Vander’s kids—Vi, Mylo, Claggor, and Powder—were huddled around Y/N at their usual table, their expressions ranging from amazement to skepticism.

“You really got all top marks?” Mylo leaned forward, elbows on the table, his brows furrowing in suspicion. “Even in math? No way.”

Y/N grinned and waved the parchment in front of his face. “Yes way, Mylo. Do you want to check my work?”

“Like I’d understand any of that nerd stuff,” he scoffed, crossing his arms in defeat. “But I’m just saying—this is a first. We should get this framed or somethin’.”

Powder practically vibrated in her seat, her hands clutched into excited fists. “I knew you’d do it! You worked so, so hard! Vi and I saw you studying all the time. Even when we told you to take a break, you just kept going.”

Vi smirked, reaching over to nudge Y/N’s arm. “Told you it’d pay off. Look at you, all fancy with your grades. Might as well start teaching the rest of us now.”

Claggor let out a chuckle, shaking his head in admiration. “That’s some real dedication right there. You’re gonna be the smartest one in all of Zaun at this rate. Maybe even Piltover. They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm at their praise. It wasn’t easy balancing everything—living in the Lanes, helping Vander with errands, keeping up with Vi and the others, and still pushing herself through every late-night study session. But hearing them all acknowledge her effort made it all feel worth it.

=

From behind the bar, Vander had been listening the entire time, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. He watched as Y/N beamed under the attention of her found family, pride shining in her eyes. She’d worked herself to the bone for this. He knew it better than anyone—how she’d sit by the dim lantern light long after the others had gone to bed, muttering formulas under her breath, scribbling notes furiously, erasing and rewriting when she didn’t get something right. He’d caught her nodding off over her books more than once, always too stubborn to admit she needed rest.

Now, seeing her finally celebrate, he couldn’t be prouder.

With a deep chuckle, Vander stepped forward, setting down a fresh round of drinks on the table—nothing too strong, just something sweet to mark the occasion. He placed a firm but gentle hand on Y/N’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I always knew you had it in you,” he said, his voice warm, steady, and full of pride. “Hard work like that—it ain’t easy. Takes a strong heart, real discipline. But you stuck with it, and now look at you.”

Y/N swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. She had looked up to Vander for so long, seeing him as the father figure she had never really had. He had taught her so much—how to hold her own, how to keep going even when things got tough. And now, hearing the pride in his voice, seeing it in his eyes… It meant everything.

“You deserve to celebrate,” Vander continued, ruffling her hair like he always did when he was particularly proud of her. “And I don’t wanna hear about you locking yourself away with books for at least a few days, got it?”

She laughed, swatting his hand away. “Okay, okay! I’ll take a break.”

“Good.” Vander chuckled, before lifting his glass high in the air. His voice carried through the room, firm and unwavering. “To Y/N—the smartest, hardest-working kid in all of Zaun.”

“To Y/N!” the others echoed, clinking their drinks together.

Vi gave her a one-armed hug, Powder practically tackled her, and Claggor and Mylo smirked as they raised their glasses. The warmth that spread through Y/N’s chest was unlike anything she had ever felt before. In this moment, surrounded by the people she loved, she had never felt more seen, more valued.

This was her family.

And more than anything, she was proud to have made them proud.

SILCO

The dim glow of Zaun’s neon lights flickered outside the window, casting long, hazy shadows across the polished surface of Silco’s desk. The Last Drop was quieter than usual tonight, the usual raucous laughter and clinking glasses replaced with a soft murmur as patrons indulged in their drinks. The scent of whiskey and smoke lingered in the air, but Silco was hardly paying attention to any of it.

No, his focus was entirely on the woman in front of him—the woman who had just burst into his office, eyes bright with excitement, clutching a crumpled piece of paper in her trembling hands.

"You did it," he murmured, fingers trailing lightly over the parchment as he scanned the grades printed across it.

All top marks. Every single one.

"I did it!" Y/N practically beamed, barely able to contain the joy bubbling inside her. "Silco, I actually did it! After all the late nights, the stress, the headaches—I passed everything! And not just passed, I did well!"

Her breathless words filled the space between them, and for a moment, Silco simply studied her. He had watched her work herself to exhaustion, nights spent hunched over books and notes, fingers stained with ink, pushing herself beyond her limits. He had seen the frustration in her eyes when things didn’t come easily, the way she fought to understand, to be better.

And now, she stood before him, victorious.

Silco’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile as he set the paper down and turned his full attention to her. Slowly, he rose from his chair, his movement deliberate as he stepped around the desk, closing the space between them. His gloved hand reached up, fingers tracing the side of her face with uncharacteristic softness, his mismatched eyes gleaming with something deeply fond.

"I never had any doubts," he said, voice low and warm, the rasp in his tone softer than usual. "You are brilliant, my love. Determined. There was no other outcome for you but success."

Y/N felt her heart swell at his words, emotion tightening in her throat. The weight of months of effort, the exhaustion, the overwhelming pressure she had put on herself—it all unraveled in that moment. Because for all of his sharp edges, for all of the ruthlessness he displayed to the world, she had always known this side of him. The part that cared. That cherished. That loved.

And right now, that love was focused entirely on her.

"I wanted to make you proud," she admitted, voice quieter now, her hands gripping the lapels of his coat. "I wanted to prove to myself—and to you—that I could do this."

Silco exhaled softly, amusement flickering in his gaze. "You’ve always made me proud, darling," he murmured, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "This only proves what I already knew."

His words unraveled something deep inside her, a relief so profound it nearly brought tears to her eyes. She rested her forehead against his chest, and for a moment, he simply held her there, one hand resting at the small of her back, the other tangling in her hair.

Then, a smirk tugged at his lips as he murmured, "I suppose this calls for a celebration."

Y/N sniffled slightly, looking up at him. "Oh? And what exactly does Silco consider a celebration?"

A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he guided her toward the door, his fingers lacing with hers. "I was thinking dinner. Something special. Something worthy of my brilliant, hardworking girl."

Her laughter was light, warm. "Well, when you put it like that, how could I refuse?"

=

He led her out of the office, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten as they stepped into the night together. Zaun stretched out before them, its streets a mix of neon haze and deep shadows, but for once, Y/N wasn’t thinking about anything beyond this moment.

Silco didn’t take her to one of the usual places in the Undercity. Instead, he led her to a quiet, tucked-away restaurant near the industrial district, one she had never been to before. It wasn’t grand, nor was it flashy, but it was private. The kind of place where Silco could let his guard down, even if only slightly.

The owner, an older woman with knowing eyes, greeted Silco without surprise, leading them to a secluded table in the corner. The lighting was dim, the scent of warm spices lingering in the air, and as they sat down, Y/N realized that Silco had planned this.

"You knew I’d pass," she accused playfully, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Silco leaned back, smirking as he picked up the wine glass the waitress had placed in front of him. "Of course I did. I don’t waste my time on anyone less than extraordinary."

Y/N flushed, biting her lip as she shook her head. "You have too much faith in me."

"No," he corrected smoothly, swirling the wine in his glass before meeting her gaze. "I have exactly the right amount of faith in you."

Something about the way he said it—the confidence, the absolute certainty—made warmth spread through her chest.

The rest of the night was soft, quiet, intimate in a way that very few moments in Zaun could be. Silco indulged her, letting her talk about everything—the stress of her exams, the moments she doubted herself, the overwhelming relief when she saw her grades. And he listened, truly listened, in a way so few people did.

=

And when dinner was over and they returned to his office, when she curled into his arms on the worn leather couch, exhaustion finally catching up to her, Silco pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and whispered, "I will always be proud of you, my love."

She fell asleep with those words settling deep in her heart, safe in the knowledge that, no matter what came next, Silco would always be in her corner.

And she would always fight to make him proud.

SEVIKA

The dim lights of The Last Drop flickered overhead, casting a warm, golden glow over the corner booth where you sat. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and liquor, the usual hum of rowdy patrons filling the space, but all of that faded into the background. Because tonight wasn’t about the undercity’s chaos—it was about you.

Your heart still fluttered from the moment earlier today when you’d opened your results. The anticipation, the fear, the months of grueling effort—it had all built up to that single second, where time seemed to freeze before relief crashed over you like a tidal wave. You’d done it. You’d pushed yourself beyond limits you didn’t even know you had, buried yourself in work, and proved to yourself that you were capable of more than anyone—maybe even you—had expected.

Now, here you were, still feeling the remnants of that high, pressing your lips together to keep from grinning too wide as Sevika slid a drink across the table to you.

“Go on,” she urged, her gruff voice laced with something softer, something rare.

That was the thing about Sevika. She wasn’t the kind of person to throw around affection easily, nor did she waste words on empty praise. Everything she did, everything she said, was deliberate. And that made moments like these all the more meaningful.

You picked up the glass, your fingers brushing against hers briefly, and even through the cool metal of her cybernetic hand, a shiver ran up your spine.

“Can’t believe you dragged me here for this,” you teased, though the warmth in your chest only grew.

Sevika leaned back against the booth, a lazy smirk playing on her lips. She looked at you like she always did—like you were something worth admiring, worth protecting. The sharp edges of her usual hardened expression softened just enough to make your heart clench.

“Damn right I did,” she said, voice brimming with pride. “You worked your ass off all semester. You deserve to celebrate.”

You chuckled, taking a sip of your drink. The burn was smooth, comforting in a way that reminded you of her—strong, steady. “Guess I do,” you admitted, still getting used to the feeling of accomplishment.

Sevika tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “No guessing,” she corrected. “You do deserve it. Smart, dedicated, and still got enough fire in you to keep up with me? Damn impressive.”

Heat rushed to your face, and you rolled your eyes to cover it. “Oh, so now you’re a fan of my brain, too?”

Her smirk deepened, her fingers lazily tracing the rim of her glass. “Always have been.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dipping lower, meant only for you. “Brains and beauty? Deadly combination, sweetheart.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

She always did this—always had this way of catching you off guard, slipping under your skin in a way no one else could.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re proud of me,” you murmured, trying to play it off, but your voice betrayed you.

Sevika exhaled, tilting her head slightly, gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “Damn right I am.” A pause, then, softer, more sincere, “Proud as hell, Y/N.”

The words settled deep in your chest, warm and reassuring, more intoxicating than any drink in this bar.

A lump formed in your throat, the weight of it hitting you all at once. Maybe it was the exhaustion from all the work catching up with you, or maybe it was just Sevika—her presence, her unwavering support, the way she always stood in your corner, even when you weren’t sure if you deserved it.

Unable to resist, you reached for her hand under the table, fingers tracing over the smooth metal of her cybernetic arm before lacing them with her other, warm and calloused. She didn’t pull away.

“Thanks, Sev,” you murmured, squeezing gently.

She looked down at your joined hands for a moment, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, lazy circles. A quiet kind of tenderness that most people never got to see from her.

“Always, babe.”

She didn’t say much more after that, but she didn’t need to. The noise of the bar faded into a dull hum, the laughter and shouting of patrons becoming nothing more than background noise. Because right now, nothing else mattered—just you, her, and the quiet understanding that, no matter what, Sevika would always be there.

And that? That was better than any grade you could ever earn.

[andy-15-07]

could you write a pedro pascal x reader story about getting pedro a book he's been wanting for ages? like we see it at some library while out and buy it for him, as a little gift to show him some love. and he loves it, he'd been meaning to get that book for ages but never found it. and he's talking our ears off about it and we ask him to read it for us and he's super happy and ugh just bookworm pedro in love with books and with us 🥺🥰

Our Bookish Love Story

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 2673| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

“Y/N, you really know how to surprise me,” Pedro said, his eyes sparkling as we strolled side-by-side through the grand entrance of our favorite local library. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting playful patterns on the polished wooden floors. It was a Saturday afternoon—a day we both reserved for wandering among shelves laden with worlds waiting to be discovered.

I squeezed his hand gently. “I thought you’d appreciate a quiet escape today,” I replied with a smile. “Besides, I have something special planned.”

Pedro chuckled, running his fingers through his dark hair. “You always do, y/n. But I can’t help but wonder—what mystery have you uncovered this time?”

As we passed the literature section, I could see the excitement in his eyes. He was a self-proclaimed bookworm, endlessly fascinated by stories that whisked him away from the ordinary. Over the years, I’d grown to love how his face lit up when discussing a well-crafted narrative. Today, however, there was an extra gleam of anticipation in his gaze—a secret he’d been holding for ages.

“Remember how I’ve been going on about that book?” Pedro began, almost in a whisper as we paused near an ornate shelf lined with classics. “The one I’ve been searching for forever?”

I smiled knowingly. “You mean The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón?”

His eyes widened, and his voice turned reverent. “Yes! That very book—the one that’s been eluding me for ages. I’ve always dreamed of owning a pristine copy. Every time I see it referenced or hear someone mention it, I feel this inexplicable pull, like I’m meant to dive into its labyrinth of stories and mysteries.”

I stepped closer to the shelf, pretending to peruse the spines, but my heart was already set. “Then let’s find it,” I said softly, tugging him along. “I have a hunch that today might be your lucky day.”

Pedro’s smile widened, and he pulled me into a warm embrace. “Y/n, you’re a lifesaver,” he murmured against my hair. “I’ve searched high and low in bookstores, on the internet, even in the most obscure corners of this city, but it always seems to slip through my fingers.”

Our conversation continued as we walked through the library, voices low and filled with shared excitement. I could see the passion in Pedro’s eyes as he recounted every detail he’d ever known about the book—its mysterious setting in post-Spanish Civil War Barcelona, the intricate plot woven through the alleys of memory and time, the haunting allure of characters who seemed to live on the page long after the book was closed.

“Every time I talk about it, I end up feeling like I’m sharing a piece of my soul,” Pedro confessed as we found a quiet nook by a large arched window. “I even have a favorite passage—I can recite it in my sleep. It’s not just a book for me; it’s a doorway to another world.”

I laughed softly. “Then tonight, you’ll open that door for both of us, won’t you?”

He grinned and nodded eagerly. “Absolutely. There’s nothing I’d love more than to share its magic with you.”

Our little conversation was interrupted by the sound of a librarian’s footsteps echoing softly down the corridor. We exchanged amused glances before continuing our quest through the maze of books. As we turned a corner near a display of new arrivals, my heart skipped a beat—there, nestled between a first edition of a beloved classic and a modern thriller, was a copy of The Shadow of the Wind. Its cover, a blend of deep blues and dusky grays, seemed to whisper secrets of mystery and passion.

“Pedro, look!” I exclaimed, pointing at the book with an excited sparkle in my eyes.

Pedro hurried over, his expression shifting from curiosity to unabashed delight as he reached for the book with trembling fingers. “Oh my God, y/n,” he breathed, holding the book as if it were a rare treasure. “I can’t believe it… I’ve been looking for this edition forever!”

He flipped through the pages reverently, his eyes glistening with tears of joy and nostalgia. “Every time I see this cover in my mind, I imagine the stories hidden within these pages, waiting to be unveiled. I’ve dreamed of a moment like this for so long.”

I wrapped an arm around his waist, sharing in his elation. “I knew it was meant to be,” I whispered. “I couldn’t let you go another day without it.”

The librarian approached, smiling kindly as she noticed our animated discussion. “That’s a wonderful choice,” she commented softly. “It’s one of our most sought-after editions. I hope it brings you as much joy as it has to others.”

Pedro thanked her warmly, and after a brief exchange about its rarity and literary significance, I insisted we purchase the book right then and there. “Come on, Pedro,” I said, tugging him gently. “Let’s head to the bookstore next door. I want you to take this home tonight.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes still fixed on the precious book. “Y/n, you have no idea how much this means to me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “This isn’t just a gift. It’s a piece of my heart, a long-awaited dream coming true.”

We left the library, the cool afternoon air enveloping us as we walked hand-in-hand toward our next destination. The bookstore was a charming, tucked-away haven with creaking wooden floors, cozy reading nooks, and the intoxicating scent of old paper and fresh ink. Inside, the soft glow of vintage lamps illuminated rows upon rows of literary wonders.

“Here we are,” I said, leading him to the counter. “I’d like to purchase this copy of The Shadow of the Wind, please.”

The shop owner, an elderly man with a gentle smile, took the book carefully from my hand. “An excellent choice,” he remarked, running his finger along the embossed title. “This edition is truly special—rare, indeed. It’s not every day that one finds such a treasure.”

Pedro’s eyes shone as he leaned in, almost reverently. “I’ve read countless reviews, heard endless tales of its magic, but never imagined I’d actually hold it. It’s like fate, y/n. Thank you for making this moment real.”

After the transaction was complete, we settled into a quiet corner of the bookstore, sinking into plush armchairs that seemed to have been waiting just for us. The world outside the shop faded away as Pedro carefully cradled the book, his fingers tracing its cover as if memorizing every line and curve.

“Y/n, may I read a little from it?” he asked, a note of eager anticipation in his voice.

I nodded, my heart swelling with love. “I’d love nothing more.”

Pedro cleared his throat gently, a playful glint in his eyes as he began to read aloud. His voice was soft at first, then gradually grew richer and more animated with each line. He recited a passage that described the labyrinthine streets of Barcelona, the echoes of forgotten voices, and the bittersweet dance between memory and desire. Every word was imbued with his passion—not just for the story, but for the art of reading itself.

“I’ve always believed that books are more than just words on a page,” he said, pausing to meet my eyes. “They’re living, breathing entities that hold our dreams, our fears, and our hopes. This book… it’s a portal to another time, another life. And every time I read it, I feel like I’m rediscovering a part of myself.”

I listened, utterly entranced by his delivery. “Pedro, you make it sound so magical,” I whispered. “Your love for literature is one of the many things that make you so incredible.”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And now, thanks to you, I can finally share that magic with you, too. It’s not often that someone understands just how deeply a story can touch your soul.”

The conversation flowed easily between us as we discussed the themes of the book, its intricate plot, and the way its characters mirrored our own struggles and dreams. Pedro’s enthusiasm was contagious—every time he mentioned a detail, his face lit up, and I found myself laughing and nodding along, caught up in the wonder of his words.

“Y/n,” he said between paragraphs, “do you ever feel that books are like old friends? They’re always there when you need them, offering comfort, wisdom, and even a bit of mischief?”

I smiled. “I do. I think every book holds a piece of who we are—like a secret diary written by the universe.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and inviting. “That’s exactly it. And tonight, with this book in my hands, I feel like I’m finally living the story I’ve always dreamed of.”

Time seemed to slip by as Pedro continued to read, his voice filling the cozy space with the sound of whispered adventures and timeless romance. I couldn’t help but lean in closer, captivated not only by his words but by the sheer joy radiating from him. In that moment, we were more than just two people in love with literature—we were two souls united by the magic of storytelling.

After he finished reading the selected passage, Pedro closed the book gently and looked at me with eyes that shimmered with affection. “What do you think?” he asked softly. “Do you feel it too—the pull of a story that promises to change us?”

I reached out, placing my hand over his. “Every word you read made me feel like I was right there with you,” I said, my voice tender. “I love that about you, Pedro—the way you make everything come alive, the way you share your heart through these stories.”

He leaned in and kissed my hand gently. “Thank you, y/n. For understanding me, for loving me—and for giving me this incredible gift. This isn’t just a book—it’s a symbol of everything we share: our passion, our dreams, and the unspoken promise that we’ll always have each other to lean on.”

As the afternoon light began to fade, we left the bookstore hand-in-hand, the treasured book tucked safely under Pedro’s arm. On our walk home, our conversation turned to our future, to other stories we’d chase together, and to the quiet moments of joy that came from sharing the simple pleasures of life.

That evening, back in the comfort of our shared apartment, Pedro set the book on the coffee table and turned to me with a playful glint in his eyes. “Y/n, now that you’ve given me this amazing gift, there’s only one thing left to do,” he declared.

I raised an eyebrow. “And what might that be?”

He sat down beside me on the couch, the book open on his lap as he looked up at me with sincere intensity. “I want to read it to you. Not just the passages I love, but the whole story—from beginning to end. I want you to experience every twist, every secret, every moment that has captivated my heart for so long.”

I felt a warm rush of affection and excitement. “I’d love that, Pedro,” I replied. “Curl up with me and read aloud. Let your voice be the soundtrack of our evening.”

He grinned widely, settling in comfortably as he adjusted the book. “All right then. Let’s begin our own little adventure,” he said, his tone brimming with anticipation.

For the next few hours, our living room transformed into a private sanctuary of whispered words and shared dreams. Pedro’s rich voice filled the room as he read aloud, pausing occasionally to explain a line or to share an anecdote about the book’s creation. Every now and then, he would look up at me, his eyes sparkling as if the pages held a secret that only we could understand.

“Did you know, y/n,” he said at one point, “that Carlos Ruiz Zafón wrote this book as a tribute to the magic of storytelling? He believed that every reader carries a universe within them, waiting to be ignited by the right words.”

I nodded, completely entranced. “That’s so beautiful,” I murmured. “I think every time you read it, you remind me just how much passion you have for the art of literature.”

Pedro’s smile softened, and he continued, “Every time I read, I imagine a world where every book is a doorway. And tonight, you’ve opened a door for me—a door into a realm of love, hope, and endless adventure.”

As the night wore on, our conversation wove in and out of the narrative. We laughed over shared insights, debated interpretations of ambiguous lines, and even recited favorite quotes back and forth. It was as if the book had not only brought Pedro immense joy, but had also deepened the connection between us.

“I could listen to you read forever,” I confessed during a quiet moment, nestled close as he turned the page. “Your voice, your passion—it makes the words dance. I love you even more for it.”

Pedro’s eyes met mine, soft and sincere. “And I love you for believing in me, for cherishing these moments, and for always understanding that sometimes the greatest gift isn’t the object itself but the love and care behind it.”

When the final chapter finally drew to a close, we sat in silence for a while, letting the last echoes of Pedro’s reading fade into the gentle hum of the night. The book lay open on his lap—a symbol of our shared journey, a testament to the way a simple act of love can transform an ordinary day into something magical.

Breaking the silence, I whispered, “Thank you, Pedro. For everything—the book, your passion, and most of all, for making me feel like I’m part of your world.”

He pulled me into a warm embrace, his voice husky with emotion. “Thank you, y/n. I promise that every time I open this book, I’ll remember today. I’ll remember the gift of love that you gave me—not just in the form of a book, but in the way you make my heart feel full.”

We spent the rest of the night curled up together, the pages of The Shadow of the Wind scattered like confetti around us, each one a reminder of our shared adventure in literature and life. In that quiet space, where words and love intermingled, we found that our relationship was built not just on romance, but on a deep, abiding passion for the stories that shape us.

Over the following weeks, that day at the library and bookstore became one of our favorite memories—a chapter in our own story that we often revisited. Pedro would occasionally pick up the book, his eyes lighting up as he recounted that magical afternoon. And I, ever grateful for the moment I had found that treasured edition, would smile and say, “It was just the beginning of our novel gift—a story that continues to write itself with every day we share.”

One rainy afternoon, as we sat together by a window with rain tapping softly against the glass, Pedro turned to me with that familiar glint in his eyes. “Y/n, what do you think our next adventure should be?” he asked, his voice a gentle blend of curiosity and excitement.

I laughed softly, “Maybe we’ll find another book that changes everything. Or maybe we’ll write our own story—one chapter at a time.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Either way, as long as I have you by my side, I know it will be a story worth telling.”

And so, our bookish love story continued—a narrative woven with passion, dialogue, and the shared magic of literature. Every new book became a shared journey, every page a testament to our bond, and every whispered word a promise that no matter what stories lay ahead, we would always have each other.

Because in the end, it wasn’t just about finding that one elusive book—it was about discovering that the greatest adventure of all was the love we nurtured every single day.

[moonpie2405]

Sorcerers and Primogeniture in The World of Ancient Magus Bride

Primogeniture is essentially the firstborn child's right to inherit.

This post began with me thinking about how Rian's mother Jade is heavily implied to be pregnant in the recent chapters: Rian, an only child who has loudly and repeatedly declared his desire to not join the family business or inherit his place as its head, and is adamant about learning magecraft instead. It's not that far-fetched to believe that the new child is meant to replace Rian, though whether it is because of kindness or disappointment towards him is up to debate.

That's when I realised that pretty much every major firstborn character in the College arc, especially from the younger generations, is in a sense 'failing' at what is demanded of the position, in one way or the other.

Let's get started with the rest of them, shall we?

1. Violet St George

Outright calls Jasmine the heir instead of him. Him wearing women's clothing is not something that is approved by their house, nor is him remaining unbothered by their criticisms. The elders seem to be prioritising shaping Jasmine for the role as his replacement. He also isn't as bothered by the house's issues as much as Jasmine is, repeatedly proposing that they should run away and become magi instead (in a chapter called 'Better bend than break', too, like???). Though he acts like he is joking, we don't know how serious he is about this.

2. Seth Noel

He was born with no talent for sorcery or the family trade, and was kicked out of his home with nothing to his name. Hell, even his last name was changed, and he was asked to never reveal his ties to the Websters and bring shame to their name, like what? Lucy was literally born as his replacement (parallels to what's happening in the Scrimgeour house 🤨?)

3. Adam Sargant

Ran away from home. He literally chose to die rather than return to his position in the family regardless of how good he was at it, that's how miserable he was in that place (not that it is surprising, with Lizbeth Sargant as his mother). Along this line, we also have:

4. Philomela Sargant

Let's be honest. Philomela was always set up to fail in the Sargant house, and would have never been in a position to actually inherit the title of family head: in the beginning she was raised by her parents with love and kept far away from the world of sorcery, and later under her grandmother's "care", she was only ever a scapegoat and a begrudging obligation at first, and then a sacrificial pawn in Lizbeth's plans. Heir in name only, there was literally no place for her in that house.

5. Torrey Innis

Changed his name, and even continents, to avoid his role as the heir. Would literally move halfway across the world than inherit the family business, much to Narciss's frustration.

6. Mikhail Renfred*

Did not even want to become a sorcerer, whatever happened with his father is what forced him into this path. I don't know what the family's exact duties are, but given his drunk ramblings, Renfred himself does seem to feel inadequate in his capability as a sorcerer.

7. Adolf Stroud**

Failed to follow the family profession of becoming a doctor. He seems to have had poor grades as a child, and later on he left home altogether. This might not seem terribly important, but I think that this directly fed into him feeling like he has failed Lindel.

The law of primogeniture constantly being subverted in the manga is just one of the examples of how the current generation is creating ripples of change, both within the rigid structures of the sorcerers and the world of Ancient Magus Bride itself as a whole.

*Okay, I don't actually have any confirmation about Renfred being a firstborn, but c'mon. Just look at him, he's literally the most only child ever. Can you blame me for the assumption? Welcome to the list, Renfred.

**Another exception, seeing that Adolf does not come from a sorcerer family at all. But he has firmly rooted himself in their world (Lindel's words, not mine), so I'm counting him too.

(If you've managed to make it to the end of this, thank you for reading my ramblings!)

[whizzing-fizzbee]

I'm going on vacation, so as a tiny parting gift and since everyone seems to love Subastian, I give you...

Ignorant.

Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit/MDNI; all characters are adults Words: ~4000 Tags: female reader insert, 2nd person POV, no y/n, smut, soft dom/sub, Subastian Sallow, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, revenge, marriage, post-Hogwarts, aged up characters, MDNI

Summary: You already know what this one's about. That incident. On this day five years ago, Sebastian Sallow had the audacity to call you ignorant during an argument in the Undercroft. You forgave but you sure as hell didn't forget. Now, you're exacting some revenge five years later to show your new husband who the ignorant one really is. In other words: MC is petty as hell for remembering and exploiting the "ignorant" incident in the form of sexual revenge.

Notes: I love how the "ignorant" incident has become an ongoing joke within the HL fandom, so this is just something silly and stupid I thought up. Major thanks to @newdreamlove95 for helping me sort through the logistics of this one.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Today was special. It marked a particular anniversary for you and your beloved husband. No, it wasn’t your wedding anniversary, nor was it the annual marking of the first day you met, or even your first date.

This anniversary held a much more facetious meaning. Perhaps you were petty for remembering it, but you never claimed to be perfect.

It all started five years ago, when you were caught in the middle of a whirlwind school year. You had just started at Hogwarts, already years behind your classmates in your lessons. Then you discovered that not-so little secret about your ancient magic and Ranrok’s mission to turn Hogwarts and its surrounding hamlets to hell on earth, all while your new friend Sebastian decided to dip his toes into dark magic to try and save his sister.

Needless to say, your first year at Hogwarts was a bit much. But plenty of good did come from it. You saved the school – and probably the entirety of the surrounding Highlands – from Ranrok, Rookwood and their loyalists. You took down a notorious ring of poachers and saved the golden snidgets. You exposed Cassandra Mason and took over her decaying Hogsmeade shop, gave Puffskein Duncan the ridiculing he deserved and helped that sweet old goblin reunite with his dear mooncalf Biscuit. All that, and you even managed to make that freckled friend of yours fall in love with you.

You hadn’t meant to. Sure, you’d had a crush on Sebastian from the start, and apparently he had it bad for you the moment you demolished him in that Defense Against the Dark Arts duel. But he spent most of your fifth year chasing down a cure for Anne’s curse, while you spent that time chasing him down in hopes he wouldn’t get himself killed. 

It wasn’t until all the dust had settled – after Solomon’s death, Ranrok’s demise and Ominis Gaunt’s decision to keep quiet about Sebastian’s crimes – that Sebastian realized how important you had become to him. It was somewhere around Christmas of your sixth year that he finally crafted the courage to tell you. 

Since then, you and Sebastian Sallow were synonymous. Where you went, he went, and vice-versa. When someone spoke your name, his followed. It was no surprise to your Hogwarts classmates and professors that you eventually became Mrs. Sallow.

But your great love story wasn’t without a few hiccups. You and Sebastian were both bold and brash. You both liked to fight fire with fire, and while he was much more impulsive, you were stubborn and clever. It was inevitable that the two of you occasionally tussled, but you also loved one another far too deeply to ever let your grievances get too far.

Except for this one tiny, little thing.

You brought it up only on rare occasion. If anything, it had become an inside joke of sorts between you and your husband – a silly memory of your rocky beginnings. He apologized profusely and you’d forgiven him ages ago. But that didn’t mean you forgot.

So on this particular day, which marked five years since that irritating little incident, you decided it was time to remind your husband to be mindful of how he speaks to you.

The two of you left work promptly at 5 p.m. You were both Aurors, another example of how in tandem the two of you were. You’d spent your Hogwarts days as partners in crime only to graduate and become partners who chased down criminals.

But today, Sebastian was the only one who would be paying for any crimes – even if they had technically been forgiven five years ago.

You entered your London townhome per usual, tossing your coat on a hook by the door as Sebastian whined about being hungry. You barely acknowledged his words. You were far too excited to serve revenge, not dinner.

While he rummaged through the cabinets for something to eat, you kicked off your shoes and continued to your home office. It was your own secluded space where you kept your most important belongings – notebooks about the repository, research on ancient magic, observations about that stupid relic Sebastian had stolen your fifth year. You kept it all filed away safely under lock and key. The remainder of your office housed a desk covered in trinkets, an old armchair and a row of modest bookshelves. And in one corner of the office sat the old triptych. 

You took Isidora Morganach’s triptych with you upon graduating Hogwarts when you and Sebastian decided you couldn’t risk leaving it for someone to stumble upon in the Undercroft. It now posed as a pretty piece of artwork, its significance only meant for you and Sebastian.

You gazed at the triptych and smiled to yourself. It represented a monumental portion of your past, particularly with Sebastian. In many ways, you might even say it brought the two of you closer as you spent months during your fifth year searching for its missing canvases. And then, there was that moment, which occurred on this day in front of the triptych five years ago.

“Oh, darling!” you called out. “Can you come here?”

You leaned with your back to the desk, wand held lazily in one hand as you waited. Sebastian’s footsteps padded against the wood floors until he was lingering in the doorway of your office.

“Yes, love?” He stepped into the room, his brow furrowed as he noticed you gazing at the triptych. “What is it?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about this old thing,” you said innocently as you gestured toward the triptych. “Brings back quite a few memories.”

Sebastian blinked, unsure what to make of your sudden nostalgia. “That, it does,” he agreed. “What’s the reason for this trip down memory lane?”

“Oh, nothing,” you shrugged. “I was just thinking back and realized what day it is.”

“What day it is?” Sebastian repeated blankly. You smirked as you could see the panic surging through his head. He was certainly trying to recall important dates, terrified he’d forgotten your birthday or anniversary. “Sorry, darling, I don’t recall.”

You stepped toward him, hooking one arm around his neck to pull him close, your bright eyes shining as you smiled at him. “You don’t remember what happened with this triptych on this day five years ago?”

Sebastian fought to remember, his frown deepening as he struggled for a response. “Five years ago? I’m sorry, love,” he admitted. “I have no idea.”

“Oh, well that’s okay,” you said with a shrug. “It’s not really that big of a deal.” You reached for his tie and tugged him into a slow kiss, offering him a cheery smile when you pulled away.

“But if it’s important to you-” Sebastian started. You cut him off with another kiss, stepping toward him to press your body against his. You knew he’d forget all about that triptych now.

As you dragged your tongue against Sebastian’s bottom lip, you rocked your hips forward into his. His fingers pressed into the small of your back. You nudged him backward until he was against the desk, his thigh between your legs. You grinded yourself against him and moaned, your eyes falling shut as you rocked. 

“Fucking hell, what’s gotten into you?” Sebastian breathed. You kissed him again, the flat palms of your hands raking down his chest until they were in his lap. You smirked against his lips as you felt the bulge in his trousers.

“I love when you get hard for me,” you whispered, one hand stroking over his length. Sebastian groaned at your touch. You continued to rub him through his trousers until he was fully erect, the fabric now straining tight around him. You shifted forward against his thigh. 

“Tell me you want me,” you breathed in his ear.

“You know I do,” Sebastian murmured. 

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

“You know where.”

You fiddled with the knot of his tie and yanked his shirt open to slide it down his arms until it was a crumpled heap on the desktop, then you kissed a trail across his jawline and returned flat on your feet so you could tug his trousers off. “Here?” you asked as two fingers traced the tip of his bare cock. 

“Yes, there,” Sebastian hissed.

“What do you want me to do to you?” You ran your tongue across your bottom lip as you held eye contact.

“Everything,” he breathed. 

“Such as?”

“Ride me.”

“And what do you want to do to me?”

“Ruin you.”

You pulled away just far enough to gaze upward at him with soft doe eyes. He was beaming, clearly under the false impression he was going to bend you over that desk.

“And you really don’t remember what today is?”

“I’m sorry, love, I don’t.”

You tutted, your hand gently cupping his face as you pouted at him. “That’s a shame,” you mewed as you gazed into Sebastian’s worried eyes. “Didn’t realize you were so ignorant.”

You flashed a gleeful grin as you watched the realization and the horror swell over Sebastian's expression.

“Y- you actually remember the specific date of that?” he whined. “You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, love, I am so serious,” you breathed as you steadied your wand hand. “Petrificus totalus.”

Sebastian’s arms snapped to his side and his legs locked. You caught him before he could crash to the floor and eased him down gently until he was flat on his back. You smirked into his eyes, which blinked back at you in disbelief. 

“Sorry, dear,” you said merrily as you leaned over him until you were inches from his face. You dropped your wand next to his body to taunt him, leaving it within reach though he couldn’t move. “But I’m going to show you who the ignorant one is here.” 

You stood over Sebastian, his torso between your feet as you started to unbutton your blouse. You maintained your stare down into his eyes as your fingers worked slowly and deliberately until you were slipping your arms from the sleeves. You tossed the shirt into a corner and returned your fingers to the clasp of your bra. You let it drop from your body so that it fell across Sebastian’s chest. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” you whined dramatically as you wriggled out of your skirt and kicked it aside with your bra. Looming over Sebastian in just your soaked panties, you flashed him a cheeky grin. “Can’t you tell?” He blinked in despair.

“Oh, sorry, love,” you said with nonchalance as you reached for a pillow from the armchair. You tucked it beneath Sebastian’s head to prop it up and smiled. “There. Is that better?”

You smiled at his lack of response and stepped out of your panties. Now fully bare, you sank to the floor until you were straddling Sebastian’s chest, your parted knees on either side of his biceps.

“Merlin, what a day it’s been,” you declared. “I was so tense all day.” You spoke with slow drama, your hand carefully snaking down your chest and past your stomach until it was between your thighs. You stared at Sebastian as you dragged two fingers over your entrance and let out a melodramatic moan, drawing long, slow swipes across your clit until you needed more. You sank a finger inside yourself and inhaled sharply at the welcome intrusion, extracting it slowly to ensure Sebastian could see your slick arousal. 

He hated when you made him watch, which rarely happened because he was always quick to ravage you the moment he became jealous of your fingers. But not this time.

“That’s better,” you breathed as your wet fingers found your clit again. You worked as slowly as you could withstand, sexy gasps and whimpers chorusing from your throat to emphasize just how much you were enjoying yourself. Your thighs locked around Sebastian’s biceps as you brought yourself close to a climax. Though his stiff body remained still, you could hear his breaths becoming ragged beneath you.

Your hips jutted forward as the heat mounted within your nerve endings until it sent searing spasms deep below the surface of your skin. You choked out a pitchy moan as you rubbed yourself to completion, your eyes clamped shut until it was over.

You peeked one eye open once your body stopped shivering. Sebastian was staring up at you with desperate defeat in his eyes. You flashed your canines at him.

“Oh, that was good,” you moaned as you remained seated on his chest. “But it certainly could have been better. Too bad I’m too ignorant to get myself off properly.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh as you rose to your feet, offering Sebastian a full view of the aftermath of your solo play until you sauntered toward the door.

“My, I’m parched,” you mused, casting a smirk downward at Sebastian. “Pardon me, love. I’m just going to go fetch something to drink.”

You wanted to prolong this as long as you could. You wanted to relish it, remember it, commit it to memory, because if you knew your husband, you knew he’d find some way to exact revenge sooner than later.

By the time you returned with a glass of water in hand, you almost felt guilty for what you were doing to your poor husband. He remained on the floor, eyes blinking upward as you lowered yourself into the armchair with a satiated smile to sip casually from the cool glass. 

“I was so thirsty!” you drawled as you allowed some of the water to spill onto your chest. “Oops!” It trickled between your breasts, down your body, toward your lap. “How ignorant of me,” you laughed as you set the glass on the desktop with a crisp clink.

“Now,” you said as you knelt on the floor next to Sebastian. “I took care of myself. I suppose it’s only fair that I take care of you too, given your sorry state.” You crawled closer to him and leaned over to peer into his eyes. “How’s this?” you cooed as you dragged your palm down his chest. You lowered your lips to his neck and sucked gently against the skin. 

“Why are you sweaty, Seb?” you teased in his ear. His eyes shifted in reply. You barked a laugh and returned your lips to his body. You kissed down his chest toward his navel and stilled, peering into Sebastian’s eyes with a new sense of seriousness.

“Do you want me to keep going?” you asked as you studied his eyes for any sign of protest. “Blink once for yes, twice if you really want me to stop.”

Sebastian blinked once. You smirked at him and dipped your head, placing a kiss just below his belly button until you eyed his erection. 

“You poor thing,” you cooed, your hot breath ghosting over his cock. You hovered above it, your lips painfully close to making contact. Sebastian puffed an impatient breath through his nose. The tip of his cock glistened with arousal.

Finally, you ran your flattened tongue the length of his shaft. You moved slowly; you knew Sebastian – ever the impatient one – went wild whenever you did that. 

The room was still as you wrapped your lips around Sebastian’s cock and sucked. Your tongue danced circles around the tip each time your head bobbed upward. He always moaned and groaned when you did that, but this time, you savored his silence.

Your jaw slackened and you eased your throat around Sebastian’s cock until it reached the back. You hummed as you held him there, your eyes shining with satisfaction because you knew he was undoubtedly on the cusp of losing his mind. As you glided and gurgled around his tip, you were almost certain you could hear him whimper. You hastened your movements until your hollowed cheeks ached from pulling against his cock. 

You listened carefully to Sebastian’s breathing, ready to time your next move. When you heard sharp, short puffs of exhale emanating from his nostrils, signaling his impending peak, you let his cock pop free from your mouth. You smirked and licked your lips at him. His labored breaths sounded painful.

Sebastian’s body may have been incapable of movement, but it clearly wasn’t immune to temperature change. His skin was scalding hot and you could see beads of sweat glistening in the low light. 

“What’s the matter, Seb?” you teased with the back of one hand placed flat against his forehead. “You’re absolutely burning up.” 

You leaned down to plant a kiss on his lips. His nostrils flared as his eyes bore into yours.

“Now, what else was it that you wanted from me?” You tapped your chin as you pretended to think. “Ah, yes. Something about me riding you? How does that sound?”

Sebastian blinked once. You cackled in response. He was foolish if he thought you were going to be doing any of this for his benefit, and his eyes looked worried for what else was in store.

You climbed on top of him, your thighs hugging the sides of his hips as you arched your back to show off your body. Sebastian typically called the shots when it came to sex. He was dominant and you liked the way he took control in the bedroom. But not today. Today was yours.

You could feel Sebastian’s erection pressing against your entrance. If the anticipation didn’t kill you, surely Sebastian would. He was never very apt at the slow burn dance that was foreplay. 

A low hum formed in your throat as you sank around his cock, your slick arousal exposing how badly you needed him. Regardless, you remained focused on the task at hand. You hovered around his tip rather than allow your weight to pull you downward around Sebastian entirely. Your hips rose and dipped until you were moaning at the sensation of his tip dragging against the spot that made your toes curl.

Sebastian’s eyes seemed to scream for relief but when you studied them, he didn’t blink. Your control of your husband made you giddy. But while you wanted nothing more than to prolong this, you needed your release. Finally, you allowed yourself to accommodate him fully, his cock spearing your innermost core. Your walls were already threatening to quiver as you began to bounce. His cock poked and prodded the swollen pressure inside of you until your moans echoed off the office walls. 

Below you, Sebastian’s fragmented breaths competed with the sounds of your slapping skin. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whined as you rocked with more fervor, desperate to snap the cord tightening inside you. It strained until it severed, your tension breaking in the form of sharp spasms that made your legs quake. You issued a guttural wail as your walls pulsed with pleasure.

When it subsided, you were left gasping for breath, your hands supporting your weight against Sebastian’s chest. His eyes were squeezed shut. When they cracked open, you smiled at him innocently. 

You eased yourself upward with slow deliberation to provide Sebastian with a view of your soaked entrance as if you were about to rise to your feet. You locked eyes with him again and winked.

“What’s wrong?” You feigned confusion as Sebastian’s eyes shifted. “Did you think I was done? Oh Seb, how very ignorant of you.”

You chuckled and leaned backward this time as you rode him with your hands resting atop his knees to offer him a better view of the union happening between your hips. The angle nearly made you cry out, still sensitive as the anterior wall of your cunt glided against Sebastian’s tip. When it still wasn’t enough, you lifted yourself onto your feet, your knees falling wide open as you rose and dipped around his cock.

“Do you like what you see?” you taunted, panting as you continued to roll your hips, your arms locked at the elbows to support your upper body weight. Sebastian’s legs remained rigid beneath you. Your breasts jiggled with every movement and Sebastian’s eyes darted around as if they were overwhelmed by the vision that had unfolded above him. The obscene view was only rivaled by the crude sounds of his cock pounding your wet cunt.

“Oh god.” You bounced until your thighs burned and arms shook as they supported you, your own eyes falling shut as the heat inside your core began to surge up your spine again. Your hips increased their pace until you were smacking hard on top of Sebastian, whose face flushed crimson. You ground him into the floor with rough rocking motions until you were howling through an orgasm, your hips held in place until your walls stopped seizing.

You remained perched on top of Sebastian as you caught your breath, your head hazy and pulse racing. But as soon as your gaze met his, a wicked smile spread across your lips. Sebastian’s eyes were exhausted. Though he hadn’t moved a muscle, he looked as if he’d been through hell and back. But his trip wasn’t over just yet.

Finally, you crawled off of him, still on all fours as you positioned yourself above his legs. 

“Looks so painful,” you purred as you eyed his erection. “Want me to relieve it?”

Sebastian blinked so hard, a bead of sweat trickled down his temple, reminiscent of a tear. You giggled at him.

“Alright, fine,” you simpered as you dipped your head. You pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock. 

With only the tip of your tongue, you licked slowly – so slow, you could feel every ridge of Sebastian’s length. It was still slick from your previous acts, and you hummed at your own taste. You teased his tip at a tantalizing pace.

Finally, your head bobbed faster as your entire mouth engulfed him. You raked your fingernails down his chest until they pricked the tops of his thighs, sinking with slow intention while your mouth worked. Your lips dragged over his flesh with fervor until you could hear Sebastian’s breaths becoming broken sniffles. Your nails dug deeper and you moaned a series of vibrations around his cock, pulling and licking in sensual patterns until you were certain he was about to rupture.

And then, you released him with another soft pop. His eyes squeezed shut in sheer, unmitigated agony.

When you straightened up to take his cock in your hand, Sebastian sighed through his nose in relief. You traced a gentle finger over the apex, the body-bind spell preserving his erection, raw and red, aching for release.

Your fingers curled around Sebastian’s cock, your thumb tracing circles over the tip until you began to stroke him – hard. Sebastian’s watery eyes shot open at the intense friction while you pumped your hand at a fervid rate. It was tenacious and brutal, much rougher than how you typically treated your beloved husband, but you wanted this to linger in his memory for another five years, just in case he ever dared to call you anything but breathtakingly brilliant.

You stroked faster and harder until Sebastian’s nostrils were whistling with strenuous breaths. With one hand still working around his cock, you reached for your wand with the other.

“Reparifors.”

The body-bind spell fell and Sebastian’s entire body seized. His chest heaved upward as he gasped for breath, his legs kicking against the floor. He let out a carnal cry, his back arching off the floor as his cock erupted, twitching in your hand as it spurted his grand release in hot ropes across his own stomach. It left him a wheezing and whining mess of a man, sprawled out across the floor like a ruined ragdoll.

You, however, were drunk on power. All the ancient magic in the world couldn’t match this feeling as you batted your lashes innocently at your listless husband.

“Alright, love?” you asked with faux concern, your tone laced with saccharine sincerity.

Sebastian, whose hair was now plastered to his sweat-soaked face, glared at you with subdued eyes. He was still catching his breath, his body now limp and lifeless. 

You smirked at him with absolute elation as you leaned over him, your eyes staring deep into his to emphasize your point.

“Sorry, darling,” you breathed quietly. “Guess you shouldn’t have been so ignorant.”

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

all aboard the angst train! ominis finds out from sebastian that he and mc are courting and goes to mc like what the hell i know you love me what are you courting sebastian? and mc just says I want a family I want children you will never give that to me. it's best for us to stop now before we really hurt each other. choo choo the angst train is leaving the station!!

What We’ll Never Have | Ominis Gaunt x Reader

this was just... so much pAIN. my HEART.

Words: ~2,200

Tags: Post Hogwarts, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort

Sebastian had been fidgeting all evening, a nervous habit he’d never quite shaken. Ominis had learned long ago to recognize the tells—shifting weight between his feet, the repeated cracking of his knuckles, the way he rapped his fingers against any available surface.

He knew Sebastian had something to say long before the words left his mouth, but nothing could have prepared him for what he finally said.

"I just thought you should hear it from me first," Sebastian had muttered. "She and I are courting."

Ominis had stood so still in that moment, his fingers curled around the rim of his tankard, that he might have been mistaken for a statue.

"You're what?" he’d asked, though he had heard perfectly well.

"Courting," Sebastian repeated, as if the word wasn't a knife twisting into Ominis’s ribs. "It's nothing dramatic. We just… figured it makes sense."

Ominis didn't even remember leaving the bar, his mind roaring with thoughts he couldn’t quiet. And now, here he was, standing outside your flat, barely aware that his knuckles had rapped against the wood until he heard the latch slide free and the door swing open.

A pause.

He knew you were looking at him. He knew, in that way he always knew you, that you understood why he was here, that you were already bracing yourself for the confrontation neither of you had ever been brave enough to have.

"Ominis," you greeted, your voice careful, neutral.

That only infuriated him more.

He shoved past you. The scent of parchment and tea clung to the air, but there was something else beneath it—something distant and wrong. It was the awareness that this was no longer his place to be, no longer a space where unspoken words could linger between you two, waiting to be plucked from the air like ripened fruit.

When the door clicked shut behind you, he turned sharply, his voice low but unrelenting. "What the hell are you doing?"

You sighed. "I take it you saw Sebastian.”

“Oh yes, I saw him,” Ominis snapped. “Had a very illuminating conversation, in fact. Imagine my surprise when my best friend tells me he and you—” His voice caught, and he hated that it did. He swallowed hard. “You are courting.”

Silence.

You didn’t deny it.

Instead, you said, “We’re happy, Ominis.”

He laughed, sharp and humorless. “You think you’ll be happy. But you and I both know that’s not the same thing as actually being happy.”

You didn’t argue. You didn’t say ‘you’re wrong’. And that silence spoke louder than anything else.

"I don’t understand," Ominis said, turning toward where he knew you stood. "Why are you doing this?!"

"It’s what makes sense, Ominis," you said, so softly, so gently, like you knew this would wound him and yet were trying to dull the blade.

Makes sense.

Such a simple phrase. So small and neat, as if it could explain away everything that had come before it—the glances you and Ominis shared across dimly lit rooms, the conversations that had stretched past midnight, the way your hands always lingered a second too long when they brushed his. The way Ominis had felt you, like a gravitational pull just beneath his skin, and known he would love you until the day he died.

He had spent years—years—telling himself there would always be more time. That whatever simmered between the two of you, whatever hung in the spaces of your conversations, whatever made you linger a little too long, press a little too close, would still be there when the timing was right.

Except now, he realized, the moment had passed without him ever knowing it.

His breath was ragged as he took a step forward, his hands twitching at his sides. “Sense?” he repeated, incredulous. “You’re choosing him because it makes sense?

“I had to make a choice, Ominis.”

He shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” you countered, stepping closer. “And I—” You hesitated, just for a moment, before forcing yourself to say it again. “And I chose Sebastian.”

Ominis let out a quiet, humorless laugh, "You just woke up one day and decided to be with Sebastian?”

You flinched, but your voice remained steady. “It wasn’t like that. It's not like I decided on a whim. You act like Sebastian and I didn't talk this through first."

Ominis stilled. This was planned. Considered. You and Sebasrian had discussed it, picked apart the logistics of it together, laid out the path forward.

Of course, you wouldn’t have rushed into something blindly. You had always been measured, deliberate. You thought through your choices, weighed them carefully before committing. And you had done the same with this.

Ominis felt his stomach turn but he forced himself to breathe through the pressure mounting in his chest. "How long?" His voice was sharp, brittle. "How long have you been considering it?"

You hesitated.

Ominis felt something cold settle in his ribs. "How long?"

"...A while."

Ominis let out a slow breath, his hands curled into fists at his sides. "But why him? You could have picked anyone else. Anyone. Some Ministry official, a bloody Healer. Of all people, why my best bloody friend?!"

You exhaled sharply. "Because he’s my best friend too, Ominis."

"You don't love him though!"

The words were out before Ominis could stop them, raw and sharp, edged with something dangerously close to desperation.

You exhaled, slow and measured. “Yes, I do."

“No, you don’t.”

"Maybe not in the way you mean, but we will learn—”

"Is that honestly what you think?” Ominis interrupted, his voice low and fraying at the edges. “You think you can just learn to love him like that?”

“Yes.”

Ominis shook his head, laughing bitterly, though nothing about this was funny. “You can’t force love.”

“I’m not forcing anything,” you countered. “It might not ne romantic love but that doesn’t mean it’s less.”

“It’s not real,” Ominis bit out.

“It is,” you said, voice thick with something unreadable. “It’s real in the ways that matter. It’s trust, it’s choosing someone because they’ll be there at the end of the day. It’s knowing that we’ll make each other happy, even if it isn’t some grand, burning thing.”

Ominis shook his head again. “You’re settling.”

You flinched, and for a fleeting moment, Ominis felt something like satisfaction. But then you exhaled sharply, something flashing in your eyes. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“You could have waited.” Ominis argued, throwing his hands on the air.

“For what?” you snapped. "You say what Sebastian and I have isn’t real but at least we acknowledge it."

Ominis stiffened.

"At least it’s something named, something that isn’t hiding in the dark," you continued, stepping closer, your frustration mounting. "At least we’re honest with each other."

Ominis felt like he had been struck.

"You think you get to stand here and tell me what is or isn’t real?" You shook your head. "I waited, Ominis. I waited for you."

His stomach twisted, but he stayed silent.

"For years," you emphasized, your voice trembling now, edged with something like grief. "Years, Ominis. Hoping that one day you’d—" You exhaled shakily. "That you’d just say it. That you’d choose me."

His throat tightened.

"But you never did."

The words hung between you, the weight of them pressing against his ribs, curling around his lungs, making it impossible to breathe.

"You never said it," you whispered. "Not once."

Ominis swallowed, his hands shaking now. "I—"

"You let me wait. You let me sit in that silence, let me hope while you stood there, doing nothing." Your voice broke, just slightly. “and after all that time, after years of waiting, you have the audacity to come here and tell me this isn’t real?" You scoffed, shaking your head. "What Sebastian and I have might not be what you think it should be, but at least it's something."

Ominis swallowed hard. He had spent his entire life being careful. Measured. Controlled. He had learned restraint before he had learned kindness, had learned to bite his tongue before he had ever learned how to wield it. He had spent years—a decade—walking this impossible, agonizing line with you, balancing on the edge of something neither of you had dared to name.

But standing here, knowing you were choosing someone else—choosing Sebastian—when he knew you loved him, when he knew, down to his very bones, that this wasn’t just some unrequited fantasy, that you had spent just as many years aching in silence as he had…

It broke something in him.

His breath shuddered as he stepped closer, close enough to feel the warmth of your skin, the uneven rise and fall of your chest.

"Fine." His voice was sharp, ragged at the edges, but he didn’t care. “You want me to say it? Fine." He let out a sharp breath, his voice rough with something raw and unrelenting. "I love you."

The words hung between you, vast and consuming, but Ominis wasn’t finished.

"I love you," he said again, the confession pouring from him like a wound finally splitting open, ten years of restraint breaking apart in an instant. "How many times do you want to hear it?"

You sucked in a breath, your lips parting slightly, but he didn’t let you speak.

"How many times will it take to change your mind?"

Your hands trembled at your sides, your whole body going still, but he knew—he knew—that this wasn’t news to you.

He took step forward, his voice hoarse now. "I know you love me too."

You shook your head once, a small, broken movement. "Ominis—"

"Don’t lie to me." His voice cracked on the last word. "Don’t.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your jaw tightening, but you didn’t deny it.

Before he could think better of it, Ominis's hand lifted, fingers brushing along the line of your jaw before he cupped your cheek.

Your breath hitched beneath his palm.

Ominis exhaled slowly, his voice quieter now, softer, but no less desperate. "Tell me I’m wrong."

You swallowed hard.

"Tell me you don’t love me." His thumb ghosted over your cheek. "Tell me, and I will leave. I will let you go. I will walk away, and you will never hear another word of this from me again."

Silence. A silence so heavy, so vast, it felt like it might crush him. Because you couldn’t say it. Because you did love him and you always had.

Ominis’s breath left him in a slow, aching exhale. "Then why are you doing this?" His forehead almost rested against yours now as tears burned behind his sightless eyes. "Why are you choosing him?"

You swallowed. Your hand lifted slowly, curling over his wrist, as if you meant to pull him away, except you held him there instead.

“I want a family, Ominis,” you admitted, voice barely more than a breath.

Ominis's grip on your cheek slackened, the certainty that had carried him through this breaking apart all at once.

Ominis had never wanted children.

In all the late-night conversations between you that had stretched toward dawn, in all the quiet moments when the world had felt like it existed only for the two of you, he had admitted it freely. He had sworn, sworn, that he would never be a father. That he would never bring another Gaunt into this world, never risk continuing a bloodline so poisoned, so irreversibly rotted with cruelty, that he feared any child of his would inherit it, that they would open their eyes and see the world the way his father had seen it.

He had vowed it.

Because the truth was, Ominis didn’t know what fatherly love was even supposed to look like. He didn’t know how to be a father. Didn’t know what it meant to be the kind of person who could raise a child properly.

But now—now, standing here, the truth of it lodged itself deep into his chest: you wanted a family, and from the very start, Ominis had always refused to give you one.

"I don’t want to wait forever for something that will never happen," you murmured, your voice heavy with something close to grief. "I don’t want to wake up years from now and realize I let the chance slip away because I was waiting for you to change your mind."

Ominis exhaled sharply, his breath coming out ragged. "You think I wouldn’t have tried?" His voice cracked, something desperate clawing at his throat.

You pressed your lips together, and when you spoke again,your voice wavered. "That’s the problem, Ominis. I don’t want you to try. I want you to want it."

Ominis stepped back suddenly, his hand falling away from your cheek like the finality of it had just settled in his bones.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "And Sebastian does?"

You swallowed hard. "He—" You hesitated, just for a second, but that second was enough. "Yes, he... wants a family. A life that I want, too."

Ominis let out a bitter, shaking breath. "A life you wanted with me." His throat ached with the weight of it, with the unbearable truth of knowing that you had imagined this future—children, a home, a life filled with warmth—and once upon a time, you had pictured him by your side.

But not anymore.