#and 4 of those were before noon so

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

How are you doing today, Quin?

Honestly? Not great. I’ve thrown up so many times today I’ve kinda lost count. I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow so I hope everything goes well there.

Hope you’re doing well, sweet anon

[hivemuthur]

Nothing's New - Ch.3.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU modern era, lovers to enemies to lovers, getting back together, a lot of angst, smut sort of present moving from this chapter forward

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6.

word count: 5,5K

tag: #nothings new

summary: Alright folks, some abrupt decisions are made in this chapter and I am foreshadowing Viktor's self-discovery (I will place a warning in the next chapter, as here it's still not that relevant). I will post some smut in a minute so you all don't get too sad :v

Cross-posted on AO3

—

You’ve spent the entire weekend stewing in your thoughts. Replaying the events over and over, from beginning to end, picking up pieces you might have missed before. It’s been a week since your last interaction with Viktor, and today is the final day for you to collect your things from his apartment.

You’ve been lying in bed, wondering if what happened last week was real or just an odd case of pareidolia—attaching meaning where there was none. Viktor’s anger, his cracking voice, the way he slumped back into the chair after you hurled fragments of conversation at each other. And yet, those fragments were more than anything that had happened between you in the past year.

People do such strange things after breakups. They throw themselves anywhere but into the breakup itself. They drink, get addicted to something, take up an extreme sport—or extreme hookups, which could also count as a sport—start smoking, dive into a new relationship, or become completely hopeless or cruel versions of themselves. And those versions do stupid, strange things.

Like giving your ex the keys to your apartment to pick up their stuff. Or being the said ex and going to your ex’s apartment to pick up your stuff. Utterly deranged. Utterly strange. Cruel on one side, hopeless on the other.

You have waited the entire weekend, sitting on pins. You haven’t seen Paul once, ignoring his texts and phone calls. Then, inevitably, Sunday noon has crept in, and you realise, that you have to go.

The journey is a drag in itself, but once you are in front of his apartment, you pause. You hold your breath as you slide the key into the lock. Getting here was torment. You thought the cursed triple-date restaurant ordeal was horrific, but you knew nothing. This is horrific. This is true terror. The terror of what’s on the other side of the door gnaws at you the whole way here, and now it gnaws harder, your hand frozen on the key, frozen in the lock.

When you hear it click, you release the trapped breath and close your eyes, stepping in. It’s dark. The day is muggy, with rain on and off, as the weather broke earlier in the week. The first licks of autumn hang in the air, and suddenly, you remember how freezing Viktor’s apartment is during the colder months. Your apartment. The apartment you lived in together. Whatever.

You take a timid stroll through the hallway—some pictures have disappeared from the walls. The ones of you and him. It’s expected, no reason to sulk. Moving on.

There it is: the lounge. The space where you’ve spent so much time reading, yapping, playing records, having sex on the couch, on the windowsill. Sleeping in front of the TV. So much time spent there alone, waiting, falling asleep with a book on your face, or staring expectantly at your phone. So many times you were abandoned here.

Viktor’s desk by the window is still covered in books, papers, and notes. He’s taken his computer away for the weekend, leaving behind a sharp square-shaped void outlined in dust where it had been. You draw a sad face in the dust with your finger, then hesitate, wondering if you should wipe it away so Viktor doesn’t notice.

You sit in his chair and spin yourself around, your feet dragging on the floor. No pictures to stare him in the face while he works, no particularly personal notes. No signs of Julia yet. No assprints in the layer of dust on his desk. Check.

You turn to the box he’s left for you in the middle of the room. Your name is scrawled angrily on it, as if Viktor forced himself not to write something like "CUNT" instead. It’s sealed, ready for you to grab and flee. But you want to see what remnants of you he’s collected, the things he so firmly believes need to be returned.

You rush to the kitchen and grab the first knife you see. Back to the box. A strange feeling churns inside you—something close to excitement, but also to dread.

With trembling hands, you slice the tape, reopening the wound. The box is stuffed with paper on top, meticulously packed. You pull the layers out and start digging.

Your books and clothes, mostly. You take them out one by one. Your T-shirt with "ALL MY BOOTS ARE FUCKED UP" written across it in huge letters. You used to sleep in it. You hadn’t realised it was left behind. It smells exactly of nothing—just a piece of cloth that’s been hanging in a closet for months. And yet, it smells faintly of Viktor, though maybe it’s just your imagination.

Books, each of them ones you love. Especially your first edition of The Lord of the Rings. Not the first edition, just the first one you ever got. A couple of notebooks with notes for work and personal scribbling. Your pin that says, “Bono in short legs shock.” Nothing in particular.

A few records are stuffed to the side. You wince at how he’s squeezed them in there and wonder if they’ve already melted and warped in the heat that was killing you not so long ago. And then, your heart sinks. Between the books and the clothes and an odd perfume bottle, lies a small box.

A gift you’d brought him: the tiniest chunk of meteorite you’d bought at the weirdest book convention you’d ever been to. It had been mixed with a natural minerals expo, an esoterica expo, and a reptile expo. Truly terrible. Until you spotted a man selling pieces of stars from his private collection. And you thought to yourself that if anyone on this planet deserved to receive a star for no occasion, it was Viktor.

He was speechless when you gave it to him. “Amazing,��� he’d whispered, his eyes glinting as he weighed it in his hand. For something so small, it had felt so heavy. His heart had felt heavy too, with affection and devotion. He kissed you, kept kissing you until you were out of breath. It was wonderful.

And now it sits in your hand, discarded and abandoned. And it feels heavier than ever.

Forcing the tears back where they came from, you take a shaky breath and scramble up from your knees, clutching the box in your hand. You go to return the knife to where you’d taken it from in the kitchen, determined not to leave any sign of your snooping—except for the sad face drawn in the dust.

When you turn from the counter, it hits you violently in the face.

A Post-it note on the fridge. Viktor’s handwriting. Very old-fashioned. Very Viktor. More intimate than text messages. He’d left those for you once, before your intimacy had died. But this one isn’t for you.

“Miláčku, if you could grab my notebook on your way to work, I will be eternally grateful. V.”

In an instant, you forget your intention to leave no trace. You snap it from the fridge door, twisting it violently in your fingers. Something roars in your chest, and you can feel yourself spiralling. The need to go somewhere safe is overwhelming. So you go to the bedroom.

And there you are, confronted with another square-shaped void. The outline of where the bed used to be screams at you with the darker shade of wooden floor compared to the rest of the room. The empty space—what you remembered as small and cramped—now feels massive and vast.

You crumble onto the floor, squeezing the box with Viktor’s star in one hand and the wretched note in the other. There is no force that could stop your tears. Your lungs burn as you release a pathetic wail of a sob, granting yourself one of the ugliest cries you’ve had in months. The sun sets at some point.

Your chest and shoulders shake in spasms as your tears fall onto the piece of yellow paper, distorting the handwriting into blurred stains. This is the worst you have felt since the beginning. This is the bottom, surely. Crying in your ex’s apartment, on the spot where your bed used to be, clutching a word in your fist as if you refused to give it away to another woman. You refuse to give Viktor away to another woman. You refuse to give yourself to another man.

When you’ve run out of tears, you just stare at the note. For about ten minutes. No, for around twelve hours. You have no idea how much time has passed. You sit there curled up where the bed used to be, unable to move, unable to cry. The remnants of whatever composure you had when you stepped in are all gone.

You don’t even flinch when the door unlocks, and you hear footsteps and a sigh from the hallway. You are completely content to die here in your ignominy.

“Why are you still here?” Viktor’s voice echoes through the corridor, making him sound like an annoyed ghost. Hearing no response, he sighs again, louder this time, to emphasise how distressing your presence is to him. A caricature of a sigh, almost as if mocking someone else’s.

“I asked, why are you still—” He pauses when he sees you. “Are you alright?” The way his voice is laced with genuine concern makes you sick. It is the truest thing he has said to you in such a long time. One of the very few true things he has said in a year.

“What is this?” you ask, your voice utterly sad and so small. You open your shaking fists, and Viktor crouches awkwardly to make sense of what you are showing him. Once he sees the box and the wet, yellow paper, he understands.

“This,” he says calmly, “is something I no longer want. And this is a note to my girlfriend, Julia.”

His tone is devoid of emotion—quiet, calm, calculated. Inside, he is a storm. He left those two things intentionally, to stab you back. He had no idea the stabbing would work so well.

He planted them to stop feeling so fucking sodden. The rush of adrenaline at the thought of you finding those items was a momentary relief because he wasn’t able to tell you how stumbling upon your things jabbed at his heart. He wasn’t able to tell you that he actually played your records and read your books. Or that, when he found your T-shirt hanging in the wardrobe, hidden under his sweater—the one you stole all the time in winter—he died, just a little. How he hadn’t realised until he put the sweater on and discovered there was another skin underneath the wool. And that it still smelled of you after all this time. He wouldn’t tell you that he’d rather eat drywall than smell it again.

“Why is it saying what it’s saying?” you ask, your voice a sharp, trembling whisper, disbelief written all over your face. It’s so undignified to ask this. But dignity is a luxury you have to shed to get through this.

“Because I forgot my notebook for work the other day,” Viktor replies, his tone dispassionate, his eyes studying you like a scientist observing a failed experiment. This has truly backfired. Or rather, it has worked too well. In his wildest dreams, Viktor wouldn’t have dared to think he would find you curled up on the floor, your face swollen and defeated, exposing yourself to another blow.

“Do I have to wipe your face with it, so you answer my question?” you hiss, though the answer isn’t unexpected. The tiny dent made the last time you saw each other was, in the end, only a dent.

You wouldn’t even call it a crack—something you could peel off and peek inside. So, of course, you have to keep hitting.

His jaw tightens, but his voice remains cool, measured. “It is a pet name. A word you use for someone you are in love with.” He is hitting back. Your anger makes him angry. The fact that you are so angry and broken means that nothing has ended, nothing has resolved. And it boils the fear within him, and he attacks when he is afraid. Normally, it wouldn’t be a phrase to play with. But now, he is afraid.

The paper in your hand crunches loudly as you snap your fist shut. “It belongs to me,” you say in a dark tone, your voice brimming with equal parts defiance and anguish.

Viktor scoffs. “That’s rich. Nothing in here belongs to you, save for the trash you refuse to take out.” He stands up to accentuate his disgust. “Are you honestly being jealous right now?”

“No!” You shake your head and pick yourself up to level with him. “But this is just… cruel,” you shoot back, your voice rising, cracking under the weight of his dismissal.

“You will forgive me,” Viktor says with a bitter smile, “but I don’t follow. Which part of me doing the exact same thing that you are doing—moving on—is cruel?” He hasn’t moved on. He is standing stuck in one place. Julia is a distraction, and he knows it. And he knows it’s wrong to use someone like that, but he is only human. And there is no comfort in the idea of being eternally broken.

“You know exactly what I am talking about! Did you leave it here intentionally? Did you do this to hurt me?” Low. You are so low right now, the sound of you hitting this new bottom is echoing across your skull.

“You are so fucking full of yourself,” he spits, his voice dripping venom. “This is my house. It was on my fridge. As far as I remember, there was nothing in my fridge that you might possibly need to take with you.” Except for this exact note that I left there for you to see. That I left there to hurt you, and you are absolutely right about me because you know me better than I know myself.

“Why did you make me come here?” you demand, your voice trembling with rage and heartbreak.

“Do I look like a delivery man to you?” Another cold scoff. Fast, so fast, he’s afraid you are going to see.

“Viktor. This—this is not going to work the way you think it will. You can’t just get rid of me. I will be in your life. I—”

“No!” he roars, the crack in his composure finally showing. “I want you gone. You—you fucking abandoned me! You ran, as if I were some abusive bastard. You do not get the right to demand anything from me!”

You are actually being screamed at by Viktor. Your brain short-circuits, and you blink a couple of times.

“What about Jayce and Mel?” you counter, clutching at straws, desperate to find a thread that could keep you tethered to him. Why, though? Were you really going to be friends again?

“I don’t give a fuck about Mel. And if I can live without you, I can live without Jayce,” he snaps, his voice teetering between fury and despair.

“Viktor, you cannot be serious right now. Jayce is—”

“I would rip off my leg to rid myself of you,” he cuts you off, his voice raw and unfiltered, his accent thickening under the weight of his emotions. “The good one. There is nowhere I wouldn’t go to rid myself of you. I regret—”

“I could slap you for that,” you interrupt, your voice low and trembling with fury.

“I wish you would,” he shoots back, stepping closer, his face a mask of tortured defiance. “I wish you would do fucking anything other than run. I wish you had waited for me that evening and talked to me. I wish you didn’t wipe your face with a note. I wish you’d picked up the phone instead of turning it off. You ruined me. You stole so many months of my life. And you dare to be surprised that I have found someone.”

“You abandoned me first,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but the words hit him like a blow.

“Don’t,” he warns, his voice tight, his eyes closing as if to shield himself from the truth. He knows. He knows. But for once, when he needed you to be strong, you were weak, and he couldn’t forgive that. Just once, when he crumbled under the pressure of stress, under the pressure of investors gnawing at him and Jayce, he just wanted you to stay put. To just be the person he came back to, day after day, until it passed. And when you crumbled, he hated you because you made him hate himself for being weak as well.

“You abandoned me first,” you repeat, louder this time, the words escaping your lips like a confession. “I loved you so much.” There are so many bottoms yet to be discovered by you, you realise. Stacked in layers, only for you to be painfully peeled off, like the paper skin on shoulders burned in the sun.

“Stop,” he says again, his voice faltering, the dent cracking as you keep hitting. As you keep scratching and clawing your nails at it.

“I tried to stay, but I couldn’t,” you continue, tears spilling over your cheeks, your voice alien even to you.

“Stop this,” he pleads, stepping closer. His hand reaches out, hesitating in mid-air before brushing against your face. His touch is tentative, trembling. His thumb sweeps the tear running down your cheek. His face, morphing in anguish, rage, something you can’t read—hesitation, resignation—all of those things watercolour across his eyes, his eyebrows, his lopsided mouth, transforming from one into another second after second.

“It ripped me apart,” you whisper, and his hand drops, his head bowing under the leaden weight of it all.

You feel the fear of the moment escalating or fading—both wrong—as now this is the most real thing that has transpired between you in almost a year. Your breath hitches when Viktor steps closer. And then.

He rubs his face against yours, his breath trapped in his throat as his composure fades. You freeze. The feeling of his skin on yours—so familiar. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple jumping, and finally, his golden eyes meet yours. And then. And then.

And then.

The featherlight brush of his lips—not yet a kiss. A strangled movement, hesitant and unsure. Your face cupped in his hands, the pull of gravity still stronger than the pull of his arms. And you stay, fixed in your place, breathing in his scent.

The last time you kissed was a long time ago, save for the absent pecks you gave each other when coming and going. And before that, you kissed many times. But never like this. Never so uncertain, so afraid.

He holds the back of your head as if you were water. It isn’t just one kiss. It’s plenty of lingering, sad kisses—no tongue, just his soft lips gently pressing against yours, making tiny smacking sounds each time he retreats to start again.

The outside of him is calm, but his heart flutters in his chest, and you can feel it under your hands, fisting his sweater. You kiss him back with equal, fleeting tenderness. Your hands travel to his neck, to his cheeks, ghosting over the beauty marks on his face. In the deafening silence of this space, all you can hear is his shuddery breath.

So this is how it used to feel. You remember. The one tremendous feeling that was missing, that you had forgotten about. Belonging. It crawls back into the periphery of your nerves—the sensation of being taken and kept, falling from his mouth to yours. But this time, you take him back; you keep him back.

He closes his eyes and kisses you deeper, pulls you closer. The familiarity of it erases all his careful plans to kick you out of his life. It clouds his judgment as he does the unthinkable. His fingernails scrape faintly against your cheeks, and you open your mouth fully for him, allowing him to swallow you. Your tongues touch, and Viktor groans. Because it feels different than with other people, and he can’t deny it.

His cane clatters against the wood as he leans on you, pushing you toward the windowsill. His fingers now dig into your ribs, knocking the air out of your lungs. You hop up, open your legs, and he is between them immediately. Leaning on you, squeezing the back of your neck, his hands all over you, under your clothes, and you gasp for air, rutting your hips against him to feel more of him—all of him.

Your hands fumble with his shirt and sweater so you can touch the flat plane of his stomach. His belly button glues itself back to his spine as you slide your palms underneath. Your breaths grow heavy as his hands fist your hair and press you further into his face until you can’t breathe. He gropes you so hungrily it almost hurts; all the clothes you are wearing hurt your skin, and only Viktor’s skin can soothe this pain.

You desperately pull the layers between you up and press your stomach to his. His hips buck into yours, his cock straining in his pants, and he wants—he wants, he wants you so much he whimpers, rutting into your core, the pang of lust and need twisting in his lower belly.

It all falls back into place when he suddenly remembers what it’s like to be just blissfully fucking you, what it feels like to be inside you, and he is aching. He thrusts against you hysterically, cursing his clothes, his hands grabbing fistfuls of your flesh, and you wrap your legs around his hips, digging your thumbs into the hollow of his cheeks.

And it’s only when you moan out his name that he remembers something else—how hard it was to breathe when you left. How bad he felt under Mel’s worried gaze. And he knows he wouldn’t survive it if it were to happen again.

So he pauses, breathing heavily, resting his forehead against yours. He snarls and pulls away, and you feel something hooked out of your chest violently, leaving a gaping hole behind. He disappears from your space so fast you can only register him moving further between your blinks.

When you open your eyes again, you see him in the far corner of the room, hunched on his cane, chest heaving, turned so that he wouldn’t face you.

“Get out.” His voice is flat and rotten, as if someone has made him eat poison.

Wordlessly, you take the box with the star chunk from your pocket and place it on the windowsill before leaving the room. You drop your belongings back into the previously gutted box, not bothering to seal it back up, drop the keys into the bowl by the door, and leave with a loud thud echoing all the way back to the bedroom.

Viktor stands by the window, waiting to see you out on the street. His hand clasps against his mouth, trying to suppress a sob, his eyes fixed on you down there, so tiny, waving in a cab. It swallows you and takes you away, alongside your things.

It’s getting late, but he still calls Julia. He gives her the worst, most generic talk he can muster. He gives her a weak “It’s not you, it’s me,” which is, of course, a lie. Because it’s about her—not being you. And he can’t bear another woman crying in his apartment on that day, but he braces through it. He doesn’t tell her about the kiss. She cries a lot, but they part in peace. She’s understanding like that. And he feels about one stone lighter when she leaves.

But it’s not enough. One stone lighter, that’s all he feels after. His apartment is still heavy, still weighed down by the absence of you. He locks the door, leans against it for a moment, trying to breathe. The quiet settles over him, a suffocating silence that makes his chest tight. It’s not like he thought it would be. He should be relieved, shouldn’t he? He doesn’t have to juggle anyone’s emotions anymore, doesn’t have to pretend to be something he’s not. But all he can think about is you. How you left, how he watched you go, how he felt that piece of him break off and disappear when the door shut behind you.

He makes his way to the couch, sits down heavily, his hand finding its way to his lips. His fingers press against the spot where you kissed him, still lingering with the faint taste of you, the memory of your warmth. He mumbles a quiet apology, but it feels hollow, empty, like he’s talking to the walls.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over, the words breaking him. “I love you. God, I love you...”

His breath catches on the last confession, as if saying it aloud will somehow make it real, but it only makes the absence feel sharper. It’s almost unbearable. The pain of not having you here, the pain of knowing he pushed you away. He presses his palm harder against his lips, as if trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through his fingers. He feels completely gutted.

And you come back to Paul with your gutted box of things. He lets you in, no words said. He makes you tea and sits you on the couch. And you feel... so rotten, so evil for doing this. He cradles your head on his lap and makes quiet, soothing shushing sounds. When it starts to feel worse and worse, you snort up your sniffle and sit up.

“I have to talk to you,” you say in a cracked voice, Paul still smiling, still not realizing, because he would never expect you to do something so horrible.

He cocks his eyebrows and hums. “Oh-oh.”

“Paul, I’m serious,” you say, your voice trembling. The tea in your hands cools as the weight of what you’re about to tell him crushes you into the couch.

“You sure you want to do this now? Seems like you had a hard day already,” Paul replies, his tone gentle, though his gaze searches yours cautiously, as if bracing for something heavy. He’s ready for many things. He understands breakups are complicated. He knows how fresh this is when you started. And he’s told himself he’s ready for this kind of moment as well. Yet. Yet.

“I need to tell you something,” you insist, setting the tea down and folding your hands in your lap to stop them from shaking.

“Let me guess. Things are not as over between you and Viktor as you thought they were,” Paul says, leaning back, his face unreadable but his voice still gentle, knowing.

“I—” you stammer, feeling a lump rise in your throat. Were you this obvious?

“You don’t need a genius to know that. It was pretty fast… you and me. I am aware,” he continues, his voice soft but tinged with resignation, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. He’s actually hoping to be wrong, but well.

“We kissed,” you admit, the words spilling out like a confession you can’t hold back any longer. And then you wince as the memory somehow becomes real once you speak it out loud. But you can’t tell him what kind of kiss it was. That you’ve betrayed Paul about a million times today, with each tender and longing kiss Viktor gave you—and you gave back to him. Let him think it was just a kiss.

“Oh.” Paul freezes, his expression shifting ever so slightly, though you can’t tell if it’s surprise or hurt—or both.

“Oh?” you echo, your own voice quivering with uncertainty, afraid of what will follow.

“Well, I… I didn’t exactly expect you to say that,” he admits, running a hand through his hair, his movements deliberate, as if giving himself time to think.

“What did you think I was going to say?” you ask, your voice cracking, the weight of guilt pressing on your chest like a vice. The bottoms just keep coming.

“Oh, I don’t know. That you’re not ready to move in yet? I don’t know what I was thinking, really,” he says with a bitter laugh, his shoulders sagging as he looks away from you for the first time.

“Paul—” you start, but he cuts you off with a raised hand.

“Do you want to get back together with him?” he asks, his tone measured, though the tension in his jaw betrays him.

“No,” you say quickly, but the certainty in your voice wavers under his gaze. No. No, you don’t want to. You’re sure you don’t want to. And yet.

“Do you want to move in with me?” he asks, his voice quieter this time, almost cautious, as if he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“I… don’t know,” you admit, your hands clenching into fists against your thighs, wishing you had an answer that would hurt less. No. You don’t want to.

“Do you still love him?” Paul’s question lingers in the air like a storm cloud. You swallow hard, your silence speaking louder than any words could. And you hate yourself for it. This poor, kind man. And what you did to him. Almost the exact same thing Viktor did to you.

Paul sighs, the sound heavy with understanding and pain. “Do you love me?”

“I—I don’t know,” you whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes under the pressure of his scrutiny.

“Well,” Paul says, forcing a weak smile that makes his lines more prominent. “I guess that concludes it.”

“Paul—” you try again, desperate to say something, anything, to fix this.

“Don’t,” he interrupts, his voice breaking slightly. “I guess I should’ve known. Jesus, how have I been so stupid?”

“You’re not stupid. I am. I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, your chest aching with regret. He looks so hurt. And it aches to be so broken that you can’t love a nice, beautiful, boring man. It would be so easy if it weren’t so hard.

“Is that all it was? Just a wait up before you can get back with him?”

“Paul, I’m not getting back with him. And no, it wasn’t. I just… don’t think it’s fair. To be with you, when I’m not…” anything in particular. Not in the relationship, not outside of it. Just complacent.

“Do you have any idea… what it feels like to be with someone who is in love with someone else, all the time?” He looks at you and the answer is written all over your face, then takes a long sigh. “I’ll call you a cab.”

You sit in silence for a while. You drink your cold tea. You stand up, pick up your box for it to be taken from your hands and carried by Paul to a cab. He slumps it onto your knees and closes the door before you can say ‘thank you.’ Then he pats the cab’s roof and sends you away. He will make you his own box, soon.

And you come back home, to your dark place, with one box, and another already anticipated, to stack one on top of the other. Thoughts clattering in your head. Viktor, the mess you’ve made, the confusion—all so harrowing.

You should feel something, shouldn’t you? Relief, maybe? But it’s just emptiness, the kind that fills every corner of your flat, each inch of it reminding you of what you’ve lost. You try to focus but your thoughts slip back to Viktor, to the kiss, to the way he touched you, like he still cared, like he still wanted you.

Sitting down on the bed, you press your fingers to your lips, the memory of his kiss burning there, so vivid, so real. You can almost feel him again. The warmth of his hands, the way his lips fit against yours like they were made to. Your chest tightens, the ache deepening. You close your eyes, leaning into the pillow, whispering, “I love you. I miss you so much,” to the fabric, as if hoping that saying it aloud will somehow help you to repent.

And in that quiet moment, when the dust settles down, the truth you've been running from finally breaks through. It was always there, under the surface, but now you admit it. Now, you let yourself feel it, how much indeed you love him and miss him.

[dykelizard]

jayvik headcanon masterlist

jayce goes to bed super late and wakes up super early, while viktor either doesn’t sleep at all or literally sleeps until noon.

jayce sleeps like a baby once he’s actually down, and has like eight alarms set to get himself up in the morning. he snores like a foghorn too. viktor is a very light sleeper because of his childhood, and will wake up at the tiniest sound. he moves around a lot while he sleeps, and he tends to wake up with a lot more back pain than usual because of it.

in the early days of their partnership they would work nonstop for multiple days and end up totally losing their minds while running on no sleep and a fuck ton of HexCaffeine. heimerdinger would walk in on them giggling uncontrollably and egging each other on to blow stuff up at like 4 in the morning.

caitlyn once sent them to the grocery store together for literally two things and viktor accidentally left jayce behind and jayce panicked when he realized viktor was gone and knocked over five displays and a shelf. they somehow came back with the wrong items.

jayce is rly good at cooking (his mama taught him) and he cooks for viktor to get him to eat when he’s too immersed in his work in the lab. viktor is TERRIBLE at it. he approaches it like an experiment and something always ends up getting set on fire. one time vik tried to make soup for jayce while he was sick and he somehow set it on fire and showed up to jayce’s apartment completely covered in soot with a pot of burnt soup and singed hair.

zaunites having developed that thing that nocturnal animals have where it’s that reflective sheen in their eyes when it’s dark because of how little natural light the undercity gets, and jayce getting the shit scared out of him by viktor because they pulled an all nighter in the lab and jayce wakes up in the middle of the night because he hears a clatter and he looks up while half asleep to see viktor rummaging around for a part and vik turns to stare at him and his eyes are just fucking GLOWING. jayce almost cries.

jayce gets really loopy when he’s sleep deprived. like he’ll just be so out of it and start suggesting the most nonsensical stuff and start building, like, hex-blenders. viktor thinks it’s hilarious, and always helps him. meanwhile, viktor just LOCKS TF IN when he’s sleep deprived. he’ll completely forget that other people are even in the room, and also that he has to eat food, or drink water, or blink. he gets very grumpy when distracted from his work by anyone other than jayce, and will not hesitate to smack people with his cane.

both of them hate the winter equally, jayce because of ptsd and viktor because he’s disabled, and they will literally just sequester themselves away and hide in the lab with a space heater the entire time. they have sky bring them food a couple times a week and they just hunker down there to avoid having to go outside.

viktor almost froze to death on the streets of zaun when he was a kid, and jayce sobbed for an hour when he first told him.

when they were first starting out, viktor used to accompany jayce to those fancy piltie parties where they tried to schmooze for investors, but whenever people tried to touch jayce or pull him away without asking or flirt with him to the point where it visibly made him uncomfortable, viktor would get really pissed off and protective and he would end up “accidentally” tripping like half the people they talked to with his cane. jayce secretly loved it and got really sad when viktor stopped coming.

jayce is a cat person, and always feeds the feral cats around the lab. secretly, they remind him of viktor. viktor calls them dirty strays and says that he hates how jayce encourages them, but jayce has caught him cooing to them before.

viktor loves dogs, and has wanted a pet ever since rio, but he worries that he wouldn’t be able to take care of it properly because of how much he works and with how often his illness puts him out of commission. at least now he has jayce.

they both have a twelve year old’s sense of humor, and they LOVE pranks. heimerdinger ended up having to ban all production of (patented) HexSilly-String, HexPaint, and the HexWhoopee-Cushion.

viktor throws up when he gets nervous. jayce is scared of vomit, but he always rubs his back and helps him get cleaned up whenever it happens.

they had a lot of trouble while interacting in the first year because jayce is very tactile and expressive with his emotions, and viktor tends to be more reserved. jayce thought that viktor didn’t like him, and viktor thought jayce was pitying him. eventually, they worked it out.

when jayce found out how few places actually had accessible entrances, he immediately went to the kirammans and petitioned to the council about implementing more disabled-friendly locations in the city. viktor still doesn’t know it was jayce who got accessibility ramps installed in all the university buildings.

jayce fidgets with his hands a lot, and he’s almost always idly putting together tiny gadgets or fiddling with gears. he gives a lot of the small contraptions he makes to viktor, who keeps them all on a shelf in his apartment.

jayce is a total lightweight. he always tries to make himself drink beer because it’s more masculine, but he actually loves fruity cocktails. viktor can handle his alcohol like a 300-pound pit fighter—that is to say, he can take 6 shots of gin in a row and still only be a little tipsy.

whenever there’s a spider in their lab, viktor always tries to kill it immediately but jayce makes him take it outside and set it free.

jayce loves kids so much. he really likes seeing what they think of hextech, and always asks what they would change about it and nods very seriously while taking actual notes. viktor doesn’t really know how to interact with them, so he either freezes up and awkwardly sidles away, or talks to them like a scientific colleague in hopes that it’ll bore them enough that they leave.

jayce gets panic attacks whenever it snows, and viktor talks him through them.

viktor won’t accept if jayce tries to give him food directly, so he just leaves it out while they’re working and waits for viktor to meander over and eat it on his own terms. or, if it’s homemade, jayce will make big sad puppy dog eyes and go “but i made it…” until viktor gives in.

viktor thinks his laugh is ugly, and jayce thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

viktor rants in czech when he’s pissed off and jayce complains about people he hates in spanish.

jayce cant hold a poker face to save his life but lies really well. viktor has the best poker face known to man but is somehow unable to lie.

viktor is completely stone-faced while thinking about fucking jayce over the lab table and jayce is turning bright red while thinking about holding hands.

viktor whacks jayce with his cane when he’s being an idiot. jayce has accepted it.

they’re both very protective over the other, and they both don’t want to let themselves be protected.

jayce is terrible at personal space, and always leans way in over viktor’s shoulder when he’s showing him something. viktor had no idea how to react at first and would just starts internally combusting, but he’s gotten used to it.

jayce is actually really strong because of all the forge work. one time he lifted viktor up while trying to move him out of the way of an explosion in the lab. viktor has never forgotten about it.

jayce yaps 24/7 about science and magic and whatever happened to him that day and just literally everything, and viktor always listens to everything he says very intently.

jayce thought viktor’s machine herald voice was SO HOT but will never ever tell him.

after so many years of spending every minute together, they eventually just kinda stop having any boundaries. they pretty much know everything about each other.

jayce knows how he’s perceived as a dumb prettyboy and hates it. viktor always makes sure to remind him of how smart he is.

jayce was scared while he was dying because he didn’t think he’d done enough yet and viktor was at peace while he was dying because he thought he deserved it.

their periods sync up.

viktor always steals food from jayce and claims it tastes better that way. jayce started leaving food out intentionally to get viktor to eat more.

jayce is just as bad as viktor when it comes to feeding himself consistently, and viktor constantly calls him out for being a hypocrite

viktor tries to make jayce feel cared for as best he can. jayce never brings it up, but it means the world to him.

viktor expresses his affection in smaller ways. jayce shows his affection with bigger gestures.

jayce’s favorite comfort food is the birria that his mom makes. viktor has tried multiple times to recreate it, but keeps setting it on fire. viktor’s favorite comfort food is halušky from a street stand in the lanes. jayce learns to make it for him when he gets pneumonia during the second year of their partnership.

jayce was the pickiest eater when he was little but now he’ll eat anything. viktor would eat anything he could get as a kid but got more particular about it as he got older.

they would both rather sleep at the lab than at home. they rest better knowing that the other is there with them.

jayce calls viktor sweet nicknames in spanish and viktor calls jayce an idiot in czech.

they both tend to revert back to their native languages when overly tired. sometimes sky will walk in and they’re arguing with each other in completely different languages and yet somehow understand everything the other is saying.

viktor loves telling jayce what to do. jayce lives to to please viktor.

jayce goes into the undercity to get materials for their work on hextech. viktor insists on going with him to save him from getting scammed again.

jayce gives viktor the biggest hugs whenever they have a breakthrough on a new piece of hextech. viktor begrudgingly indulges him by hugging back.

viktor loves bad slashers and jayce loves black and white detective films. they both love cheesy sci-fi movies and usually watch them together.

viktor fell asleep on jayce’s shoulder once and jayce didn’t move for the entire duration of viktor’s nap

jayce smells like metal, three day old cologne, and smoke from the forge. viktor smells like sweat, chalk dust, and the oil he uses to polish his brace.

viktor hates when people treat him like glass because of his disability. jayce never holds back when it comes to being physical with viktor.

jayce trusts too easily and he thinks viktor is too much of a cynic sometimes. viktor trusts very sparingly, and he thinks jayce is too naive sometimes.

jayce has a lot of trouble adjusting to living with a disability and gets frustrated with his leg very easily. viktor teaches jayce the least painful ways to maneuver with a brace and never blames or pities him for needing help.

jayce designed and made viktor a new cane after his old one got broken during their first day together. viktor refused to take it until jayce said it was a memento to commemorate their new partnership. jayce modifies it any time viktor’s mobility changes.

jayce clears out the lab and brings viktor warm sweetmilk whenever he has a low spoons day and doesn’t have the energy to deal with other people in his space. viktor appreciates it more than he can express with words.

jayce likes lo-fi jazz and viktor prefers classical music. they will never not fight over who gets radio privileges in the lab and had to come up with a system where they switch off depending on the day.

jayce cries over everything and viktor almost never cries.

jayce thought about going back to the ledge at his old apartment after viktor left him. viktor would’ve never forgiven himself if he knew.

jayce never stopped thinking about viktor when he was stuck in the pit. viktor couldn’t help feeling like something was missing the whole time he was at the commune.

jayce sleeps splayed out like a starfish. viktor sleeps curled into a little ball.

jayce was forced by his mother to take ballroom dancing lessons when he was younger and he tries to convince viktor to let him teach him. viktor would rather eat hot coals than learn how to “fancy dance” and teaches jayce a traditional zaunite folk dance instead.

jayce is really good at following directions and almost never gets lost. even if he does somehow end up losing his way, he would rather die than ask somebody for directions. viktor has the layout of the undercity completely memorized, but somehow gets lost every five seconds in piltover. stubbornly refuses to ask for directions.

jayce has a burn scar on his left foot from when he was twelve and tried working in the forge for the first time. he dropped a scorching hot hammer and it burned a hole through his shoe. viktor is missing the tip of his right pinky because he accidentally sliced it off with a sheet of corrugated scrap metal when he was seventeen.

jayce accidentally elbowed viktor in the face once while gesturing about something and apologized profusely for almost twenty minutes. viktor laughed himself into a coughing fit over it.

jayce never feels like he has to fake being happy around viktor. viktor never feels like he has to make himself seem okay around jayce.

jayce loves to knit even though he’s terrible at it. he claims it hones his hand-eye coordination. he makes the worlds ugliest sweater for viktor’s birthday one year and viktor doesn’t take it off for a solid three days. viktor loves reading crappy science fiction pulp novels. sometimes he reads them out loud to jayce and they make fun of how inaccurate they are.

viktor has a green thumb, but he always forgets to go home to water his plants so they end up dying anyways. jayce tries so, so hard to keep plants alive, both in the lab and at his apartment, but literally everything that he touches wilts. he cries every time he kills a plant.

jayce would play the trumpet. viktor would play the piano.

they find REALLY dumb ways to entertain themselves in the lab. many an innocent egg has been fried by a hexclaw laser and a couple of scientific geniuses (dumbasses) with too much free time.

viktor falls asleep in the lab during the day and jayce falls asleep in the lab at night.

jayce loves viktor’s moles. viktor loves jayce’s crooked teeth.

viktor has the biggest sweet tooth known to man. jayce prefers more savory flavors.

viktor cannot handle spice for the life of him. one bite of jayce’s chilate de pollo and he starts dying coughing and turning bright red. jayce LOVES spicy food but learned the hard way to start making viktor’s portion way blander than everything else.

jayce tries to lean backwards in his chair to seem cool and falls on his ass 9/10 times. viktor laughs at him whenever it happens.

jayce cracks his knuckles really loudly when he gets nervous. viktor hated it at first, but eventually started taking it as a sign that jayce needs reassurance.

there are two non hextech-explosion related holes in their lab. one is because jayce was dramatically banging his head against the wall when they were stuck on a project and he somehow managed to put his freakishly hard skull through it. the other is because one time viktor tried to turn a timer off with his cane while wildly sleep deprived, and not only did he miss, but he also accidentally cracked the drywall.

viktor always wears mismatched socks because he thinks it’s a waste of time to find matching ones when nobody is going to see them anyways. jayce balls his socks up in pairs so that he doesn’t accidentally wear non-matching ones.

jayce is a people-pleaser because he’s scared of rejection. viktor refuses to suck up to people for their own comfort because of how accustomed to rejection he’s become throughout the course of his life.

jayce uses half of his “scientific journals” as glorified diaries with a whole lot of detail. viktor loves snooping and reading what jayce writes over his shoulder. he thinks it’s cute when he immediately blushes and tries to cover it up.

viktor has a terrible short-term memory but a really good long-term memory. jayce has an awful long-term memory but a great short-term memory.

jayce has broken his nose by booking it full speed into a glass door. viktor has broken his nose by tripping over his own cane and absolutely whiffing it face-first.

jayce is very clingy while drunk, and gets really sad whenever viktor tries to extricate himself from his octopus grip. viktor gets super giggly when he’s drunk, and bursts out laughing at literally everything, even if it’s not funny. whenever they’ve been drinking heavily together they just have to stumble home with jayce clinging to viktor like a limpet and viktor laughing every time they trip on a loose rock.

jayce likes giving stuff that he makes to viktor, like a new cane or a vik-safe toaster. viktor likes giving stuff that he finds to jayce, like pretty rocks or a cool looking gear.

jayce hates being the butt of the joke, but will always pretend to laugh along. viktor notices when he’s fake-laughing, and will immediately try and change the subject.

they’ve both memorized the sound of the other’s footsteps.

one time jayce got ants in his apartment from leaving food out too often and he slept in the lab for a solid two weeks until he was sure they were gone. viktor stayed in the lab with him out of solidarity, and they shared the sofa-bed.

viktor hasn’t gotten top surgery, and doesn’t really tend to get chest dysphoria. jayce has gotten top surgery, but his pecs are still larger than average.

their mario kart games get INSANE. jayce mains donkey kong and viktor mains dry bones. one time jayce convinced mel to play with them and she kicked their asses so bad that they both couldn’t face her for a week.

jayce likes fried eggs over-easy and viktor likes scrambled egg whites.

jayce has huge violent dad sneezes that sound like an exploding airhorn. viktor has tiny dainty kitten sneezes that sound like tinkling bells.

both of them are incredibly fucking stubborn.

jayce apologizes first after an argument. viktor tends to apologize with his actions rather than his words.

jayce will do this thing where he shoots awake in the middle of the night at the lab and turn to a wide-eyed viktor just to whisper the most incomprehensible gibberish known to man, then collapse back onto the desk and immediately start snoring. he wakes up in the morning and asks viktor if he wrote down the “genius idea” that he thought of last night and viktor smacks him with his cane.

jayce is ticklish EVERYWHERE. he lives in fear of viktor finding out. viktor already knows and is planning on exploiting it when jayce is least expecting it.

jayce has tiny freckles on his nose and viktor counts them when he thinks jayce isn’t looking.

jayce had to bail viktor out of jail once after he had too way much to drink and tried to fight an enforcer. viktor didn’t regret it for even a second.

jayce tells the most awful dad jokes whenever the lab gets really quiet. viktor tries to hide it, but he laughs every time.

viktor tried to give jayce a haircut once and jayce wore a hat for a solid two weeks afterwards.

jayce has the worlds longest skincare routine with like eighteen steps. viktor washes his face with dish soap and calls it a day.

jayce only swears occasionally, but when he does, you know that shit is getting SERIOUS. viktor swears like a sailor, but most of it is in czech so nobody can tell.

jayce gets loud when he’s angry and viktor gets very quiet when he’s angry.

jayce is super vocal in bed but can never actually say what he wants. viktor loves how easy it is to overwhelm him, and always talks him through it.

jayce wishes it was him who had been killed in the council attack. viktor only remembers being grateful that he was the one who took the brunt of the explosion, and not jayce.

[sweetdispatch]

Song 5 - Q. Hughes

My Muse | Song 4 pairing: Quinn Hughes x singer!reader summary: You and Quinn got into an argument and later you two had to face consequences of it warning: swear words taglist: @bunbunbl0gs @hwalllllllelujah

Every honeymoon needs to end. You and Quinn have been great for the past half of a year. No arguments, no fight just love radiating your apartment. It started slowly when you were mad at him for not washing the dishes and not even bothering to put them into the dishwasher. It was dumb but it wasn’t the first situation that he didn’t do what you asked him for.

After the games, all Quinn wanted was to take a shower and go to sleep but the bathroom was a mess. You were leaving your makeup all over the sink and under the shower, your products were laying everywhere. It was annoying him because he wanted to go quickly to bed but he had to clean after you. 

Those small things were bubbling inside both of you. Instead of telling one another about your issue, you two believed that you can handle it. One day, something broke in Quinn and you got into an argument. At first you brushed this off but he was getting more offended that you don’t take him seriously.

“Why can’t you just clean the bathroom from your things? Put them back in fucking place and we won’t be having a problem” Quinn ran his hands through his hair. The last thing he wanted was to fight with you over something so pointless.

“I don’t see what’s a big deal when you also don’t clean after yourself” Quinn looked at you with wide eyes. “Don’t act surprised. I asked you plenty of times to clean the dishes but you never do it” 

“Because I don’t see the point of doing the dishes when you’re eating after me and have yours to clean too” Quinn told you frustrated. 

“With this logic, you can clean the bathroom after me since you’re taking a shower later” You crossed your hands on your chest. 

“Why are you so stubborn?” Quinn asked you.

“Oh so I’m the problem now?” You fought back.

“Yes. Yes you are” Quinn yelled and you just looked at him. Without a word, you left the bedroom and went to sleep in the guest room. 

You were done with his bullshit and you realised that you two can fight whole night about it. You decided to be a bigger person and drop it. None of you could see that you and Quinn are wrong here. The next morning, you were completely ignoring him. You didn’t want to talk with him. 

The first thing Quinn said to you this day was around noon. He reminded you about the event that you agreed to attempt with him. As much as you wanted to tell him that you’re not going anywhere, you nodded and went to the bathroom to get ready. Atmosphere in the apartment was thick and none of you wanted to talk about this. 

When you two arrived at the event, everyone could tell that something’s wrong between you and Quinn. He was holding your hand but there was no smile and jokes like always when you are showing up. It looked like you two were forced to be here. Not to bring any suspicion, you decided to play along and act like everything’s okay.

I smile and wave when we’re at this event

Once we leave, I will not play pretend

You were acting happy. You were polite to everyone, having small talk and smiling. You didn’t want Quinn to ruin your mood at this event but he did anyway. You overheard him talking to one of his teammates that you've been acting like a bitch since yesterday over stupid dishes. Blood was boiling in you but you acted along. You pretend that you didn’t hear it and play his wonderful girlfriend. When you left the party, your smile dropped and acted like you’re allergic to his touch.

I’m gettin’ out the car, I slam the door

When Quinn parked the car, you left before he could open the door. You slammed them with such force, knowing that he hates it when you’re doing this. At this moment, you didn’t care. You wanted to show him your frustration. He only rolled your eyes and started preparing himself for another argument with you. You walked into the apartment first and wanted to slam the door again but he stopped you by grabbing your hand. You looked at him and knew that this is not gonna end up well. 

Don’t you tell me to calm down

Love you, but tonight you let me down

“What’s your problem this time?” That was the first thing Quinn said to you. 

“You’re my problem! I get it that you’re mad at me but there was no need to call me a bitch to your friends. Do you have a clue how humiliating I felt when I heard it?” You told him with anger in your voice. 

“Calm down” Quinn tried to approach you but you pushed him away.

“I won’t. I have full right to be mad at you. Put yourself in my situation. How would you feel if I called you a bitch to my friends?” You fought back and left him standing there. You went to the bedroom and threw your clothes and cosmetics into a bag. 

“Where are you going?” Quinn was surprised to see you with your bag on your arm. 

“To my friend. I need a break from you” You told him and left. 

Quinn knew it was wrong to call you bitch. He was just so mad at you and it slipped from his tongue. He knew that he had to face the consequences now and try to get you back. This argument was playing in his head and he realised how dumb it was to fight over something so small. He took a deep breath and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

I don’t want your angry text

I don’t want your sorry sex

I just want you out my fuckin’ face

The next morning, Quinn was texting you with apologies. He begged you to come home so you two can sort things out. You ignored every message from him. You needed a space because you couldn’t stand seeing his face right now. You threw yourself into a work and this whole situation was an inspiration for your new song. You knew this might be unfair for him but spilling your emotions into the lyrics was your escape. 

When you started writing this song, you told yourself that you’ll go see Quinn when you finish it. After three days, you finally finished this song and you were happy with how it turned out. You know that means that you need to see him. The emotions calmed down and you hoped that you won’t get into another argument when you saw him. 

You walked into his apartment and sighed. You didn’t know if he’s at home or not. You walked into the kitchen to grab water from the fridge and noticed him laying on the couch with a book in his hand. You took a sip and sat on the chair next to him. 

“Hi” You were unsure of what to say. 

“Hi, look I’m sorry…” Quinn sat straight and  jumped straight into apologising. 

“It’s fine. We both were wrong in this argument” You told him and sent him a smile. 

“True…” Quinn nodded. “But I feel bad for calling your bitch. You didn’t deserve it. You’re not one and this word just slipped from my mouth and I regret it” You grabbed Quinn’ hand and squeezed it. 

“No worry. I get it that you were mad at me. To be fair, I called you a dick when I was telling my friend about this whole situation” Quinn laughed after hearing this. 

“We’re even then” You smiled at Quinn. “I’ll try to be better for you. I don’t want to promise that I’ll be cleaning the dishes but I’ll try” 

“And I’ll try to clean the bathroom, especially in the shower so my things won’t be in your way” You told him and Quinn pulled you from the chair on his lap. 

“I’m really sorry baby” Quinn said and kissed you.

“I’m also sorry. I love you” You put a head on his shoulder. “But I have one more thing to share with you. I wrote a song about this whole situation. I needed to share my frustration somewhere” You admitted to him. 

“Is it finished? Can I listen?” You nodded and played the song from your phone. You didn’t see Quinn’ face but you could feel how his hand was tapping your thigh. 

“If you don’t want it, I can keep this song and not publish it” You said when the song was finished.

“No, I want you to put it on your album. It’s a love album and arguments happen in every relationship. It’s also not a song when you just call me names but more about wanting a space after a fight” Quinn told you and you looked at him. 

“Thank you” You kissed his cheek. 

You knew that Quinn’ the guy you wanted to spend the future together with. Despite the fight, he was understanding and held no grudges. He was a perfect guy and you loved him deeply. You two stayed like that in each other's arms just enjoying the moment. 

Song 6

[lottiesboy]

under the weather

another mama lottie thing … whoops :} I MISS HER GUYS PLEASE 💔🥀 come home ur baby boy misses u :(( hopefully u mama lot enjoyers eat this up 🙏

pairing: cg!lottie matthews x little!reader

summary: lottie’s coming down with a cold and gets an unexpected surprise from her baby who’s taking care of her.

tags: sfw, fluff, a light sickfic, mama!lottie, reader reg to 3/4 years old, sick!lottie, regressor being the cg, pacis, sippy cups

it was a beautiful morning, you and lottie up earlier than usual. you kept hearing lottie cough and clear her throat next to you while you played with your toys on the floor next to her desk. she was on her laptop, probably doing important grown up things.

you spit your paci out, tugging on her sweatpants. “mama ‘kay?” you asked, looking up at her. lottie smiled, your innocence melting her heart like always. “mama’s alright, sweetie.” she said before immediately coughing again.

she could tell you were concerned, still feeling your grip on her sweatpant leg. “c’mere, you wanna come to the kitchen with mama?” she made grabby hands to pick you up, putting you on her hip.

lottie never gets sick, ever. she was going to the kitchen to make some tea because her throat felt like sandpaper every time she swallowed. you put your hand on her forehead, checking if she was warm. “mama sick?” you asked, noticing she looked paler than normal.

“yeah, mama’s feeling a little sick, baby. “but i’m okay.” she put you down on the couch to make her tea, but you had an idea. you ran off you get your blankie and a couple of your stuffies for lottie to make her feel better. after all, it’s what your mama would do for you when you’re feeling yucky.

when lottie turned around, you were gone. she furrowed her eyebrows, about to call out for you. then she heard you coming downstairs, seeing blankets in your hand. “what’ve you got there, sweetheart?” lottie smiled softly after sipping her tea.

you didn’t answer her question, walking back to her room, still holding those blankies. she followed with a curious smile, seeing you pat a spot next to you on her bed. “mamaaa,” you whined wanted her to play down.

she sat down finally, seeing your stuffies wrapped up in your blankies. she put her mug of tea on the night stand. “you brought your friends in here to hang out with mama?”

you nodded, pushing lottie down into the pillows gently. you wrapped her up in your blankies and gave her your stuffies to cuddle. “take care of you, mama.” you kissed her on the forehead.

lottie could feel her eyes welling up with tears, wiping one away discreetly before caressing your face. “you’re so sweet to mama. thank you.”

“gonna getchu snack, mama.” you hopped off bed, darting off to the kitchen. “don’t run, sweetheart.” lottie called out, making you slow down a little.

you poured out some of her favorite kettle chips in a bowl and poured her some juice in one of your sippy cups and a bottled water from the fridge. you came back with your hands full, setting the treats in lottie’s lap. “oh my goodness! what did you get mama, cutie?” she sniffled, grabbing a couple tissues from the beside table drawer.

“chips an juicy.” you pointed. “thank you, you’re such a sweetheart. my little angel.” lottie smiled, kissing your head. she didn’t want you to get sick, but you wanted to stay and hang out with your mama until she felt better. you cuddled up next to her, lottie letting you have her sippy cup of juice and turning on a show that you and her loved.

lottie took another sip of her tea, feeling the honey in it soothe her throat. “mama feel better?” you mumbled behind your paci. lottie kissed your head again, tickling your sides. “yes i am, darling, all thanks to you. thank you for taking care of mama.” she pinches your cheek, watching you blush.

it got a little later in the day, almost about noon. you kept looking at your mama, seeing her eyes get heavier by the second. “go nini, mama.” you brought the blanket up to her chest more, letting her rest her head on your shoulder.

lottie mumbled something incoherently before falling asleep, one of your stuffies clutched loosely on her arms. you gave her another kiss on the cheek before putting your paci back in and watching the rest of your show.

[lyzsaphrodite]

༊*·˚ Home is Where the Heart is ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Dior Goodjohn x fem!reader

synopsis: You and Dior are long distanced and she decides to surprise you by coming to visit you for your birthday.

warnings: fluff, fluff, and fluff

a/n: this is not my best writing ever i just wanted to get this out while i work on the Summer fic

You and Dior have been in a long-distance relationship for about a year and a half now. You met on the set of Percy Jackson and instantly clicked; she ended up asking you out two months into filming. After season one wrapped, she went back home to LA, and you returned to your hometown. You haven't seen each other in person since filming wrapped six months ago, because you're still in school. You guys text multiple times a day and FaceTime at least once a day, but it's still hard for both of you. Especially for you since your love language is physical touch, and you just like to have physical connections with people. Your birthday was coming up, so Dior thought it would be an amazing idea if she came and surprised you. She planned it all out with your family; she would fly in on your actual birthday and stay for a month.

Today was finally your birthday. You woke up to look at your phone and found a bunch of birthday wishes from friends, family, and even fans. But none from the person that mattered most to you. You didn't think she would ever forget your birthday. Maybe she just wasn't awake yet, even though it was currently noon, which means it was 9 in LA, and she's always up before 9. But you just decided not to worry about it. You still had the whole day. You were really bummed that she wouldn't be able to come for your birthday, but you understand that she's busy with her music and everything. You got out of bed, took a shower, and got ready for the day. You and your best friend decided to go shopping for your birthday. You visited all your favorite stores, getting all of your birthday freebies. By the time you and your best friend headed home, it was around 4 o’clock, and you've yet to get a message from Dior, which made you visibly disappointed. Your best friend kept seeing you checking your messages every few minutes and finally decided to say something.

“I’m sure she didn't forget; you know her, she's always busy with something.”

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure everyone but her has wished me a happy birthday though. Like even at the mall, those fans who came up to us to say happy birthday, I didn't even know them. And I thought she would be one of the first to say it.”

You finally arrived home and went straight upstairs to put your bags down and take off your shoes. You were home for around 30 minutes when you finally heard the doorbell ring.

“Y/N, someone's here for you,” your mom yelled. You had no clue who it could be; you weren't expecting anyone.

“Coming!” you yelled back to your mom. You hurried down the stairs to the front door, and standing there was Dior with her bags and a gift. She looks just as beautiful as she always does.

“Hey, baby,” she said, smiling.

You had absolutely no idea how to react; you were definitely not expecting this at all. You ran to her and jumped to hug her. As she held and hugged you, you started to tear up.

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you weren't able to come.”

“I wanted to surprise you, sweet girl.”

“How long are you staying?”

“For a month.”

“Oh my gosh, no way!”

“Way!”

“OMG, and Mom, you knew about this?”

Your mom just smiled and nodded.

“Yep, and so did your best friend.”

“OMG!! I cannot believe this; I thought you forgot my birthday!”

“I could never forget your birthday, mamas.”

You and Dior share a passionate kiss, the weight of her surprise visit lifting a heavy burden off your shoulders. In that moment, all the worries and doubts melted away, replaced by the warmth of her presence. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The month that followed was a whirlwind of joy and reconnection. Every day felt like a treasure, filled with laughter, adventures, and stolen moments of affection. Whether it was exploring your hometown together, cooking meals side by side, or simply cuddling on the couch watching movies, every second was cherished. On the day of her departure, you stood at the airport, hand in hand, hearts heavy with the weight of impending separation.

"I wish we lived closer," you managed to say, your voice breaking slightly as you fought back tears, the airport's din muffling your words.

Dior's eyes softened, mirroring the sorrow in your own as she squeezed your hand gently. "I know, darling. It's hard saying goodbye every time," she murmured, her voice tinged with empathy.

You leaned into her embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of her presence amidst the impersonal hustle of the airport. "I hate it when you leave," you stated simply, your voice carrying a mix of longing and frustration, the airport's commotion providing a stark backdrop to your heartfelt confession.

Dior's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the pain of separation. "I feel it too, love. It never gets any easier," she whispered, her breath warm against your ear.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you buried your face in her shoulder, the weight of longing settling heavily in your chest. "I just wish we could be together more often," you confessed, your voice barely audible above the noise of the crowd.

Dior's fingers brushed through your hair soothingly, her touch a silent reassurance. "Me too, sweetheart. But no matter the distance, you'll always have my heart," she vowed, her words a promise of enduring love.

And as you stood together in the midst of the bustling airport terminal, surrounded by the chaos of departure, you found solace in the simple act of being together, knowing that no matter where life may take you, your love would always be a constant, guiding light in the darkness.

this is unusually short because I didn't know how to end it

taglist: @asvterias

[kaiyalls-momma]

I just had a little Touya blurb moment and it turned a bit longer, then my brain stopped cooking midway- (this is in an alternative universe where Endeavor was actually somewhag good and the Todorokis were not screwed to hell and back) (also keep in mind that Touya and reader are teenagers during this)

fem!reader, reader referred to as a girl and with she/her pronouns, ft. Shotos pov.

Imagine, being childhood bsfs with Touya- really close bsfs since like 4 years old. It was honestly adorable, they one day met at preschool with you being new, and they just latched onto eachother over a shared love of something completely insignificant.

Having been such close friends since they were little, they were used to affection, like constantly holding hands, out of nowhere hugs that last a bit too long, cuddles and sleepovers, nicknames and pet names, little innocent pecks on the cheek or forehead, and just always being in eachothers presence and personal space. As they grew and became teenagers, they just kept doing it, it didnt feel weird or anything, the complete opposite actually, it felt completely natural... which is how you found yourselves in the current predicament...

Shoto wasn't stupid, he may be a little dense at times but he wasnt stupid. Just because he was 8 years younger than Touya, the eldest, and 4 years younger than Natsuo, the second youngest, did not mean that he didnt know about stuff like love and dating, he may not know much, but hes aware of its existence and what it generally entails, and no Fuyumi, he is not too young to know about that, his classmates have crushes already and they even had a wedding during recess, he was a groomsman so he must be very knowledgeable, thank you very much!

Shoto wasn't stupid therefore he knew that his brother Touya was dating (y/n). It wasn't hard to figure out, they were always holding hands, hugging, having sleepovers, and they even kissed eachothers cheeks and foreheads! Not to mention how (y/n) is always around the house and with Touya even when they were doing different things, she practically lives here! Well as much as a not-adult can stay somewhere without their parents anyway. But thats like halfway to being married!

Yes, Shoto wasn't stupid, therefore he knew about their relationship even though noone told him about it. They probably thought he knew already since its so obvious, or they just forgot to tell him because its been going on since from when he was too little to understand what they were talking about. Afterall (y/n) has been around since even before Shoto was born, or so he was told. Though it must be true because he saw many pictures with (y/n) in them where both her and Touya looked really small, there were even pictures where Natsuo and him were still babies!

But since noone ever mentioned it, he won't talk about it either, even though he kinda wanted to know when their anniversary is so that he could get them a nice gift. But oh well, he forgot about it soon enough...... which was the case until they were having dinner one night and the topic of Valentines day came up.

It was the day before Valentines, and (y/n) joined them for dinner again, they were all sitting around the dining table, eating while Natsuo was ranting about how his classmates were making Valentines day out to be too big of a deal. Fuyumi then chimes in talking about how it IS a big deal and how she wished to receive something, then she asked what everyones plans were for Valentines.

Touya just shrugged and finished chewing on his food "Eh, nothing much, probably just gonna hang out with (y/n) as usual" he tilts his head towards the girl sitting next to him "maybe we'll go somewhere with those 'discounts for couples' promotions and snag 'em" he grins and looks at her lazily "whatcha think sweets?"

(y/n) nods in agreement and pipes up "ooh yeah, i heard that the new cafe nearby is gonna have a buy a drink, get a free dessert promotion for couples"

Shoto sees this as an opening to ask his very important question "by the way, how long have you two been dating for? And when is your anniversary?"

The entire table freezes, figuratively, of course, the table was not encased in ice, him and his family have a good control of their quirks. He looks around, a bit confused on why everyones staying still and why Touya and (y/n) are turning very red, while his mother was stiffling a laughter? Coughing? the temperature was the same as always so they couldn't have been feeling hot... did they maybe get sick? But fevers don't just come out of nowhere full force...

Touya is the first to recover though still very red in the face "we- were not- Shoto where did you get that idea from?!"

(Okay i lost motivation and im not good at wrtiting and couldn't figure out how to continue, part 2 mayhaps? Dunno)

[max-the-many]

Couldn't believe my luck when I came across this marvelous display. I just had to have them! All of them! Even though it would be a solo-beach day for me.

I would gather them, one bye one. Getting the first one somewhere alone was obviously the most tricky. I still am kinda awkward, getting to talk sometimes.

After waiting for quite a while with no one getting anywhere, I couldn't wait any longer.

I stepped close, still with no udea how to get someone seperated.

"Ehm, Hi" I opened with no one responding.

"Sorry?..."

Seeing them all layed out in front of me really got me all the more excoted. All of those well built guys, ready to be mine. Or almost. I couldn't help but imagine to hit them right here with those 4 shots I luckily had handy.

But this beach, although not as busy, sure wasn't empty either.

So I kept trying to get their attention until one of them lifted his head. He clearly woke up at that moment. They actually were asleep! It would have been so easy if I was alone with them.

But patient.

"I... sorry to bother you... can you maybe give me a hand with my car? I'm really sprry" I rambled.

Still dizzy he didn't get what I wanted at first. I mean, I myself was unsure of how I would pricede.

But after a moment, he stood up!

"Sure" he said, stretching his limbs after what might have been a good slumber. Seeing him like that made me crave to have him even more.

He reached for a speedo before he stepped towards me.

"Where is it" he said, hitting me hard as I was pretty stunned from his sight.

"Ehm, sorry, ehm..." I stuttered, before I lead him towards a pathway between the rocks.

It was the main access, so I still had to get him further.

"I... parked away from the usual spots. Turns out my car got stuck" I improvised, heading along the path away from the usual access points and bathing spots, finally stepping off of it aand into the sparce bushes under lightly scattered trees.

When he followed with noone to be seen I figured, that this is as good a moment as any from this point on. I looked around, pretending to search for the right way.

"I think this might be... this direction? Or...maybe there?" I wondered, pointing in a direction that made him look sway long enough so I could finally hit him with the syringe I felt in my pocket the whole way, ready to strike, pushing the serum into his hips in one well placed hit.

He turned around in surprise, looking at me while his eyes already got empty while his body froze.

I stepped towards him, grabbing him around the hips to bring him down on the dry ground to hollow out, frequently checking the progress, feeling his body, the body I would have the pleasure to try out myself in a matter of minutes, checking his bulge as I haven't seen what was underneath before.

Finally I got the speedo off, undressed myself to slip into his rubbery husk, closing it off as to seal the process, making it fully merge with my body, even adjusting my proportions and finally my voice.

"Guys?" I said when I got back, already feeling way more confident in speaking to them.

"Could you come to help with that guys car aswell?" I asked the first guy that lifted his head.

"Should I come, to?" the one next to him said.

"No need."

And like that I quickly got the other three, returning in the husk of the second one, luring the third away, even turning the fourth one right on his towel as the beach became more empty before I got the other husks from the woods, neatly wrapped in their towels.

"Guess what I got waiting for you" I sent to some of my buddies along with a picture of those three packages of towel, each one having their contains peaking just a tiny bit.

I really couldn't wait to meet up with my boys the next days. But I surely had some ideas for fun with my new gear until then aswell...

[monzabee]

the lusty month of may – cs55 (+18)

masterlist

Summary: The one where it’s that darling month when everyone throws self-control away, and you and Carlos decide to do a wretched thing – or two. 

Pairing: carlos sainz x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (cover your willy, don’t be silly), pre-established relationship, cursing, google translate spanish bc i forgot all the spanish i learned in school (lo siento mucho, señora xenia), talks about pregnancy, minors dni!!

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! okay so this was not supposed to take me this long to write, but i kind of procrastinated because of studying and my exams, but here it is, finally done! i fully blame carlos for my brain rot, so i hope you guys enjoy this one, and feedback is always appreciated! (p.s. the title comes from a song from the broadway musical ‘camelot’ for those of you who are interested!) good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

His hand is closed over your mouth in a feasible attempt to cover up any pleas or sounds coming from your lips. You tried telling him no when he started pulling you towards the greenhouse behind the villa his family rented out for the weekend. It was supposed to help Carlos destress before leaving for Miami for the rest of the triple header, a long weekend, “A quick little getaway,” his mother called it. Carlos lets out some built-up steam, alright, by fucking you every chance he gets over the course of the 4-day vacation. 

“You know what it does to me when you wear this dress, amorita,” Carlos’ breath hits your sweaty skin as he runs his nose down the length of your throat, “maybe I should rip it when I’m done with you, hm? De esa manera no puedes tentarme más.” That way you can't tease me anymore. You try shaking your head as a response which elicits a mocking chuckle from him, the way he bucks his hip driving him further deep inside you. The strangled moan that rips from the back of your throat has you throwing your head back, which causes Carlos to quickly, but gently, tug on your chin to make you look back up at him. “Eyes on me, cariño.” 

His hips continue their rushed movements as he keeps his eyes locked to yours, your lips opening in an attempt to make him see reason. “Carlos, they’ll hear us.” You think he’ll ignore you once again, like he did when he was frantically pulling you away from the pathway which leads to the courtyard both of you were supposed to be making your way over for dinner with his parents. 

With one last thrust of his lips, which pulls yet another moan from your lips. “I won’t let anyone see you like this; you know that don’t you?” His tone is sweet despite the way he’s breathing deeply in an attempt to organise his breathing, the way he uses the tip of his pointer finger to caress down your blushed cheek, sending shivers down your spine. Although you manage to nod your head, there is a small smile on his lips as he reminds you, “Words, amorita.”

“I- I know that,” you breathe out a ragged breath, hand gripping Carlos’ shirt tighter in the process, “you’re far too jealous to let anyone see.” 

“Always such wits, amor,” he drags the tip of his finger towards your lips, “maybe I’ll just have to fuck you harder to remind you how much you love my possessive side.” 

“You are insane,” you pant, letting out another moan when he shifts his hips to continue his movements even deeper, “is that why you pulled me here? To fuck me into the wall because you were jealous?” 

His voice is hoarse against your skin as he drags his hand down your face to your neck towards your chest to grope your breast. “I made you a promise, remember?” 

And you do. You remember the hushes whispers and promises shared before the New Year’s, and the sweet kiss you’ve shared afterwards. Your eyes soften as realisation sinks in, his determined gaze on yours suddenly making more sense. His hand is rough as he kneads the skin of your breast, his fingers quickly find your pebbled nipple, which has you whining. “I do- I do remember.” You manage to get out as you do your best to focus on his command from earlier. 

“Good, so be a good girl for me and hang on tight, hm?” He gives you enough time for you to organise yourself; your hands grab the flower arranging table underneath you firmly and it makes you receive a pleased hum from him as he keeps up the movement of his hips whilst also making you wrap your legs around him, a hand firmly placed on your upper thigh. “Eyes on me, cariño.” He reminds you.

You comply, of course, and his thrusts keep getting deeper and deeper every time his hips finds yours because of the new position. There is nothing innocent about the way the sounds of your skin slapping off of each other echo in the stuffy greenhouse, mixed with your moans calling out his name over and over again. He knows you well enough to know your tells when you’re getting closer, and he knows your body well enough to know that you won’t be able to hang on for too long. 

The way you scream out Carlos’ name when you feel his fingers drawing circles on your clit is nothing short of animalistic, the way he whispers praises to your lips is lost to you as you feel yourself getting closer to your release. “Carlos,” his name leaves your mouth in a desperate moan, followed by a softer and more pleading, “Carlos, please.” 

“Ask me nicely, amor.” His smile is almost devilish as he mumbles the words to your lips, his fingers slowing down their movements until you give him what he wants. His free hand tighten around your upper thigh in warning as he adds, “No continuaré si no lo pides amablemente.” I won't continue if you don't ask nicely.

You bite back a snarky comment, hyperaware of the fact that he is a man of his word and will leave you unsatisfied on the table by yourself if you don’t give him what he wants. “Por favor déjame correrme.” Please let me cum. The next moan that comes out of your lips come off more as a broken sob as he resumes his fingers’ movement on your bundle of nerves and his hips speeding up their movements to get you there, and you can’t help but chant “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The continuous moans that keep coming out of your mouth, in which you are begging him to make you cum causes his hips to continue their movement rather sharply. Your eyes are filled with tears of pleasure as your visions gets blurry, but you make a point to maintain eye contact with Carlos while he guides you through your orgasm. He only lets himself come undone once you’re done, but unintentionally clench around him due to still feeling sensitive. Hearing your name come through his lips in a guttural moan causes you attempt to bring him closer by tightening your legs around him. 

After a few moments of calmness, you whine at the loss of contact as Carlos pulls out slowly, careful enough to not hurt you. Just as he begins tucking himself back to his pants you attempt to fix your own clothing, but he’s quick to stop you as he says, “Stay on the table, cariño.” 

You choose to nod, not trusting your voice. He’s gentle with you as he pulls up your underwear up your legs and fixes the top and the skirt of your dress. You watch him with sleepy eyes as you ask, “Do you think it took this time?”

“We’ll have to wait and see,” he smiles softly at you while getting some of your tangled hair out of your face, “do you think it did?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, suddenly shy in front of him for no reason – but he is quick to divert the situation by cutting your feet off the ground by carrying you bridal style, which has you squealing as you wrap your arms around his neck, “Carlos!”

 He lets out a laugh a laugh as he walks out of the greenhouse and the colder air outside has you snuggling closer to his body for heat. His voice is light as he mumbles, “Well, this brings back memories.” 

“You say as if our wedding was a decade ago.” You complain, scrunching up your nose in disagreement. You let a confused hum when he starts walking back to the villa. “We’re supposed to–”

“I’ll tell my parents you were feeling ill,” he raises an eyebrow, “unless you want to sit with them for the rest of the night with my cum still–”

“Carlos!” You exclaim, making him quickly drop the rest of the sentence as he stars laughing. “This is not funny, you know.” 

“Oh it is plenty funny, cariño.” Carlos objects, “We can always tell my parents we were trying for a baby.” He is quick to add, “Not, the literal way, loca,” after receiving a bewildered look from you. 

You sigh as you shrug, “I mean, we could.” 

He agrees with a hum, “We’ll talk about it later, now go to sleep, I know you will before I make it back to the room anyway.”

“Mhm, you know me too well.” You mumble as you bury your face into his neck. 

“That I do, cariño.” He mumbles as he presses a gentle kiss to your hair “That I do.”

[a-babe-without-a-name]

Sit Next To Me

Chapter 3: That’s Actually Very Unreasonable.

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

...Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. Yay! Ch 3 is finally done! I pay Rugby and practice started up this week, which is a big reason this wasn't done a little bit sooner. But thank you to everyone for bearing with me and thank you SO MUCH for the support. I've received so many kind comments and messages, I'm so happy that I decided to actually finish and post this instead of letting it it in my google drive. Chapter 4 is coming, I'm not gonna promise when, but its on the way.

At the request of at least one person, I'm going to start a tag list in the replies of each chapter, lmk if you want to be added to that!

ALSO. Someone sent in a request and I am very excited about this. I wasn't planning on asking for requests, but I think it would be good for me to use those as a brain break from the main long form story. So if anyone is interested, feel free to send one shot or head canon requests my way! NSFW or SFW is fine! If you have questions, send an ask :) Anyways, I'll shut up now. Enjoy <3

Read on AO3

Waking up on Saturday was…difficult, to say the least.  After spending the summer mostly sober, save for the occasional drink with your dad or joint by yourself, your body was not prepared for the previous night's substance intake. You felt grimy when you came to in your bed. Your skin sticky from sweat, your mouth dryer than all hell, and your brain felt like it had been shaken in a jar. Laying there, face in your pillow, the pros and cons of climbing out of bed tumbled around your head.

You decided that if it was before noon, you’d allow yourself a few more hours of sleep, otherwise you had to get up. Blindly you stuck a hand onto the counter at the head of your bed, knocking things left out from last night around until you found your phone. The bright screen made your temple pulse when you clicked it on.

12:01.

You dropped your head and groaned into the pillow. A deal was a deal, though, even with yourself. You gave yourself grace as you sat up in bed, looking around your tiny double dorm room. Bright light shone around the edge of the blinds, making you squint. Clothes were still scattered around your side, your hightops dropped haphazardly on the floor, not far from your shorts. You had barely managed to piss, brush your teeth, and put on clean underwear before knocking out last night. You could still feel what little makeup you had on last night smeared around your eyes. All of your pre-made plans to hydrate and clean up before going to bed were abandoned as soon as you set foot into your room. 

Lest on the other hand, looked like a princess in her bed. Washed hair in two braids, fresh pjs on, and her trusty sleep mask covering her eyes. She even layed like a princess, flat on her back with her hands folded on her stomach. You envied her discipline for hygiene even when drunk. 

You slid out of bed. Bracing yourself on the frame with a groan when your stomach flipped. Lest didn’t even flinch, she slept both like a princess and a log. You left on the clothes you slept in, wrapped a towel around your waist, and gathered your shower bag. First order of business was to clean up, because even one more minute of feeling like you were covered in a film of alcohol and smoke and you were gonna peel your skin off. 

The shared hallway was aggressively bright, but fortunately empty. You were sure you couldn’t handle an awkward ‘on the way to the shower’ run in with a hallmate right now. You’d probably throw up on the carpet. Luckily on a well weathered first Saturday of the semester, the hall was virtually abandoned. Which also meant that the only single user bathroom on your side of the building was free.

You leaned heavily against the closed door, eyes screwed shut as you fought back the wave of nausea that came with your short walk. With your eyes closed you found the automatic light switch, pushing the button to shut the lights down. The frosted window let in just enough light to see without burning your eyes out. You hung up your things and started the shower, knowing it would take a while for it to warm up. 

You took that time to brush your teeth, sick of the grit that lined your mouth. When you saw yourself in the mirror you couldn't help but to cringe. You were a wreck. The makeup around your eyes was worse than you imagined, smeared completely around your eyes in an intense racoon mask. Your hair was half out of the scrunchie you had pulled it into on the way home, hanging awkwardly on your neck. As you brushed your teeth, you tilted your head at the borrowed shirt realizing something off about it. You frowned at it in the mirror, trying to make out what the writing said. Whatever it was, it wasn’t Metallica. You spit in the sink and set your toothbrush to the side before pulling the shirt over your head. It didn’t say Metallica, it said Mozart in the Metallica font. 

You snorted a laugh, “Jayce, what the fuck?” Folding the shirt up, you shoved it into your bag, hoping you'd remember to wash it with your laundry. When you caught a glimpse of your bare torso in the mirror, you froze. 

Memories of last night came flooding back as you stared at the red marks scattered across your body. An unsteady line of hickeys connected one hip bone to the other,  a few were splayed up across your stomach and in a cluster across your chest. There was even one framed by a perfect bite mark on the top of your shoulder. 

“God damn…” You muttered, turning in the mirror in search of more. While you didn’t find any more hickeys sucked into your skin, you did find thin bruises on the sides of both your thighs from his fingers digging into your flesh. 

You stepped closer to the mirror, ghosting your fingertips over the marks. You couldn’t help but shudder at the memory of his hands on you. You could still feel him against you, his lips, his tongue, his teeth. You gripped the edge of the sink, willing the thoughts away. It was a hookup with a stranger who’s name wasn’t even known to you. It wasn’t going to happen again. 

Despite that fact, you thought of him in the shower until the water ran cold.

-----

Lest was awake when you made it back to your room. In the time it took you to shower she had managed to get dressed, make both herself and you coffee and frozen breakfast sandwiches, clean up your side of the room, and get the first season of Love Island up on your TV. She was stirring creamer into her coffee when you came in.

“Goodmorning,” You said, locking your door behind you, “How long have you been up?”

“Like, 45 minutes,” She said, setting the creamer to the side for you, “Were you in the shower that whole time?”

“Er, yeah, sorry. I wanted to shave,” You lied, a little surprised at how long you had actually been gone. You hoped Lest wouldn’t notice that you definitely had not shaved.

You dressed quickly. You and Lest had never been shy about changing in front of each other, but right now you had yourself angled awkwardly against your closet, praying to god she didn’t catch a glimpse of the love bites you were sporting. Luckily you managed to pull on a tshirt and sweats without her noticing. It’s not like you needed to hide from her, you usually told her everything as soon as it happened, but this time you wanted to keep it to yourself. At least for a little bit. You knew she’d have something, probably valid, to say about the complete unknown of the man you had sex with. She’d scold you on how dangerous it was and drag you to the health center to get tested for an STD.

“How’re you feeling?” She asked as you made up your coffee.

“A little like I was hit by a truck,” You shrugged, putting the cream away in your tiny fridge, “But I’ve definitely felt worse. You?”

“Better than I thought I would,” Lest told you, starting the show, “I didn’t drink much towards the end, and I didn’t smoke at all so I guess it makes sense.”

“You’re lucky,” You joked, climbing into bed with your coffee and breakfast, “We’re still doing nothing today right?”

“Oh, for sure.” Lest said nodding with wide eyes, “This is probably the last weekend we’ll be able to actually push homework off. Everything can wait until tomorrow.”

“Works for me,” You nodded, sipping your coffee and tuning into the trashy reality show you and Lest were hooked on.

You realized pretty quickly that all the gorgeous men and women and unhealthy relationships in the world wouldn’t distract you enough. You had figured post your incredibly long shower you’d be free of Pretty Boy, that the memory of him would ebb away. No luck.

By the time Micheal had been cast out of the Villa, you had managed to replay last night's events a hundred times in your head. It wasn’t just the sex that you were hyper focused on, it was every second you were near him. You kept thinking about how he looked in the kitchen, the way the lights moved over his skin and hair. The fact that even in the dark his eyes were still so bright and warm. You could hear  the lilt of his accent in your head, all the words he said to you, all the things he called you. 

What really stuck with you was how soft it all had been. How gentle and kind he had been with you. The way his voice sounded when he asked if you were leaving. How much you wished you had said no. This was going to haunt you for at least a week, you knew it would. You were preparing for it to be a very hard and very unfocused week.

Lest called you out a few times during the lazy afternoon, questioning your mental absence from the shared room. You brushed her off with excuses of exhaustion and nausea. You could tell she was worried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her. Eventually, not many hours after waking up, you let yourself fall asleep to the thought of his lips on yours.

-------

On Sunday you woke up well before the sun, thanks to your early bedtime. You stared up at the ceiling, willing yourself back to sleep, but as your room slowly turned from pitch black into grey tones you knew it wasn’t going to happen. Quietly you pulled yourself out of bed and got ready for the day. It was barely even six by the time you were finished getting ready, but you were restless. Scribbling a note for Lest, you left your dorm. 

There was a time when you’d go on a walk before the sun was fully up every morning. It was when you enjoyed campus the most. The cold and quiet of it was comforting, it felt like home. Almost completely deserted at this hour. The only souls you ever saw this early were the landscapers, perfecting the small campus before the day began, and the occasional early rising professor walking a beloved campus dog. On a Sunday, though, it was truly empty. 

You wandered without really knowing where you were going, you let your feet remember the familiar path they once took so frequently. The sun barely peeked over the line of trees and brick buildings, casting long shadows over the quad. Dew grayed the grass, evaporating where the sun touched it. Eventually you reached the flower garden nestled between the two original buildings of the campus. You settled on a cold stone bench, the dedication plaque so worn it was nearly unreadable. 

You looked around the garden. The variety of flowers were in full bloom as the summer came to a close, each one tended to with great care. It was a sacred place on campus, for everyone. It was where most students had been introduced to the school, the garden being the meeting spot for all campus tours. During both matriculation and graduation, students paraded through it. The flowers were both a beautiful welcome and a bittersweet goodbye to those who chose Piltover for their education. It was impossible not to love it.

You sighed and picked at a patch of lichen on the edge of the bench. Remembering what else you used to do on these early walks, another habit you regretfully fell out of. You dragged your knees up to your chest and pulled your phone from your hoodie pocket. Your fingers were on autopilot as they navigated to your contacts.

It rang only once.

“Good morning Buddy,” Your dad’s voice was warming even through the phone.

“Good morning,” You said, leaning your cheek against your knee, “How are you?”

“I’m good, just getting ready to head out on the boat,” You could hear him shuffling around as he spoke. You could picture him, preparing for the day in the kitchen, “How are you? You’re up pretty early.”

“Working on a Sunday? That’s unlike you,” You joked, it was actually very like him, “I fell asleep early last night, couldn't go back to bed.”

“No, actually, not working today,” You heard the front door of your house open and close, “I’m headed out with the guys. The weathers going to be good for some deep fishing, today.”

“Oh good, that’ll be nice. I hope the catch is good,” You were glad he was taking time for himself, “Send me pictures if you get anything cool.”

“Of course buddy,” He laughed, you heard his truck start up, “Wait, so you went to bed early on a Saturday night? When did you become so boring?”

You scoffed, “Excuse me, are you mad that I am a responsible adult?”

“That’s not what I said!” He assured you.

“Yeah sure,” You rolled your eyes but smiled anyways, “Besides, it was friday night that I was out until three in the morning, rest assured I am certainly not boring.”

“Hm, okay,” He was quiet for a moment, “You’re making good decisions, I hope? Staying safe.”

You groaned at the implications of his words, embarrassed that they weren't actually that far off. He didn’t need to know that, though.

“Yes Dad, I am making perfectly fine decisions,” You half lied to him.

“Good to know. I’m too young to be a grandfather.”

“Ew,” You fake gagged, “Don’t say stuff like that.”

He laughed on the other end. It had been a week and a half since you saw him last, but you already missed the sound of him laughing, “How was your first week of classes?”

“Good,” You told him, “So far at least. I mean, it's the first week and I already have a good amount of homework to do, which sucks, but I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah, you’ve got this, though,” He assured you, never not confident in your abilities, “You always do. What classes are you taking again?”

“I have two envi-sci classes right now, one with a lab, a chemistry class with a lab, and I’m taking an Asian American Lit class, to keep myself from going crazy in the science building.” You told him, thinking about your particularly heavy science schedule, “I’m trying to switch chemistry classes, though. There's a smaller class with a…better professor. Not that my current professor is bad, it’s just that Heimerdinger is, like, the best professor here. I’d like to take at least one class with him. I’m on the waiting list.”

“Sounds like a good schedule. I’m glad you're taking a non-science class, it’ll be good for your brain,” He told you, “And I’ll cross my fingers you get into that class you want.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” You laughed, at this point you didn’t have much hope for getting in, but you could always try next semester.

“Hey, has your mom talked to you?” The question made you groan. 

“No, why?” You didn’t particularly want to talk to her, not since her 2nd remarriage last summer. 

“She called the other day and asked if she could have you for Christmas this year?” He was treading carefully, “I think you should.”

‘What? No way,” You answered immediately, offended at the idea that you would want to do that, “First of all, I’m not 15 anymore, neither of you get to have me, I can decide where I want to go for breaks. And second, Why would I want to spend break in Arizona with her child groom and his infant children?”

He was, clearly, not a child groom. Paul was 35, but in comparison to your mother’s age- 45- he might as well be a teenager. His kids weren’t infants either, 9 & 14, but, again, they might as well have been. 

“Hey, I know, I trust you to make your own decisions, but I also know that you’ve developed a lot of anger recently with your mom,” He sighed, “I don’t want you to have a bad relationship with her your whole life, it’s not healthy.”

“Really milking those two years of psychology undergrad, huh,” You joked bitterly. Your dad would have been the best therapist in the world if he had finished school. Your surprise arrival put an end to that half dream instantly. He never resented you for it. 

“I’m serious, buddy,” His voice was calm, urging you to be open, “It wouldn’t have to be for the whole break, just a couple days around Christmas. If you want to spend the rest of the time here with me you can, obviously. Just think about it?”

“Fine…I’ll think about it,” You pouted, he could convince you of anything, “But no promises.”

“Thank you, sorry for springing this on you right now.” You could hear chatter somewhere behind him, he was probably at the docks by now.

“It’s okay, sorry for being a brat about it,” You laughed softly.

“You’d be nothing without your attitude,” He teased, in the background you could hear someone calling his name.

“I get it from you,” That wasn’t entirely true, you and him both knew it, “But hey, I’ll let you go, sounds like you’re needed.”

“Yeah, the guys just showed up,” He admitted, “I can tell them to wait for a bit though if you want to keep talking?”

“Nah, it’s okay,” You insisted, checking the time, “I should probably go, anyways. Me and Lest are gonna go work on homework in a bit.”

“Okay, no problem,” He told you, you wished you could talk to him all day, you wished you were going fishing with him, “I’m proud of you, buddy, and I love you so much.”

“Love you too, Dad,” You said, trying to hold back tears, “Have fun out there, be safe.”

“Always am. Tell Lest I say hello for me, Love you.” He let you hang up the phone. 

You wrapped your arms around your legs and buried your head in your knees, unable to hold back the sobs. You let yourself cry. You didn’t think this was how you’d start your morning, but it was fine. Almost cathartic in a way, to let yourself be sad about something as childish as missing your dad who was only a day. You knew it was fine and very normal, but it still felt immature. Regardless, you let yourself cry until Lest finally texted you.

-------

The rest of the day was just as unexpected. When you headed back to your dorm Lest had just started to get ready. You laid in your bed, scrolling through your phone until she was ready. In the hour or so it took her to shower, get dressed, and gather her school work, the weather took a drastic change. You had wanted to lay out on the quad and do work, but the soft sunny sky was full of clouds now, all threatening rain. Instead, you and Lest headed to the small coffee shop on campus. Here it was much harder to focus. You camped out at a table in the corner, despite this everyone who knew you or her came over to chat. Meaning the amount of work you finished was…disappointing, to say the least. 

Then, due to the cafe's short Sunday hours, you had to relocate once again. At the overly polite requests of the baristas, you packed up and hauled off to the library. You wished you had come here in the first place. It was pretty much vacant this time of day and you and Lest set up in the quiet section, assuring no one would bother you even if they wanted to. Workflow was steady now, you managed to knock out one assignment after another. In the quiet of the library you were even able to focus on your textbook readings enough to take notes. 

As the afternoon began to turn to evening and the library began to fill up, you were finally in the home stretch. Lest was on her last set of practice questions for her math class and you had one more reading and a chemistry practice test to do. You’d probably be back to your room within the hour. You opened up the practice test, determined to get everything done. 

It was harder than you had expected. Some of the questions were fairly basic, things you knew from level one and even highschool chemistry, and there were a few that took a little effort but were fresh in your head from last semester. Almost half the questions, though, were questions that were completely foreign to you. You could make out bits and pieces of it in your brain. Some questions gently touched by your previous professors and others that you could make shaky assumptions on. You tried to remind yourself that this was a practice test for a reason, but the shitty score you knew would show at the end still bothered you. In the end you got 65%. 

You opened up your email to check for submission confirmation before moving on to the reading. A recent message at the top of the box made you pause. You read it quickly once, twice, three times. 

“I’m off the waitlist,” You told Lest, flinching when someone at a nearby table shushed you.

“What?” She whispered, leaning closer to see your laptop.

“I’m off the waitlist for chem,” You whispered back, opening up the class portal and accepting the offer.

“I thought you were in a chem class already?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, but I got into the class with the professor I actually want,” You explained, wishing you could be more excited than the setting allowed. 

“Oh, that's…good,” You could tell she didn’t quite get it, but wanted to be happy for you anyways.

“Yes, it’s very good,” You laughed, pushing your chair away from the table, “and as a reward, I’m gonna go piss.”

“Babe, please don’t give yourself a UTI because you only pee after academic success,” Lest jokingly begged, rubbing the space between her eyebrows.

You couldn’t hold back a laugh as you walked away from the table, ignoring the dirty looks from other tables. You were thrilled, a class with Heimerdinger genuinely opened up a world of connections. He knew scientists in every field all over the world. Of course, as the dean of the science department, he was willing to help any student make connections, but it was definitely easier if you were in his class. You were so happy about this, you didn’t mind that the practice test you just spent an hour on was for a class you were about to drop. 

You pulled out your phone, shooting off a text to your dad.

Got into the class I wanted! Thx 4 crossing ur fingers

He responded immediately.

Yay… that’s great, happy for you… wanna see the catch today?

You shook your head at the ellipses habit he refused to break. Such an old man.

TY!!! Yes obvi. Fish Now. 

He sent back a photo of himself and one of the older guys he fished with holding an impressively sized mahi mahi.

Omg mahi this late in the szn is craaazzyyy, very jealous

You couldn’t help the pang of sadness that bloomed in your chest. Missing your dad intensely for the second time that day.

Yeah, me and the guys were surprised for sure…I got go, talk to you later?

Oki!

Love you Buddy

Love u toooo

You slammed into someone in your distraction as you hit send. The apology coming out of your mouth only made it halfway, your mind and body freezing up at the flash of chestnut hair and pale skin above you. 

“Woah, watch it.” The guy, who you realized a second later was not in fact Pretty Boy, snapped at you.

“Sorry,” Your voice came out like a squeak, you cleared your throat, speaking louder, “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s…uh it’s fine,” Not Pretty Boy said, looking down at you oddly, “Are you okay?”

You realized you were staring at him, studying all the ways in which he wasn’t Pretty Boy. Too stocky, face too round, hair too long, eyes a dull green. 

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine, sorry,” You shook your head, stepping past him as you apologized again.

You hurried off to the restroom, face burning as you locked yourself into a stall. You had managed to keep him out of your head all day. You dressed without looking at the marks he left behind, you kept your mind busy with work and thoughts of your family situation, you barely even acknowledged the fact that you had a body. 

And now after all that work, here you were, unable to think about anything besides him. You groaned and thumped your head against the stall door, knowing he’d be inescapable for the rest of the night. 

You stared at your hand on your leg, fingers digging into the bruises under your jeans. You had set your book down for the hundredth time, barely halfway through the reading, distracted again.  Every time you tried to read the words on the page, you wouldn’t get far. Unable to process any of the information you were looking at. It all felt like a different language. You could feel his hands pressing into your legs, his lips on your neck, accent in your ears.

Something hitting your forehead made you jump, startling you out of the daydream.

“Earth to struggling student,” Lest whispered, crumpling another sticky note and launching it at you.

You swatted the yellow paper away, frowning at her, “What?”

“Girl, where have you been this weekend?” Lest hissed, leaning across the table, eyebrows furrowed, “You’ve been weird ever since Jayce’s party. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You shrugged.

“Okay, liar,” She deadpanned, rolling her eyes, “What’s up?”

“Nothing!” You insisted, rifling the pages of your book. 

She stared at you, blink her big eyes expectantly. At this point, she wasn’t going to give up.

“I hooked up with someone at the party�� You muttered, not looking at her.

“What?” She gasped, ignoring the looks from other tables. She stood and took the seat next to you, pulling her chair close and leaning in, “When?”

“When I went to wash my top in the garage,” You told her, chewing on your lip, “I wasn’t exactly smoking alone,”

“Oh my god!” She squeaked, eyes wide, “You fucked someone in Jayce and Cait’s garage??”

“Shhh,” You placed a palm over her mouth, worried about wandering ears, “Be quiet, I don’t need the whole student body to know.”

She just blinked at you over the top of your hand, waiting.

“Yeah, in the garage,” You could feel your face getting hot.

“Did you guys… like, get a home run? Or only make it to 3rd base?” She raised an eyebrow.

“What are you? 12?” You scoffed, glancing sideways as you told her, “...home run.”

“Good girl!” She punched you lightly on the arm, “Wait, that’s why you’ve been so spacy? You’ve been thinking about your little garage escapade all weekend?”

“Lest, you don't get it,” You insisted, “It was, like, amazing. Quite possibly the best sex I have ever had in my entire life. Like, honeymoon waited until marriage but somehow still perfect at it kind of sex.”

“No way,”

“Yes way, bitch,” You said, raising your eyebrows at her, “yes fucking way.”

“Damn…” She stared down at the table, then quirked her head to the side, “Who?”

There it was, the reason you hadn’t told her as soon as it happened.

“Um, well…” You hesitated. Lest narrowed her eyes at you, you could see her mind scrolling the list of possibilities. You cringed, “I don’t exactly know.”

Lest gaped at you, “What?”

“We were both high,” You admitted sheepishly, “And kind of caught up with other things. Names didn’t come up.”

“Are you crazy?”

“He was nice!” You defended, “Like, so fucking nice.”

“That is so dangerous!” She scolded, more concerned than mad, “Did you use a condom?”

“Christ, Lest, of course,” You rolled your eyes, “I’m not dumb.”

“I know, but you said you were high,” She shrugged, “Just wanted to make sure I didn’t need to find a way to squeeze a crib into our dorm.” 

“Twenties pregnancy is no joke,” You told Lest, trying to hold your face straight as long as you could before the corners of your mouth cracked upwards. 

“Damn, so great sex guy is anonymous,” She sighed, “That’s kind of a bummer. He goes here right?”

“He said he did,” You told her, “That’d be an odd thing to lie about, right?”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll see him at another party?” She said, hopeful.

“Yeah, maybe,” You sighed, “I don’t know, it was so good I almost don’t want to do it again.”

“That makes zero sense,” she scrunched her nose.

“I mean, I fucked this guy once for, like, an hour.” You explained, “And he is all I’ve been able to think about for the past two days. Do I really want to do this again?”

“Well, if you make it a habit,” She offered.

“I don’t know,” You sighed, shaking your head, “It sucks, but I think it’s better if it doesn't happen again. I don’t think my grades could handle it.” You waved the book you had tried and failed to read for the past hour. 

“Skill issue.” She shrugged, shutting her laptop, “Do you have to finish that reading tonight? I wanna get dinner.”

“Uh, thanks Lest, very cool,” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at her joke, “And I’m not going to be able to anyways. I’ll finish it before class tomorrow.”

“Okay good,” Lest said, standing and stretching her arms over her head, “I’ll get us Thai if you promise details.”

“Hm, you know, I’m not against trading my secrets for pad thai and mango rice,” You laughed, packing your stuff up.

Clasping her hands together she determined, “This is, like, better than Love Island.” 

You just scoffed, shaking your head at her.

-------

As thrilled as you were to be taking Heimerdinger's class, there was one tiny drawback. It was your first and only seven am. You had managed four whole semesters of not having to be in a class until at least nine. That was very much on purpose, because dragging yourself out of bed at five in the morning was not your idea of a good start to the day. 

As much as you wanted to skip past your first alarm and show up to class unshowered and in sweatpants, you figured that wasn’t the most professional first impression to make on the dean. So you got up like a good student. You took your time getting ready and double checking that you had everything you’d need for your two classes of the day, preferring to not haul back to the dorm between them. You had correctly calculated enough time to stop at the cafe on the way to grab coffee with a higher caffeine content than what you could make in your room. 

There were quite a few seven am classes available, but given that you were over 30 minutes early, the halls of the science building were still fairly deserted. A few offices were lit up and some classrooms had TAs setting up for the day, but not much student presence yet. When you found the room the schedule had directed you to, you were pleased to see it was empty. It’d be easier to talk to who you considered the most intimidating professor on campus without an audience.

The classroom was small, but you knew the lab attached through a door at the back would be much bigger. Professor Heimerdinger was sitting behind the desk at the front, fidgeting with the desktop computer. You knocked on the doorframe to get his attention.

“Good morning Professor Heimerdinger,” You greeted, stepping partially into the room as you told him your name, “I was on the waitlist until last night, I wasn’t sure if they told you I had moved off of it.”

“Oh! Good morning, dear,” He beamed from under his impressively large mustache, moving away from the computer, “Yes, it was mentioned that there may be a change in the roster. I’m glad you were able to move up from the waitlist. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, you had never been in the same room as the esteemed man, only ever seen him give speeches or in passing around campus, you walked over to his desk, “I’m also glad to be here, I’ve been looking forward to taking one of your classes. I’ve heard great things.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” He walked around his desk and extended a hand up towards you. Due to his short stature you had to bend just slightly at the waist to return the gesture, “I’m glad to have you in class, your name is familiar. Are you acquaintances with Mr. Jayce Talis, by chance?”

You knew Jayce had been lucky enough to score Heimerdinger as his advisor and close mentor, you were surprised he had mentioned you, though.

“Yes, actually, Jayce is a very close friend of mine,” You told him, trying to hide a nervous laugh, “Has he been speaking of me?”

“Only good things, my dear,” He said, picking up on your anxiety, “I assure you.”

“Good to know,” You laugh, hoping it wasn’t too loud in the small space, “Thank you, again, I am really grateful for the opportunity to be in your class.”

“Well of course,” He told you, moving back around his desk as he spoke, “Have you been able to acquire the reading materials for the class?”

“I ordered the textbook last night,” You explained, “I should have it by the end of the week. I’m sure I can borrow a copy from a classmate for the time being.”

“No need, I have an extra copy you are welcome to use until yours arrives,” He pulled a dense book from under his desk, “It’s an earlier edition, though, so just be sure that you read the correct sections.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” You took the worn book, he also handed you a printed syllabus, “Was there reading for today? I could try to get some of it done before class starts.”

“Last week’s schedule became a little jumbled due to my being under the weather, so the first reading is due next class, if you would like to review the syllabus and schedule before class, you will be all caught up,” He explained. You couldn’t describe the relief this gave you, “We only met for one class last week, so you aren’t behind, but the class has already been divided into groups for the semester. I apologize that you were not here for the grouping. I allow students to choose who they work with, so if you see someone you know feel free to join their group.”

“Okay, thank you.” You nodded and turned to find a seat.

As Heimerdinger returned back to his computer, you set up in the corner of the room. The syllabus was fairly basic, but gave a good explanation of the Professor’s expectations. You were sure this wasn’t going to be an easy class, but you were also sure you’d enjoy the challenge. The only thing that was making you anxious was the fact that  none of the students that showed up were familiar to you. You watched as the clock ticked closer and closer to seven, your knee bouncing under the table. You tried to distract yourself by skimming through the borrowed textbook, settling on a random section to pass the time with.

You were halfway through the chapter about asymmetric oxidation and reduction when a newer copy of the book was dropped on the table in front of you with a bang. You jumped, looking up in surprise.

“Hey stranger,” Jinx smirked down at you, nodding at your book,“Pretty impressive reading pace you’ve got there.”

“Jinx!” You stood, wrapping your arms around her, “I didn’t know you were in this class.”

“Ekko is too, he’ll be here in a minute,” She told you as you settled into your seats, the room was busy now, “Were you on the waitlist?”

“Yeah, this class was a bitch to get into,” You frowned, then realized something, “Wait, how did you get in? You’re a sophomore this year right? This is an upperclassmen class.”

She laughed sheepishly, shrugging, “Ha, well you know, nepotism isn't always bad.”

“No way, Silco got you in? You lucky bitch,” You gasped, but were not surprised that her dad, who happened to be a well respected professor in the business program, had managed to get her into a higher level class. 

“Yeah, and Ekko,” She pulled the rest of her things from her bag, blowing a strand of freshly dyed blue hair out of her face, “You should have told me, I could have gotten you in, too.”

“Sorry, friend nepotism didn’t cross my mind,” You laughed, waving at Ekko as he walked into the room, “I’ll keep it in mind for next time, though.”

“Always got your back, babe,” Jinx gave an over exaggerated smile, all teeth.

Ekko slid into the seat next to Jinx, setting a coffee cup down in front of her, “Hey, where were you last week?” He laughed, extended a fist out for you to bump.

“Still on the waitlist,” You laughed, pulling out your things as other students began to settle into their seats.

“Glad you're here,” He told you, “You wanna be part of our group right?”

“Yes please,” You said with exaggerated begging,“I was worried I’d have to join people I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason I drag him into every class I take,” Jinx laughed, jerking her thumb over to Ekko.

“Yeah, I’m sure the fact that I always give you my notes has nothing to do with it,” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” She stuck her nose up in the air, giving him a side eye.

You couldn’t help but to laugh at them, their large personalities combined to make one big ball of loud and colorful and smart. You had spent a lot of your free time during your summer research with them. Jinx had convinced you to join their little band and you three terrorized the others with very loud and not so great music playing. You were excited to be in class with them. Looking around, though, you noticed that all the other groups consisted of at least three people, some of them even holding five. 

“Are you guys a group of two?” You tilted your head, it would be odd for the Professor to let them do that in a class that seemed to be very group focused.

“What? Oh, no there’s three of us,” Ekko told you, “I don’t know if you’ve met him yet. It’s Jayce’s new roommate, Viktor. I don’t know why he isn’t here yet.”

You laughed, part of you still wondering if this was some insane joke that everyone was really really dedicated to, “Haven't met him, yet, but I’ve heard of him plenty of times.”

“Wasn’t he at the party on Friday?” Jinx asked, “He said Jayce had convinced him to go.”

“Jayce kept saying he was there, but I never ran into him,” You shrugged, “I’m still not convinced he’s real.”

“Yeah, you got us,” Jinx said, dead serious, “He isn’t real.”

“Wait what?” You side eyed her.

“Also we wrote gullible on the ceiling,” She rolled her eyes, you resisted the urge to look up, “Viktor is very real, I promise. He’s super smart too, like, almost as smart as me.”

“Always humble, babe,” Ekko said, patting Jinx on the arm, “Always humble.”

Class began then, Heimerdinger calling everyone's attention to the front of the room. You settled into the flow of it pretty quickly. You weren’t surprised that he managed to be an engaging professor. You’d sat through plenty of his speeches and presentations over the past two years, and never for a second did you find yourself bored during them. He gave a quick overview of what the next couple of weeks were going to look like and then passed around paper practice tests. You were a little disappointed to have to do another one.

This test ended up being somewhat easier than the one you had taken last night, only a few of the questions really escaped you. You could tell this was a test meant to gauge how much the class knew as opposed to how much they didn’t. You had just flipped to the last page when the door to the classroom opened. As much as you wanted to keep your eyes down and not contribute to the awkward stares you were sure everyone was already giving, instinct kicked in and you couldn't help but to glance up.

You froze.

There was no way.

This was not happening. 

You blinked a few times, mouth hanging open as you watched Pretty Boy lean over Heimerdinger's desk, speaking too quiet for you to hear with an apology written all over his face. Your heart dropped all the way down to the center of the earth, your lungs dried out and you felt like your head was under waves.

When Pretty Boy turned around, his perfect amber eyes immediately landed on yours. Freezing, his eyes widened slightly in an expression you were sure was identical to yours. Poorly hidden horror. You looked away, eyes dropping to your paper, the grip around your pencil was tight enough to turn your knuckles white. You could hear him walking straight for your table, cane tapping along with his footsteps.

You furrowed your eyebrows at the table. Why was he coming this way? There were plenty of other seats. Was now the time to confront you? In the quietest classroom imaginable. He slid into the seat next to you.

“Hey Viktor,” Jinx whispered, glancing up before going back to her test.

Viktor. He was Viktor. Pretty Boy was the roommate you were convinced didn’t exist. The one you had just told Jinx you had never met. The reality that you had, in fact, met him very intimately was crashing down around you. You raced back through your memory, all the little dots that you should have connected immediately snapped together. The music he was listening to, the smoking, that he was even in the garage in the first place, the reason you hadn’t recognized him despite being in your year, the fact that you never saw him leave the house. 

He fucking lived there. He was Jayce’s roommate. You had fucked Jayce’s roommate. 

You could feel his eyes on the side of your face as these thoughts ran through your head. You looked up at him, his closeness making you dizzy, but not in a pleasant way like last time. His face was nearly blank, only the slightest pull to his eyebrows that didn’t  give away any of his thoughts. You had never felt the desire to know what someone else was thinking, not really, not until this very moment. 

Not knowing what to do, you let out a shaky breath and went back to your paper. The room was too quiet to speak to him, you could do nothing but endure the remaining time it took for everyone to finish their tests and hope you didn’t faint.

You were keenly aware of his presence next to you. Everything was taken up by Pretty Boy. By Viktor. You could feel the heat of his leg close to yours, you could smell the cologne he was wearing. The scratching of his pen as he started the test was the only sound you could hear. You felt like you were going crazy. At this moment you were sure you could have been committed to a state hospital. The words on the page blurred in front of you. You scribbled out incorrect equations a dozen times before Hiemerdinger finally concluded that everyone was done. 

“I will review these and adjust our scheduled content accordingly,” He told the class as the tests were passed forward, “As an unplanned reward for enduring my data collection, please talk amongst yourselves while I battle with technology. I will begin today’s lesson as soon as possible.”

“Nice,” Jinx said to herself as chatter started up in the classroom, she turned to Pret- to Viktor, “Dude, where were you?”

“Sorry, I was stuck behind a school bus,” He told her, his accent was less thick than you remember, “it wasn’t a problem last week, I wasn’t prepared.”

“Oh, yeah, school just started this week for little kids,” She nodded, she was lost in thought for a moment, no doubt thinking about picking up Isha from school later. She snapped back to the present and told him your name, “She’s part of the larger group, I’m surprised you haven't met yet.”

His eyes met yours and when he said your name, you could have melted all the way to the ground floor, “It’s nice to meet you, are you…joining our group?”

It took you a moment to realize he was holding a hand out to you. You shook it, trying to be as firm as you could, but you knew your hands were shaking. 

“Nice to meet you, too, ” You said, “Um, I can find another group if you-”

“No,” He said, too quickly, “No, that’s not necessary, I’m glad to have you work with us.”

You did your best not to read into that, “Glad to be here.”

“Heimerdinger wanted us to schedule an out of class work time,” Ekko told you, drawing your attention away from Viktor’s face, “We were thinking Friday’s right after class, since we won’t have lab.”

“That works for me,” You nodded, trying to settle into your chair and be casual.

“Cool, I’ll send a calendar invite,” He said, always the proactive one.

“You are friends with Jayce?” Viktor asked, tilting his head at you.

“Yep,” You nodded awkwardly, unsure how to talk to him, “Since freshman year,”

“Hm, interesting.” He mused. 

You hated this. It was so uncomfortable and not at all like the last time you had spoken to him. Even aside from the fact that you weren’t fucking, the few words said were clunky and awkward. You were realizing that the drugs and alcohol you had consumed might have had something to do with the ease of conversation. It made you sad. You knew this was stupid. You knew you were being childish. You were an adult, sex shouldn’t be the cause of this unbearable awkwardness. You should be able to talk to someone you hooked up with, without being on the verge of a panic attack. Luckily, Heimerdinger’s technical difficulties came to an end. He drew back everyone's attention and put a halt to your terrible conversation. You turned away from Viktor, facing the front as the intro to advanced ochem lecture began. 

The rest of class, thankfully, went smoother than you expected. Your group fell into a good rhythm, working together between bouts of notes to work on practice problems. Viktor was less tense, which let you relax a degree. He was more than willing to help you navigate your textbook, looking over your shoulder to check that you were on the right section. He even helped you find the reading for next class, tearing a piece of paper from his notebook and placing it in the pages. There wasn’t a lab planned for the day, so Heimerdinger continued his lecture well into the scheduled lab time. By the end of the four hours, you had written down almost ten pages of notes. Your hands ached.

“Apologies for the lecture heavy class, everyone. Having to cancel our first class last week meant I needed to catch everyone up” Heimerdinger said as he closed out the presentation, “I promise from here on we will utilize the last two hours as lab time. Have a good rest of your day everyone, I will see you on Wednesday.”

You scooped your things into your bag and slung it over your shoulder, “I’ve gotta get to another class, see ya around.”

You darted out of the door before anyone could reply. Your head was filled with too many thoughts. You took the stairs down, doing your best to organize the mess in your brain. You created a list. First, the things you needed to do, right now. Finish the reading for Asian American Lit, number one. Number two, go to your Asian American Lit class. Then, the things that could wait until after. Telling Lest about Viktor/Pretty Boy dilemma. Though, she would be mad that you didn’t call her at that very moment. Asking Jinx to add you to the group chat, meaning you'd have his number. Yeah, that you could wait on. Then the things you decided could wait forever. Number one, talking to Viktor. It’s all you wanted to do. And at the same time you’d rather spontaneously combust than confront that awkward conversation. 

You were free of the overpowering AC of the science building for less than a minute before the task you decided never needed to happen, happened. Against your will, of course.

“Wait up!” Your steps faltered for a second at the sound of Viktor’s voice calling after you. You ignored him, continuing as if you hadn’t heard. He shouted your name, “I know you can hear me!”

You stopped staring at the hot sidewalk for a moment. No. You had somewhere to be, things to do. You shook your head without turning around and kept walking.

“If you take one more step, you’re ableist!” He shouted, out of breath.

You froze and turned slowly to look at him, jaw hanging open, “That is not funny.”

“Got you to stop didn’t it,” He panted, closing the distance between you, he knocked his cane against the side of your calf, “And, I do believe running from a man with a cane can be considered ableist.”

“First of all, I am not running from you,” You lied, looking up at him. You stepped a half inch to the side, using his shadow to block your eyes from the sun, “And second, if I happened to be running from you, it certainly is not because you use a mobility aid.”

“Okay Miss PC,” He rolled his eyes, “Doesn’t matter why, if I deem it ableist, it is.”

You opened your mouth to argue, floundering for what to say. You don’t remember him being this infuriating at the party.

“Exactly,” He said as you snapped your jaw closed.

“Viktor,” You sighed, “What do you want?”

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, tilting his head at you. He gave a soft laugh, “I have been waiting all weekend to hear you say my name.”

Breathing would have been easier if he punched you. You blinked up at him, watching him watch you.

“I’m sorry, can I…” He looked around, noticing that other students were leaving the building as their classes ended. You two were standing in the dead center of the sidewalk and in the late summer heat his pale cheeks were already turning pink, “Can we just talk for a second, please?”

He didn’t wait for you to respond before he stepped off the main path and began walking into the flower garden. The dry gravel crunched under his shoes as he walked, the sound amplified in your brain as you followed after him. He settled under a latticed arch, the honeysuckle vines that snaked around it shading you both from the midday sun. 

“I’m sorry,” You said, frowning at him.

“For what?” He asked, face confused.

For running away. For not asking your name. For leaving. For joining your class.

“I don’t know.” Was all you could manage.

“You know, apologies lose a lot of their value if you don’t know what you're apologizing for,” He narrowed his eyes, voice almost scolding.

“I..I know, I’m sorry.”

“You say sorry too much,” He laughed, shaking his head, he didn’t look upset, “It’s very American of you.”

“Well, I am American,” You pointed out, letting yourself laugh softly with him, “I’m sorry for that too,” You joked.

“Well, let me apologize?” He asked, “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable in class, it truly was not my intention.”

That was an apology. A real and true apology.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” You shook your head, “Fuck, if anyone had a right to feel weird, it was you.”

He tilted his head in question.

“I mean, it was your class first,” You told him, “I just kinda…showed up.”

“Did you join the class because I was in it?” 

“Well, no,” You laughed softly, “How could I have, I didn't even know your name.”

“That’s true,” He scoffed, “I regret that, by the way, I should have asked your name. Not very polite to ask after having sex with someone.”

“Eh, it happens to the best of us,” You shrugged, liking the laugh he gave you in response.

“Well, I am glad I know now,” He told you, eyes moving across his face, he smirked, “It’s a pretty name.”

“Hm, thanks, I like yours quite a lot as well,” You smiled up at him, the step closer he took didn’t go unnoticed, “It suits you, almost as much as Pretty Boy.”

“Thank you,” He smiled down at you, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“What?” You could tell there was something else he wanted to say.

“Can I take you out?” He asked, taking a nervous breath, “I know we kinda did this in a backwards manner, but I…you are very interesting to me, I would like to take you out properly.”

Your stomach twisted. Your chest felt like it was caving in.

“No,” You said, head shaking slightly as you offered a sad smile. The unexpected hurt that flashed in his eyes killed you.

“Oh, um,” He stumbled over his words, clearly taken aback by your refusal, he tried to step away, “Okay.”

“Hey wait,” You reached out, grabbing his wrist before you could escape, “Listen, it’s not you.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, begging you not to embarrass him any further with a cliche line.

“Really, I swear,” You urged, not letting go until he stepped back towards you, “I just… I don’t date classmates. I don’t sleep with classmates. Even if I want to. It causes problems, it makes class awkward, and I can’t risk my GPA just because I find someone attractive.”

He hummed to himself, nodding as he took in your words.

“So…” He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the same way he did when you were straddling his lap, “You’re saying you find me attractive?”

You resisted the urge to lean into his palm, instead you grabbed his wrist and pulled his lingering hand away from your face, “Don’t do that.”

“I’m confused, you’ve already slept with me? So what does it matter?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. He was so fucking handsome you wanted to scream.

“Because, at the time, we weren’t classmates.” You explained like it was obvious.

“Okay, so let me get this straight, you will be in a relationship - sexual or romantic - with someone as long as they aren't an active classmate?” He asked, lip curling up in confusion, “But if they were a past classmate, or in our case, a future classmate, it's fine?”

“Exactly,” You shrugged, “I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

“That’s actually very unreasonable.” He told you, “And also does not make much sense to me.”

“Well, good thing it’s a rule for myself.” You huffed, “You don’t have to understand, you just have to respect it.”

“So, if we were in separate classes, would you go out with me?” He asked.

“Probably, yes.” You admitted.

“But not now, because we are in the same class.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“So, if I ask you when the class is over, you’d say yes?” He leaned towards you, probing.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, “Who’s to say you won’t hate me by the end of the semester?”

“Well, considering you seem to be friends with the only people I know at this school, that would be rather unfortunate.” His voice lowered at the end, he was closer to you know. Very much within kissing distance. Right now there was nothing more you wanted than to feel his lips against yours. You know they’d be cool in comparison to the stagnant summer air.

You didn’t. Instead, you took a step back, and shoved your hand out into the distance between you, “Friends and classmates? Can you do that?” You asked, he studied your hand like the offer was written on it, then sighed.

“Fine, I can respect your rules,” He took your hand in his, firm and strong and cold, “Friends and classmates…for now.”

He moved his index finger softly across the inside of your wrist as he held your hand, goosebumps sprinting up your arm. You carried that feeling with you for the rest of the day.

[moonlightxaridw]

Yves Saint Laurent | Valeria Garza

• PAIRINGS; Valeria Garza x Fem!Reader

• WARININGS; Mention of drugs, violence

• SUMMARY; After breaking up with Valeria, you decided to join the rival cartel as a means of revenge, you didn't think about the consequences.

• AUTHOR'S NOTE; I hate going back to my alucin era 😟

You met Valeria in the business, Diego had seen you buying cocaine before for the gang you used to be in, he saw you as a perfect target to use as bait.

After talking to Valeria they accepted you; As in any cartel there was a hierarchy, and well... You were at the bottom, one of those people who didn't last more than a month before the military or drug traffickers killed them.

At first you hardly spoke to Valeria, El Sin Nombre's hitman wasn't much of a talker and it seemed like she simply ignored you. Then you started talking more and Valeria showed a lot more interest in you, one thing led to another and you started dating.

You were no longer just Valeria's worker, you were a person she loved and would do anything to keep you safe. But everything that begins must end.

Valeria's job was very demanding, and she had little time for her personal life although Valeria did what she could to spend time with you. It was not enough . The fights about why Valeria wasn't giving you enough attention and why she was taking too many risks became more and more frequent.

You sounded selfish and you really knew it, but you were afraid, afraid of losing her, afraid that one day she would leave home and never come back and that fear tormented you.

Valeria was no longer happy. "For my mental health and yours, I think we need to break up" that broke your heart into a thousand pieces, You tried to tell her that you would be a better girlfriend for her and that she would tell you what made her feel uncomfortable to change it but Valeria refused.

She didn't cry, she just hugged you and watched as you closed the door behind you. Maybe what hurt you the most was that it seemed like she didn't feel any pain at all from what she had just done.

And that made you feel sick, it made you feel upset and soon you felt a horrible resentment towards her. You hated her.

But... How could you get your revenge? The Mexican Special Forces were not an option. How about joining a rival cartel? Las Almas Cartel had plenty of rivals anyway. It was just a matter of looking for one who was interested, after all, you knew too much about El Sin Nombre.

You ended up in the hands of the CJNG, they had a fairly large territory in which they operated and it would be useful for them to have people specifically in Las Almas.

You started working with them, it was simple, they gave you the merchandise and you transported it from one place to another. Nothing could go wrong, right?

"A ver gringa, these are the two packages you have to take from here to the border. I don't want anything to happen to them, understand? No quieres tener pedos con nosotros." The man said with a thick accent as he handed you the two lined packages.

You took them and put them in your backpack nodding. It wouldn't be that difficult, it was just a matter of carrying the packages from one place to another, returning and getting paid.

So you left the factory which was on the outskirts of the city, it was high noon, if you hurried, you would get there at least when the sun was just setting.

You walked for about 4 hours because your bosses kept insisting that going in any vehicle would look suspicious, as if walking in the middle of nowhere wasn't suspicious. You were at least 2 kilometers from reaching the border when you saw some men and women wearing bulletproof vests and green camouflage. Military.

You cursed yourself under your breath as you watched the way you slipped past unnoticed, your bad luck becoming evident when one of the military turned to look at you. You swallow, not even a second passed before the man alerted his companions.

"Fuck"

You quickly turned around before running back, the military started following you, trying to shoot at your feet or just at you. You could hear the high-pitched whine of bullets at full speed close to your ear.

Luckily for you, it wasn't all arid land, there was a place nearby like a small jungle with uneven ground, small lakes, plants and lots of dirt. You ran towards it, listening to the footsteps behind you.

You threw yourself into a small ravine that led to a river, landing on your open backpack. You crouched down, listening to the men practically above you, praying for them to get out. After a while, this is how it was .

You let out a breath you didn't even know you'd been holding as you grabbed your backpack, the blood draining from your face as you realized.

When you fell, the bags broke releasing white powder, and the backpack being open had released all the powder into the mud and water. "No, no, no, no, no" You almost felt the tears well up in your eyes as you tried to retrieve the merchandise in vain.

Valeria would have forgiven you anything, after all at that time you had been her girlfriend. You had. And these guys weren't that nice. What the fuck would you say to them? They'd probably blow your head before you could even explain.

You closed your backpack, running your hands over your face in frustration, You couldn't do anything but go to your boss and tell him what had happened.

* * *

You entered the place being escorted by two armed men to where your boss was, the man with the hat was pointing a gun at a boy who was on his knees with his hands tied.

"Por favor, le juro que no volveré a fallar, deme una última oportunidad" The young man cried while the man looked at him with a neutral expression. He put the gun in his belt.

"Ya mata a este cabrón, tengo una junta importante y no quiero mancharme las manos" The boss said pointing at the young man, the boy began to cry louder screaming, or rather begging not to be killed.

The other man pulled out his gun and without thinking shot him in the head. The man's body fell at your feet as blood poured out of the hole in his head, a horrified expression paused on his face.

You shuddered at the sight of the man lying there, blood staining the ground in a crimson color, you looked away trying to convince yourself that this would not happen to you.

The man looked at you. "What about you? Did you deliver the packages?" You felt a cold sweat run down your neck, a shaky sigh left your lips before speaking.

"I... Uhhh" the man looked at you impatiently his foot tapping repeatedly on the ground. You took your backpack off your shoulders and handed it to him, leaving it on the floor. Joaquin (that was your boss's name) looked at the backpack with a raised eyebrow before telling two of his men to open it.

When they opened it, he saw what had happened "Hija de la chingada"

The man gave a dry, laugh as he looked at the contents of the bags, or what was left of them. "¿Sabes cuánto puto dinero había ahí?" He asked angrily, you didn't know Spanish but from his anger you knew what he meant. "ANSWER ME, CARAJO"

You didn't answer, you were very scared, at any moment he could pull out his gun and everything would be over in a second.

"I could kill you, I could kill you and torture you until you can't feel, pero eso sería demasiado rápido..." you couldn't even look him in the eyes. "I'm not going to kill you, I'm going to make you pay for every fucking peso you lost on that delivery, understand?" You nodded quickly almost crying because it didn't end your life.

"Vas a ir a la guerra narco"

* * *

He sent you to Culiacán in the middle of the war, what he wanted was for you to take care of anyone who was there, any rival from another cartel, including Las Almas.

Everything had gone well, you had eliminated several people trying not to think about it.You ran to an abandoned factory far from the city where a guy who was escaping from you, had hidden himself.

There were a few convoys outside with military print and mounted machine guns, everything was dark. You looked around, gripping your AK-103 tightly. The place was completely empty. Or so you thought.

You entered the place with your gun raised, there was no one. You looked around, it was dark and abandoned, you let your guard down, and that was your worst mistake.

5 men appeared behind you pointing guns at you, when you turned around it was too late. You fell to the ground feeling a sharp pain in your calf. You looked down to see blood pouring from the wound. You had been shot.

They tied your hands and a bag over your face while they forcibly lifted you up. The pain was unbearable.You've never been shot before.

Suddenly you were released very quickly, causing you to fall hard to the ground, hitting your head. You heard gunshots before losing consciousness.

You woke up feeling a strong pain in your head and in your leg, you were lying on some leather seats of an armored convoy. You looked around before closing your eyes again for a moment. "You hit it hard, you had a concussion" you heard a very familiar female voice.

You looked at your leg which was bandaged carelessly. You looked towards the passenger seat where the voice came from. Valeria...

You tried to get up but that made you dizzy. "What are you doing here?" You asked. Valeria let out a bitter laugh "What are you doing here?"

"I never thought you'd go with the idiots of Cártel de Jalisco Nueva Generación" She said sarcastically. You looked down. "They were going to kill you, did you know that?" She said this time more seriously.

"Listen Valeria, I'm sorry about everything that happened between us—" You started to say but Valeria interrupted you. "You know? I would never have forgiven myself if something happened to you." You remained silent at that statement.

You arrived at Las Almas, together with Valeria and Diego who was driving. You had fallen asleep the whole way. Valeria and Diego got off the convoy and then Valeria opened the door on your side.

He helped you up, the pain in your calf was still present, you missed Valeria. Too much.

He led you to one of his guest rooms and helped you sit on the bed. "I'm really sorry about everything that happened..." Valeria looked at you for a moment before speaking.

"Don't worry, rest" she said. She was about to leave the room when you got out of bed as best you could, and ran to hug her. Valeria froze as she felt your body against hers.

You could smell her YSL perfume, the one she always used, you had missed hugging her so much. Valeria slowly turned to look at you. "I love you" you murmured without letting go of her, hiding your face in the hollow of her neck.

After a few minutes of silence she hugged you back, making you look directly at her by lifting your face with two of her fingers before kissing you softly. You missed this. Maybe you didn't deserve her, but that didn't matter now.

"I love you too"

I hope the ending isn't that bad, I'm out of ideas 💔

[puppetgame]

Casualty

TF141 x fem!foreign correspondent!reader

A/n: I've been reading fics by @391780 and once I read all of those, I found @livecrow. And damn- suddenly I wanted to write something myself after.. well, 3-4 years? Uni kept me busy and burnt out lol.

Warnings: none for this chapter, but this story will get dark so maybe stop ahead now. War, MDNI, dead dove do not eat, it'll all come up later so I'll tag it appropriately then. For now- too much exposition? Feeling self-conscious about writing for the first time in years.

It had started with a single, deafening blast in the middle of the night. The kind that shook the windows and made the earth tremble beneath your bedframe. It had dragged you from sleep in an instant, heart hammering as the aftershock rattled the walls of your small apartment.

And then, barely moments later, gunfire.

Sharp, sporadic bursts that gradually turned into a cacophony, filling the air like the rolling of a war drum. It was distant enough that it wasn’t on your street, but close enough to make your stomach turn to lead.

Your journalist instincts had kicked in immediately. You had dragged yourself to your feet, grabbing your camera, recorder, and phone. It didn’t take long to get to your building’s rooftop. From there, the city stretched out below you, and it didn’t take long to spot the thick, billowing smoke curling into the sky from the industrial district.

Your hands trembled slightly as you brought your camera up, zooming in. Buildings were ablaze. You could see silhouettes of men moving between alleys, some in the dark, others lit up by flames. No uniforms. No clear markings.

This wasn’t a localized explosion. This was war.

And war was news.

The morning had brought only confusion.

The government issued a weak, barely-put-together statement. By noon, rumors were running rampant, but with no official updates, no foreign forces claiming responsibility, and no one in charge willing to give more than an empty platitude, everything was murky.

Your camera set up on a rooftop with the view of the chaos of the city behind you, you waited for the connection to the TV station back home. Your earpiece crackled with the familiar voice of the anchor back home, their tone polished, professional- unshaken by the kind of chaos that had kept you awake all night.

"We go now to our foreign correspondent, reporting live from the capital. [Your Name], what can you tell us about the situation on the ground?"

You took a measured breath, keeping your expression composed despite the scent of smoke still thick in the air. Behind you, the city stretched out- familiar, but changed. Streets that had been busy with vendors and commuters only yesterday were now eerily empty, save for the occasional distant figure moving cautiously through the wreckage.

"At this moment, the government is calling this a 'terrorist incident, currently being handled by officials.'" You let that hang in the air for a moment, then continued, tone level but pointed. "However, the reality on the ground tells a far more complicated story. There are reports of coordinated attacks in multiple parts of the city, as well as heavy weaponry that suggests this was more than just an isolated act of terror. Eyewitnesses claim to have seen groups of foreign operatives moving through the streets overnight—highly trained, well-equipped, and not affiliated with any local force."

A brief pause, the anchor coming in.

"Do we have any confirmation of who these forces might be?"

You shook your head slightly.

"No official confirmation as of yet. No foreign government or military organization has claimed involvement, and the local administration has remained tight-lipped. What we do know is that this was not an accident, nor was it a random act of violence. The level of coordination here suggests something far more strategic."

The anchor hummed in thought before pressing on.

"And what is the situation like now? Are residents safe?"

That was the real question, wasn’t it?

"At this moment, the streets are tense. Many civilians have chosen to shelter in place, and those who can are trying to leave the city entirely. The local government insists they have control of the situation, but after last night's violence, there's little trust in those assurances. The airspace is restricted, the borders are under tighter scrutiny, and communication networks are still experiencing intermittent blackouts. People here are afraid, and with no clear answers, speculation is spreading quickly."

A beat of silence from the studio.

Then: "Concerning developments, to say the least. Before we let you go, what should we be looking out for in the coming hours?"

You exhaled, glancing briefly at the ruins of a collapsed building in the distance before returning your focus to the camera.

"The key things to watch will be any shift in government messaging- whether they continue to insist this is an isolated incident, or if they’re forced to acknowledge the scale of what’s happening. Additionally, if any foreign governments make a statement, particularly those with geopolitical interests in the region, that may give us an idea of who’s involved behind the scenes." You hesitated for a fraction of a second before adding, "And most importantly, we need to keep an eye on the ground. Because whatever happened last night, it doesn’t feel like it’s over."

The anchor gave the usual nod, professional and distant, as if this were just another passing segment.

"Thank you for your reporting. Stay safe, and we’ll be in touch as the situation develops."

"Thank you."

And with that, the feed cut.

You exhaled slowly, rolling the tension out of your shoulders before reaching to shut off the camera. Right now, they would be reporting on weather, maybe sport. People back home only rattled by your report for a few minutes before they're brought back to their little safe haven far away from any conflict.

The reality of the situation set in as you spent your day doing what you did best- asking around, keeping an ear to the ground, checking sources. The general feeling in the air was that something big was happening, something that hadn’t yet fully revealed itself.

And that? That was dangerous.

You've never been in an active conflict- hell- You had spent the last four years stationed in this country. You were the kind of journalist who got 90 seconds of airtime back home when something happened. A nothing nobody in a nothing country, reporting on small-time corruption, local elections, and the occasional protests that never amounted to much. A little country that nobody really cared about outside of its borders.

Talking with the station back home, you debated messaging them you're not a trained war reporter. That they will have to send a specialist.

Of course, being “put to work” didn't bother you- in a weird sense of way you're feeling more motivated and determined than ever, compared to writing articles all the time, or reporting on elections- but the pressure is high.

But instead the conversation was about safety, if you need to evacuate (you told them your area isn't in immediate danger), and keeping an eye out on updates.

Looking out the window, it seems like you'll have to ask for some protective gear soon.

Most of the officials you spoke to either gave you the runaround or flat-out refused to talk. Some wouldn’t even answer their phones. The ones who did? They were scared—tired, their voices stretched thin with something between exhaustion and quiet panic. “Off the record?” One had muttered over a rushed call, voice tight with barely restrained nerves. “Nobody knows what the fuck is happening. We were told it was under control. It isn’t.”

Not the most reassuring sentiment.

You had covered protests before, minor riots that made headlines for a week before disappearing into the cycle of news churn. But this was different. This wasn’t civilians throwing bricks or clashing with police. This was military. Organized.

And it was happening in a place that should have never been a battleground.

The streets told their own story. Businesses shuttered early, roads were emptier than they had been even in the worst of the country’s economic downturns. The scent of smoke still clung to the air, despite the clear sky. People were waiting—for more gunfire, for another explosion, for an official announcement that wouldn’t come.

The evening air carried a strange weight to it, thick with something unspoken. Anticipation. Fear. You weren’t the only one who felt it.

By the time the sun dipped below the skyline, the city felt different. More people were on the streets now- not in protest, not in anger, but in transit. Families packed into cars, scooters overloaded with belongings, even pedestrians carrying suitcases or plastic bags filled with whatever they could grab. It wasn’t panic. Not yet.

Just… preparation.

And that was almost worse.

You had spent the last few hours bouncing between contacts, but even the usual sources- the ones who loved to talk, who always wanted their name in an article- were unusually tight-lipped. Fear made people cautious. Fear made people silent.

What little you did manage to dig up painted a grim picture. Government forces had pulled back from several key areas, leaving a patchwork of security measures in place. Some districts were bracing for clashes. Others had already fallen into someone else’s hands—though no one could agree on whose hands, exactly.

Rumors spread faster than facts. Foreign mercenaries. A coup. A deep-state operation. A proxy war unfolding in real time.

The only thing everyone agreed on? This wasn’t over.

_________

You found yourself in a small café- one of the few that hadn’t shut its doors yet- nursing a cup of rapidly cooling coffee and waiting for a promised meeting with a source.

The man who slid into the seat across from you wasn’t one of your usual contacts. Older, government-issued suit that had seen better days, a face you recognized from press briefings but never spoke to directly. He looked tired. More than tired. Worn down.

"You didn’t get this from me," he muttered before you even had a chance to greet him.

You didn’t answer, just picked up your recorder and set it down—off, for now. A silent agreement.

His hands curled around his own coffee, fingers tapping absently against the ceramic.

"The military is pulling out of the industrial district completely," he said. "By morning, there won’t be a single government presence there. Do you understand what I’m saying?"

Your stomach twisted. "They’re surrendering it?"

"They’re ceding it. There’s a difference." He exhaled sharply, looking toward the window as if expecting someone to be watching. "They know they can’t hold it. Whoever’s moving in- whether it’s foreign-backed or just a well-funded group of lunatics- they’re better armed. Better trained. Government forces aren’t trained for this kind of urban engagement. They’re cutting their losses."

You swallowed. That meant something very specific.

That meant the fighting wasn’t just between local factions anymore. That meant someone big was involved.

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. "Who are they handing it to?"

His jaw tightened. "If I had that answer, I wouldn’t be here talking to you."

A beat of silence.

Then, he muttered, almost to himself:

"Some of them aren’t even speaking the local language."

___________

The streets weren’t safe anymore. That much was obvious.

By the time you made it back to your apartment, the city had transformed again. The government’s feeble attempts to maintain order had crumbled. Official channels still insisted that things were under control, but you didn’t need a press statement to tell you the truth. The truth was on the streets- the growing silence, the checkpoints that had appeared overnight, the way people moved faster, heads down, as if they could feel the noose tightening.

You locked the door behind you, throwing the deadbolt, before moving straight to your desk. The small living room was dimly lit, the glow of your laptop screen illuminating the cluttered space- papers, notebooks, a half-empty cup of tea you hadn’t touched in hours. You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply before tapping at your keyboard.

The news was worse than you’d expected.

The local government had lost control of at least three districts, ceding them to an armed force that nobody seemed willing to name. No official statements, no claims of responsibility. Just territory, shifting hands in real-time.

The state broadcaster still played its usual programming- morning news, weather, the kind of soft, palatable updates that told civilians to stay indoors and wait for everything to blow over. But the independent outlets? The ones that weren’t completely muzzled? They were reporting something different.

<<Paramilitary groups had taken control of critical infrastructure.>>

<<Roadblocks had been set up at all major exits from the capital.>>

<<Curfew no longer a suggestion. Now enforced.>>

You scrolled through the headlines, one after another, until you found a grainy video embedded in a local news site. It was shaky, filmed on a phone, but clear enough. Armed men patrolling the industrial district- some in scavenged uniforms, others in tactical gear that looked too expensive to belong to any ragtag militia.

Then you heard it.

A voice- distorted, commanding- barking orders in a language that wasn’t local. As a foreign correspondent, you speak your native language, the local language of the country you're in, and English. This wasn't either.

You hit replay. Again. And again.

They were clearly establishing control, unafraid of being seen.

Your stomach twisted.

___________

You had spent the afternoon pulling together a report for the station back home, trying to tread the careful line between fact and speculation.

The curfew had been announced on the evening news. A strict one. No movement after dark. No exceptions. You had been through protest crackdowns before, but this wasn’t the same. There were no riot police, no water cannons or tear gas. Just silence, creeping in like a thick fog, broken only by the occasional sound of boots on pavement.

You set up your camera by the window, adjusting the angle slightly before checking your earpiece.

"We go now to our foreign correspondent, reporting live from the capital. [Your Name], what can you tell us about the situation?"

You took a breath, keeping your voice steady.

"As of tonight, the city is under strict curfew. Local authorities have officially stated that this measure is to maintain public safety, but what we are seeing on the ground suggests that power has already shifted. Multiple districts are now under the control of unidentified armed forces, and government agencies are struggling to maintain order. There have been reports of military withdrawals from key areas, leaving gaps that are quickly being filled by these groups."

A pause. The anchor’s voice was measured, but there was an edge to it now. "Do we know who these groups are?"

"No official claims of responsibility have been made, but there are indications that this is not a local movement. Eyewitness accounts suggest that some of the operatives seen in the streets are foreign, depending on who you ask you get reports of Arabic or Russian-speaking forces coordinating movements in the city’s industrial district. While we cannot confirm the exact nature of their presence, this development raises serious concerns about outside influence in what is quickly becoming an escalating conflict."

Silence from the other end. Then, a carefully chosen question. "And what does this mean for the people still in the city?"

You exhaled, glancing out the window at the empty streets below.

"It means that whatever is happening here is bigger than we were led to believe. And for the civilians caught in the middle? It means they’re on their own."

The broadcast wrapped up soon after.

You shut off the camera.

Outside, the city had gone eerily quiet.

[xyfleurian]

✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ a not-so alcohol free beach day

Chosen Pairing : Caitlyn Kiramman x Vi

CaitVi Week Day 4 Prompt : Beach Episode

Word Count : 1,210 words || ao3 link

Ficlet Song : alcohol free - twice

“Vi, trust me. You need sunscreen,” Caitlyn insists, while Vi had consistently avoided all of her attempts to put even a little dab of sunscreen of Vi's skin.

“Cupcake, I'll be fine! Besides, it's already past noon. I'm sure the sun's rays is not as strong as it was earlier,” Vi reassures, while Caitlyn simply sighs and gestures for her to go.

Vi excitedly runs to the coast, throwing a beach ball toward Jayce's head as she feels the sea through her toes. The two were drastically different in their own rights, but at the same time pretty similar in how they acted around each other. They bickered like siblings, and all that their partners could do were shake their heads and sigh. It was as if they lost all intelligence when together, making them somehow inseparable.

Often times, the people around them would think that they bond over the fact that they lose brain cells around each other. Which is partially true to an extent.

“Pass me the sunscreen, Caity. Leave those puppies on their own, they'll come back once they get sunburned,” Jinx snickers as Caitlyn handed her the bottle of sunscreen.

“I still cannot comprehend how Viktor handles that hunk of junk.”

“Eh, it's quite simple. I don't,” Viktor adds while laid on his sunbed, sipping on his piña colada.

Caitlyn laughs, as she herself sits down and puts on sunscreen. Her eyes watch as Jinx runs toward the water with a blue floatie, slipping in between the bickering duo of Vi and Jayce. The girl was chaotic, a contrast to the young girl she had taken under her care. The said girl, Isha, taps Caitlyn's shoulder while gesturing that she wants the sunscreen.

Caitlyn smiles and attempts to help, but Isha insisted that she does it on her own and so, Caitlyn lets her. The two later head to the beach, leaving Viktor relaxing under the sun with a cocktail in hand. Mel and Sevika would later emerge from their own cottage, the two women heading to the bar before anything else. It seemed like the day ahead of them was a promising one, and one that they would enjoy thoroughly.

—

The sun had set when everyone returned back on land, both Jayce and Vi suffering sunburns on each of their shoulders as they walked to the open door karaoke and dinner area. Caitlyn was the first to leave the water, then it was Jinx who had Isha with her, until everyone else had left as well. Mel and Caitlyn were currently lounging in front of Mel's cottage while the others were enthralled with videoke machine that the resort provided.

“Jayce, quit hogging the karaoke! Next song's mine!” Vi yells, while a tipsy Jayce tries to dodge all her attempts to steal the mic.

“Wait, you're gonna sing Candy Pop?” Jinx asks, and Isha immediately lights up at the mention of the song.

The girl was a once, thanks to Caitlyn who introduced the kid to k-pop girl groups. At first it was only watching music videos, especially Heartshaker, until Isha had started collecting photo cards of Sana that Jinx had to buy her photocard sleeves and a binder. So much for adopting a collector kid.

Vi had eventually gotten hold of the mic, she forbade herself from drinking tonight so Jayce who already had a few shots was no match for an energetic her, even if she had sunburns that were sore and had cooling cream all over them.

“Yes, yes I am. You hear that, cupcake? I'm singing Twice songs for you!”

Caitlyn looks at her from outside Mel's cottage, smiling at her direction when the song's instrumental finally played. Vi sang the lyrics correctly, which was quite surprising since she rarely listened to these type of songs, while Isha danced to her singing. Jinx was recording while Viktor, Jayce, and Sevika were huddled over a corner playing cards. Jayce was losing, and he didn't understand why.

“Dork,” Caitlyn whispers, her fingers circling around the shot glass, debating whether she should do it. Mel herself already took a shot of pure gin, and the two women were unsure on how they had gotten to this point.

“Are you going to take the shot or should I?” Mel asks, and Caitlyn rolls her eyes before taking the shot.

Caitlyn scrunches her face at the strength of the drink, and immediately feels the effects of it. She shrugs it off, looking back to Vi who winked at her. Vi had always been a charmer, but now, the effects of the alcohol only made her more alluring.

—

Vi had found Caitlyn seated on their rented room's floor as she opened the door, the latter's head rested on the edge of their bed. Jinx was sitting right beside her, and Vi had immediately understood what was happening. Caitlyn was drunk, absolutely drunk to the core. And Vi was enjoying herself while Caitlyn had played around with liquor.

“Alright, who gave cupcake the booze?”

Vi asks, and Isha immediately points to the other cottage. She looks at Jinx with a raised eyebrow, and Jinx immediately gasps in mock offense. The two seemed to have communicated with gestures until Jinx finally spoke up to defend herself.

“In my defense, Caitycat was already drinking with Goldie when me and Sha came here. You saw it! She was already drunk when she came in walking around zigzaggy!” Jinx explains, and Isha nods in agreement.

Vi sighs, gently tapping Caitlyn's shoulder, as the woman looks up and dazedly stares at her. Caitlyn raised her finger booping Vi's nose before giggling, pulling Vi down to sit with her. Jinx covers Isha eyes, telling her to look away while Isha tried to peek through between Jinx's fingers. Either way, the two were watching a lesbian romcom unfurl right in front of them as they moved to their side of the room.

“You look like my girlfriend,” Caitlyn says, poking Vi's face with her fingertips.

“Do I really?” Vi asks, and Caitlyn nods in agreement, reaching out to pat Vi on the shoulder. The contact made Vi hiss, since her sunburn would still take a while to heal and Caitlyn didn't fail to notice it.

“Sorry, did that hurt? Huh... Did my hand burn you? Oh my god, the gin made my hand burn you,” Caitlyn babbles causing Jinx to laugh hysterically on her and Isha's bed.

“Cupcake, you didn't burn me. The sun did.”

“The sun did...? Oh right! You didn't put sunscreen on. What did I tell you, hm? You should've listened to me,” Caitlyn slurs, gesturing with her hands as she yawns and lays her head on Vi's shoulder.

“I got it, I got it. Next time I will. Geez, look at you. You told me not to drink and you turn around and get drunk yourself,” Vi mumbles.

Caitlyn had tried to reply, but Vi had shushed her which resulted her being whiny. Jinx, on the other hand, was recording the entire exchange which made it clear she was using it as ammo against Caitlyn when she wakes up with a bad headache in the morning. Vi just hopes Caitlyn doesn't secretly down another shot of gin while she's distracted again.

[papaya-queen]

Teenage Dirtbag babyy !! - F2/3/F1 academy grid

my first smau - please be kind I’m new with the tools

Y/N x Paul Aron - Ollie Bearman x Andrea Kimi Antonelli - Abbi Pulling x Doriane Pin

<3

Later - 3 am

Yourusername

Yourusername I’m just a teenage dirtbag babyyy

tagged : paularon_, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, racerbia and 6 others

User1 young drivers on social media are a blessing

User2 WAIT IS THAT OLLIE AND KIMI ?!!

            User3 AND DORIANE AND ABBI ?!!

maxverstappen1 stop posting on social media and answer our calls

User4 oh to be a part of that friend group …

<3

Racerbia

Racerbia never let Y/N plan the hangout

tagged : yourusername, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, paularon_ and 6 others

Yourusername hey !!! It was amazing !

User6 AFTER BEARNELLI AND PINING WE GOT PAULY/N ?!!!

Arvid.lindblad actually the best hangout of my life

            Yourusername finally who someone likes my hangout plan

            Landonorris wait until tomorrow morning

<3

The next day

Sunlight was already picking through the curtains when Y/N woke up. Her head was hurting, like someone was hitting it from inside. She tried to get herself up, but some weight was keeping her pinned against the mattress. She turned her head and saw a blond head she knew too well. Sure, her and Paul were big on physical touch but sleeping like this never happened. She carefully shifted to see the room without letting go of Paul’s embrace.

Y/N observed the room and the people in it. She could recognize Kimi and Ollie on the couch opposed to her, the older spooning the other. She had a moment of confusion, but she knew Kimi and Ollie had always been big on PDA even as friends. She kept looking around, checking if all her friends did make it back to the apartment. Arvid, Dino, Maya and Bianca were all sleeping on the floor with some blanket resting on them. And on the armchair, you could find Abbi and Doriane literally glued to each other, managing to fit in the tight chair. Y/N tried to get up to go eat something but all the moving and shifting in Paul’s arm woke him up.

“Hi princess!” he said with the sleepiest voice ever.

“Hi baby!” she responded, hugging him tighter.

Then she got up, after spending a few minutes convincing Paul to let her go. Y/N walked to the kitchen, open the door and faced Charles, Max, Oscar and Lewis. She brutally closed the door before reopening it. “Good morning, everybody!”

“Good afternoon actually!” Charles pointing the clock on the wall. He was right, it was indeed way past noon. 3pm actually.

“So, what’s the reason for the visit?” said Y/N trying to act cool in front of her 4 grid-dad.

“Humm…You don’t remember last night, do you?” Oscar asked.

“Euuh no …?” She responded.

“Well, we have a little explanation to do when everyone wakes up” Oscar sighed.

Max stood up and entered the living room to shout, “EVERYONE WAKES UP NOW!” The mass of teen made a groaning sound, some of them complaining about their head. There was also some confusion like Abbi and Dorianne who were looking at each other, not understanding the how and why they were like this. Same for Kimi and Ollie. After a couple minutes, the other older driver entered the room and told everyone to sit and listen to them.

“You kids are fucking mental; you should definitely know that! Before we start scolding each of you, do you actually remember what happened yesterday?” Charles was endorsing his role as the principal grid-dad of those kids.

“I remember that we met up here, we drank maybe one or two beers then we went to the bar.” said Kimi, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes, and Y/N picked up a worksite cone and put it on her head.” Gaby completed.

“I remember something about Ollie and Kimi, and Abbi and Dorianne, like they kissed or something like that” Arvid said earning some weird looks from the four.

Bianca finished their story and added “I remember Y/N got stuck on a tree, we called Oscar to help but Paul got her back before he arrived.”

“Well we have a base to work on” Max said pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s actually not that bad, I thought they would black out like completely.” said Lewis.

“So kids, you all got wasted at the bar and started doing random shit, like sitting on rooftops, stealing shopping carts, scooters and you also did some private things, you should check your insta especially Bianca and Y/N” Charles resumed the whole night and let all the teens check on their insta and realized all the things they did while he decided with the others grid-dads to post something to try to peace the situation.

<3

Charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 2 others

Charles_leclerc why did we have to adopt that many teens?

Tagged yourusername, paularon_, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli and 7 others

Olliebearman  we’re sorry dad 😖🥺

            Yourusername speak for yourself

User8 the dads regretting their choice 🤣😭

Paularon_ it hurts but it was amazing

User7 The Bearnelli and PaulY/N pic 🥹

Dinobeganovic_ never let me have alcohol ever again

            Maya_weug same

            Gabrieleminiofficial same

____

well that's it ! I'm kinda proud of this, i hope you're gonna love this as much as me ! byye :)

[ultimate-chickennougat]

| Your Salaryman Husband | (Vol 9)

Vol 1 Vol 2 Vol 3 Vol 4 Vol 5 Vol 6 Vol 7 Vol 8 (Not Required)

Salaryman!Kento x Housewife!Reader

When Nanami accidentally rolls onto you in your sleep...

Word Count: 1.1k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, fem!Reader, reader wears a nightgown, Nanami is worried, very slightly suggestive.

A/n: This started as Nanami bringing you flowers and ended up as whatever this is?... (I'll do that next volume instead!)

Nanami sat at the dining room table, staring down at the few hours worth of paperwork before him. As per usual he was already burnt out from his work at the office, but of course it didn’t stop there. One of the joys of getting married was making quite a few large purchases, especially since the two of you didn’t live together beforehand. It had you very grateful he already had a car in good condition, as to not add another thing to the list. 

Unfortunately for Nanami, this wasn’t the kind of work he could get done with prior to coming home to you. Instead, he had to piece every budgeting document and report from various companies at home, and you had offered to join him in doing so. It went a lot faster thanks to your help, but seeing you all tired was not something he wanted to come from such menial tasks in his opinion. But the work was almost done, and most of the documents would finalize the purchases and regular payments that the two of you would need to make.

You were well accustomed to handling the household finances, keeping track of how much you spent each week at the grocery store, and trying to cut back on costs through growing vegetables and eating at home as much as possible. The two of you tried to run everything by each other whenever something was purchased, so your insight was very much appreciated by him. 

In between your yawns, Nanami let out a soft chuckle as he flipped through some pages and sat them to the side. After a few hours of jotting down figures, it was quite satisfying to watch them get slid into an envelope, placed into a box, and sealed away to not be touched for (hopefully) the next decade at least, assuming everything was done correctly.

You laid your head gently down onto the table, as Nanami moved his hand to cup your cheek and act as a pillow. Dinner was already cooking in the oven, a simple one-pan dish of vegetables and protein to be paired with fresh fruit you had purchased from the market earlier that day and ice cream as dessert. The scent flowed throughout the house, making you especially hungry, but it mostly lulled you closer to sleep.

Watching his cute little wife so tired and sweet, Nanami wouldn’t have been able to stop a smile from overcoming his face if he tried. In fact it was another thing that he loved about you, how despite being ready sleep in until noon the next day, you still got up and served the two of you dinner, making sure that everything was in place to make the next day go as smoothly as possible. 

The dishes were washed and set out to dry, and both of you changed into your clothes for the night. A pair of simple pajama pants and a loose fitting shirt for Nanami, and a cream colored nightgown for you. After brushing your teeth, you slid into bed with your husband following behind. 

If you weren’t so tired, Nanami would have acted on his urge to smother you with kisses. Instead he settled for just one, right on the lips held there for a couple seconds. To that you protested, “Kento I’m not that tired, you don’t have to go to sleep-,” but he cut you off. “I’m serious you need rest, goodnight my love,” he slipped under the covers, gently spooning you close as you drifted off to sleep. 

However, those urges didn’t seem to subside. Though usually still throughout the night, acting as a cage as you squirmed around, while deep into his own dreams he managed to turn onto his stomach… with you underneath him. Absolutely smooshed into your pillow, you woke up quickly and turned your head to the side to keep your ability to breath well. 

Your husband was large, that you knew, but for that to become a problem was quite rare when it was usually appreciated. It was that and the fact that he was gripping you so tightly, arms crossed over your torso like you would to a stuffed animal, an inescapable hold that still wasn’t yet uncomfortable. You thought about waking Nanami up for a bit, trying to wriggle out of his arms or push him off of you. Breathing wasn’t a problem and you didn’t exactly mind the closeness, though he was a bit heavy… so it took a good half hour for you to finally build up the will to ask him as you started to overheat. 

Ignoring your lack of sleep, by that time you were giggling at the look on his face when he finally woke up and moved. Nanami sat up on the bed, a slight flush to his cheeks and his lips had curled into a frown. “My love, don’t feel bad to wake me up,” he stated sternly, checking to make sure you were okay in a slightly frantic manner. “I’m sorry, Kento, but I’m okay, I promise,” you reasoned with him, to which he shook his head. “Either way I apologize, I’ll try to make sure this doesn’t happen again,” you snuggled back into the blankets, pulling Nanami by the hand so he laid down as well. 

“Are you sure you don’t want water or something? It must have been uncomfortable,” Nanami tried to get up to go grab some, but you remained clinging onto his arm. “I’m okay, it wasn’t bad,” you yawned with a smile, “In fact… I rather liked being so close.” In all your nights of sleeping in the same bed together, now nearing your fourth month of doing so, you never had encountered him doing such a thing. Something to note about what happens when you, his wife, the love of his life, looks a bit too irresistible and he cannot indulge as usual. 

Nanami hummed, letting out a yawn himself. He turned you around to face him, as you closed your eyes. “Like this?” he asked, admiring your face that was tucked into his chest. He breathing slowed down, worry leaving his mind as he relaxed with you. “It’s perfect,” you smiled, “Goodnight, darling.”

[writersdrug]

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 10)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: Thankfully, things have been resolved between you and Konig. You start to settle in more with your team, and Roze shares a few thoughts with you over a smoke. The memories are still there, but just like the winter around you, they're cold and unwelcoming. You and Konig open up to each other a bit more, more than you had ever opened up to anyone.

WARNINGS: implications of masturbation, cursing, angst (if you squint?), plot building, graphic depictions of animal torture and death (PLEASE CONSIDER ALL WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME thank you kindly)

Notes: Yes! Hello! I exist!! I've been in a slump, and I really do apologize for that. Many of you have been very patient with me and I love and appreciate you all for it! I had to intake as much CoD literature as I could in the past few weeks to get me motivated, which helped a LOT (not to mention I discovered no fewer than ten works that currently have a hold on my heart). But it's here! I forced myself to write over half of the following chapter so that it would be less daunting to finish up. I also plan to make a wip post for yall, just to share will everyone what goes on in my rat brain.

This was edited at 3 am (god it's 4 am now, i just saw that), so if there are any grammatical or spelling errors you have my full consent to call me out on it! Please enjoy!

(sidenote, I completely didn't research how old you need to be to become a navy SEAL, so reader's age is a bit inaccurate in regards to that. pls ignore lol)

(last sidenote then you can read, does anyone have tips for customizing the layout of their fics? I see so many cool ways to style the font and cute banners and errything but I have no idea how nor what to do)

- - - -

The sky hung low with a blanket of gray. It looked like it was about to snow, although the threat was soon dismissed when noon came around and there wasn’t a single flake. The air was cold and dry, forcing me to zip my jacket up all the way and tuck my nose into the collar. I blew steady, warm breaths into my jacket and tried to soak up the heat into my bones.

It was as if the incident had never happened.

Konig and I ended up driving to the liquor store, which was a blessing, since I had run out of Yeungling (and I didn’t understand enough Turkish to converse with the clerk, nor did I have any of the appropriate money – Konig was graced with both of those necessities). We talked like there had never been a week and a half of silence between us. He talked about how he had nearly forced Ridgeback to drag me out of my room and into the common area, “… but it would have been too early for that.” He commented. That, and I would have rather died.

So life went on as normal: dreary, aside from shooting people and getting shot at. Nonetheless, it was normal, and there was a peace to be found in that.

I leaned against the building to the training room, with Roze to my left. I had intended to come out and soak up whatever natural light I could – when I saw her standing there, possibly trying to do the same, I felt the instinct to play it off as if I was just leaving the building. But she cocked her head in a greeting, and a part of me took an interest in her worry-free aura. Out of everyone, she always seemed to be the least-stressed person in the room, even in the middle of a warzone. It was the balm to my anxious mind that I never knew I needed, but gratefully stood by.

We remained together in a comfortable silence (one I would most definitely would not have been comfortable with a while ago), staring ahead, watching the indecisiveness of the brooding clouds above. I wondered what the rest of the world was doing – if they might have been as calm and carefree as us, or if they were in some kind of peril, and the horrors of it were blocked out by the clouds.

I was drawn back to the present when I heard the click click click of Roze’s lighter. I turned my head and watched as she shielded the weak flame from the wind, lighting the cigarette that hung loosely from her lips.

“You smoke?” I asked.

“Sure do.” She replied nonchalantly. “Want one?” she extended her pack of cigarettes towards me.

I glanced at the box, feeling a sour taste in my mouth.

I lay on my stomach, my muscles still twitching and shaking as I tried to even out my breaths. Ghost had tossed a thin blanket over my lower half. I hadn’t even moved from the position he had ruthlessly fucked me in – my body ached too much to even try, and my mind was still recovering from the past hour.

I watch Ghost as he reclined next to me, pushing the bottom of his mask up to place a cigarette between his lips. It was the first time I had seen any part of his face all day. He grabbed his lighter from the pocket of his pants that were discarded on the floor, lighting the end of the cigarette and inhaling. He tossed the lighter back down to the floor as he tilted his head back, exhaling a long stream of smoke. I watched it swirl in the lamplight, settling in a cloud around us. He continued puffing, staring at the wall across from the bed as I lay beside him, although I felt worlds away from him.

He'd started off the night with a mountain of stress from a mission gone sideways. Instead of the usual slow build, where he would run his hands under my shirt and kiss my lips slowly and tenderly – he had walked in and immediately demanded I remove my clothes while he began stripping out of his. I had assumed tonight was going to be a passionate one, until he threw me onto my stomach and shoved my face into the pillows. It wasn’t the first time he’d been rough with me, but it wasn’t just rough – it felt dehumanizing. An hour of constant, merciless thrusts, and a hand around my neck that restricted both my blood flow and my oxygen, and I had fallen into a state of shock.

But, in the end, I was happy to be caged in by him again.

I was happy.

He turned his eyes towards me, seeming to sense that something was off. He exhaled another puff of smoke. “Everythin’ alright?” he asked, completely void of any genuine concern.

I met his eyes with my own. I felt like I shouldn’t have to answer the question, and it stirred up a bitterness in me. But I didn’t feel like arguing with him, and I certainly didn’t want him to leave – so I nodded my head, slowly blinking my eyes. “Just tired.”

He hummed and faced the wall again. He brought one of his knees up and rested his arm against it. “Want a smoke?” he asked, still looking away.

I shook my head as much as the pillow beneath me would allow. “No.” I replied.

He sighed disappointedly. Apparently, my lack of enthusiasm after being used like an old fucktoy was irking him.

To be fair, I never spoke up about how I felt.

He grunted and rose from his position, snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray by my bed, and picking up his clothes and pulling them on. My heart ached slightly as I watched him slide his shirt over his torso. I felt the threat of tears sting in my eyes as I wished his hands were holding me instead, keeping me warm and grounded. He pulled his jeans on and fastened them, buckling his belt rather quickly; and all while he faced away from me.

“Well, I know you probably need some alone time.” He muttered, sliding the skull attachment over his mask. “So I’ll get going. I’ll see you around.”

He grabbed his tactical vest and jacket and slung them over his shoulder. He paused by the door. “Thanks for tonight.” He mumbled, before finally leaving the room and softly closing the door behind him.

My eyes lingered on the ashtray with the half-smoked cigarette. A thin trail of smoke plumed into the air – I wanted to throw the tray across the room and shatter it. But it was Ghost’s, so I couldn’t; I couldn’t regardless, because it was a piece of him that remained with me, even when he left.

That, and the smell of smoke.

“Nah, I’m good.” I replied, facing the cold, empty base ahead of me.

“Good.” She said, pinching the cigarette and blowing a stream of smoke. “Stay that way. Did you know these bastards give you cancer?”

I chuckled into the collar of my jacket. “Do they, now?”

She hummed affirmatively, sucking another breath in through the cancerous bastard. “Who would’ve thought…”

We fell back into silence. I continued watching the stillness of the base, trying to see if the sky would follow through with its promise to fall. Now that my free time wasn’t spent holed up in my room, it somehow felt like there were fewer ways to spend it. With another mission on the horizon – a simple recon, yet dauntingly close to a heavily-guarded compound – no one was out and about when they usually were. Finding Roze outside and seemingly not worried was usual, however, and a warm sight, compared to how the rest of the team was on edge. Even Askel seemed grumpier than most days.

I hadn’t been seeking out someone to spend time with, no… that I would never do (or admit). But talking to a familiar face provided a comfort I had grown to need over the past couple of months. And, frankly, I felt like Konig might be getting tired of how much I ran to him when I craved social interaction. Though he had never said anything about it, I felt like I needed to branch out to other team members than just my Colonel. One might think I was trying to kiss his ass (I knew the accusation had already crossed Juno’s mind, but the young soldier was good at holding his tongue – when Konig was around, at least).

“You ever think about how ‘little girl’ you would react to this?” Roze asked, and I turned to face her. She had her nose scrunched, and a tinge of pink dusted over her cold cheeks. “Guns, war, no playdates or days at the beach…”

I sighed. “Probably would have cried.” I replied, allowing my freezing nose to poke over the collar of my jacket. “Especially if I had known that being a princess now adays meant spending more time worrying about becoming a hostage than anything else.”

Roze chuckled. “It’s a good thing we didn’t know then.” Her face was mostly blank, but I thought I noticed a hint of bitterness in the way her gaze landed on the ground. I watched her flick her cigarette with a bit more aggression than usual. “I would’ve tried to convince my entire family to run away to Scotland, live in hiding and pretend the rest of the world was a dream.”

“Scotland?” I asked. Soap’s cocky grin and heavy Scottish accent stirred in my mind, but it felt like nothing more than a small cloud of dust.

“Yeah – heard it’s fucking gorgeous over there.” She waved her cigarette in no particular direction. “Now, I don’t know how peaceful it is in terms of politics and war, but it’s pretty spacious. Simple, too. I feel like if I talked about throwing all my shit away and becoming a fisherman for a living, I wouldn’t get people trying to talk me out of it like I would in the States.” She took another drag, and laughed out the smoke.

“Fisherman?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled, a hardened smile gracing her lips. “I don’t know why it sounds so appealing… it just does.”

I hummed and looked back out at the compound. I wondered about Roze’s past; she had never said or done anything to indicate that it was particularly rough, as it was for the majority of us (us – I still wasn’t used to including myself, but it was becoming more of a habit each time), but the weariness in her eyes when she spoke about her younger self made me question what that girl had been through. Maybe it was just nostalgia. A yen for simpler times. Roze seemed to appreciate the simple things in life.

“You know Askel goes ice fishing?” she said suddenly.

I smiled underneath my jacket. “Seems like something he would do.”

“Every winter.” She continued. She dropped her cigarette to the floor and crushed it into the gravel. “He takes about three weeks of leave, if we’re lucky enough to get it, and goes to Norway. Sits on a frozen lake for hours a day, just waiting for a fish.”

“You make it sound like he’s never caught one.” I point out, my eyes lingering on the cigarette.

She shrugged her shoulders. “So does he. Every time I ask him what he caught, he just laughs. Says he’s never expects to get a bite.”

I closed my eyes and hummed in response. It was easy to picture the scene – Askel, sitting on a thick layer of ice, nursing the hoppy beers that he and Konig loved so much and waiting for a fish to bite. I wondered if he even bothered to reel the line in when he did catch something. Or if he even went fishing at all. Maybe he just went out there to get a sense of peace, to pretend that war and death didn’t exist.

The motion of thick, heavy snowflakes falling from the sky caught my attention. They landed on the skin of my nose, resisting the warmth for a few moments, before they eventually melted into trickles of water. A sudden gust of wind blew a flurry of them towards us, making the both of us flinch.

Maybe fishing doesn’t sound too bad.

- - - -

The shooting range was mostly silent, save for the occasional conversation between me and Konig. The lights were low, easily illuminating the gunpowder and dust swirling in the air. Konig and I stared at the paper target as we analyzed my shots. A few hit dead center, although most of them were clustered around the lower left of the bullseye. My lips were pursed into a scowl as I glared at my sub-par aim – it wasn’t typically so awful, but of course it was while Konig had been watching.

“Eh, are you sure you didn’t lie on your paperwork about being a sniper?” Konig asked as he stood behind my left shoulder, taking the target from my hands and looking at it closely. “You weren’t even ten yards from it. This is very poor marksmanship.”

I scowled in embarrassment, taking my pistol to the counter and pulling out the mag. “Rough day.” I answered bluntly as I started packing more bullets into the small compartment. It wasn’t a lie – I had barely gotten any sleep the night before. I was in the middle of a rather interesting dream involving me and Ghost, until my alarm woke me up before anything of importance happened.

“Very bad…” he mumbled to himself. I clicked my tongue in annoyance.

“Y’know…” I grumbled, loading the mag back into the gun and shoving it in my holster, “I don’t like stereotyping, but the boot really does fit you.” I walked past him and out into the hallway, not waiting for him to follow.

“Hmm?” he made an indignant noise, momentarily stuck in his spot, before he came jogging after me. “What does that mean? What stereotype?”

I chuckled. “Haven’t you ever how Germans are extremely blunt?” I asked.

“Austrian.” He retorted. “Do I need to brand that onto my face for you?”

“Wouldn’t do me much good, with the mask ‘n all.” I replied.

He laughed – rather snorted, as usual – “Ah, you’re right. Maybe I am blunt – just as much as you are defensive.”

I stopped at the end of the hall, right in front of the exit. “Defe-“ I turned on my heel to scowl at him. “I am not defensive! Where did you get that idea?!”

He stopped behind me, his eyes widening. He gestured an open palm in my direction. “This.”

I huffed, turning back around to punch the door open. The snow from earlier that day had ceased, blanketing the base in a thin layer of white. The moon seemed that much brighter against the crystalized ground, and the yellow lights scattered across the compound made parts of the snow look like sandy dunes. My nose tingled from the nip of the chilly air, and I pulled my jacket tighter around my body as the door fell shut behind me and Konig.

“Well, what am I supposed to say when you call me defensive?”

“You could agree.”

“But I don’t.”

“Which proves my point.”

I huffed in frustration, despite the smirk curling on the edges of my lips. “So, either I have to agree with you, whether I really do or don’t, or you’ve corralled me into a paradox.”

I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “A what?”

“A paradox, like a – y’know, never mind. It’s too difficult to explain.” I let him fall in step next to me, although he was the one who needed to slow down to match my pace. “We can just agree to disagree, how’s that?”

“Agreed.” He nodded, and I chuckled. “It won’t change the fact that I’m right, you know.” He added.

I bit my lip and tried to keep my smile from growing ridiculously larger. I looked up at him and patted his shoulder – he looked down at me, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled back. A stray, reddish-brown curl poked through the side of his balaclava, and I found the miniscule detail warming my heart through the cold air. He felt real, and in this moment, too human for this kind of life.

“Why did you choose the military?” I asked, turning back to look at the ground as we walked.

He hummed. “Isn’t that every boy’s dream?”

“Well, yes – but most of the time, it never becomes more than that.” I responded.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, mimicking my own position. “I’m not really sure what made me push so much for it. I almost didn’t make it, for obvious reasons.”

I chuckled. “Size does matter, huh?”

He looked down at me with a deadpan gaze, one that I refused to meet. “It almost did, in a bad way. And I almost backed out before they could be the ones to turn me away. But, of course, they knew they would find some use for my size – so they took me in.”

“And what did they do with you?” I asked, looking back at him.

“A ‘human battering ram,’ as my superiors had so nicely called it.” He framed the description with his hands in the air, as if it had been written on a plaque. I laughed and looked back down at my feet.

“Seriously?” I asked. “So they just had you breaking down doors, and then what?”

Konig laughed with me. “Well, I still had a gun, so I was able to shoot, thank goodness. And I had a bit more gear so I wouldn’t break my bones against the doors – I still dislocated my shoulder a few times, however…” he rolled his left shoulder, as if there was still a lingering pain from how often he had thrown himself at doors. “It was actually during a period of recovery when I proved that I could still be a sniper. My shoulder was still healing, so I had to give up being a battering ram for a while. I was sat with Horangi on the side of the mountain to give him cover. Of course, he was ambushed – he had to fight the Arschgiege right when we were given the order to shoot, so I had to take position behind the gun.” I noticed that his chest was puffed out a bit from pride. “That really knocked their pants off.”

I chuckled, choosing to ignore the inaccuracy of his phrase. “Did it now?”

“It did.” He replied, then looked at the ground. “For a moment. I got a good earful for overstepping boundaries that day, but it’s what ultimately landed me here – so I’m grateful for it.”

I nodded and hummed. “What was Horangi picked for?”

Konig shrugged, his hands now back in his pockets. “He never said what he and Commander had spoken about in his office. But, even if he wasn’t chosen – I like to think we come as a package. If I go, he goes, if he doesn’t, I don’t.”

I felt my heart warm at his words. The memory of how Juno had described Konig couldn’t be farther from my mind. It almost felt like I was talking to someone I briefly crossed paths with in my youth – not a war criminal, not the bloody and stiff soldier who had stepped onto the heli after our first mission. I envied his ability to separate his work stress from the time he had in between missions.

“Why did you decide to join?” He asked, catching me off guard.

It was only fair that I opened up to him, since he was so willing to do the same. Always the one to go first, too. But I had to be careful. I didn’t want this to turn into a pity party, and I didn’t want to dig anything up that I had worked so hard to bury deep beneath my subconscious.

“I was… a weird kid. Like you.” I said, making Konig scoff and roll his eyes. “Looking back now, I hate my younger self. I was so sensitive to what people thought about me, and I just wanted to be independent and strong. I wanted to be a ‘different girl.’” I gritted out the words that left a sour taste in my mouth. “I think I just wanted attention at first – of course, when I heard how everyone said they hated how annoying teenage girls were, and how gullible and weak they were, it just – it made me change. I wanted to prove everyone wrong, it wasn’t just about being different anymore. So, as soon as I turned old enough, I enlisted. Didn’t get to Navy SEAL right away, of course… but I joined every program I was allowed in until I could submit my application.”

I sighed, then chuckled. “Thought my family would say they were proud, that I was successful, that I was doing a good job… they were just angry. Said I was throwing my life away for business that didn’t involve our country.” I opened my mouth to say more, but I ended up scoffing and closing it once again. I felt like I had shared enough.

I looked at Konig, expecting him to acknowledge what I said. “That’s how the story goes…” he would say. But, when I met his gaze, I only saw concern. His brow was creased with what I imagined was pity, and my stomach churned. It was the exact opposite of the reaction I had hoped for. I only wanted to share stories with him, and now it was… this.

“I think you made the right choices.” He said, and I looked away.

“You don’t need to make me feel better, Konig. I appreciate it, but-“

“I’m not just trying to make you feel better.” He said, his accent slightly thicker from his exasperation. “You’re good at what you do. Your parents are just probably worried for you, and they don’t know how to show it.”

I bit down on my tongue, my eyes settling on the building in front of us with a hard expression. If only.

“Maybe that’s it.” I muttered, hoping he would drop the subject. He seemed to understand, and turned to look ahead with a disappointed sigh. My heart sank the tiniest bit at the sound, and I internally scolded myself. Still a people-pleaser, apparently.

We continued walking in silence, the buzz of the lights above us mimicking the static of a communication system that had been severed in a time where it was needed most. The edge of the barracks appeared into our view, just around the corner of the arsenal sheds that stood between us and our destination. I continued to stare at the ground, pretending to watch my steps and try to not slip on the snowy asphalt. My heart twisted with each second of silence that sat thickly between us. It wasn’t technically a fight, but somehow, it felt worse. It felt like the first time I had pissed him off, the first time we had spoken to each other – and god, did I already hate myself for the way I had acted towards him during those first few weeks. I didn’t want to drive another wedge between us, not after the ones that had already been worked back out.

I exhaled heavily through my nose. “Sorry.” I mumbled quietly, but loud enough that I knew it reached his ears. “Sensitive topics.”

He flitted his eyes in my direction, but didn’t bother to move his head. He sighed, and I nearly jolted when I felt his wide hand on my upper back. It rubbed back and forth, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was comforting me. Or, trying to, at least.

“I know.” He said, and his hand rested on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for pushing you.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I was stuck on the feeling of the roughness of his palm, which I could gleam through the fabric of my jacket. How his fingers squeezed gently and released twice. There was no hidden meaning, no forced contact or any kind of attempt to put context into the touch. It was… natural. Warm, comforting, and it spoke a thousand words that I wouldn’t have been able to stomach if he had said them. It broke past my self-hatred and walls of ‘don’t be weak’ that I would have used as my defense if he had tried to verbally convey any sort of consolation. It was the first time I didn’t feel awkward about being so close to him, let alone when he was touching me. I wondered if he did this on purpose, or if he had no idea what he was doing at all.

I let myself stand nearer to him, almost tucked under his arm. I looked up and smiled as genuinely as I could – not that it was hard for me, but because I wanted to make sure that he really knew how much I appreciated the gesture. Although, if he knew that this simple act of comfort would pierce through my outer shell, was it really necessary?

“Thank you, Konig.” I said.

He looked down at me and smiled. That damn smile. I wondered how much more refreshing it would be when he wasn’t wearing his mask. It was already too much for my soul to bear when it was just the crinkling in his eyes that I could see.

“Anytime, Bonnie.” He replied, patting my shoulder before tucking his hand back into his pocket. I grieved minimally at the loss of the touch, but I was happy for what it was. “And I mean it. Anytime you need to talk – or not talk, and do that empty staring that you do – just come find me.”

I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “Anytime?” I asked amusedly.

“Mhm!” Konig replied, his eyes on the ground as he watched his steps. Then, the realization hit him, and his eyes went wide with panic. “Oh- well, eh- I guess, not anytime-“

“You gonna tell me when?” I joked, and he laughed. “You need an open/closed sign on your door.” I jogged ahead, trying to reach the door to the barracks before he did.

“How about this?” he called out, and I could hear the grin behind his mask. “I’ll nail a chalkboard to my door, and if I’m busy, I’ll draw a stick guy jerking off in his bed!”

My cheeks burned after I heard him. “No!” I shrieked, laughing nervously. “You’ll traumatize Juno!” I quickly tried to pin this on someone other than me.

“Juno, hah?” Konig teased, and I had half a mind to run into the building and leave him on the quad. “I don’t care about him. Kid needs to be traumatized.”

I laughed and threw my head back, turning the corner around the arsenal shed. “That’s not very-“

Immediately, my heart leapt into my throat, and I gasped. Konig nearly ran into my back as he skidded to a halt.

Sick, sick, what the fuck, I feel sick-

“Stimmt etwas nicht?” he asked, concerned. “What- oh, scheisse-“

We both stared at the bird on the ground. A crow from the looks of it, though it was hard to even decipher that it was a bird in the first place, due to the state it was in. Its belly had been cut open, entrails and bloody bits pulled from the abdomen and strewn to either side of the bird. Its wings were stretched to their full capacity and most likely beyond it, crushed and missing a large number of feathers. Both of the legs appeared to have been ripped off and tossed to the left of the crow. Its beak was the worst of it all: pried open, the jaw probably broken from how wide it was spread. A haunting look of terror in the crow’s red, glossy eyes made a violent shiver run up my spine.

I exhaled shakily, my eyes still glued to the horror. “Holy shit – what the-“

Konig quickly walked around me and knelt in front of the crow. I shifted to look over his shoulder, still fearfully curious, but he held a hand out behind him, urging me to stay in place. With his other hand, he pulled at one of the bird’s wings, stiff and heavy. Whether it was frozen from the cold, or this was the effects from rigor mortis, I couldn’t tell.

“How – did a fucking fox do that?!” I asked. Are there even foxes in this area? How the hell did one get on base?

“Nein.” Konig replied, still looking at the corpse. His gaze fell upon it with a sense of… familiarity, maybe? “Not a fox, no.”

“Then what? It – whatever it was didn’t even eat-“

“I’ll take care of this.” Was all Konig said. He stood up and marched past me – I was barely able to catch a glimpse of his furious expression. His eyes were hard and narrow, and as he walked away, I noticed that his shoulders were tense and his hands were balled into fists. I didn’t dare say anything to him; he almost looked the same way he did after our first mission together, except this time, his anger seemed to be directed at something, instead of just a post-mission adrenaline high.

“I’ll see you later.” He said over his shoulder. There was an obvious fury to his words, and although I knew it wasn’t intended towards me, it still made me freeze where I stood – almost as if I might anger him more simply by taking a step after him.

Whatever it is… I thought, watching him disappear into the compound, he’s sorting it out. I can take care of myself. Although, with such an abrupt and tense departure, I was at a loss on what to do next. I looked back at the bird; its terrified eyes locked onto the sky above it, frozen in its last wish to fly away from whatever horror it endured.

A shiver ran up my spine, prompting me to look away.

- - - -

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