#and it's the same face but slightly changed

[kirammanswifey]

arcane characters proposing x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: it was so satisfying to have written this after so much dramaaaa. i really liked this dynamic and i'll exploit it with so much more scenarios so be prepared for a lot of fluff, btw my favorite proposal was jayce's, he was all cute and clumsy. as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

The silence in the lab is heavy, interrupted only by the soft hum of the machines he has designed himself. You’re beside him, watching how his fingers move with skill, adjusting a piece of the contraption he holds in his hands. The dim light from the lamps reflects on his face, casting shadows that highlight the features of his face, always so serious, so focused. But in his eyes, there’s something different today. Something... softer, deeper.

You’re used to seeing him in his colder, distant side, but something has changed. There’s a strange calmness in his presence. When he looks up and meets your gaze, his lips curl slightly, a small but meaningful smile.

"Science is my life," he says in his deep, measured tone, as if evaluating each word before speaking. "And it always has been. But some time ago, something changed. Something that... has nothing to do with experiments or formulas. Something I can’t measure or control."

He looks at you with an intensity that feels almost uncomfortable, as if he were exposed, vulnerable, on ground where he doesn’t have all the answers. His voice, though firm, carries a vulnerability he rarely shows.

"You’ve given me more than I thought I needed," he continues, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’s not just what you’ve done for me in the lab. It’s... what you’ve done for me as a person. You’ve been my anchor, my reason to keep going when everything seemed lost. In a world that doesn’t have clear answers, you’re the only certainty I have."

The distance between the two of you seems to shorten. Viktor takes a step toward you, although his movements are slow, as if each one carries meaning. He stops beside you, almost as if it were a gesture of trust, of allowing himself to be vulnerable in your presence. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if preparing to say something that has taken him a long time to decide.

"What I’m about to say... doesn’t have any exact formula. No calculation that validates it," he says, and you can see his hands tremble slightly. "But I know that, with everything I’ve done, with everything I still want to do, I would never feel complete without you."

His voice is soft now, much quieter, as if what he’s about to say is a secret, one he’s revealing only to you.

"I’ve seen you beyond the brilliant mind, beyond the scientist who always challenges me. I’ve seen you as someone who, no matter how many times I shut myself off from the world, continues to be by my side, expecting nothing more than... to be with me."

He takes something from his pocket. A small metal case. He opens the lid carefully, revealing a simple ring, but with an elegance that only he could have imagined and created. The Hextech light reflects off the blue stone, casting glimmers that make your breath catch for a moment.

"My life wouldn’t be the same without you. And if there’s one thing in this world I don’t want to lose, it’s the opportunity to have you by my side forever."

Viktor looks at you deeply, waiting, more vulnerable than he’s ever been. And finally, after all the science, all the advancements, all the sacrifices... he asks you with a sincerity that cuts through the air:

"Will you marry me?"

The silence that follows is absolute. You stay motionless, unable to articulate a word. The weight of his declaration, of his vulnerability, pierces you, but instead of an immediate response, you dive into the intensity of his eyes, looking for something, any sign, any confirmation that this isn’t a dream. Viktor begins to worry, and the discomfort is reflected on his face.

"It’s a shame... I can’t do it the conventional way, kneeling..." he murmurs, his voice trembling. "But... I guess..."

You can’t let him finish the sentence. The anxiety in his eyes, the insecurity in his posture, prevents you from doing so. You move quickly, placing your lips on his with a soft kiss, but one filled with everything you can’t put into words. The world seems to fade away, and all that remains is him, the beating of your heart, and that silent connection between you two.

When you finally pull away, his gaze is still fixed on you, expectant, anxious. With a tenderness that comes from deep within, you take his face in your hands, your fingers caressing his skin as if it were the most precious thing in the world. And it was. He was the most precious thing in your world.

You look deeply into his eyes, every word that leaves your mouth filled with love, promises, and everything you haven’t said until now.

"Yes, Viktor... yes, yes, yes. Always yes."

The air between you both is filled with a new energy, one that needs no more words, because the simple fact of being together is enough.

Jinx

The night has fallen, but it’s not a peaceful one. The air is charged with electricity, as if the whole world is waiting for something, and you, trapped in the whirlwind of the city, can’t help but feel that something is about to explode. Literally.

You walk through the dark alleys of the Undercity, the neon lights flickering around you, when suddenly, a familiar laugh makes you turn. Jinx appears, her electric blue hair waving in the wind and a spark of madness in her eyes. She’s holding a large, seemingly heavy box in her hands, grinning mischievously.

“Surprise!” she says, her voice overflowing with excitement. “I’ve got something incredible to show you. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever seen!”

Before you can say anything, she grabs your hand and drags you toward an open space, where a small platform is set up, filled with wires and explosives. The sense of danger is in the air, but it’s impossible not to feel the adrenaline she radiates. You know that with Jinx, you can’t expect anything conventional, but that’s what makes her so unpredictable. So... perfect.

“What are you doing?” you ask, although you can already imagine the kind of madness she has in mind.

“Doing what I’ve always wanted to do! A celebration of love that no one will ever forget!” she replies, her smile so wide it almost lights up the city’s darkness.

Jinx runs toward an improvised control panel and presses a button with exaggerated theatricality, as if it were a grand revelation. Suddenly, the sky lights up. A flash of colors bursts above you, as if the very chaos inside her wanted to spill over into the universe. Fireworks. A visual spectacle so dazzling that it takes your breath away. It’s as if the whole city is alive, as if life and death themselves were dancing in the sky.

While the explosions of colors fill the air, Jinx approaches you, her eyes sparkling as if she had immersed herself in her own world of madness and love. She’s not one to beat around the bush or speak sweetly, so when she takes your face in her hands, her fingers cold but full of energy, you know what she’s about to say is as unexpected as everything she does.

“Listen,” she says, looking at the colorful stars exploding above them. “What I love most about this world is the chaos. Things don’t have to be perfect or make sense! But... there’s one thing I’m absolutely sure of.”

Your heart beats faster, but you can’t help but smile at her wild declaration.

“I want you to be my chaos,” she continues, her voice full of determination. “I want you to join me in this journey of madness, to hold on to me when I explode, to keep laughing when the world falls apart, to follow me... because you and I are invincible!”

With a nearly mischievous grin, Jinx pulls something from her jacket: a ring. It’s quirky, like everything in her life, with visible gears and sparkling stones, some even crackling slightly, as if they’re about to explode.

“What I mean is... will you marry me? Tell me yes before I run out of fireworks!”

Jinx’s laughter is a little overwhelming, an echo of her own unpredictable essence. But despite all her chaos, there’s something so sincere in her eyes, something that makes you feel that, even though the world may be on the edge of destruction, this moment, this chaos, is the only thing that truly matters.

You stand there, speechless for a moment, overwhelmed by the light bombardment and the madness of the proposal, but when you see how she looks at you, waiting, you realize you have no doubts. Jinx has made it clear in her own language: love is a dangerous game, but you want to play it by her side.

With a brilliant smile, you approach her, and between the lights, amid the roar, you whisper:

“Yes, Jinx. Yes, to this chaos. Yes, always.”

Vi

You’re lying on the couch, comfortable and relaxed, with your head resting on Vi’s legs. The soft sound of the city that never sleeps drifts in from the window, but inside the house, the silence feels cozy. Vi is sitting, her muscles tense but calm, with a thoughtful expression as she plays with your hair, something that always soothes you.

The warmth of her presence surrounds you, and for a moment, everything seems perfect. But something in the air changes. Vi’s relaxed demeanor begins to feel different, as if she’s holding something back. You realize that, for the first time, she’s not being the confident Vi, the one who always has everything under control.

“Are you okay?” you ask, lifting your head from her legs to look at her directly. Vi doesn’t answer right away, and her fingers stop moving through your hair. There’s uncertainty in her eyes, something you haven’t seen before.

She shifts, crosses her legs, but doesn’t seem as comfortable as usual. “You know... I’m not really good with these things,” she says, her voice softer than usual. “I’m always the one who throws punches and solves everything my way, but now...” Her gaze drops to the floor for a moment, avoiding eye contact.

You look at her, sensing that something important is about to come out of her mouth. On her face, that nervous grimace is a clear sign that she’s struggling with herself. Something’s going on, but she doesn’t know how to express it.

“What I mean is... I’ve never been good with words,” Vi continues, letting out a nervous laugh. “And I’m not one for grand gestures or fancy things. I’m not someone who can give you the best, like... you know, expensive jewelry or fancy places. But there’s something I know I want.”

Vi takes something from her pocket, and when you see it, a small ring appears between her fingers. It’s not shiny or flashy. It’s simple, made of metal with a rustic design, almost as if she made it herself. A small symbol of her effort and her love.

“This... isn’t much,” she says, looking at the ring with a slight embarrassment. “I got it with what I could save. It’s not perfect, but... I want it to be a symbol of who I am for you. Of everything we’ve been through together. And... I want us to be together. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, even if I’m not the best at this. Because, despite everything, I love you more than I can put into words.”

Vi looks at the ring like it’s a simple object, but in her eyes, you can see how much it means to her. Her insecurity is palpable, as if she’s waiting for the ring to not be enough. But you know that’s not what matters. You know it’s all she has to offer you, and that’s what makes this moment even more special.

You see her nervous, waiting for a response, and you can’t help but smile. You get up and stand in front of her, gently touching her hands, and when you look at her, the insecurity on her face melts away, though her voice is still a fearful whisper.

“Vi,” you say, with a sincere smile. “I don’t care about the ring, I don’t care about what you couldn’t give me. What matters is that you’ve shown me more love than I ever imagined. Yes, I want to marry you. Yes, I always want to be with you, by your side.”

Vi looks at you as if she can’t believe what she just heard. Her face lights up with a pure expression of relief and happiness. Even though the words aren’t perfect, everything this moment means is in her eyes. She lets out a nervous laugh and, without thinking, pulls you into a tight hug.

“I knew you’d say yes,” she whispers, but her voice is full of emotion. And you, amid the laughter and the embrace, know that despite everything that has happened, this moment couldn’t be more perfect.

Caitlyn

Night has fallen over Piltover, and the city lights shine with a golden glow, reflecting the majesty of the buildings and the life that has always characterized this city. Caitlyn has invited you to dinner at one of the most exclusive restaurants in town, an elegant place, tastefully decorated, where the panoramic view takes your breath away. The atmosphere is calm, yet filled with a sophisticated air. The murmurs of other diners do not interrupt the softness of the background music.

Caitlyn looks impeccable, as always, in her elegant dress that accentuates her delicate but strong features. The soft candlelight flickers on her face, highlighting the concentration in her eyes. From the moment you entered the restaurant, you could sense something in the air, but she is determined to maintain composure, even though her hands occasionally move restlessly over the table.

The dinner goes on as usual, with Caitlyn talking about her latest research advancements, her projects, and concerns about the future of Piltover. But even though the topic is important and her voice is firm, you can't help but notice the tension inside her. She drinks a bit more wine than she normally would, and from time to time, her fingers play with the glass as if she is seeking comfort.

"I've been waiting for this," she says suddenly, her eyes fixed on you, although her tone betrays her nervousness. "I don't know if I'm good at this, but I think... well, I need to be honest. I don't like hiding things, and this is important."

Your eyes meet hers, noticing how a slight blush begins to appear on her cheeks. Caitlyn, the woman who always has a logical answer for everything, now looks completely vulnerable. But it's not her nervousness that makes you smile; it's the way she looks at you, as if this moment is more important than any project or achievement.

Caitlyn sighs deeply and finally gets up from her chair, giving you a little spin around the table. You don't know if it's to calm herself or because she needs to distract her thoughts, but she approaches slowly, as if each step is a challenge. Her hands tremble slightly as she places them on the table, and you realize that something very important is about to happen.

"I know this isn't something I planned in the traditional way," she says, her voice soft but firm, "but... this is how I feel. And I want you to know." She lifts her hand, showing you a small ring, whose shine is subtle but radiant. It is a delicate ring, with a simple yet elegant design, of impeccable quality. And when you see it, you realize it's not just any jewel.

It's the ring her mother wore at her wedding, the same one Caitlyn had seen so many times, the one she had touched with so much love when she was a child. A symbol of tradition, of enduring love. A symbol of family.

"This is my mother's ring," Caitlyn says, almost whispering. "I know it's not a modern ring, nor expensive compared to what I could buy, but... it holds a very special meaning. For me, it means everything I want to offer you. My family, my love, my commitment. My promise that I'll always be by your side."

She looks at you, her eyes shining with emotion, as if it were the first time she showed something so intimate, so hers. There are no doubts in her gaze, only a deep certainty of what she's saying, but her voice remains soft, sincere.

"I love you," she says, with a clarity that reaches straight to your heart. "And I want you to be my partner in all of this, not just in the good moments, but in the difficult ones. Because, for me, there is no one else I want to be with. Only you."

Caitlyn places the ring in front of you, and for a moment, all the bustle of the restaurant disappears. Only the soft sound of her breath and the beating of your heart remain. You know what you have to do, but this moment feels so perfect, so genuine, that the words seem stuck in your throat. All you want to do is take her hand, look her in the eyes, and say yes.

Finally, your words come out with a wide smile. "Yes, Cait. Yes, I want to spend my life with you."

Caitlyn's eyes light up with a happiness that makes you feel as if everything is in its place, as if nothing else matters about what may come in the future. This moment, this commitment, is everything you both needed.

Caitlyn hugs you tightly, and the ring shines on your finger, a symbol of a pure and deep love, born from honesty, vulnerability, and sincerity from a woman who, despite her external perfection, has always been real with you.

Jayce

The day had been long and full of work, but Jayce, with his determined spirit, decided to surprise you. Instead of taking you to a fancy restaurant or preparing something sophisticated, he had a much bolder idea—a homemade dinner. That made you smile immediately, knowing that Jayce wasn’t exactly an expert chef. But you didn’t care; the idea of sharing something so personal with him excited you more than any gourmet dinner.

When you entered the kitchen, you found him with an expression of total concentration, mixing ingredients in a way that left much to be desired, but you found it charming. He had made pasta, something simple, but it had surely cost him more effort than he wanted to admit.

"Surprise!" he said as he saw you approach. Although the dish wasn’t a culinary masterpiece, you sat with him, and despite the imperfections, you enjoyed every bite. The smile on his face as he watched you eat was enough to make everything seem perfect. And when, after a while of talking and laughing, you got up to go to the bathroom, he took the opportunity to open a special bottle of wine.

When you returned, the glass was ready, and seeing the wine in it and the label on the bottle, your eyes lit up with excitement. It was your favorite wine! You couldn’t stop smiling as you smelled it and took a small sip.

But then, suddenly, something wasn’t right. A strange piece caught in your throat made you cough hard. The wine spilled from your mouth as you tried to catch your breath, and in the midst of coughing, a strange sensation made you feel as if something was stuck there. In an instant, Jayce was by your side, looking at you with panic.

"What happened?! Are you okay?!"

With a quick maneuver, almost instinctively, Jayce patted your back and, with a racing heart, helped you spit out what was stuck in your throat. To both of your surprise, what came out was not just a piece of food, but a small ring now resting in your hand.

Jayce was in shock, looking at the ring and then at you, completely red with embarrassment. "Oh no! That wasn’t part of the plan! How did that get there? Everything has gone wrong... I’m sorry, I never imagined this would happen."

You laughed, almost hysterically, as you cleaned the ring with a napkin and held it in your palm. Despite the comical situation, Jayce was clearly frustrated. He wanted everything to be perfect, but you didn’t care. It was clear that all that mattered was that he was there, in front of you, despite the fiasco.

"Are you going to ask me or not?" you asked, the smile on your lips growing as you watched his face change from despair to disbelief.

Jayce looked at you, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He was nervous, completely out of place. "Really? Now…?" he asked, with a nervous laugh. But it didn’t take long for him to do what he had to do. With a shy but genuine smile, he knelt before you, somewhat clumsy but sincere, and with a nervous laugh, he said:

"Well… since it seems I can’t do anything right today, maybe this will be the one thing that goes well. Will you marry me?"

The scene, as clumsy as it was funny, made you laugh even more, but in the end, all that mattered was that he was there, in his own way, loving you. The ring, somewhat imperfect in all its disorder, represented more love than anyone could ask for. Without thinking any further, you took his face in your hands and kissed him tenderly, answering in the simplest yet most profound way possible:

"Yes, Jayce. I do."

Ekko

The Undercity held its own kind of magic. The faint lights of the streetlamps flickered through the mist, and the distant sounds of the markets blended with the steady flow of water running through the pipes. You were sitting on an improvised bench in a hidden corner, surrounded by the crumbling walls, but to you, this place felt like the very heart of the world. Ekko had made it a refuge for the two of you, a space where you could escape from the chaos and, for a moment, forget about everything else except the present.

There was something special about that night. The way Ekko looked at you, the spark in his eyes... it wasn’t like the times before. There was something deeper now, a sense of resolution, as if he was on the verge of making a decision that would change everything. And he did.

"You know," Ekko began, his voice more serious than usual, "I've been thinking a lot about things lately. About how everything we've lived through... everything we've overcome... has changed us." His words carried a weight they usually didn’t.

The conversation didn't seem to be heading towards a cheerful topic, but there was something in the air that told you what was coming was important. You leaned in a little closer, sensing that the atmosphere was charged with something.

He pulled a small device from his pocket, something that looked like an old piece of machinery, but upon closer inspection, you realized it was no ordinary gadget. It was a pocket watch, but not the kind you'd find in a store. This one was modified, a timepiece that seemed designed not only to measure time but also to control something else... something intangible, like destiny. It was something Ekko had built over the years, a reflection of his constant efforts to understand the flow of time.

"This watch," he said with a faint smile on his lips, "is a reminder. A reminder that even when things seem out of control, we can always find a way to move forward. Like us, always moving forward, no matter what comes our way."

He looked at you with a seriousness you’d never seen from him before, and for a moment, he fell silent, as if searching for the right words.

"And… what I’m trying to say is that, even though we don’t have control over time, even though we can’t stop what’s coming, I want you to keep walking by my side. Every second, every minute, every step."

Despite his usual relaxed demeanor, in that moment he seemed more vulnerable than ever. The watch he showed you wasn’t just a machine; it was a symbol of what he had been searching for his whole life: a way to stop time, so that the most important moments wouldn’t slip away.

"So, if at any point you feel the same way," he added, gently taking your hand, "I’d like this... what we’re living... to never end. That we can keep making memories together. I don’t know if there’s a right way to ask, but... would you like to be with me, always?"

He looked at you with a vulnerability you’d never seen before, almost as if afraid you might say something that would break the magic of the moment.

You couldn’t help but smile, at first as if you were in shock, speechless. This Ekko, the one who always had a plan, the one who had faced a thousand battles, was now asking you to be by his side forever, with a sincerity he rarely showed. It wasn’t a grand traditional gesture, but to you, it was even more meaningful.

You were silent for a few seconds, and that made Ekko feel even more unsure, his gaze beginning to fade as if he thought you had already decided not to answer. But before he could pull away or say anything more, you caught him, quickly closing the distance between you.

"Yes," you whispered, but it was a resounding yes. "Yes, Ekko, I want to be with you. Always. I don’t need a watch or a perfect plan. I just need you."

You held his hand more firmly, looking into his eyes, and his lips formed a slight smile, though his face still carried a trace of nervousness.

"Together, forever, babe," he said, pulling you close and resting your back against his chest. You smiled happily as his arms wrapped around you.

You took the watch and kissed it, feeling the cold scent of rusted metal.

"Forever," you replied, and that word felt like the beginning of something eternal.

Silco

It was another night when the soft light of candles flickered, casting shadows in the corners of the room. The atmosphere in Silco's office was charged with tension, as always, but tonight something felt different. The usual coldness of the room had transformed into something warmer. On the walls, shadows danced to the rhythm of the flames, and the scattered papers on his desk seemed to tell stories of past struggles and uncertain victories.

However, Silco wasn’t at his desk. He stood in the center of the room, silently watching you as you leaned against the door, returning his gaze. His presence was magnetic, as always, but there was something different about him tonight. Something more vulnerable in his stance, as if he had been waiting for you—or rather, waiting for you to understand what lay beneath those deep eyes.

“This is a different kind of night,” Silco spoke, his voice grave, deliberate, as if weighing each word. He motioned for you to come closer, but not to him—toward the far side of the room. A table, delicately designed, rested just beneath a window overlooking the chaotic landscape of the Undercity.

As you approached, you noticed several boxes on the table, some open, some closed. One wooden box caught your eye. Silco’s gaze hardened on it, almost as if he feared what might happen when it was opened, or perhaps what it represented. He moved toward it slowly, like someone executing a carefully planned act, and gently opened the box.

Inside lay a ring. It wasn’t the kind of ring you’d expect from someone like Silco—no extravagant jewels, no grand display of wealth. Yet, there was something profound about it. The fine, dark metalwork and the stone that caught the light in a way you couldn’t ignore seemed to tell a story. It was as if the ring itself embodied both the harshness of his life and the softness of feelings he had long kept hidden.

“This is the kind of thing I never cared for,” he said, his tone mixing toughness with an unexpected sincerity. “A symbol without meaning. But since you arrived, I’ve learned that there are things worth more than logic.”

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Silco showed a hint of insecurity. His gaze clouded for a moment, as if he feared your reaction. But instead of saying more, he stepped closer, the ring in his hand, and slowly sank to his knee before you.

“I’ve sacrificed so much, maybe that’s why I never let myself desire more. But now I know. I know because I want you. And because I don’t want to do this alone.”

There was no grand gesture, no theatrics, but the weight of sincerity in his simple act stunned you. He looked up at you, his eyes full of vulnerability, asking for something more than anyone had ever dared to ask before.

“Will you marry me?”

The silence in the room was thick, filled with everything Silco couldn’t say but what his proposal meant. It wasn’t a casual request—it was a serious commitment, as serious as everything he’d fought for in his life.

For a moment, you stood still, heart racing—not because of the surprise, but because of the sheer intensity of his words and the unexpected gesture. You had seen the calculating side of Silco, the way he controlled every aspect of his life, every decision with precision. But this—this was something entirely different. It was the purest form of vulnerability, someone willing to give it all up for love, to risk everything they’d built for someone who meant more than any achievement.

Finally, you took a deep breath and, with a soft smile, nodded. “Yes,” you said, your voice steady but full of emotion. “There is nothing I want more in this world than to be your wife.”

The air shifted instantly. Silco stood slowly, and his normally implacable face softened. It was as if he had laid down an immense weight, as if the future finally had a clear purpose.

Without another word, he pulled you into his arms. In that moment, the shadows in the room seemed lighter, less oppressive. With the promise of a future together, everything that had once seemed distant, unreachable, now felt within both your grasps.

Mel

It was a quiet night, one of those where the sounds of the city reached you muffled, as if time was willing to grant you a break. Mel's living room, as always, was a perfect display of elegance and order, but something about the atmosphere that night felt different, warmer, more intimate. The soft light from the lamps illuminated the carefully arranged furniture, and there was a rare calm in the air, something that only happened when the worries of the outside world seemed to vanish for a moment.

Mel had invited you to her house that night, but not for dinner or a formal event. Instead, she had wanted to show you something more, something personal. And seeing the invitation in her eyes, you knew this moment was special.

When you entered, the house had a more relaxed vibe than usual. The fireplace flickered softly in the background, and the air was filled with the delicate scent of incense. However, what truly caught your attention was what was in the center of the room. A large painting, a framed portrait, was leaning against the wall, carefully placed under a soft light.

"I want you to see this," Mel said with a slight smile, her usually firm voice now tinged with an unexpected sweetness. She approached you, guiding you toward the painting. Though her face didn’t give it away, there was a slight tension in her movements, as if she was waiting for your reaction.

You stepped closer to the portrait, and your breath caught as you saw the image in front of you. It was a portrait of you, painted with a level of detail that only someone like Mel could have achieved. Every line, every shadow seemed to capture something beyond your appearance: a reflection of your being, how she saw you. It wasn’t just a painting; it was an expression of how Mel perceived you, something that had been rendered with such dedication that the work itself seemed to come alive.

"It’s… incredible," you murmured, unable to articulate a more complete response. Mel watched your reaction, her eyes fixed on you, but without saying a word. You knew that, for her, this work meant far more than just a portrait. It was a piece of her soul, an extension of her deepest feelings.

"I did it because… because I wanted to capture something that could never be expressed just with words," Mel said, her tone calm but loaded with meaning. "It’s hard for me to share something so… personal, but with you, I feel like it makes sense."

You turned toward her, surprised by the vulnerability she was showing, so rare in the woman who had always kept everything under control. But there was something in her gaze, something in her posture, that made you see what she truly felt.

Mel took a step toward you, her gaze softening even further. "You are… the only person who has truly shown me what it means to let someone in so deeply. I’ve spent my whole life building walls, creating an image of control, but you… you’ve shown me something I didn’t even know I needed."

There was a softness in her words that you had never heard before. You knew her as a strong, calculating woman, always impeccable. But there, in that moment, in front of you, there was something more, something that only you had been able to awaken in her.

"And now I want you to… be part of my life. I want you not only to be part of this portrait, but of everything I’ve built. I’ve had all the power in the world, all the control I could wish for, but that doesn’t make sense without someone like you by my side."

Mel paused, almost as if she were fighting against herself, and then, with a smooth movement, extended her hand toward you. In her palm rested a small box, which she carefully opened, revealing a simple but elegant ring. It was beautiful but not ostentatious, with a unique beauty, a design that spoke of her personality: refined, but with a subtle touch of surprise. The golden ring glimmered softly under the candlelight, like a reflection of the same gentleness Mel had shown in her words.

"I want you to be my partner," Mel said, her voice a barely audible whisper, but filled with meaning. "Will you marry me?"

The moment was marked by a tense silence, loaded with emotion. Mel wasn’t seeking a grand declaration or an ostentatious proposal. She only wanted to share her life with you, in the way she knew how to do it: with a sincerity that only she could offer.

Without thinking, you stepped closer to her, took her face in your hands, and without saying another word, kissed her softly. The kiss wasn’t just a response to her proposal, but an affirmation of everything you shared, of everything that moment meant.

When you pulled away, her eyes were filled with something you had never seen before: vulnerability, hope, love. You took her hand, and with a warm smile, you said what she had been waiting to hear, what you both knew was true.

"Yes, Mel. Yes. I’ve always wanted this, to share all of this with you."

Mel smiled, her face lit by a deep emotion she had never shown before. Without saying another word, she hugged you, and in that embrace was everything she couldn’t say with words. The future, her promises, her fears, her desires. It was all there, intertwined in an embrace as warm as the painting she had created just for you.

Sevika

It had been a long and dangerous night, more than either of us had anticipated. You had gotten yourself into a mess, bigger than anyone else would have dared to handle, but there you were, beside Sevika, helping her get out of danger. There were a few of Silco's enemies, but with her strength and your ingenuity, you managed to make it all end in the blink of an eye. The tension eased, and calm washed over everything like a wave.

The air was charged with adrenaline, but also with a strange serenity when the two of you were finally away from danger. Sevika, with her impassive face and intense eyes, looked at you with a mix of gratitude and something more. You couldn’t say it was love at first sight or anything so romantic, but there was something about that moment that felt different, something raw, something real.

You stayed looking at her while both of you took a breath, your bodies still trembling slightly from the tension. She was so close you could feel her breath, as heavy and rhythmic as your own. Without warning, her eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, the outside world disappeared. There were no more enemies, no more worries, just the two of you.

Sevika didn’t speak at first. The full moon illuminated the corner where you were, but it was her silence that spoke volumes. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her low voice cut through the air:

"Do you want to marry me?"

You stopped, surprised. Had she really said that? Or was it one of her usual jokes? It couldn’t have been more unexpected, could it? You laughed lightly, thinking it must have been a joke. But when you looked into her eyes, as serious as always, a knot formed in your stomach. Sevika wasn’t joking. Not this time.

"Just like that, out of the blue?" you asked, unable to suppress a smile of disbelief. It was as if all the chaos of the night hadn’t been enough to spill over into the unpredictability of her proposal.

She didn’t flinch, her lips curving into a slight smile, but her eyes stayed fixed on you, determined. "And why not? The best things come out of nowhere, don’t they?" she said with a tone that left no room for doubt. Her voice was strong, direct, but there was a softness hidden beneath her arrogance. Sevika had never been one for too many words, but the few she spoke always carried weight. As if nothing in her was accidental, and every decision she made was calculated down to the last detail.

She looked at you for a moment, evaluating you with the same intensity she always did, then added, "So, do you want to be my little, spoiled wife? I promise to put up with your snoring and you kicking me out of bed for all eternity." She joked, a low laugh escaping her chest, and you were a little surprised by the lightness in her tone, as if, in the seriousness of the situation, Sevika also needed to soften the moment in her own way.

Your reaction was automatic, more because of the teasing tone than the content of what she said. "Hey! I don’t snore that much!" you exclaimed, pretending to be offended, but the truth was, you couldn’t really be angry. You couldn’t be upset, because there was something about her that drew you in in a very unique way.

So, you decided to raise your right hand and move your ring finger. "No ring, no wedding," you warned, then flicked your hair in the air. "I’m not a girl who settles for little, and you know that."

Sevika approached you, never losing her smile. "Believe me, sweetheart, I’ll buy you the biggest, most expensive ring in the world. Tell me how many carats you want, and I’ll get it exactly how you ask for it." Her promise was full of a confidence only she could have. Every word sounded so convincing, so solid, that there was no room for doubt. Sevika never made empty promises, and this was no exception.

Her voice was deep, playful, as if she was willing to fulfill anything asked of her. You smiled, pleased, but something in her attitude sparked a mischievous glint in your eyes. Instead of continuing the joke, you went straight to the point and leaned close to her ear, whispering with a touch of playful innuendo:

"Since the best things come out of nowhere, why don’t we fast forward to the honeymoon?"

Your whisper was soft, but with an undertone of suggestion that didn’t go unnoticed. Sevika blinked a couple of times, clearly surprised by your response. But instead of being bothered, something on her face shifted, and a sideways smile appeared on her lips, as if you had pulled the idea right out of her head.

"I like that," she said, her tone now low and filled with palpable desire. "I love that you don’t beat around the bush." Her voice was hushed, heavy with desire, accentuated by how close she was to you. "Let’s make this night something much more... memorable."

Suddenly, the environment around you both ceased to exist. Only her eyes, the heat of her body near yours, and the certainty that, despite everything, something had begun in an unexpected way remained. The best things come out of nowhere, and tonight, Sevika had shown you that her way of loving, though fierce and daring, was also the most sincere you had ever known.

[bruhstories]

Bet IV

p.1 here & p.2 here & p.3 here

mandatory mdni because things will start to get heated up in the following chapters.

summary: you're starting to feel things for the man who hired you to take care of his cat. but he's only being nice. that's it and nothing more. pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, domestic violence (reader gets slapped by her uncle), veeeery slow burn, reader's dad is dead w/c: 2.1k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can't find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

"Where were you last night?"

You sighed at your uncle's question, sick and tired of explaining the same thing over and over again. He woke up earlier than he should have, especially for a man who worked night shifts at a warehouse. He did it on purpose, just to have more reasons to pick on you, and you knew that all too well. You lived through that hell for the past ten years.

"I told you, I was cat sitting." 

"Cat sitting." He repeated with derision in his voice. "You need to get a real job."

"I have two real jobs." You reminded him, and it took all your willpower not to raise your voice at him.

"Where's the money, then? Huh?" Your uncle grabbed you by the wrist, twisting it backwards.

"I'm getting paid today!"

"How much?" 

"660,326!" You cried out as his fingernails dug deeper into your skin.

"I better see that money on my nightstand by tomorrow morning." He let go of your wrist. "Keep the change."

How generous, you thought, rubbing the crescent-shaped dents in your skin. At least he didn't hit you, but your small victory crumbled when he turned on his heels, smacking you with the plastic fly swatter in his hand. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

You didn't cry, not in front of him. Never in front of him. 

But when you stepped through the doors of Mr. Hwang's penthouse, the dam broke, and tears streamed down your cheeks. They burned when they touched the cracked, swollen skin, courtesy of your uncle, but you still smiled at the sight of Eunjoo.

Instead of waiting next to the water bowl, like she had done before, the cat jumped on the countertop, her paw gently touching your wrist, where the imprinted dents of his fingernails were still visible. You didn't know why, but Eunjoo's gesture made you cry harder, heavy tears falling onto her plate. 

"Good kitty." You sobbed, daring to pet her, and she allowed it, nuzzling your hand for the first time since you met her.

Without wasting a single moment, you took out your phone to take a selfie of you and Eunjoo, and sent it to In-ho, with the caption 'Making progress!' You thought he might be happy to see her slowly lower her guard and get attached to you.

Who hurt you?

Stupid. How could you be so stupid to send a selfie when your cheek was grazed and puffy? Of course Mr. Hwang would ask about it, he was a nice man, one whose kindness you didn’t think you deserved.

I accidentally walked into a lamppost! Silly, right?

Hoping that the lie would be convincing enough, you carried on with your tasks after eating with Eunjoo, and to your surprise, it worked. It fooled him, but you weren’t proud of yourself in the slightest. 

You need to be more careful next time. If anything happened to you, who would take care of Eunjoo until I return?

It shouldn't have hurt reading his reply, and yet your heart ached. What did you expect? You were an employee, he obviously wanted his cat to be safe, not you. And how could someone like him even care about someone you? You came from different worlds that could never intertwine.

I will.

No thank you, no sad face — you were bitter, even though, rationally, you had no reason to be. Besides, you lied to him in the first place. Maybe if you told him the truth, he would have sent a different reply. It didn't matter. In less than five days he would come back, pay you and never speak to you again. Just like all rich people did.

You cleaned the bathrooms that morning, scrubbing the bath tubs, the toilets, the sinks and the floors until your fingertips stung and your head pounded from the bleach fumes. The vibration of your phone startled you, and you wiped your hands to check the notification.

Have I upset you?

Okay, maybe he did care. Or maybe he was just very observant and noticed your monotonous reply.

Not at all, I just have a lot on my mind. I'm sorry that you worried about me, or that I seemed upset! You're right, I need to be more careful next time.

Please don't take this the wrong way, miss, but I've never met anyone who apologised for making me worry about them. You're quite special.

You did a double take when you read Mr. Hwang's reply, and a wave of remorse crushed your heart. The man was too nice for you to lie to him, but you didn't want him involved in your family affairs, either. There was a strong internal conflict within you, a battle between honesty and dishonesty, but for the time being, dishonesty won, no matter how disgraceful it was.

Choosing not to reply, as time was ticking and the Abduls would be waiting for you soon, you swiftly finished tidying up the bathrooms and put away all the cleaning products so Eunjoo couldn't get to them. With the automatic feeder full, fresh water in the bowl and litter boxes clean, you left.

In all fairness, you didn't know what to reply to his text. No one called you special before, except for that one guy you dated who only wanted to sleep with you, and unfortunately succeeded. It wasn't your proudest moment, but you moved on since then. You stared at the text, typing a reply, then deleting it, then typing again, and you did that for the duration of the entire bus ride back to Guryong Village. By the time you knocked on Ali's door, you still hadn't come up with a response.

What could you even say? Thank you? Likewise? I'm sorry I lied to you, my uncle slapped me with the fly swatter? No. In telling the truth, Mr. Hwang would pity you, perhaps even offer you more money, or food, or clothes, and you didn't want to be pitied. You wanted your hard work to be recognised, not to use your social status or depressing background as an excuse.

Mrs. Abdul couldn't feed you that day, and that was fine. They needed to prioritise themselves, since they didn't live any better than you. Luckily, you saved enough money to buy a kimbap roll for lunch and a bag of rice crackers for dinner and breakfast. Resourcefulness was, perhaps, your strongest point and the reason you survived for so long.

The theme park was packed with tourists and locals, gathering to watch the parade, and you took the time to entertain children and take pictures with them, always on your feet, always working. Back in the dressing room, you took the comically large mascot head off, sweat dripping down your face and neck. Summers were worse — there were body parts you didn't think could sweat.

"Excuse me, Y/N?"

You looked up from your seat to a man around your age, a coworker named Donghyun. He had worked there for a few months or so, but you barely spoke.

"Yes?" You smiled, resting your elbows on the mascot head in your lap.

"We're getting paid today, and a few of us are going for drinks after work. I was wondering if you would like to come." Donghyun avoided looking into your eyes, nervously pinching the soft fur of his own mascot.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I have another job I need to get to. Maybe another time."

"Yeah, another time." He nodded. "Hey, could I get your number?"

"Why would you want my number?" You laughed, immediately pursing your lips when Donghyun frowned. "Sorry, yeah, of course I'll give you my number!"

You were such a people pleaser, it was ridiculous, but he seemed to feel better after saving your number in his phone. And there was no harm in making new friends.

"I'll text you later." Donghyun nodded with a smile and left.

What a strange interaction, you thought. It wasn't unusual for men to like you — you were pretty, smart, funny — but you just weren't interested in any of them. In fact, it was their age and maturity that didn't appeal to you. They acted like prepubescent pricks, trying to impress anything with a vagina and a pretty face by being obnoxious and loud and downright irritating.

Older men were different. They had manners, they were respectful and caring. They knew how to dress, knew how to speak to women, kind of like Mr. Hwang.

Oh. 

God, you needed to forcibly remove that thought from your mind before it spiraled into something worse. In-ho probably wanted nothing to do with you — no, he definitely didn’t want anything to do with you. He was just a nice gentleman who happened to not be married. Maybe he had a girlfriend that didn't live with him. Or maybe he worked so much he couldn't afford a relationship. 

Maybe he murdered people.

You laughed at that ridiculous idea — no one in their right mind would do that, especially not Mr. Hwang. He had a cat, for God's sake. Murderers usually killed animals, surely he was just a normal man with a lot on his mind, a workaholic, or a hermit.

Walking into your boss' office, you received your pay and counted the money — 662,326. You got more than you should've, completely forgetting about the pay rise. Your uncle didn't need to know about that, and you took the extra 2,326 and hid it in a small pocket inside your backpack, along with other money you saved. Unbeknownst to him, you secretly opened a savings account in the hopes that one day you would be able to leave and rent your own place, but you only had 1,094,463.60 won, which was barely enough to cover the deposit.

One day. One day you would leave all that abuse behind and have a fresh start. But today was not that day. 

Back in Gangnam-gu, you entered the penthouse earlier than normal and dropped your bag on the floor next to your worn and torn boots. You were hoping they would last through winter because you really couldn't afford a new pair. Eunjoo ran to greet you for the first time, and your heart was filled with joy at the sight of the cat rubbing against your leg. She was growing on you, and you soon realised how much you'd miss her when Mr. Hwang returned. Perhaps he'd let you visit her. 

You turned the TV on and played some songs by ABBA, the sadness of the morning gone, replaced only by joy and optimism. Things would turn out well, you just knew it. You grabbed In-ho's black clothes and placed them in the washing machine, all the while dancing to the beat of Money, Money, Money. It was a song you related to, but you didn't want to find a wealthy man. You just wanted to have enough money to survive without your uncle.

"It's a rich man's world." You sang to Eunjoo, who wiggled her butt, playfully attacking your feet. 

"All the things I could do if I had a little money, kitty. I would get my own apartment, I would donate to orphanages and charities. Oh, don't look at me like that." You frowned when Eunjoo stared at you judgmentally. "I would! There are people out there who need help. But you know what I would get for me? A hotteok! Ah, I would kill for that cinnamony goodness."

You placed the food on the floor and opened the pack of rice crackers. 

"My dad got me a hotteok on my seventh birthday. It was the best birthday ever and- oh my God, I'm talking to a cat." Laughing at the sudden realisation, you shook your head in disbelief. "Well, you're probably my only friend anyway. You don't judge me. You don't care if I'm rich or poor. You just listen and eat. Oh!"

Good evening, Mr. Hwang! Could I ask what your favourite dish is?

You decided that would be your gift. Cooking wasn't your strongest skill, but you were confident in yourself. And who didn't want to come back to a hot home-made meal? Maybe he liked jajangmyeon, or jjigae, or something sweet, like chapssaltteok. The possibilities were endless.

Beef Wellington. Why?

Your heart sunk to your stomach. Beef fucking Wellington? How on Earth could you even afford all the ingredients? The tenderloin itself was probably over 65,000 won. But you were going to do it for him, regardless of what it cost. You felt that Mr. Hwang deserved it. 

I was hoping to cook it for you when you returned. I'll admit, I didn't think it would be such a... fancy dish, but I'm sure I can manage. 

Have you tried it before?

I'm afraid not. Is it good?

Exquisite. You'll have to stay and try it when I return, yes?

Chewing on your bottom lip, your heart skipped a beat at his request. You knew he was just being nice, but you couldn't stop the sudden burning desire to just obey. 

Yeah, I'll stay. 

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn  @hobiesbrownsgf  @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol  @mariiestfu  @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm @nikos-a-clown @cchewhaz @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @red22wolf @nellabear @unabletonotlovesatoru @happiness2112 @waterjewelsspite @luna-looniesnlog @plan3t-plut0 @full-sunnies @houta-habtet-houta @alexisabirdie @riri53 @bluehourss

[dazevi]

thinking about vi in a suit...

cw: vi x reader, fluff, smut (18+ mdni); bottom!vi, top!reader, fingering (vi! receiving), semi-public sex | masterlist

thinking about vi who absolutely hates the idea of wearing one and can’t understand why she can’t just wear something comfortable to this formal party you’re taking her to.

thinking about vi who grumbles under her breath but agrees anyway because, well, she’d do just about anything for you.

thinking about vi who looks so pretty and handsome at the same time and she starts to get why people might like this whole dressing up thing when she sees herself in the mirror—a sleek but slightly baggy black suit, snug in all the right places, showing off her broad shoulders and toned build. but what really sells it is the way you keep stealing glances at her, biting your lip, humming in approval, all while you squirm in your seat, thighs she’d very much like to be in between pressing against each other.

thinking about vi who sticks close to you at first, still feeling a little out of her element at the actual party. it really does help that you look so stunning tonight, dressed in a sexy gown that pretty much distracts her from every other thought crowding in her mind.

thinking about vi who quickly notices the subtle changes in your behavior throughout the night. you’re touching her more—adjusting her tie, smoothing her lapel, fixing her belt, tucking in her shirt properly. and when you lean in close, pretending to whisper in her ear about something but really just breathing in her cologne, she picks up on it immediately.

thinking about vi who can’t help the smug grin spreading across her face when you finally pull her away from the party by her tie, dragging her to some secluded hallway or empty room.

thinking about vi who asks breathlessly against your lips, “what’s wrong, princess?” you’re too worked up to play along, and when you push her against the wall, she lets out a low chuckle, tilting her head back slightly to look at you.

thinking about vi who likes it when you’re all handsy, clawing at the suit, wanting to get it off her, despite working so very hard to convince her to wear one.

thinking about helping vi slip her pants down slightly so you can put a hand into those checkered boxers of hers, feeling her happy trail against your wrist and how wet she is against your fingers. she groans and mutters lowly, “baby, please…” then leans her head back against the wall behind her when you finally slip inside her.

thinking about vi who is struggling so much to stay quiet, whimpering so prettily and breathing so heavily against you when you fuck her harder and faster, her hands gripping your dress for some sort of leverage.

thinking about vi who cums hard around your fingers, wet and sticky, while your other hand pulls her by her tie to crash her lipstick-stained lips against yours as she whimpers into your mouth, her body still trembling.

thinking about vi who looks so good standing slumped against the wall, her hair all tousled, your lipstick slightly smeared across her lips, some red marks peppered on her cheeks and jaw, black tie loosened around neck, her tattoos peeking out under her collar, her blazer almost slipping off her shoulders, one side of her buttoned shirt untucked and her pants loose with her belt undone at her waist.

and with a smirk tugging on the corner of her lips, she says, “hah… think i should wear this more often…”

note: if anyone knows who made the fanart pls let me know so i can properly credit them ! ( found it on pinterest and could not find a name for my life ) fanart by HV_0519 on twt!

[cvnt4him]

Inexperienced izu thanks to candie

just izu who remembers over hearing not only on social media but from some of the guys that eating oysters help with the male cumshot, supposedly making it longer and more enjoyable for women! he obviously had never had a girlfriend before and wanted his partner to be happy with him. Izuku was slightly insecure of what he had, especially because he was on the short side too! Maybe he was overthinking it but he couldn't take any chances!!

The next day you'd see a complete shift in his diet, izuku always had some kind of protein based diet with tons of rice and some veggies to even it out of course but the way it seemed to strictly consist of more water cranberries celery and a ton of oysters concerned you. Izuku loves sea food by all means but too many of the same things get a little annoying, you walked over to izuku and seen him absolutely destroying the oysters and then everything else on his plate. Izu was an eater by all means but this was just crazy to you

“ izu?”

Izuku squeaked and jumped up at the sudden call of his name, nearly choking on his food as he slowly turned to face you swallowing the fuck ton of food he had in his mouth with a hard gulp.

“ oh.. uhm, hi baby! I- I mean uh.. honey...?”

Your heart couldn't help but to flutter at his nervousness, you and izuku had only been dating for about 4 months not that long but long enough to where you occasionally kiss and hold hands and just want to be around each other more. Izuku was your first boyfriend just as you were his first as well, you were easily as excited as he was if not more. Or so you thought...

You mean down and kiss his forehead ruffling his hair as you take a seat beside him making him blush, red crawling up his neck and completely covering his freckled face. He gave you a nervous smile as he scratched the back on his neck looking away from you.

“ don't feel forced to call me any pet names if you're not comfortable with it, izu.”

He hummed fiddling with his fingers. It's not that he didn't want to call you them, it's more than he wasn't sure which one. He feared that maybe if he called you the wrong one you'd cringe and die! You'd break up with him immediately and tell everyone he was lame! Of course you would, why would you even want to be with someone like him anyways..

“ what's with the sudden diet change zuzu?”

A ton of thoughts started taking over izukus mins, making him feel kind of bad about himself reminding him why he was even doing this to begin with. The question you asked him had him holding back to reality with wide eyes and an even more flushed expression, he was stuttering and his vocal range was rising hands moving all about as he came up with some sort of excuse.

“...uh..huh, so I have to go but uhm... maybe text me?”

You excused yourself figuring if he wanted to tell you he would. Not thinking much of it as you left, however izuku was beating himself up the entire time. You were probably so embarrassed to be his girlfriend, he was embarrassed. He couldn't even tell his girlfriend that he wanted to pleasure her but was too insecure about what he has and what it wouldn't be able to do so he asked around and got advice and now he's trying to change the way he eats to ensure he gives you a good time...whenever you're ready for that step, of course.

Izuku didn't tell you what was up so you asked around, despite wanting to leave it up to him to tell you, you were nervous. This is your first time having a boyfriend and normally izuku is quite open with you so of course the sudden change startled you. You end up asking the girls for advice first hoping they can give you just a little foresight in the situation.

“ so what's the problem?”

Mina asks you, changing out of her training uniform.

“ he just.. it's nothing too big I suppose, maybe I shouldn't even be all that worried.”

You think about it more, maybe it's not that big of a deal anyways..

“ don't beat yourself up too much you're allowed to be worried about him!”

Ochako chimes in helping you shut out any negative thoughts, she was good at that. You smile at her and sigh.

“ he's changed his diet like...a lot, drastically even. I'm concerned he's not getting all that he needs, I guess? I mean he's normally really good with himself and the way he eats y'know so there must be a reasoning behind the sudden change, especially because all it consists of is a couple of cranberries that I can remember and a couple sticks of celery and a shit ton of oysters. And water. Like two bottles”

The girls hummed at your words, thinking together at what it could possibly be. That wasn't much of a diet anyways given most of them dieted or watched their food to help maintain their image or to help them in any way they were sure this was quite strange.

“ well, the only time I eat cranberries or drink cranberry juice is to help my pH levels, maybe that's the case for him too. I hear they also make you taste better so y'know win win”

You hum at minas words, but would it provide the same results in him that it would someone with traditionally female anatomy? It stumped you.

“ same thing for water and oysters by the way! water helps clean out your system and balance everything inside of you, regardless of gender y'know given we're made up of water and all-”

Yaoyorozu then went on a ramble sesh providing information of the human body and how certain foods help. As helpful as this was for you it didn't really help in the case of izuku, why would he need to detox in such a big way?

Mina eventually cut yaomomo off explaining a Google search she'd found.

“ hey look what I found; supposedly it's common to think oysters can help you shoot ropes out of your dong.”

The double take you did when mins gave the news had her laughing, you just sat there wide eyed as the girls broke into conversation about it, blushing laughing and giggling about different things. Was izuku trying to... Had he thought about moving forward with you in such a big way? You bit your lip at the thought, maybe that was it. It made more sense to you than anything else. You had to talk to him and fast.

You ran to izukus room as fast as you could once the day was over and you were finished studying, your main priority was finding out the truth. You couldn't help but think about it on the jog there from the library to the dorm house. You didn't know how to feel about it, it's normal to want to move forward with your partner especially if you've been together for a while and haven't done anything, that was your case.

But you hadn't been together that long so..it's not as if he was sullying your relationship with his wants and needs you knew this day would come but...were you ready for this? The think about it wasn't too long given how you'd touched yourself a couple days earlier thinking about him.

Clearly the both of you were ready for this so why the wait? Suddenly you felt better about this and almost hoped that what you found out was the reasoning behind his sudden change. Once you made it to izukus room you caught your breath and were quick to knock on his door practically beating on it. There wasn't a quick answer, it took him a moment to stutter out a breathy response.

“ huh.. i- com..coming!!”

You heard shuffling and rearranging in his bedroom before the steps came closer, he swung the door open and his facial expression was slightly annoyed and he was sweaty chest lightly heaving up and down as his beautiful green eyes were lidded a light shade of red dusting over his cheeks. His shirt was kind of wrinkled and....on backwards?

“ oh! Y/n! what- what uhm are you doing here!!”

His expression changed immediately upon seeing you, the annoyed one being replaced with nervousness. You loved how nervy he got when he seen you, and how shaky he'd get when you would stand too close to him or kiss him or hug him. He was such a cutie

“ can I uh come inside?”

“ uh- yes! yes please- I- of course! come in!”

,“ thanks baby”

You walked past him and sat your bag down on the floor in front of his bed, fixing your skirt over your thighs as you waited for him to sit next to you. After studying you'd ran straight to his dorm and didn't get the time to change, unlike izuku who was in his adorable little set up. You couldn't help but to giggle at his backwards bed shirt and shorts as he sat next to you he got quite a blushed look at the sound of you giggling.

You lift a hand and cup his cheek kissing his nose with a smile causing him to literally melt in your hand, his face leaning into the warmth of your palm as his lids droop over his eyes, you could almost see hearts in them. He sighed through his nose and moved forward to kiss yours leaning his forehead against yours with a giggle that you gave back.

“ y'know your shirts on backwards my love.”

You whisper to him with your eyes closed and a gentle tone, you hear a little gasp come from him but he didn't move away just a mumble leaving him. You couldn't help but to giggle lowly at your boyfriend's cuteness.

“ I have something to ask you. I would appreciate if you told me the truth.”

That scared izuku to be completely honest. Why would you say something like this all of the sudden, you two were having such a cute moment and you randomly said that during it. He was frightened. Maybe you finally decided to get rid of him, he figured it was only a matter of time. He didn't want to jump to conclusions but what else could it be. You were absolutely perfect in his eyes, it was only a matter of time before you found someone equally as perfect. Maybe shoto, he'd really handsome and looks like he could be a model. Or maybe katsuki, he'd furiously attractive as well, or maybe-

“ did you change your diet because you heard it'll help you with sex..?”

You whispered lowly to him kind of embarrassed that you were even asking. Izuku squeaked out a pitchy "huh?!" at your question. That was NOT what he thought you were going to say let alone ask. But yes, that was indeed why he changed the way he ate. He wanted to be better for you in case you decided that you were ready. But he couldn't tell you that, oh no, he couldn't even move. He had moved away from you and simply looked at you with wide eyes and a crazy blush taking over his features. He was speechless.

“ I...just overheard that some of the things you were eating and the way you were drinking tons of water supposedly helps with....uhm rather intimate acts..?”

He was shaking literally speechless and shaking. You could hear the shakyness in his stuttering which is surprising. He didn't know what to do let alone say to you, he was so embarrassed that you'd found out. You probably think he's such a loser now..

“ ...if..if you wanted to do something like that. I wouldn't be opposed.”

If his already widened eyes could get any more wide they would. You literally seen the way they wanted to pop out of his head, it honestly made you laugh.

“ izuku calm down hun! you're so red and you look like your eyes are gonna pop out of your head!”

“ i- I just-...”

He covered his face with his hands whinging beneath them and falling into your arms, you laugh out awing at him rubbing his back as he whined into the crook of your neck, he was so embarrassed that not only had you caught on but you wanted to stay with him and you wanted to do more with him. He really felt like he could die.

“ why is your shirt on backwards, honey”

You coo down to him with laughter laced in your voice, he whines once more peeking up to look at you in your eyes before averting eye contact. His brows furrowed in embarrassment you could see the blush taking over his features, he trusted you a lot and he wanted you to know that. Maybe if he told you the truth then....

“ ....I was...”

He mumbled the rest to the point it was unheard by you. You hum brushing your finger over his forehead removing some hair from in front of his eyes making him get even more flustered as if that were even possible.

“ ...you know...”

Literally nothing came to your mind when he said that, definitely not what he said next.

“ I was.. masturbating....”

He said it lowly expecting not to be heard once again however you heard him all too well. It was your turn for your eyes to widen. You were shocked to say the least, it's not that you didn't expect izuku to...indulge. you just didn't think you would catch him in the act.

Given your lack of response he felt a rush of shame, he was so embarrassed that he told you. You must've thought he was a disgusting slob who lusts after himself like some....creep! To his surprise you continued taking your fingers through his hair and even placed a kiss on top of his head making him lift up to look at you with slightly glassy eyes.

“ is that so, my love.”

You spoke softly in attempts to calm him down, you figured he felt somewhat ashamed of himself given his lack of response. He was prone to getting in his feelings when things went south. However in izukus eyes the way you spoke to him was so sultry and seductive, the way you cooed to him and looked down at him with love in your eyes despite what he does.

“ ...b- but it was only to see if anything had changed! y'know because..I changed the way I ate to...to..”

“ so I was right!”

Izuku hums in embarrassment laying his cheek on your chest. You pull his head up to kiss his lips, he absolutely melts in your arms rough lips meeting with your soft ones in a sweet and gentle dismay. You were so soft with him and so patient too, he couldn't help but to want more given you'd interrupted his....activities that he normally indulges in after class is out of when he has time.

He climbed on top of you and laid you down on his pillows letting one of his knee find it's way in between your legs and his hands on your sides just sitting there not daring to move any further without your authorization.

The kiss grew sloppier more full of need from both ends, you heard a groan leave him as he felt you slightly grind down on to his knee, he broke away from your lips momentarily to catch a breath, it fanning over your face before he experimentally shoved his tongue in your mouth it was only to test the waters, he never expected you to moan into the kiss making his already hardened cock twitch against your thigh his breath hitched at the unexpected movement from his member the kiss broke and he didn't want to look at you.

He was red from embarrassment and being heavily turned on, he wanted you but didn't want to push your boundaries. He bit his bottom lip and exhaled shakily. To his surprise you flipped him over and was now on top of him rubbing his chest with your hands, he looked up at you with his wide green eyes izuku was ready for whatever you wanted as long as you wanted it with him.

You ground your hips into his slowly to see his reaction and to your surprise his head slowly rolled back along with his eyes earning a deep gasp, his hands immediately rushing to your hips and gently squeezing. He tried to raise his hips into your warmth as you continued grinding only to suddenly stop with a laugh. he sighed quickly, extremely upset at the stop of movement.

“ ..baby....please?”

So whiney. He was such a sweet thing, you figured he deserved it. why not make your first time truly memorable?

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (08)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 08 - Distance

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 09

PREV : Chapter 07

The dormitory buzzed with the sounds of light chatter and footsteps as players moved about, their voices mingling in an uneasy hum. You lay on your bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, eyes closed in a futile attempt to block it all out. Sleep was your goal, to escape the heavy thoughts weighing on your mind, even if just until tomorrow.

The faint voice of a guard announcing that dinner would soon be distributed echoed in the background, breaking through your quiet cocoon. Then, the sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears. You didn’t bother to open your eyes.

“[Your name], are you okay?” Dae-ho’s familiar voice called gently.

You kept your eyes shut. “I’m okay.”

Dae-ho sighed as well, the sound carrying his frustration. “I’m disappointed too. Jung-bae voting for O? I didn’t see that coming. I felt like screaming, ‘Sir, what are you thinking?’ at him. He agreed with us to vote for going back home just moments before the vote.”

“It can’t be helped,” another voice chimed in. You recognized it immediately as Young-il. It seemed Dae-ho wasn’t the only one who had come to check on you. Keeping your eyes closed, you listened as Young-il added, “People tend to change their minds once they’re standing at the voting counter.”

“Yeah, in a way, I kind of understood him. Because I felt that way too by the counter,” Dae-ho agreed.

A softer voice joined the conversation.

“Big sis, are you okay?” Jun-hee asked.

You finally opened your eyes, taking in the sight of Dae-ho and Jun-hee standing on the right side of your bed while Young-il lingered quietly on the left.

Turning your gaze to Jun-hee, you offered her a faint but reassuring smile. “I’m okay.”

“And we have a pregnant lady too,” Dae-ho continued, picking up where he left off. “She shouldn’t be here any longer.”

He leaned against the pillar of your bunk bed, sighing heavily. “I understood him but… what was Jung-bae thinking?”

The weight on your bed shifted slightly. You glanced down to see Young-il sitting on your bed at the far corner near your feet. His calm demeanor radiated reassurance as he addressed Dae-ho. “There’s no use thinking about it now. The votes are done. Let’s focus on staying together and winning the game again tomorrow.”

The three of them glanced in the same direction, momentarily distracted. You were about to close your eyes again when Dae-ho straightened up, his usual energy returning as he turned to you.

“Everyone is lining up to get dinner. Come on,” he said.

You shifted onto your side, pulling the blanket closer. “You guys go on ahead. I’m too tired right now.”

Dae-ho frowned, his tone firm. “You can’t sleep on an empty stomach. You need to eat. We did the hexathlon for who knows how long and didn’t even get breakfast. You must be starving, so come on.”

��But I’m so tired,” you admitted, your voice muffled against the pillow. “I just want to rest before the next game.”

“Don’t be like that,” he urged. “You’ll end up weak and all skinny tomorrow.”

A brief silence fell before you quipped, “I’m trying to go on a diet anyway, so it’s fine.”

Dae-ho scoffed, waving off your excuse. “Haih, you look beautiful already. Now get up-”

“It’s okay,” Young-il’s calm voice interrupted unexpectedly. “You two go on ahead. The queues are getting long. I’ll persuade her.”

The sound of retreating footsteps followed as Dae-ho and Jun-hee headed off toward the dinner queues. The dormitory buzzed with chatter and movement, but your focus remained on the quiet presence sitting at the edge of your bed.

“You really should eat,” he said after a moment, his tone gentle. “You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”

You sighed, not turning to face him. “I’m just so done to even think about food. I wanted to go home really bad but we were outvoted.”

There was a pause before the bed shifted as Young-il stood up. His footsteps faded into the background, and you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the strange ache in your chest – a pang of something like abandonment. By him.

You immediately shook off the thought. It wasn’t his fault. You were the one adamant about not eating, and he had respected your decision. You had no right to feel upset, and you certainly couldn’t blame him for the fact that you had a crush on him.

Maybe he just saw you as a friend. Someone to look out for, like Jun-hee. Nothing more. It was your own fault for letting your feelings get in the way, for reading into his kind gestures as something more than they were.

You tried to tune out the chatter and bustle of the dormitory, sinking into the quiet within your mind. For a fleeting moment, you felt yourself drifting close to sleep.

Then his voice broke through the haze. “[Your name].”

Your eyes fluttered open, the sting of fatigue making them ache. You turned your head and saw Young-il standing by your bed. In his hands, he held the evening’s dinner: a round bun and a small carton of milk.

You frowned, confusion overtaking your grogginess. You had thought he left for good after respecting your persistence.

Resting your cheek against the pillow, you mumbled, “I don’t want to eat your dinner. Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s not mine,” he said, his tone even. “It’s yours.”

Your gaze shifted to the food in his hands. He held two sets of the dinner: two buns and two cartons of milk. Surprise overtook you as you sat up slowly, your blanket slipping down. “You got two?”

“I took another set on your behalf,” he admitted, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Your eyes widened. “We can do that?”

His smile grew, and there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t.”

You blinked, completely perplexed. “Then how did you get two?”

He extended the dinner toward you again, waiting patiently.

“I know what to say to the guards. My line of work taught me how,” he said simply, leaving the specifics a mystery.

You stared at him, caught between disbelief and reluctant admiration, before reaching out to take the meal he had gone out of his way to bring you.

“Now, come,” Young-il said, gesturing toward the corner where you always hung out with Gi-hun and the others. “Let’s sit with the others.”

You glanced down at the bun and carton of milk in your hands before nodding. As you got up from the bed, you spoke to him, “But is this really all we’re getting for dinner? I thought it’d be as much as yesterday’s lunch.”

Walking side by side toward the corner, Young-il replied, “It’s a way to weaken the players and increase eliminations.”

You turned to him, eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you saying the longer we stay here, the less food we’ll get?”

Young-il met your gaze, his expression thoughtful. “It looks that way. Yesterday, we had a bountiful lunch. Tonight, it’s just a bun. The pattern isn’t hard to see.”

You sighed in frustration, the weight of his words settling in. “That makes it even more important to leave this place as soon as possible.”

Reaching the corner, you were greeted enthusiastically by Dae-ho. “You two, come sit down!”

Gi-hun had sat at his usual spot at the far end, and you settled down beside him. Young-il took the place on your other side. Dae-ho and Jun-hee were already seated on the lower steps in front of you both, their postures relaxed.

You glanced around and noticed that your group was missing one member – Jung-bae. A small distance away, you spotted him tucked between the bunk beds as though he was deliberately hiding.

You assumed he felt guilty for voting O, isolating himself from the group out of shame.

You and Young-il began eating your buns in silence. Everyone in your group was eating, except for Gi-hun. His posture – legs wide, arms resting heavily on his knees – spoke volumes about his disappointment over the recent voting results.

A loud sigh from Dae-ho broke the quiet. He stared at Jung-bae’s back for a moment, chewing on his bun, before calling out to him with the familiar hyungnim honorific. “Jung-bae!”

Meanwhile, you sighed at the meager dinner, placing your left elbow on your knee and resting your forehead against your palm. Your right hand held the bun, and you murmured, “Just this bun alone won’t be enough.”

Dae-ho suddenly stood and strode over to Jung-bae. “Hey, just come back here.”

“No, no, I’m good here,” Jung-bae replied, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, come on,” Dae-ho said, grasping his arm firmly. He pulled Jung-bae to his feet and dragged him back to the group. “You should’ve gone farther away, then. It bugs me seeing you sitting there all pathetic.”

Jung-bae froze when they reached the group. His eyes darted between the three most visibly stressed members of the group – Gi-hun with his somber stance, you with your hand still resting on your face, and Young-il sitting with his legs spread, elbows on his knees, chewing silently. None of you looked at him.

“I’m sorry,” Jung-bae said, fidgeting nervously with his milk carton. “Jun-hee, [Your name], Young-il, I’m sorry. Gi-hun, I’m sorry.”

When no one responded, he continued. “I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors are harassing my ex-wife and kid. If I play one more game, I think I’ll be able to settle my debt. So-”

“Jung-bae,” Young-il interrupted, his tone calm. “You of all people shouldn’t have done it. It’s not twice as righteous.”

Young-il’s comment was a pointed reference to the meaning of Jung-bae’s name. You removed your hand from your face, took a bite of the bun, and stayed quiet.

Young-il sighed, glancing briefly at the others before adding, “But, looking at the results, even if you had voted against, we would still have been outvoted.”

“Right?” Jung-bae said quickly, leaning toward Young-il with a glimmer of relief. “It’s not entirely my fault.”

Dae-ho placed a hand on Jung-bae’s shoulder, his tone lighter now. “Alright, to be honest, I understand why you did it. The money isn’t enough for me either, so when I went up to vote, I did think about playing one more game.”

Jung-bae’s face lit up with sudden relief, and before anyone could react, he lunged forward and hugged Dae-ho head-on. Startled, Dae-ho awkwardly tried to push him away.

“You did?” Jung-bae exclaimed.

“I said I get it,” Dae-ho replied, finally managing to pry himself free.

Jung-bae turned to Young-il, sighing deeply.

“Thank you for understanding,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. He settled on the lower staircase next to Young-il and continued, “But I voted in favor partly because I feel confident. We did so well as a team, didn’t we? If we stick together one more time, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

He turned toward Jun-hee, his voice brimming with confidence. “Jun-hee, I’ll make sure we survive the next game-”

“The next game?”

All of you froze and looked at Gi-hun. His tone was dark. “In the next game, we might have to kill each other.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. You stared at him, horrified. Could it really come to that? Could there be games where you’d have to compete against your friends? The thought made your stomach churn. You’d barely eaten, and now even the bun in your hand felt like a weight.

Young-il’s calm voice broke the silence. “Gi-hun, that’s a bit much. There’s nothing we can do now, so let’s try to stay positive.”

Despite his attempt to ease the tension, Jung-bae had gone pale as well. He swallowed nervously, his hands fidgeting with his milk carton.

Young-il continued, his voice steady, “We should eat, pull ourselves together, and try our best again.”

But Gi-hun’s words lingered, casting a shadow over the group. Everyone, including you, sat in heavy silence, lost in their thoughts. The idea of being pitted against your teammates felt unbearable. Your appetite vanished completely, and the bun in your hand now seemed like an impossible task to finish.

Could Gi-hun have experienced such a game in his previous run? Had he been forced to turn on a friend here? The questions swirled in your mind, filling you with dread.

Then you felt it – a hand gently resting on your knee. Startled, you looked down and saw Young-il’s hand. When you glanced up at him, his expression was warm and reassuring. He gave you a small nod toward your unfinished bun and said softly, “Eat it whole. Let’s do our best again tomorrow.”

Young-il withdrew his hand from your knee and held out his milk carton to Jun-hee. “Here, Jun-hee. You can have mine too. Hang in there until the next game.”

Jun-hee hesitated. “No, it’s okay.”

“Take it,” Young-il insisted gently. “I don’t drink plain milk.”

After a moment, Jun-hee finally accepted the milk, though her reluctance was still evident. You couldn’t help but smile warmly at the gesture. The way Young-il looked after Jun-hee was heartwarming. He must’ve been a good husband, you thought.

“Thank you,” Jun-hee said softly.

Jung-bae suddenly held out his bun to her. “Have my bread too. I don’t deserve to eat.”

Dae-ho immediately pointed at Jung-bae’s milk. “I’ll take your milk then.”

Jung-bae shot him a pointed stare, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and annoyance.

You had just exited the women’s restrooms and stepped back into the dormitory when you saw them. Lingering near the door that connected the restroom to the dormitory stood Lee Min-jae and his two friends.

Min-jae noticed you immediately and waved. You hesitated for a moment before offering a small, uncertain wave in return. Hoping to avoid further interaction, you continued toward the corner where the rest of your group was seated.

However, your heart sank when Min-jae and his friends moved deliberately to block your path. The dormitory was vast, filled with hundreds of players, so you didn’t feel afraid. Still, you silently hoped they wouldn’t press you again.

Min-jae greeted you with a bright smile. “Hey there. I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh,” you replied, feigning innocence. “Hi, Min-jae.”

He stepped slightly closer, his tone friendly. “So, are you free to hang out with us now? We’ve got a spot over there.”

He paused, gesturing vaguely toward a corner of the dormitory where his group had set up.

You hesitated, searching for a way out without offending him. “I… uh, I need to get back to my group first. They’re waiting for me.”

Min-jae’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a hint of frustration in his eyes. “It’ll just be for a little while. You can catch up with them later. Come on, I just want to get to know you better in a private spot.”

“I… I don’t know. I really should-”

Min-jae’s tone grew firmer, though he kept up his friendly demeanor. “Don’t be like that. Just for a bit. It’s just us hanging out. No harm, right?”

Min-jae’s friends were watching you intently, though their expressions remained neutral. You forced a polite smile, knowing that one wrong word or tone could create a vengeful enemy in this precarious game.

You said carefully. “Maybe later. I just need to check on my group first.”

But Min-jae’s grin didn’t waver. If anything, it grew more hardened and insistent as he stepped closer to you. “Please? Just a quick chat with us. You’ve been hanging out with those uncles all day. Switch it up for a bit.”

Before you could respond, one of his friends – the tall man with number 277 – joined in. “Yeah, come on. We’re not asking for much. Just a little time to get to know you better.”

“Exactly,” chimed in the other friend, player 304. “It’s not like we’re asking you to stay forever. Just stop by. We’ve got a good spot over there.”

Their persistence made your chest tighten. You forced another smile, trying to remain composed. “I appreciate the offer, but really, I need to get back. Maybe another time.”

“Why not now?” Min-jae pressed, his tone still friendly.

As you searched for another polite excuse, a cold, steady voice cut through the conversation.

“She said no.”

You turned quickly, your eyes landing on Young-il. He was striding toward you. His gaze was fixed on Min-jae, sharp and unyielding. Although his expression seemed calm, a quiet intensity simmered beneath the surface. The restrained fury in his eyes made you speechless. It’s like he was ready to act the moment it became necessary.

Min-jae’s smile faltered slightly, though he tried to recover. “Oh, hey. We just want to have a chat with her. It's okay, right?”

Young-il moved deliberately, stepping between you and Min-jae with an air of quiet authority. His back faced you, shielding you from them. Though his expression remained calm, there was a palpable edge to his presence that made the air feel heavier.

“You’re pressuring her,” he said evenly, his voice carrying a subtle warning. “That’s not how conversations work.”

Silence settled over the group like a heavy weight. Min-jae’s friends exchanged uncertain glances, their earlier confidence clearly shaken.

You couldn’t help but stare at Young-il’s broad shoulders, struck by the way he carried himself. He didn’t need to raise his voice or show aggression; the calm intensity in his posture spoke volumes.

Min-jae hesitated, his expression flickering between defiance and calculation, before forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. With a mock gesture of surrender, he raised his hands and said, “Alright, alright. I get it. I apologize. I didn’t realize I was being forceful.”

His attempt to glance past Young-il toward you betrayed his unease, though. He called your name softly, adding, “Sorry about that.”

Young-il held his gaze, the silence stretching as he stared at Min-jae with deliberate calm. Then, with a slight turn of his head, his expression softened as he looked at you. He gestured subtly, his voice steady. “Let’s go.”

You followed Young-il as he led the way back to the corner where your group had gathered. His stride was steady, and though he didn’t say anything, his presence alone made you feel a little more at ease. You glanced back briefly to check if Min-jae and his friends were following, but they were nowhere in sight, already lost in the dormitory’s usual buzz of activity.

Just as the two of you were about to reach your group, Young-il gently grasped your forearm, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

You nodded quickly. “Yes. Thank you.”

His gaze lingered on you, his tone shifting slightly as he asked, “How does he know your name?”

There was an edge to his words, though it didn’t feel like it was directed at you.

“He asked during the voting earlier,” you explained simply. “We were in the crowd, and he came over and introduced himself.”

Young-il’s eyes studied yours, moving from your left eye to your right, then briefly to your lips. You froze under the intensity of his gaze, unsure of what to make of it. After a few seconds that felt much longer, his focus shifted back to your left eye.

He finally lowered his gaze and said firmly, “If those boys bother you again, tell me.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. His gesture sent a wave of warmth through you, and you felt that familiar flutter in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach. He is really worried about you.

But even as you stood there, you couldn’t forget the fact that he was married. As close as you two had become, he’d never once mentioned it to you.

You averted your gaze, creating a small but deliberate space between you and Young-il.

“Thanks, but don’t worry. I can take care of myself,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. The pause lingered, and though you didn’t look his way, you could feel his confusion, as if he was trying to make sense of your sudden distance. Without waiting for a reply, you joined the group, sliding into the spot next to Jun-hee. Behind you, Young-il remained standing, silent and likely still perplexed.

As the group fell into casual conversation, you focused on Jun-hee, Jung-bae and Dae-ho, purposefully keeping your interactions away from Young-il. Whenever he made a comment directed at you or tried to reassure you about something, you responded with a polite smile but didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, you turned your attention to someone else, engaging them in light talk to avoid any further connection.

This is for the best. For you, for him, and for his wife.

“Lights out in ten minutes,” the announcer informed, the voice echoing through the dormitory. “Please prepare for bedtime.”

Your group was in the middle of executing Gi-hun’s plan. The idea was to claim four beds in one spot to create a secure sleeping area underneath the beds and on the floor between them. Everyone had agreed to the plan, though not without a few questions.

The men were handling the heavier tasks, carrying and arranging the mattresses and securing the area, while you and Jun-hee carried pillows and blankets, standing off to the side as they worked.

“Is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there,” Jung-bae said, his tone doubtful.

Gi-hun explained, “Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us.”

Dae-ho, crouching beside Jun-hee, looked over with wide eyes. “What? Who?”

Meanwhile, Young-il approached you and gestured for the pillows and blankets in your arms. You handed them to him one by one, watching as he placed them on the mattresses.

“The prize money still goes up if we kill each other,” Gi-hun continued. “It’s part of the game they designed.”

Young-il, now standing after arranging a mattress on the floor under one of the beds, spoke up, “Gi-hun, I think you’re overreacting. Even if that were true, people wouldn’t do that.”

Gi-hun’s gaze sharpened as he stared at Young-il. “In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here.”

He stepped closer to Young-il, his tone firm. “You have no idea how people can change in this place.”

You stared at them, noticing the tension in Gi-hun’s face and posture. Young-il paused before nodding apologetically. “Alright. I guess I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m sorry.”

Gi-hun gave Young-il one last look before turning back to address the group. “We need to take turns keeping watch after lights-out. I’ll take the first watch. The rest of you should decide the order.”

You exchanged glances with the others. Dae-ho was the first to speak up. “Other than that, we have to figure out who’s sleeping where.”

Jung-bae pointed to the floor between the beds. “Jun-hee should sleep here, near the wall, surrounded by beds. It’ll be safer.”

“Then I’ll take the spot under the bed beside her,” Dae-ho said, glancing at Jun-hee for confirmation. “If that’s okay with you.”

Jun-hee nodded. “I’m okay with that.”

“I’ll take the spot under the bed on the other side of Jun-hee,” Jung-bae added. “It’s best to have two ex-Marines covering your sides.”

Jun-hee smiled in response.

Young-il turned to you, his voice soft. “Which spot do you want to take?”

You paused, glancing at the arrangement before pointing to the space directly under Jun-hee. “I’ll take the middle floor.”

That left the beds on either side of you empty until Young-il spoke up. “I’ll sleep under the bed on your left. That means Gi-hun will take the one on your right.”

“Now we just have to decide the order for keeping watch,” Dae-ho said, looking around the group.

“I’ll take the second watch, after Gi-hun,” Jung-bae said quickly.

Dae-ho raised his hand. “Third watch here.”

You spoke up just as Young-il reached to grab the leftover pillows and blanket from your arms. “Can I keep watch too?”

All eyes turned to you, surprise clear on their faces.

“How about the last watch?” you added. “I can wake up early.”

Dae-ho was the first to respond. “Ladies don’t have to. You and Jun-hee should take a full rest.”

“Yeah, no need for you to worry about keeping watch,” Jung-bae chimed in. “We’ve got this.”

You hesitated, feeling their protective tone press against your resolve.

“But it’s fine if I take the last watch,” you said, lowering your gaze briefly. “I want to freshen up before the next game anyway.”

Dae-ho and Jung-bae exchanged glances, clearly about to argue, when Young-il’s calm voice cut through. “Okay, you take the last watch.”

Everyone turned to him in confusion, while you blinked at him in surprise. Young-il glanced at the others briefly before settling his gaze on you.

“I’ll take the fourth watch, after Dae-ho,” he said evenly. “Then it’s your turn. But I’ll keep watch with you. It’s not safe for you to do it alone.”

The group nodded in agreement and that was the end of discussion. You, however, stayed quiet, your thoughts swirling. Young-il’s calm decision left you unsettled. The idea of him accompanying you brought a flutter of nerves you couldn’t quite suppress. You’d been trying to create some distance, to remind yourself of his marriage. Yet here he was, volunteering to accompany you.

It left you torn. A part of you appreciated his thoughtfulness. But another part of you couldn’t shake the complicated feelings his actions stirred, leaving you wondering how you’d handle the quiet hours of your shared watch.

A few minutes passed as the six of you settled into your designated spots. The announcer’s voice broke through the murmurs in the dormitory to announce bedtime. Moments later, the lights switched off, leaving the soft golden glow of the half-filled piggy bank overhead to dimly illuminate the vast room.

Dae-ho and Jung-bae were already lying under the beds, while Jun-hee rested on the mattress positioned on the open floor between them.

“This sucks,” Jung-bae muttered from his spot. “Feels like I’m hiding under my old desk at school.”

Dae-ho chuckled softly. “Pretend it’s a fun sleepover. We’re just missing the snacks and ghost stories.”

As their quiet exchange continued, you glanced over and noticed Gi-hun was sitting at the front, keeping watch.

Then, you felt a presence close beside you. Turning your head, you saw Young-il crouched beside you on your mattress on the open floor. He paused, glancing at you apologetically as he moved to sit down.

“Sorry,” he muttered, referring to him intruding your space.

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

Young-il shifted onto the edge of your mattress before sliding onto his own spot under the bed beside you. You watched as he settled in before you finally lay down and pulled the blanket over yourself.

The space felt smaller now, the awareness of his presence lingering. You never thought you’d be this close to him, sharing such confined quarters. But as the thought crossed your mind, you pushed it away quickly. He’s married. You shouldn’t let yourself think about him like this.

You closed your eyes, wishing for sleep to come quickly and pull you away from your restless thoughts.

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones!

NEXT : Chapter 09

PREV : Chapter 07

Story Masterlist

I would love to know what you think so feel free to comment as long as you could!

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[eunandonly]

why’d you only call me when you’re high? ( 이희승 )

you keep telling yourself you’re done with heeseung and his late night calls, but the door’s still unlocked. it’s the same cycle: him showing up, you giving in, and both pretending it means something.

pairing: heeseung x fem. reader [ masterlist ]

warnings: toxicity, alcohol mentions, drug mentions (weed), heeseung is high, heeseung is an asshole, kissing, skinship, angst, reader is lowkey kind of dumb

word count: 1.3k

🖇️ : a bit different than the stuff i usually post but yeah

you stare down at the message on your phone, the screen illuminating your face in the darkness of your living room. the words blur slightly, not because you're crying- no, you're well past that- but your tired eyes can't believe this is happening again.

heeseung: you up?

three words. simple and deliberate. always arriving at the same time. they're heeseung's signature, a routine written into your life against your will. you don't need to ask why he's texting you now, hours past midnight when everyone is asleep and the streets empty and bare. the answer is always the same. he's either drunk, high, or both. and he wants you to be the soft landing he definitely doesn't deserve.

your fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitant and unsure. it always goes like this. you know fully well that if you reply, you'll end up letting him step into your home in hopes of something. and you know fully well that when you wake up tomorrow morning, he'll be long gone. bed empty, leaving you to piece together the wreckage he never stays long enough to clean.

your phone vibrates suddenly in your hand, heeseung's number popping up on the screen. he's calling you, and all you can do is stare at the green and red buttons in surprise. it only occurs to you know that you still haven't deleted his contact after countless times of telling yourself you would.

you don't even know why you're surprised that he’s calling. when the liquor burns and the smoke clouds his mind, you're the only number heeseung remembers.

with trembling fingers, you click the green button. you click the green button even though you know you'll regret it later. you click the green button just like you did a hundred times before because as much as you hate to admit it, you can never ignore him.

you never learn, do you?

"y/n," heeseung's voice says from the phone, and you lean back on the sofa, holding your breath. his words are slurred and delayed, his speech fragmented and disjointed. "can i come over?"

you let out the breath you've been holding and grip the phone tighter in your hand. "heeseung... are you- are you high?"

there's a pause before heeseung speaks again. perhaps he's taking a drag from his joint. chugging down some liquor. "no, no, i'm not. i swear i'm not. i swear."

"you are," you say, dragging a hand down your face. you shouldn't have picked up. you shouldn't have. you should've let it ring out, or even better, decline it. delete his contact for real this time. but you still answered, foolishly hoping that things will be different this time. that he'll be different this time.

it always comes down to hope with you, doesn't it?

"i miss you," heeseung drawls. "i want you so bad, baby."

you squeeze your eyes shut, a thousand thoughts crossing your mind. he doesn't want you, not really- only the fleeting comfort you offer when he's high and hollow.

"the door's unlocked."

***

it was a mistake to invite him.

you should lock the door. turn off your phone, climb into bed, and let heeseung knock until his knuckles bruise blue and purple. but you don't. instead, you stand there, in front of the empty door, waiting for the sound of his unsteady footsteps climbing up the stairs. the familiar click of the door opening. heeseung still knows the password to your home, and even though you know you should change it, you never do. you blame it on forgetfulness and laziness and come up with all sorts of excuses to calm down the erratic thoughts in your brain. gaslighting yourself that there really is no bigger reason as to why the set of numbers still remain untouched.

but no matter how many times you try to deny it, you know fully well what the reason is.

when the door opens, you take a step back as you stare. heeseung's hair is messy, his shirt wrinkled and his eyes glassy with desperation your naive self had once thought could fix. his lips twitch into a sort of half smile when he sees you.

"y/n," he says, kicking off his shoes and walking over to you like he owns the place. he towers over you, smiling down at you with a strange, twisted expression you can't really comprehend. you catch a whiff of alcohol and weed from him, a confirmation you didn't really need. you knew from the message. you knew.

before you can say a word, heeseung steps forward and pushes you against the wall, hands on your waist, firm and unrelenting, and the dull thud of your head meeting the surface that only seems to surprise you. you barely have the time to register the discomfort before his lips crash onto yours. messy, almost desperate, and the taste of alcohol and smoke floods your senses, bitter and suffocating.

you know you should push him away- your mind screams it over and over. but your body betrays you, frozen in place. his lips press harder against yours as if he's trying to erase the memories he left last time, and you let him. you let him because, for a fleeting moment, the weight of your loneliness feels lighter.

your hands hover uncertainly over his shoulders, slightly shaking. you don't want to pull him closer, but you can't seem to let go either. when your fingers finally make contact with the warmth of his skin, it's tentative, almost apologetic. you grip tightens as you kiss him back, as if holding him will keep him from slipping away again. but deep down, you know it won't. you know how this ends.

but ignorance is bliss, isn't it?

you pull away for a few seconds to look at heeseung's eyes, bloodshot and glazed over.

"why do you keep doing this, hee?"

hee. you don't try to mask the way the nickname slipped out of your mouth like second nature. heeseung's probably noticed it too. you can tell, from the way the corners of his lips quirk up.

he doesn't answer right away. he kisses your lips again, one hand on your waist and the other at the back of your head.

"because you let me."

the words feel like a punch to the gut, but you don't flinch. he's not wrong. he's never been wrong about that.

you should kick him out. lock the door. delete his number.

but tonight, you'll let him stay. just one more time.

[poisonf0rest]

So, I may have gotten a little invested and begun writing this fic...

Just a draft of the beginning half but gods was it fun to write the banter between Sylus and Raf, especially once I figured out their dynamic for later on~

The damned N109 Zone never changes. 

Different venues, different gang names, different “world ending” weapons. But even after several millennia, the greed and stupidity of humankind remains forever stagnant, and forever their greatest weakness.

That, and the nauseating smell of gunpowder and whiskey.

It all makes Rafayel’s stomach roll, and he thumbs at his tie, slacking against his neck before he snatches a glass of champagne from a waiter. Unsurprisingly he does recognize a handful of faces, some from his own gallery exhibitions, others as past targets, or grandchildren of someone he used to know. Not that any of them mattered.

He walked down a hallway filled with Protocores leading up to the banquet hall, and yet strangely enough every last one was bought, even the smallest fragment that barely emitted any kind of energy. What kind of moron…

Rafayel’s frown deepens, and he shoots down yet another glass down, moving from champagne to whiskey as he winces from the burn. 

Then, Rafayel spots you.

You’re alive. 

You’ve alive and you look absolutely fucking gorgeous, prowling across the auction in a cocktail dress, fabric dark enough that it only shimmers red when you dance from spotlight to spotlight. 

Before he even realizes it, he’s running. Trying and failing for it to look as natural as possible, slamming into a waiter and mumbling out an apology as he rushes to your side, nearly dashing onto the dance floor when the shadows seem to lunge– growing and shifting and laughing in an ancient language Rafayel can barely understand as something else steps out from them. And wraps a clawed hand around your waist.

Another man, infuriatingly tall and reeking of the sky and ashes, his hair bleached the same pale color, leans down to whisper something into your ear as you laugh. Laugh. 

And gods new and old, Rafayel sees red. 

Rafayel’s breath catches, chest tightening with a fury so raw it feels like it might crack him open. The din of laughter and clinking glasses becomes a dull roar in his ears, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. He barely registers the heat raging down his veins, a warning that his restraint is fraying faster than he can piece it together.

An uproar of murmuring and gasps steal your attention away from Sylus, and you finally allow your fake smile to drop. Only for your jaw to fall entirely as you see Rafayel standing only a couple of meters away, violent white flames licking against his fingertips as other guests begin to gather.

What the fuck is he doing here. 

“Rafayel.” Your voice cuts through the tension like a blade, sharp and warning. But the sound of it— alive, steady, and wholly unimpressed— does nothing to soothe him. If anything, it stokes the fire.

Sylus turns slowly, his lips curling into a lazy smile as if the entire confrontation is nothing more than an amusing side-show. When his eyes land on Rafayel, something flickers in the depths of his right pupil. “Oh?” he drawls, voice dripping with amusement. “Looks like you picked up a stray, kitten.”

The nickname grates against your nerves, but it’s nothing compared to the way Rafayel reacts. His flames flare brighter, casting eerie shadows across the room as his fists clench. “Take your hand off her.” 

More patrons are beginning to notice. 

Sylus’s grip on your waist doesn’t waver. Instead, he tilts his head, “Her? Oh, you must mean my companion for tonight.” He shifts slightly, leaning down as if to make a point, his hands brushing against the small of your back, right where the silk meets bare skin. “I think you have it mistaken though, she’s the one who practically dragged me here. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

Your pulse spikes, a mix of anger and frustration coursing through you. You force yourself to step between them, planting a hand firmly against Rafayel’s chest before he can close the distance. Thankfully, it makes the flames sputter down to a dull glow in his palms. 

“Stop,” you hiss. “What the hell are you doing here, Rafayel?”

His eyes lock onto yours, wild and burning with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away. “I came for you,” he snaps, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, congratulations,” you snort under your breath, “Now everyone in this room knows exactly who you are.” You glance over your shoulder, catching the glint of recognition in the eyes of more than a few guests. “And who I am.”

Rafayel doesn’t flinch, his gaze darting briefly to Sylus before returning to you. “I don’t care about them,” he mutters, brows furrowing. “I care about you. I never should have left you, let you go. Come back with me.”

Before you can even respond a deep chuckle cuts through, Sylus stepping forward as he tucks you into his side and reaches around to place a hand on Rafayel’s shoulder. Pinning you between them.

“Touching. But you should know better than to interrupt our business, artist.”

Rafayel’s flames reignite instantly, searing white-hot as he shoves Sylus’s hand off his shoulder. “I said, get your hands off her,” he growls, stepping forward, entire body radiating heat as he’s mere inches from Sylus’s face.

“Or what?” Sylus replies smoothly, something in his eye flashing with amusement once again. “You’ll set this whole place on fire? Very subtle. I can see why you’re such a popular target.”

Target? You linger on it longer than you should've, pieces about Rafayel’s surprising knowledge about the N109 Zone and Sylus’s insistence on resonating as your partner begins to swirl around again. That is, until you physically feel the heat from Rafayel’s flames begin to char into the wooden floorboards. 

“Stop it, both of you!” Snapping, both of their heads whip down to you as you struggle to shove them apart. “You’re drawing attention. Do you want to blow this mission completely?”

“Mission?” Rafayel scoffs, his gaze snapping back to you. “If this was a mission why would you agree to work with him?” He tilts his chin to Sylus, who simply shrugs, shadows flickering and growing at his back. Shit. 

“Her choice, really,” Sylus interjects, voice dripping with false sincerity. “Not that I blame her. All bark and no bite, aren’t you, puppy?”

Rafayel goes deathly still.

So Sylus allows himself to step closer, chest now pressing up against your bare back, the gesture irritatingly casual. “It must be exhausting,” he continues, “Running around, chasing after scraps of attention. Does she even notice? Or is this just another case of unrequited devotion?”

“Say that again,” he growls.

Sylus grins wider, clearly enjoying every second. Enjoying his reactions. “Oh, I’m sorry, did that strike a nerve? You must be used to following orders by now, so tell me, does she ever let you off leash, or do you only bark when commanded?”

“Sylus,” you snap again, cutting off whatever retort Rafayel has ready. You glance around, realizing the murmuring crowd has turned into a full-fledged audience, their gazes sharp and curious. “You’re both acting like children. The target—”

The sound of shattering glass cuts you off.

You whip your head around, just in time to see a hooded figure perched atop an overturned table. A small, cylindrical case glints in their hand, and your blood turns cold as you feel the overwhelming pulse of the Aether Core. 

“Duck!”

The word barely leaves your mouth before the world explodes.

A deafening roar shatters through the venue, blast wave throwing you backward. The force knocks the air from your lungs, glass and debris raining down like jagged confetti. You hit the ground hard, pain shooting through your side as the heat of the explosion sears your skin.

Through the haze of smoke and ringing in your ears, you catch fragmented images: chandeliers crashing to the floor, tables splintered, and guests scrambling for cover and weapons as gunshots ring out.

Sylus is a blur of movement, his shadows coiling and slashing through the chaos. Rafayel, flames erupting instinctively to shield the both you, looks down with wide eyes.

“Follow—” you try to shout, but another wave of the Protocore's energy squeezes your heart, and your vision blurs as you heave and gasp for breath. 

The last thing you see is Sylus stepping over Rafayel’s crumpled form, hauling him over one shoulder before beginning to lift you, too.

Then, nothing.

Then, BAM they wake up in a bed. Together. Naked.

I swear I'll finish the rest of it sometime this week hehe

"Let's get sandwiched between Sylus and Zayne"

"Let's get sandwiched between Rafayel and Xavier"

WHAT ABOUT GETTING SANDWICHED BETWEEN SYLUS AND RAFAYEL.

Like can you imagine Sylus being so smug and teasing Raf and Rafayel completely losing it And take it out on you. LIKE GAHHHHH DAMN.

Someone write about it

@poisonf0rest

[iichfilwypj]

loml | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson and mortal! reader (both are 27 yo!!) ღ warnings: angst, very very sad, mentions of blood and injuries (past) ღ wc: 1.429

The park was ideal to visit at that time; the sun would set, bathing the sky in a stunning orange glow, and most of the little ones had gone home, leaving a serene quietness in the park. The dogs were already resting in the shade of the trees, and the air felt much softer.

Indeed, at that time, the park felt enveloped in calm, making it the perfect place to enjoy her small haven. She could settle into her regular bench, beyond the reach of noise and people, and concentrate on her work as the peaceful atmosphere intertwined with her thoughts.

While she listened to music and focused on the paper, a faint little voice emerged around her, barely noticeable at first. She thought she might be delirious, too weary to trust her senses completely; but then, a gentle touch came, as if a tiny hand had softly landed on her leg.

Her sight fell immediately, and there, in front of her, was a little girl.

The vision brought an instant smile to her face; the little girl was the sort of child you might believe to be an angel in disguise if you looked closely. 

Her hair was blonde and curly, with a nearly platinum shine. Her cheeks were delicately flushed, as if she had just been running in the park, and her large, radiant eyes stared at her with an innocent intensity, so big they seemed to take over her entire face.

Green.

Her eyes were green.

They reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t remember who.

Just as she was about to speak, to ask the little girl where her parents were or what she was doing there, the child surprised her by sitting down beside her, her curious eyes scanning the papers.

“Are you reading? My mom loves reading a lot” 

The words hovered in the air, and for a moment, she simply looked at her. as if her words carried a quiet wisdom, a familiarity she couldn’t ignore, an echo in her mind that she couldn’t quite place.

Even though she tried to, something changed when a third voice joined the conversation. In that instant, something in her chest tightened, and it was as if the very air had changed in texture.

She recalled exactly who those green eyes belonged to.

Percy Jackson.

He was running toward her, a look of relief on his face as he fixed his gaze on the little girl. He was wearing a hand-knitted blue scarf, a hat in the same color, and a dark jacket.

His hair was as dark and messy as when she used to run her fingers through it, his hands still fiddling with his fingers—though at one point, those fingers had been hers—, and from a distance, she could scent the ocean that always seemed to follow him.

And his eyes.

His eyes were still just as green as before.

Her mind was paralyzed, and her body felt strangely both cold and hot. She clenched her hands, sure that if the pencil had been between her fingers, it would have bent, but it was already lying on the floor.

“Sweetie, hi,” Percy walked up to her without even glancing in her direction, his eyes fixed on the little one. He gently took the child's face in his hands, sighing and pressing a kiss on her cold forehead. “You slipped away in a second, didn’t you?”

“Dad, she likes reading! Just like mommy” 

And as the child pointed at her, she wished she could vanish. Run off, without saying a word, without providing any explanations.

He had done it once, so why couldn’t she?

“Really, wow—”

And just then, she knew he had recognized her. 

She could tell by the way his eyebrows bent, by how his eyes opened slightly, by the way his cheeks went pale. By the way his lips curled into a pout.

“Hi, Percy,” she said, voice low and quiet.

“You remember me?” 

Of course she would remember. The memories hit her all at once, like lost bullets, like something that had been trapped for so long it broke free with all the power it could find.

She felt as if someone had stepped into her heart, uncovering in seconds what she had desperately tried to keep sealed under lock.

And that lock she believed to be shut found its key; the same key that had locked it years ago.

“Hi, I—I don’t know what to say.” He was speechless, what do you say to someone after 10 years?

The situation had stolen his words. His lips trembled with words kept for years, with explanations hidden away, with thighs he had felt. The truth, why that had been his only choice at the time, and how much he regretted it now.

“Who’s this sweet girl?” She decided to ask, leaving her stuff besides her and standing up briskly. The small child answered timidly, her cheeks warmed by the adult’s caresses, yet she broke into a wide smile. 

“She’s my daughter, uhm—Why don’t you go find mommy? I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

And as the child walked off, the silence became unbearable.

“I married Annabeth,” Percy said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

He didn’t dare look at her, his gaze locked on his shoes, as if the weight of his confession was too much to face.

“Congratulations?” She replied, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Her tone was sharp, but the faint quiver in her voice betrayed her. She took a step back, shaking her head as if trying to process what he’d just said. “Percy, I should—” 

“I’m sorry, for everything.” He interrupted, finally looking up at her. His eyes shimmered with a guilt that made her stomach churn, that made her want to vomit.

“Oh, you’re sorry?” She snapped. “That’s supposed to fix it, right? All the tears, the therapy, the fear I felt without you?” 

Her breath was ragged, the anger and hurt bleeding into every syllable. 

“Do you know what it felt to wake up alone? To wake up terrified, expecting to see the love of your life beside you after almost dying, and find nothing but a letter? You said you’d never leave!”

The words hit him harder than any punch.

But it wasn’t fair. 

She wasn’t the only one who remembered. 

He remembered it all too well.

Carrying the girl to his room, her blood soaking his blue sheets. 

Gripping her hand tightly, repeating over and over that everything would be okay, when he wasn’t sure it would; when all he could do was pray for a miracle.

Her desperate screams, begging for everything to stop.

Her life slipping through his fingers, pulling his own life along with it.

She wasn’t meant for that world, for the God's sick kingdom. How could he let her get hurt again? 

“You almost died!” he said.

“No, I died the day you left!” she shouted, the weight of her anger pushing her forward. “I just needed you!”

Percy stood silent, the weight of guilt now completely suffocating him, as it hit him like a wave sweeping away any defense he might have had and leaving him exposed before the woman he had once loved and lost.

“Percy, I honestly didn’t want to see you again,” She grabbed her bag and turned toward Percy, tears in her eyes. “But this might be the last time I look at your face. I don’t know what’s happened in your life these years, I hope you’re okay. I can only wish that you’re happy, that letting go of me was worth it.”

She paused, a lump forming in her throat, but she swallowed it down.

Percy’s heart beat erratically, each beat feeling like a hammer. He opened his mouth again, but his voice was caught, the silence between them more deafening than any words could be. 

“I forgive you, truly. Because when you left me, you lost the one real thing you’ve ever known, and that will be enough for me to rest in peace.” Her voice was quieter now, almost to a whisper. She took just one step closer, almost felling his body heat.

But all she wanted to do now was get away form it.

“Do you remember how we used to talk about getting married? Picking out names for our future children? Daydreaming about houses on family trips, like two naive sixteen-year-olds who thought growing up was all that mattered? Maybe we could’ve had it all.”

He winced, his expression contorting while those memories consumed him.

“But because of you, we’ll never know. Maybe in another life, but not in this one.”

Percy’s eyes filled with unshed tears, his throat tight, but he still didn’t speak. He stood there, watching her as she slowly turned away, feeling the space between them grow, the years of loss and pain stretching wide.

Watching the love of his life walk away. 

But then something seemed to stop her. She paused for a second, glancing back over her shoulder at Percy, her face softening as she hesitated.

“What’s your daughter's name?” She could feel Percy frozen, his breath catching. 

And when she heard her own name leave his lips, she had no trouble accepting what was lost, what once was and would never be again. 

She looked one last time at the loss of her life.

maybe i am overreacting but i wrote this with a pout on my face!! this is based on all to well and loml!

[secretl1fe0fm3]

can’t take it back once it’s been set in motion ~ matty healy

this is slightly inspired by my favorite ovulation song; oxytocin by billie eilish :P (also this is my first one shot so please be nice!!)

warnings: smut, inexperienced!reader, service top!matty, slight power imbalance, excessive use of the word ‘love’, matty going down soft sound, aftercare, soft(ish) dom!matty, sub!reader.

18+ minors dni!!!

3k+ words

You sigh lightly as your phone lights up your pitch black room, mocking your current state of insomnia. You had set it down over an hour ago to try and force yourself to sleep, but even with a lack of the blue light, you were still wide awake. Sitting up, you reach for your phone and notice an unknown number calling you. Already being unable to sleep, you decide to entertain whoever could possibly be calling you at this hour. Ultimately, deciding to answer.

“Hello?” You speak slowly and softly, still somewhat tired despite being unable to sleep.

“Thank god you answered.” Said the voice, relieved, on the other end of the line.

“Matty?” You could recognize that voice anywhere, even though you were seventy percent sure you were hallucinating right now.

“Im sorry to bother you at this hour, love. I need your help.” Matty breathes out, his voice sounding rushed. You groan to yourself, barely audible. You and Matty had been friends for years, meeting through a mutual friend, but you haven’t heard from him in almost two years until now. He practically ghosted your friendship when he found himself in a new, yet toxic relationship. But, based on the headlines you had read the other day scrolling twitter, they had finally called it quits.

Sitting up, you put your phone on speaker, and sit it in your lap. “Matty, what the fuck do you need?” You’re pissed, but your voice not showing any more than a slight annoyance.

“I need you to come pick me up, take me back to mine. My buddies dragged me out with them to get over, well, you know. Long story short, they are all shit-faced, none of them fucking coherent, and my god damn car service app isn’t working.” He sounds genuinely stressed. “My phones about to die as well, which is bloody fucking fantastic.” Matty grumbles into the phone.

You sit there, momentarily debating your options. You could leave him there, make him figure his shit out on his own. But you also have a soft spot for him after everything, knowing, if anything, he’s not the same person who deserted your friendship a few years ago. A deliberate exhale leaves your mouth, choosing the latter.

“Yeah, okay. Just text me your location before your phone dies. I’ll be there soon.” You hear him start to thank you, but you hang up quickly, not letting him get another word out. Deciding to keep your satin pajama shorts and bra on, you throw a hoodie over and slide on your sneakers. Groaning while grabbing your car keys off the kitchen island, you set off to your car, driving to Matty’s current location.

As you pull up to the bar, you recognize Matty leaning up against the wall, taking a long drag of his cigarette. Nothing has changed. You also notice none of his friends are anywhere to be seen. Odd. Driving up next to where Matty is standing, you roll down your window and his eyes catch yours.

“Long time no see, love.” Matty’s lips twist up into a smirk. Nothing. Has. Fucking. Changed. You watch him stub out his cigarette on the brick wall and toss it into the trash can by him. He climbs into your car shortly after. “Missed your face, thanks for coming to get me.”

Letting out an immediate scoff at his nonchalant behavior, you decide to ignore his comment. “So, Im taking you back to yours, right?”

You feel Matty’s eyes rake over your body, burning into your skin. You can smell some alcohol on him, though you know he’s not a big drinker, only having a glass or two of wine usually, and choosing to stick to his cigarettes or weed. He’s not drunk, so why is he looking at you like that.

“Of course, love.” He speaks lowly, eyes still stuck on you. You decide to disregard his use of the pet name and put your car into drive, pulling off onto the main road.

The drive to Matty’s house was maybe fifteen minutes at most, and yet it felt like an eternity with his eyes fixed on you. It’s almost like he couldn’t believe you actually came to pick him up, not being able to come to terms that you were finally seeing each other after two years.

Pulling up to Matty’s house brought back so many memories, and important moments you two had shared over the years of your friendship. His driveway led you to his front door, as you put your car in park, you finally glance over at Matty, who’s staring attentively. Under the glow of the exterior lights on his house, you notice he’s wearing tight black jeans, a dark belt, blank tank top, and a satin dress shirt. His long curly hair is slicked back slightly, with his sunglasses sitting on top of his head.

“Like what you see?” Matty implies cockily, eyes never leaving yours.

“It’s a fucking Monday.” You glare at him. “Why were you out on a fucking Monday, don’t you think you’re too old for this bullshit?” Continuing to ignore his playful comments, you squint your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest. You slightly feel bad for picking arguments with him, but his remarks are starting to make you feel some type of way.

Matty laughs out loud at your comment, the sudden deep laugh makes you jump a bit. “Lighten up a bit, love.” He nudges his elbow into your arm. You continue to frown at him, clearly not finding anything amusing. Matty falls silent, realizing how upset you actually are. “Look, why don’t you come inside? I can make you some tea, and we could watch a movie like old times?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, waiting on an answer.

Your eyes bore into his. “Fine.” Turning off your car, you and Matty step out, walking up to his front door. He unlocks his door and steps to the side, motioning for you to come in. You take off your sneakers and set them on the mat, walking over to his living room and sitting down on his massive couch. He joins you promptly, sitting right next to you, a little too close for the amount of spots he could’ve picked from.

“Still a little bratty? Huh?” He asks casually, not once looking up at you as he turns on his TV.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes widen at his sudden judgement.

“Bratty. You’ve always been a little brat, love. It’s cute, though. Never minded it. Some things just never change.” He chuckles to himself, shaking his head.

Can’t take it back once it’s been set in motion

Your mouth is agape, taken aback by his words, struggling to make a counter remark.

“I see no one’s ever tried putting you in your place yet.” Matty hums absentmindedly, setting the remote down and glancing over at your shocked face.

You know I love to rub it in like lotion.

Pink flushes on your cheeks and neck as you stare at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to say next. "I- what?" You stumble over your words, mouth suddenly dry.

Matty moves closer, invading any personal space you were clinging onto. His hand falls on your thigh, squeezing as he keeps his eyes locked on yours. "Oh, you heard me loud and clear, love. Don't play stupid now." He whispers, eyes flickering to your lips momentarily.

You lose the ability to speak, eyes unable to leave his. "Matty-" He cuts you off.

"C'mon darling, I saw how you were looking at me in the car, and how eager you were to come pick me up tonight, even after all this time"

I can see it clear as day.

The blush on your cheeks deepens as you feel his hot breath fan across your skin, creating goosebumps up your arms. You grab onto his forearm, putting your other hand on his chest, trying to keep a small distance between you two. Matty was very attractive, you couldn't deny it. But your inexperience was making you hesitate, unsure of how to handle his advances.

Before you could react, Matty reached his hand out and placed it on your cheek, the other still resting on your thigh, squeezing tighter than before. His face was only centimeters away from yours as he breathes out, "Tell me to stop and I will. But you don't want me too, do you, love?"

You don't really need a break.

You close your eyes tightly, feeling flustered at his words. A warmth growing in your stomach, an unfamiliar feeling. You think about pushing him off, but your body ached for him, not wanting to stop this. Without any more hesitation, you look back up at him, shaking your head slowly, an invitation for him to continue.

Wanna see what you can take.

At your permission, Matty crashes his lips against yours, moving the hand that was on your cheek down to your neck. You let out a small gasp at the contact. He takes this as a chance to deepen the kiss, taking up every part of your mouth with his. The grip on your thigh moves up, closer to your heat. His fingers play with the hem of your pajama shorts, pushing them up slightly, almost exposing your underwear. You let out a pathetic whine as he breaks the heated kiss.

"God, Ive wanted to do this for years, you have no idea." Matty grumbles out as he pulls off your hoodie swiftly, pushing you down to lay back against the arm rest. He hovers over you, pulling down your satin shorts slowly, eyes never breaking contact from yours. "You're so fucking pretty baby, my perfect girl." You blush at his words, letting out a soft groan. Feeling like a prey under the gaze of a predator, you fix your eyes on the ceiling, unable to look at him.

You should really run away.

Matty notices this, and reaches his hand out to grab at your chin, directing your attention back to him. "Don't you dare look away, keep your eyes on me, yeah?"

Your eyes meet his again, his pupils blown with lust. He looks at you with a stern look, asserting his dominance as you nod silently. Matty smirks at your obedience, and starts rubbing small circles on your heat. You moan louder this time at the friction, pushing your hips up against his hand.

Other people wouldn't stay. Other people don't obey.

"That's right, love. Does that feel good? Do you want more?" Matty's eyes stay trained on yours. You feel small under his gaze, yet enjoying how he towers over you, his chain dangling in front of your face. You clench your legs together as his fingers rub at your clit, growing wetter by the second.

Your stomach starts to tighten, already close to an orgasm. "Im close, please, I can't." You cry out, throwing your head back on the arm rest.

His fingers suddenly disappear from your clit, and you cry out from the sudden loss.

"Do I need to repeat myself? I told you to keep your eyes on me, yeah? Be a good girl for me, darling." Matty reiterates, moving his other hand up to your neck again, applying pressure but not fully cutting off your airway.

You nod feverishly, not wanting him to stop again. Your eyes pleading for forgiveness. Matty chuckles and reaches his hand back down, his fingers barely grazing your clit again as he pulls your underwear down your thighs, exposing your wet cunt to him. The cold air against your core makes you shudder, the contrast in temperature sending a wave of pleasure up your spine.

Matty watches your reaction intently, reveling in how it doesn't take much to get you worked up. He releases your neck from his grip and places his lips against your neck, searching for your pulse point. You expose your neck more, giving him silent permission to continue.

I wanna do bad things to you.

"God, you really are a desperate thing, aren't you love? Tell me where you want me." He murmurs into your neck, planting kisses and bites around the sensitive area as he rubs tight circles on your clit. You flush at his words, letting out a whimper.

"Anywhere, please." You beg him, jerking your hips up to create more friction again. He lets out a soft chuckle into your neck at this.

"Your wish is my command, darling." Matty smirks and pulls away from your neck. He begins to move down your body, trailing kisses until he reaches your cunt. He breathes out onto your heat, then swiftly attaches his lips to your clit, sucking hard. You cry out from the new feeling, body squirming with pleasure.

Matty hums against your pussy at the cry you let out, creating a vibrating sensation. Your hands grip at his head, your fingers curling into his hair and pulling. You keep your eyes on him as he flicks his tongue against your clit repeatedly, mouth hanging open in a silent moan.

"So fucking perfect for me." He mumbles, wrapping his hands around your legs, keeping them wide open for him. His tongue teases your tight hole, licking thick stripes wherever he could reach before his attention is drawn back to your clit, sucking persistently.

Your back arches off the couch, fingers gripping at his hair and pulling hard. "Matty, fuck, Im gonna come, fuck-" You stumble over your words, feeling your stomach tighten at his continued abuse against your cunt.

Matty pulls away momentarily, "Go ahead, darling. Be a good girl for me and come on my tongue, yeah?" He picks up speed, mercilessly sucking and circling his tongue on your pussy.

I wanna make you yell.

Your legs clench together, affectively trapping him against your core as your body tenses up. You throw your head back, letting out an obscenely loud moan as you feel your orgasm wash over your body. Your hips buck up into his mouth, feeling even more wetness pool where his mouth is. Matty moans against your cunt, sending aftershocks from your orgasm straight to your heat again.

"You taste fucking unbelievable, love." He grunts out, making sure to swallow every last bit of your orgasm. Your body twitches from overstimulation as he finishes cleaning you up with his tongue.

Matty pulls away, his lips soaked with your fluids. You look at him with heavy eyes, feeling almost drunk from your orgasm. He looks almost as wrecked as you. You are about to sit up and reach for him when you glance down and realize he's still hard, but he stops you.

"I know you're tired. You don't have to finish me off. Another time, okay?" Matty speaks lowly, keeping eye contact with you as he stands up and grabs a blanket from the basket near the coffee table. He sits on the edge of the couch next to you, wrapping you up in the fluffy blanket. You blink up at him, exhaustion washing over your body.

Matty stares down at you, giving you a look filled with an emotion you couldn't quite pinpoint. You sigh out, feeling his body press up next to yours. He pulls you into his arms tightly, brushing his fingers through your hair.

"Thank you for that." You admit your appreciation shyly, a content smile on your lips.

Matty grins down at you, "Of course, love. Anything for you." He runs his fingers through your hair, brushing the strands out of your face. Your eyes flutter shut, unable to fight the sleep coming over you this time.

[mssorceressupreme]

The Way I Loved You | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Dumbledore has asked for every house to put on a performance during the Yule Ball, the winner will earn 250 House Points. For this particular dance you’re partnered up with George though you wish it was Fred, however during the dance George is nowhere to be found. You’re left there on the dance floor right before your performance, stranded, alone & embarrassed, will anyone save you?

Warnings: jealousy, mutual-pining, dance lessons from Fred Weasley, nothing else lol this one’s fluffy <3

A/N: was superrr inspired by that one scene in The Summer I Turned Pretty during the debutante ball where Conrad dances with Belly instead of Jeremiah 🥹🥹 feel free to listen to ‘That’s the Way I Loved You by Taylor swifts’ for this read

Sorry this one's kinda long, got a bit carried away but he's just so scrumdilicious x

———

The Gryffindor common room was lively with the crackle of the fireplace and the chatter of students winding down after a long day.

You sat cross-legged on the floor near Hermione, flipping through a book on charms, while Fred and George lounged on the sofa, tossing a chocolate frog back and forth like it was a Quaffle.

Lee was perched on the armrest, chiming in with his usual quips, and Ron was attempting—and failing—to beat Harry in wizard chess.

The portrait door swung open with a thud, and Ginny burst in, her face alight with excitement. “Everyone, listen up!” she called, cutting through the noise.

Fred groaned, tossing the chocolate frog into George’s lap. “What now?”

Ginny ignored him, standing proudly at the centre of the room. “Professor Dumbledore’s announced a competition taking place during the Yule Ball. Each house has to put on a performance, and the best one wins 250 house points!”

The room fell silent, except for the crackle of the fire.

“A performance?” Fred repeated, eyebrows raised. “You mean like... dancing in front of the entire school? Nope. No way. Count me out.”

“Oh, come on,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “You’re not scared, are you?”

“Scared? No. Smart? Yes,” Fred replied, sticking his tongue out at her teasingly.

Ginny mimicked him. “Fine. I wasn’t planning on pairing you anyway.”

“Good,” Fred said, leaning back smugly.

Lee raised his hand. “Yeah, same here. I’ll pass on the public humiliation, thanks.”

Fred breathed a slight sigh of relief at Ginny's words, thankful he had escaped that particular disaster. He noticed her next comment, however, and a feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

“Great,” Ginny said, undeterred. “McGongall's put me in charge of organising's Gryffindor performance and I’ve already got pairs in mind! Harry and me, Ron and Hermione, Neville and Angelina, and—” she paused, grinning at you, “you and George.”

Fred perked up slightly at this but quickly masked it with a yawn.

"Let's goo Georgie!" Lifting your hand up for a high-five with George.

Fred watched as you high-fived George, his eyes narrow slightly with jealousy. He couldn't believe Ginny would pair YOU and George together. The thought of the two of you dancing together, moving in sync, made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

As the others continued discussing the dance, Fred's gaze flickered to you, watching as you interacted with the others. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to dance with you, spin you around the dance floor, hold you close...

Fred quickly shook his head, banishing the thoughts from his mind. He had to keep it together. He couldn't let everyone know that he was secretly hoping to dance with you. Besides, Ginny had already paired you with George. There was no way to change that now.

“Practice starts at 7 in the Great Hall tomorrow,” Ginny continued. “Don’t be late!” ___

Right at 7 the next day, the eight of you plus Fred and Lee started making their way to the great hall, the energy in the air buzzing with anticipation.

Fred reluctantly followed, his heart pounding in his chest as he entered the grand room. "Oi Fred what are you doing here, I don't recall you being in the dance." Ron teased.

Fred rolled his eyes at Ron's comment, feigning indifference. "Just thought I'd come see how the professionals do it. Don't get too cocky, Ronald."

George snickered at Fred's response, clearly enjoying watching his twin squirm. In reality, Fred was here solely to keep an eye on you and George dancing together.

"Alright Gin, what do you have in mind?" You asked excitedly about the choreography.

Ginny beamed at your enthusiasm and clapped her hands together. "So, for the slow part, we're doing a simple box-step. Just a few basic steps with some swaying and twirling, nothing too complicated."

She demonstrated the steps with one of the boys. It looked fairly simple, a basic back and forth moving step with some twirling and having your arms around your partner.

"It's a fairly easy dance, with clear instructions for each step, just remember to move in sync with your partner, or it'll look like a chaotic mess." She chuckled.

She demonstrated the dance, moving her body to the beat of the imaginary music. It involved swaying, spinning, and stepping, all in time with the music. "That looks amazing, should be a piece of cake to get down." You noted.

You and George paired off going to one corner to rehearse while Ginny helped the others, and to your surprise, the two of you picked up the routine quickly.

“You’re a natural,” George said with a grin as you spun gracefully under his arm.

Across the hall, Fred and Lee sat against the wall, their arms crossed. Fred was trying to act indifferent, but his eyes kept wandering to you.

“You’re staring,” Lee said, nudging him.

“Am not,” Fred muttered, tearing his gaze away.

“Yes, you are. You’re jealous,” Lee teased, smirking.

Fred scoffed. “Jealous? Of George? Don’t be ridiculous.”

But the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

George, with a cheeky grin, took the lead, his hands confidently on your waist. He led you through the basic box-step, his movements smooth and precise. You, too, followed his guidance gracefully, executing the steps effortlessly.  You blushed, looking into his eyes as this was the first time you'd properly danced with a guy.

Though George was a delight to dance with, you couldn't help but secretly wish it was Fred, your long-time crush. But no way would you admit that to anyone, you did not want to ruin the long-term friendship you had with him, or worse, change the dynamic of the friend group.

Thinking of Fred, you looked over at him, making eye contact with him momentarily. 

Fred, watching from the corner, felt a sting in his chest when he met your eyes. The sight of you and George dancing together was almost too painful to bear. He tried to stay neutral, but the longing in his eyes betrayed his emotions. ___

The next day, you found yourself in the courtyard, practicing under a tree. George had been called away for something, so you were left to rehearse the steps alone.

“Left foot back, right foot forward... no, wait—” you muttered, stumbling.

Unbeknownst to you, Fred had been passing by when he noticed you under the tree. He paused, watching as you put your books aside and started recalling the dance steps. He stood there for a moment, debating whether to approach you or not. 

His heart was telling him to go over, strike up a conversation, flirt a bit. But his mind, the rational part of him, held him back.

He knew he should keep his distance, not get involved further. But he seemed to be losing the battle with himself.

Taking a deep breath, he decided he couldn't resist anymore. He walked over to you, trying to maintain his usual carefree demeanour.

From behind you came a familiar voice. “You’re doing it all wrong.”

You spun around to see Fred leaning against the tree, arms crossed and a smug grin on his face.

“Fred, go away,” you said, exasperated. “I’m trying to practice.”

“I can see that,” he said, strolling over. “And failing spectacularly, I might add.”

"I'm serious, I don't want to let Ginny down." You glared at him, pushing him away playfully.

Fred stumbled back a step, faking defeat. He chuckled as he regained his footing, his smirk widening. "Oh, I know, I know, can't have dear Ginny's dance being ruined, can we?" "Exactly. Now if you mind, i'm trying to recall my steps." You mentally practice in you head, moving slightly as you did so to your own rhythm. Fred chuckled, finding it slightly amusing and endearing how focused you were on remembering the steps. He leaned against the tree, crossing his arms, watching you with a mixture of playful mockery and genuine admiration. You then mimick the steps, putting your arm out pretending George was in front of you but it was hard without someone in front to guide you, "Wait no like this...? Two steps to the right?...or left was it?"

Fred watched you struggle, your movements clearly off without a partner to guide you. He couldn't help but smirk at your frustration and confusion, finding it quite charming how determined you were despite the difficulty. He pushed off the tree, coming to stand beside you.

"You know, I could help you, if you want. I'm an expert dance teacher, you know."  "Yeah right 'Mr. I Hate Dancing'..." You roll your eyes.

"Hey, don't underestimate me. I'll have you dancing like a pro in no time." He was confident, folding his arms proudly at his proclamation. "Fine, whatever, show me." You feigned defeat, desperately needing more help. Fred chuckled, pleased by your acceptance and secretly happy that he could be the one helping you for a change. "Alright, let's get started. Firstly, you need to focus on your stance. Feet slightly apart, weight slightly forward."

He demonstrated by adjusting his own stance, and then stepped closer to you, gesturing towards you to do the same. As you adjusted your stance accordingly, Fred came to stand directly in front of you, facing you.

His eyes traveled from your face down to your feet, sizing you up as he mentally began planning the steps he was about to explain. 

He continued, instructing you further as he shifted a bit closer. His voice was now lower, a hint of command in his tone.

"Now, you step back with your left leg first. Slightly bend your right knee as you do." He instructed and you nodded, watching him in a serious demeanour was rather attractive.

Unusual from his playful self, you observed his face, how he was focused, eyebrows furrowed, focused on helping you. "Good, now bring your right foot up to meet your left, closing the gap. Good, good. Keep your weight balanced between your feet. Don't lock your knees, just a little bend will do." You tried doing so but tripped, losing balance. Fred reacted quickly, his hands instinctively reaching out to steady you. He caught you in his arms, pulling you against his chest to prevent you from falling.

He chuckled softly, his hands still on your hips to keep you upright. "Woah, easy there. You're a bit clumsy today, aren't ya?" Yeah because you're so close to me right now Fred. You chuckle nervously. "Whoops, my bad!"

"It's a good thing I've got my reflexes, or you would have kissed the ground just now." He laughed, helping you steady yourself. "Hey maybe the ground needed a good kiss." You tease back jokingly.

Fred laughed aloud at your cheeky remark, his hands still on your waist, thumbs tracing small circles against your sides. He tilted his head slightly, arching one eyebrow mischievously.

"Oh really? And what about me? Do I get a kiss too since I saved you from kissing the ground?" He joked, but something in his eyes told you he partly meant what he said.

You blushed but played it off, "Yeah yeah you wish Weasley, now come on show me the steps."

Fred chuckled at your attempt to brush off his comment, but he couldn't help feeling a twinge of disappointment. Nevertheless, he complied, refocusing his attention back on the dancing lesson.

"Alright, alright. Let's try that again. Back step, knees bent, weight balanced, and..."

He demonstrated each step as he spoke, his hands guiding your hips gently on your left and right. As he moved, his body was incredibly close to yours.

The heat from his breath fanned against your skin, and his hands firmly grasping your hips sent tingles through your body. He could sense the effect his touch was having on you, yet he kept a calm and composed expression, maintaining the facade of a dancing teacher. Fred continued the lesson, occasionally correcting your stance, or gently repositioning your hips. Each time his touch lingered for a few moments longer than necessary, his fingers gently grazing your skin sending a small spark of electricity through your entire body.

Yet, he kept his focus on the lesson, acting as if he was completely oblivious to the effect he was having on you.

"Like this?" You ask, then show him your steps. Fred watched you closely, his eyes following the movement of your feet and hips as you demonstrated the steps.

He smiled approvingly, impressed with how quickly you were catching on. "Yes, yes, that's it. You've got it. Just keep your weight balanced and move with the rhythm. You're doing great." "Wow really?" You gleamed with joy, finally noting the steps down. 

Fred chuckled, enjoying the joy and excitement on your face as you realised you were getting the steps down. He nodded, a proud smile on his face."Of course really. I told you, didn't I? I'm an excellent dance teacher. Just a few more practices, and you'll be gliding across the dance floor like a pro tomorrow." "I'spose I do have a okay teacher." You remarked nonchalantly. 

George watched us then cleared his throat, holding himself back from chortling, "Okay, okay nice show. It's time for some real dancing now Y/N."

As George cleared his throat, both you and Fred looked over at him, having been so engrossed in the dancing lesson that you hadn't noticed his presence.

"Enjoying the show, were you Georgie?" Fred hummed.

"More like trying not to throw up from the eyes you were giving each other." George joked, knowing Fred's evident crush on you, "Anyway, it's time for practice, it's 7. Came looking for Y/N." George spoke, walking over to me.

As Fred released you from his grip, you felt a short wave of disappointment as his hands left your hips. But before you could dwell on that, George's hand took its place, his touch familiar and comforting yet lacking the spark that Fred's had.

George smiled at you, oblivious to the lingering tension between you and Fred. You looked back at Fred who stood there by himself, then turned to George who was walking with you.  As you followed George, you couldn't help but glance back at Fred. He remained by the tree, watching you as you moved away with George.

There was a mix of emotions in his eyes - disappointment, longing, and perhaps a hint of jealousy. Fred tried to act casually, leaning against the tree with his arms crossed, but his mind was swirling with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

Though he knew George meant no harm, seeing you with George was painful, especially since he was the one who had just been holding you close, teaching you the steps just moments ago.

___ The night of the Yule Ball arrived, and the Great Hall was a vision of sparkling decorations and twinkling lights. As you lined up with the other Gryffindors in one of the waiting rooms before your performance, George suddenly clutched his stomach.

"You alright George?" You ask, placing a hand on his back.

George waved his hand dismissively, trying to downplay his discomfort. "Yeah, I'm good. Just a bit of an upset stomach. Probably ate something rotten earlier. I'll be alright, don't worry." 

George then excused himself and went to the bathroom, feeling unwell. He hurried to the bathroom, trying to compose himself.

Meanwhile, Ginny, Angelina, and Hermione approached you, wearing concerned expressions.

"Is George okay? He look a bit pale just now..." Concern lacing in Hermione's voice.

"Tummy ache, probably ate something wrong earlier, its okay he'll be back in time for the dance..." You hoped, nervously as you began walking toward the hall, everyone waiting for your Gryffindor group, or team, to perform. 

Hermione nodded, her worry still visible. The three girls followed you out of the room, walking down the corridor toward the Great Hall where the entire school was waiting.

As the four of you reached the entrance to the Great Hall, the sound of hushed whispers and applause grew louder and louder. Every student in Hogwarts was gathered within, their eyes fixed on the stage, eagerly awaiting your grand performance. With every step you took toward the stage, the crowd's applause grew louder and louder. As the four of you finally took your places at the front of the stage, the audience erupted into cheers.

The boys then took their positions in their respective places, and the energy in the room was electric with anticipation. Still, George was no where to be seen. "Hey Ron, have you seen George?"you asked, but no luck.

Ron shook his head, looking just as concerned as you. "No, mate. I thought he was with you guys. Have you checked the bathroom?" You shook your head, "Harry, do you know where George is?"

Harry looked just as puzzled, worry etched on his face. "No, haven't seen him. He ran off earlier. Thought he was just going to the bathroom." "Neville, have you seen George?" You asked. Neville scratched his head, thinking. "Last I saw him, he was heading to the bathrooms. I thought he was just feeling a bit under the weather."The minutes ticked by, the tension in the room building. Everyone was in their positions, ready to dance, but you were standing there, feeling anxious without your partner. The audience started noticing the delay, their whispers turning into murmurs of confusion and anticipation. Oh no, you glanced around the room looking at the audience, this was the worst thing ever, you felt humiliated. Your heart raced, the feeling of embarrassment and hopelessness washing over you.

Every pair in the room was in their positions, ready to dance, except for you. Your eyes darted around the room, seeing the murmurs and whispers of the audience. You felt exposed, the spotlight on you as the delay continued.Hermione, Ginny, and Angelina watched you with sympathetic and worried expressions. They wanted to help, but there was nothing they could do. The situation was growing more embarrassing by the second as the absence of your partner became more glaringly obvious to everyone in the great hall. Professor McGonagall, standing at the back of the great hall, noticed the delay and the lack of a partner for you. She furrowed her eyebrows, puzzled by the situation.

The murmurs and whispers from the audience grew louder, filling the air with a sense of suspense. Just as the whispers grew even louder, Fred's gaze fell upon you.

His eyes widened in shock upon seeing you standing alone, looking visibly upset. He exchanged a worried look with Lee, who looked just as concerned. Fred's heart ached seeing you alone up there. 

Fred's mind raced, torn between his conflicting emotions. He wanted to charge up onto the stage and take your place as your partner, but something held him back. He looked at Lee, silently pleading for advice.

--- cue: That's the Way I Loved You by Taylor Swift ---

Fred couldn't bear the sight of you standing there alone, feeling more helpless by the second. He shot a determined look at Lee, silently letting him know that he had made up his mind.

Without another moment of hesitation, Fred pushed past the other couples and walked confidently toward the stage.

The murmurs in the audience grew louder, watching the unexpected scene unfold before them.

It felt as though time slowed down when you watched him approach you, your gazes fixed on each other, drowning out everyone else in the room. As Fred approached the front of the stage, his heart thumping in his chest, he met your worried eyes. He offered you a reassuring smile, silently letting you know everything was going to be alright now. 

Fred took his position beside you, the audience watching in stunned surprise as the change of plan unfolded before their eyes. Fred glanced at you once more, his eyes brimming with a mix of concern and determination.

You smiled at him, relieved, comforted, excited, all at once. Fred smiled back at you, mirroring your own excitement and relief. He offered you a wink, trying to lighten the moment a bit. "You didn't think I'd let you dance alone like this, did you?" "The steps..do you...?" You smile widely but was worried he might've forgotten the steps.

Fred chuckled, noticing your concern. "Please, I've been watching you guys practicing for ages. I know these steps as well as I know the back of my hand."  You smile widely...it was him. Fred, your Fred that you would be dancing with.  Fred grinned in return, loving the look of joy on your face. He couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement himself. He had dreamt of dancing with you like this for so long, and now here he was, finally getting the chance.

As the music started, you and Fred began moving in perfect sync, his strong hands effortlessly leading you through the steps of the dance.

The worry and uncertainty from earlier melted away, replaced by a feeling of pure magic as the two of you danced together on the stage. You gazed into his eyes lovingly, blushing, your heart beating faster because of how close your were.  Fred's eyes met yours, his heart racing with every step you took together. He was acutely aware of how close you were, the feel of your body near his sending his body into heat.

He could practically feel your heart beating as fast as his own. He tried to keep his composure, concentrating on leading you through the dance, but the way you looked at him made it incredibly difficult. As Fred pulled you closer, your bodies now almost pressed up against each other, he couldn't help but smile. Your shy smile sent his heart into a frenzy, making the dance even more thrilling.

As the music came to an end, the great hall erupted in a chorus of loud cheers and applause. You and Fred stood side by side, panting slightly from the exertion.

Your hearts were still racing, the excitement of the dance lingering in the air. Fred's hand was still holding yours, a warm smile on his face as he looked at you.

"I love you." Fred suddenly said.

"What?!" You responded, over the loud yelling and cheers. "I said, I love you." He confessed, stepping closer cupping your cheeks tenderly, "I always have Y/N. You're the only thing that's been on my mind for awhile now. Merlin, you consume my thoughts 24/7, I just, you're the best thing that has happened to me and I-"

You cut him off with a passionate kiss, meeting his lips with gentleness.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, sparks igniting as your lips brushed together with Fred's, for the first time. The smell of his cologne, was dizzying, electrifying, sending butterflies in your stomach.

His lips soft and gentle against yours, they were gentle, the way he was gentle with you, the way he cared for you spoke volumes through this kiss.

The both of you pulled away, he leaned down, resting forehead to forehead and grinning widely. "I love you too, Fred Weasley."

[h5eavenly]

Stargirl - han jisung.

A small birthday present for my favorite person @stargirl-gigi <3 i love you so much more than words could ever explain and i'm so thankful for your existence. Happy birthday my love 🤍🤍

11:50 P.M

The screen of your phone stares back at you, glaringly bright in the darkness of your own room. It’s nearly midnight, hours treading towards the end of your birthday and you tell yourself you should be lolling into sleep by now. And yet it’s persisting in its visit. It feels unjust, specifically after spending almost the entirety of your day outside. Your laughter filling the streets with happiness and surrounded by the love infused chatter of your friends. So much love.

Albeit the moment you stumbled into your bed it’s like today was nothing more than an imagination that you had swiped through without much thought. There’s bitterness that lingers in your mouth, a longing forcing your heart to weep out in pathetic unanswered callings. You crack open your window, ushering the moonlight in and pretend you don’t know what your heart is crying for.

It's all deemed worthless the moment your phone dings – with a ringtone you had set specifically for him – You have told yourself you should change it multiple times. Tried to convince yourself that you shouldn't back yourself in a corner with how specially different you treat him.

Alas here you are.

11:55 P.M

Your eyes widen ever so slightly, your heart picking speed and you curse yourself for the anticipation coursing through your fingers. Urging you to peek at your phone, to feed the gaping hole pulsating in the middle of your chest. An ever so foolish yearning heart. And perhaps the moonlight is only another witness to you kicking your pride under your bed, and perhaps it will cackle at you if it ever spoke, perhaps the way it shines brighter once you sit up and reach for your phone on the bedside table is all in your head.

Jisung: Are you awake?

You don’t reply and he doesn’t say it, but you know, you always know and so when you’re out of your bed and opening the door to your apartment next. Jisung is standing outside, shrouded in a gray hoodie you have seen him in way too many times. You’re almost breathless when your eyes meet, and you only pray the moon won’t snitch on you. Spilling all your longing throughout the light that infiltrates his dark hair strands and you pray your eyes don’t betray your missing when he smiles with the same bitterness that lingered in you all night.

11:59 P.M

“Happy birthday.” He whispers, softly and tenderly. It’s cruelled in the way it drowns you in the depths of your emotions yet again. Bringing them back to life with newfound intensity and all the cruses you have memorized all day long dwindle down on your tongue. Melting away with all the anger and resentment you have mastered up all these past months you have not seen him.

A braver version of you, one that isn’t stitched together by an aching need for him and an even deeper ache to look at him would slam the door shut in his face. The you right now welcomes him in your space like there’s no other place for him to belong.

Silence is heavy as it paints the air, you awkwardly move the boxes of gifts you have gotten and Jisung lingers behind just as bunglingly. Pushing down his hood and ruffling his hair. Every sound feels intensified; his breathing has chills running down your spine.

“Is that a ghostface action figure?” His tone is woven with excitement, and you follow his gaze.

“Yeah...” You mumble, your tone is heavier than you’d like, and it dims his excitement. You avert your eyes elsewhere, somewhere far from him and yet not far enough it seems because you almost hear your heart screaming for him.

“Looks sick.” He replies, quieter and tinted with suffocation, the same one circling in the air and you let out a breath just as quiet as your eyes find him.

You hold your longing in your throat, in your stomach and the leash of restraint triggers. You closed your eyes, sealed your lips for far too long and right in this moment when he looks back at you, gaze clouded with a different million emotions you’re splitting open. Vomiting heartbreak, sharpened by a feverish urge to have him all to yourself.

“Why weren’t you there?” you ask, and his eyes widen ever so slightly, ever so temporarily as if he wasn’t expecting you to ask. And then a nervous chuckle is pushed out his lips – humorless – as he scratches his neck.

“I was busy working at the studio.” It’s an empty excuse, you know it by now, have known it for the past months he kept uttering it to you over and over again.

“Changbin and Bangchan were there. Everyone else was there but you.” you should let it go. You’re aware digging at this will only ever result in pain and yet you can’t stop not when the clock ticks 12 and you have grown numb from waiting.

“I’m sorry…” He speaks after a few lingering moments of silence and his eyes are drifting, fleeting in their hold onto you. You almost want to scoff. The darkness remains and the moon cackles at you again. His eyes are always running away from you, and you’d rather be buried than yearning.

“I haven’t seen you in months,” you say, wishing it came out as a berate but instead it’s weakened by your eyes – filled with twisted desire – one that feels like you’re not allowed to feel “are you avoiding me?” you ask, pressing for answers, something that will end this suffering of yours, something that will help you not feel like a mere notch of time.

“I’m really sorry.” This time you scoff out loud and you wish for answers rather than apologies. It’s why you’re kneeling into silence that doesn’t stretch long enough for you to gather up your emotions and lock them up.

You have kept yourself locked away for so long so why tonight of all times seems to feel like a failing task. An impossible one that you cannot seem to master.

“Do you just not want me in your life anymore?” you whisper, looking down and chewing on your bottom lip as if you’re afraid the louder your voice will get the harsher the truth tumbling out his lips will be. The harsher they will cut.

You’d rather be buried than yearning.

Because truth is you have been in love with Jisung for as long as you remember. You belonged to him the moment you laid eyes on him and haven’t been able to take back your pieces ever since. Not that you wished to anyways. It was a scary feeling, inflating so big inside of you as if it was always there, as if it just needed the sunray to bloom and his smile was all it took. Before you knew it your heart felt deserted without him and love for him exists within you like the lines across your palms. And yet you’re so scared to look at him and witness your worst nightmares come to life. It’s one that you thought of a lot of times before, one that had you curling up in anxiety and calling for him alone; losing him.

It's the sole reason you sacrificed your soul. Stamped with foolish lies like being friends with him as if you hadn’t looked at him with the devotion of a lover.

In a mere moment Jisung has closed the distance between you two, a look of betrayal on his face as if he can’t believe what you said and you wonder why he’s stepping on your heart as if you just didn’t offer it to him.

“How could you say that?” his eyes are widened with a tempest of confusion and when your eyes dart between his, the air feels heavier as it travels through your lungs. The space between you two is not small enough and yet you’re closer to choking than anything “How could you say that to me I- holy fuck do you even realize – “his words are tangled and messy like wildflowers. Scattered and lost with meaning, direction and it’s thanks to the way you keep looking up at him so softly. His ribcage tightens around his heart, and he lets out a breath “I wrote you a song.”

“What?” your brows furrow and he runs his hand through his hair. Something akin to frustration coming to life in the knot between his.

“I wrote you a song because I couldn’t fucking stop thinking about you and now you – “ he stops himself and your heart starts beating impossibly fast, a song that’s only ever breathed to life whenever you’re around him and you feel your longing, yearning explode. Spreading across your face and seeping into your eyes and they’re begging “Never mind.” He breaths, rushed and draping its disappointment on you “I should go i- I don’t know.”

Before you have enough time to gather a singular word that he said he’s already turning away from you. Your feet are glued to the ground with strives to wrap your head around the mess you two seem to constantly find yourselves in. A beat, then a second and for an evanescent split second you wonder if you should let him go. If perhaps all these bent up feelings that have been collecting are nothing but a rope of poison slowly strangling you to death. But rather anything you’re a slave to your heart.

What are you if not over loving, over feeling?

By the time you’re after him, hand curled around his wrist it is already too late, Jisung has a part of you and you’re shaking your head.

“Don’t go.” You tell him and his expression breaks into the same longing you watch in the mirror every passing moment he’s not here “Stay and tell me. Sing me your song.” You say, ask, wish, pray and it’s all between your teeth. All these wishes you have been keeping score of and it is too late.

Your touch burns his wrist, and his own charade falls apart faster than your blink of an eye. It’s like the minute you touch him everything is crumbling and he’s no longer pressing down on his neck to keep it together. In his dreams you’re a secret he can’t tell anyone about but right now he’s backing you into the nearest wall with his hands cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing he had the pleasure of touching. The world narrows down to nothing but the ringing of your heartbeat in your ears and his shaky breaths. The space between your lips is almost nonexistent and you’re exchanging breaths like a drowned soul coming up for air.

“You have no idea what you do to me. Do you?” he whispers and it’s not really a question rather a declaration. Pulled from the depths of his being and you welcome it with warmth.

“Jisung..” your hot breath is fanning across his lips and he swallows back nothing, feel your eyes squeeze the last drop of sanity he was holding onto. He rests his forehead against yours “Shh. Shh” His hand slowly travels from your cheek to your palm, holding it tenderly and placing it atop where his heart is

“Can you feel that?” he asks breathlessly, gaze pouring into yours as you feel his wild heartbeat reverberates against your palm. A stranger urge to tattoo every beat into your essence has your eyes softening.

“Yes.” You whisper back timidly and then you’re leaning closer, nose brushing against his “Me too.” You tell him, closing your eyes “I feel the same.”

“No.” He shakes his head, squeezing your palm on his chest “You don’t understand. What I feel for you is- nothing like a human can feel. It’s something out of this world. I-“ A labored breath, and his fingers tremble around your cheek that only could be an evidence of love, such yearning. It drips from his eyes when you look at him “You make me want to rearrange the stars and place you in between them.” He confesses and the way your eyes fill with tears quickly could only be an unveiling of your own feelings, laced with something so you, something he’s so addicted to.

Jisung has never been good at speaking his feelings but you, you make him want to try and fail only to try again, only to spill your name across every star. Scribble your words into every poem and there’s no love if not for you.

“All I think about is you – all I think about is loving you. you have consumed me completely. I don’t know –“ he’s drawing you closer, his heartbeat accelerating as his lips almost touch yours “I don’t know what it’s like not to love you and I’m scared I’m gonna regret this. I’m scared I’m gonna scare you away but fuck-”

“You will never scare me away Jisung.” Your mumbles are comfort spreading its wings across his chest and he shakes his head again with a strangled huff, pushed out with deafened ears and an overwhelming intensity that wraps around his fragile heart.

“I don’t think you understand I don’t think you’re listening to me – “

“I am Jisung. I am listening.”

“No, no.” he cradles your face closer to his with a shush. Both of you are breathing heavily as if oxygen have been sucked from the room, fled somewhere unreachable if not between your mouths “I love you. do you know what that means? Do you know what it’s like to stop talking to you for months in hopes of forgetting you? only to end up feeling like a fucking loser because I can’t write anything if it’s not about you? do you understand?” there’s desperation woven in his tone, tinting his gaze when he finally captures yours and then they’re softening like melted candle wax.

Like a blazing fire, burning for you and you thread your fingers through the spaces between his, right atop his heart. If you listen closely, you swear you could hear whispers – callings of your name.

“I understand.” You smile and it blankets his being with warmth, his stars shine brighter “I feel the same.” You whisper hoarsely against his lips and right before your eyelids fall shut, he sees the moon glistening and he finally surrenders, closing the space between you two and interlocking his lips with yours.

It’s unhurried – tender as if the time of the world is in the palm of his hands and he can bend it to his will. A sweetness spreads throughout your limbs, like honey despite the salty rivulets of tears across your cheeks.

“Say it.” He murmurs between kisses, whiny and desperate as he presses you further into the wall, wishing he could melt his body onto you, wanting, no, knowing he’s nothing but a part of you “Tell me you feel the same.”

“I love you too,” you tell him and for the first time in a long time you feel touched and not harmed. For the first time you don’t need to swallow down his name but rather speak it into the world because the sun will not shine, this night shall last for an eternity.

“Again,” he asks, pulling back enough to rest his forehead against yours. His heart aches not in despair for you but in prayers that this isn’t some stupid dream of his and if he did somehow only have you in his dream he hopes to never wake up.

“I love you.” you answer with your thumb swiping across his cheek, and he shudders.

“Again. Tell me again.” His chest heaves and you understand, how one lifetime isn’t close to enough “Please tell me again.” Your hands are gentle on him, they move like water and when you lean forward pressing kisses into his cheek, trailing a map of affection that leads to his mouth and then you’re kissing him once, twice and the third comes with a whisper, a promise.

“I love you Jisung.”

He stays and just like you had hoped night feels like it stretches long enough for him to imprint every word of love on every part of your skin. The walls of your bedroom memorize every sound, every whisper and when you’re drifting to sleep with your head buried in the crook of his neck. He’s humming a song; your song and you’re too drowned in exhaustion to focus really, yet the lyrics echo in your mind over and over again. A lullaby that has your heart singing along and your essence tangling with his.

My heart’s gone out of it,

I wander the streets in search of something I can’t find

But then you are here, and I am with you

There you are, my Stargirl.

[velvetchrry]

━━━━ IT REMAINS

pairing: johnny “soap” mactavish x psychiatrist!reader

4.3k. after being shot in the head, johnny works with a psychiatrist to get his life back. **contains dark themes - read at your own risk.

It’s a tick.

Nine. That’s how many hash marks make up the upper margin of your notes. That’s how many times Sergeant MacTavish has rubbed the spot on his forehead where he was shot months ago. If you listen closely you can hear the pad of his thumb race along the grown out hairs of his mohawk.

It’s how he gives himself quiet comfort. When you ask him a question that makes him feel squeamish, he absentmindedly runs his finger along it. You’d have more hash marks if you deigned to keep track at the beginning of your session but this is only the first time you’re meeting him. You’ve also gotten farther than any of his other psychiatrists thus far. 32 minutes in.

His first psychiatrist, Dr. Williams is great. Phenomenal, actually. Old school, nearing his late fifties — he showed you the ropes when you started here. You thought for sure his calm demeanor would be just what MacTavish needed. He made it approximately 17 minutes into the session.

You’re not even sure Dr. Williams was able to get an answer out of him that day. You were here; heard the raised voice of Sergeant MacTavish. Watched as one of the Lieutenants who accompanied him dragged him out. Dr. Williams left his office a few minutes after that, pink-faced and flustered. The only time you’ve ever seen him like that.

MacTavish went through two other psychiatrists before landing in your lap. Why me? you couldn’t help but think. What could I possibly have that they don’t? You’re the youngest psychiatrist here by a mile. Fresh meat. A larva who has yet to transform, metamorphose.

He’s been staring at the same speck on your carpet for a few minutes now. You saw this faraway look in his eyes at the beginning of the session. Those piercing blues fogged over, mist on the lake. Pupils pinpricked.

His leg bounces slightly. Sweat glistens on his upper lip. Talking about what happened, bringing up that day is what has set him off in other sessions before. You weren’t ready to breach the subject until a few minutes ago.

“Johnny?” you try again, gingerly. He didn’t like when you called him Sergeant MacTavish earlier.

“Doc?” he says calmly, as if you haven’t been waiting in silence for him to answer your question.

“Would you like me to repeat the question?”

He sucks his teeth. Ponders. You let him. If there’s anything you’ve observed about his behavior thus far is that he does not like to be pushed, likely due to the fact that he simply needs more time than before. With a TBI like his, it’s not shocking. Memory loss and concentration issues are almost a guarantee. Along with the other symptoms he’s been experiencing — mood changes, difficulty sleeping, sensitivity to sound — and that’s only what you’ve been able to gather so far from his own admissions this session and the notes from those very brief prior ones.

“I dinnae want ta talk about it,” he finally says.

“Alright,” you answer simply. Calmly.

His shoulders visibly slacken at that.

You wonder if he expected you to push him. And, had this not been your first session, you may have. But not this time. He’s not ready for that yet.

He does surprise you, however. When Sergeant MacTavish makes it the full hour, you award him with an honest smile.

“This is a great step forward, Johnny. I’m proud of you.”

You look down at your slightly smudged notes, the air still heavy with the scent of fresh ink. Notes on Johnny’s sisters, parents, home. How he imagines his life in the future — back home to the Highlands, maybe a little cottage in the woods, walking distance to his relatives. Surrounded by family — a wife, children. Animals. Fending for himself and his family. Providing.

It’s… sweet. His fantasy of the future. You imagine in different circumstances he might have been an ideal husband. He has a protective instinct that drives him in everything he does. A wolf defending his pack. Maw dripping with the blood of those who would stand to hurt anyone he loves.

“Thanks, Doc.”

He scratches the scar again as he stands up. It’s still raised — pink flesh that draws your eye in. He waits for you, maybe the most awkward you’ve seen him thus far. You stand and offer your hand. His engulfs yours. He holds it tight, like letting go of you will make him slip out of reality again.

“Next week, same time?” You hate the phrase as soon as it comes out, making you sound like every movie shrink ever, but routine is important for him right now.

He swallows thickly and nods his head, finally letting go of your hand. You walk him to the exit, to the waiting Lieutenant. He goes without a fuss.

You don’t run into any problems until a few sessions later.

He’s agitated, but hasn’t told you why yet. You give him time, give him space. Let him work out what he wants to tell you. The Newton’s cradle that usually occupies your desktop is shoved in a drawer. Silence envelops the two of you, other than his ragged breathing as he tries to get ahold of his emotions.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been holding your own breath but you allow some oxygen into your lungs. You feel like you’re standing at the door of an airplane and he’s the one strapping your parachute. Checking for rips and tears. Making sure the deployment handle is secure.

“Johnny?” you murmur. Wait.

He rubs his scar.

“Lonely,” he blurts out.

“That’s to be expected,” you hum as your finger absentmindedly brushes across the large CONFIDENTIAL in red ink that runs across his folder. He hasn’t been allowed to talk to any family or friends. They all think he’s dead until the man who killed him is in custody and — while you have your disagreements on whether or not that is the best course of action for him — you don’t outrank the military men who made this decision.

“Yer the only friend I get ta see.”

You hesitate and realize that was your error as soon as his face drops.

“We’re friends, no?”

You give him a genuine smile. “I’m your psychiatrist, Johnny.”

“Said ya wanted what’s best for me. Said ya cared.” He’s agitated, fist clenched and shaking against his thigh. He strokes his scar in quick succession with his other hand. His usually serene, handsome face is contorted, as if what he’s hearing is causing him physical pain. He is seconds away from another episode.

“That is true and I meant it when I said it.”

He unfurls his fist but his fingertip never leaves his head. “So we’re friends then?”

You shouldn’t placate him with confirmation. If it were any other patient, you wouldn’t. You would stop this in its tracks, before anything has time to bloom. Cut out the dead root before it rots the rest of the plant. But it’s him — and you can’t be another in a long list of people who have failed him.

“Yes Johnny. We’re… friends.”

He beams at you and you think you see a piece of Johnny from before the accident. The golden retriever energy you suspect made up his personality. The finger on the scar stills.

“I knew you were the right one for me, Doc.”

You make it through three months with him.

“Bonnie flowers,” he nods towards the vase on your desk.

Lily of the valley, baby’s breath and red roses encompassed in a simple glass vase with a lilac satin bow. No note, but it was your birthday week and you figured one of your friends or parents just forgot to add one. You’ll figure out who sent it later.

“Mmm, they are.”

You level him with a look.

“You’re avoiding my question, Johnny,” you remark. He’s had enough sessions with you, become comfortable enough for you to be able to challenge him a bit. He sinks further into the couch and you sit up straighter, closer to the edge of your seat, not letting him run away from the question with physical distance. “Can we talk about this?” you ask his permission.

There’s a tick in his jaw as he mulls it over, eyes never leaving the flowers. You wait, unsure what his reaction will be.

“Can I say no?”

You nod. “You can always say no to me, Johnny. Though, it’s easier for me to help you if you say yes.”

He looks down at his lap, hands folded neatly. The hair on his arms escapes from his long sleeve a little bit. He rubs a knuckle.

“Ya ken I trust ya, Doc, it’s just…” he pinches his brow together, eyes shut as he brings a hand to his head. He hunches over slightly.

“Johnny?” his name lingers in the air. The physical distress he shows gives you heartburn, acid creeping up your throat. He groans, and pushes his fingertips so hard against his forehead you’re sure it’ll bruise.

The bottle of water is in your hands before you realize what you’re doing — standing from your seat and sitting next to him on the couch in your office. You offer it and he lets his hand idle on yours for a second before removing the lid and taking a long sip.

He sighs in relief and lets his muscles relax, leaning backwards into the sofa. A warm, massive hand settles on your knee and you startle but don’t recoil. It would set him back if you pulled away.

“I’m not ready, Doc,” he croaks, and the crack in his voice breaks your heart.

“Alright, Johnny,” you soothe. You grab the back of the hand resting on your knee and squeeze before standing up to return to your chair. “That’s alright. Take your time.”

A knock on your office surprises you a few nights later.

It’s late on a Friday night — you should have been home by now, but you had few things to wrap up before your week off. Notes to finish, information to chart. You were only slightly worried about Johnny, hoping one week off wouldn’t regress him any. At the end of his last session, you made sure to spend some time telling him that you wouldn’t see him next week. You emphasized that you’d be back the following week and would resume as normal.

There’s nothing you hate more than disrupting his routine. It’s been paramount to his recovery thus far. Last week his physician requested an MRI to update his brain imaging, since there hasn’t been any since the incident and it set him off. He only calmed down once you were paged and arrived — stripped yourself of any metal, put on two different pairs of ear plugs and sat vigil next to him on the scanner — your hand brushing against his exposed leg in a soothing motion as his head was inside the tube.

You wonder who could possibly be here at this time of night. As far as you know, you were the last one, but someone else could have easily had a late patient that you weren’t aware of.

The doorknob turns before you can reach it.

Johnny stands in the opening to your office. He is visibly distressed, sweat glistening on his brow. His fingers flex and squeeze as he walks in and closes your office door behind him, hard enough that you jump where you stand.

“Hello, Johnny. What brings you here so late? Where’s your escort?”

He’s still looking off in the distance as he approaches you. You hold your ground, tilting your chin up slightly to look at him. Now that he’s in front of you it’s easier to see how ragged his breathing is, how hard he’s fighting for control over his emotions.

“Do you want to sit?” you try again.

He doesn’t respond, simply holds his ground as you talk. His eyes flicker back and forth as he ponders something. Is he trying to use the calming techniques you’ve taught him?

Your fingers twitch, almost reaching out on instinct to grab his wrist. He sucks in a large breath, his chest nearly brushing against yours as he does. The hairs on your scalp tickle as you feel his exhale caress your face. Patiently, you wait for him. You’re used to this. Sometimes he needs a moment.

“Ye cannae just…” he starts then stops, pinching his eyes shut as he gets his thoughts together. He inhales deeply again before continuing, his voice more desperate. “Why’re ye leaving me, Doc?”

“I’m not leaving you, Johnny. I’ll be back the week after next.”

The line of his jaw sharpens as he clenches his teeth. His fingers continue to flex and contract, half moons indenting the skin of his palm as he does. The thin wire holding him together is about to break and you’re standing in the middle of the debris field.

“I’ll tell ye about it,” he pleads. He brings his hand up to cup your jaw and you hold your ground. Johnny has never frightened you, no matter how many times you’ve seen him agitated. You know, down to your core, he would never hurt you — so you stay still, let him make physical contact. “I’ll tell ye everything.” He dangles the bait over you like you’re a starving animal. The thing you’ve been waiting for all these sessions. A thumb traces the slope of your cheek.

“Okay,” you agree, bringing your hand up to lightly hold against the one stroking you. You wrap your fingers around his and pull his hand off your face. “We’ll talk about it when I return, alright?”

Wrong move.

He snaps.

Before you can react, Johnny grips the back of your neck and pulls you firmly to his chest. His other arm locks itself around your waist. You gasp, breathing in the scent of him as your face is pressed tightly to his body. Your hands fly up to push yourself away but it’s no use. Johnny is carved from stone, immovable, statuesque. He doesn’t crush you, only holds you as his arms lock in place. Your stiffened frame moves with his chest, his rapid breathing competing over the sound of your own.

Panic creeps into your throat, tightening the noose. You know Johnny would never harm you, but you’re not quite certain the lengths he would go when he’s feeling threatened — and right now he’s feeling very threatened.

Fingers wrap around the hair at your nape as he pulls your head back. He kisses you hard and it’s a battle of teeth and tongue as you try to back away from it, remove yourself from the situation. You whine in protest and Johnny groans.

Finally his mouth releases yours. Panting, you gasp for air.

“Johnny… this is… highly inappropriate,” you wheeze.

He looks into your eyes lovingly, as if his stare could keep you in place forever.

“Kept the flowers I gave ye,” he breathes.

Your eyes widen in realization. “You? You’re the one who sent those to me?”

A wide grin splits his face. “My girl’s birthday. ‘Course I did.”

You try not to focus on the fact that he knew when your birthday was — something you definitely did not share with him. “Johnny… I’m your psychiatrist.”

“Yer my friend. Said it yerself. Said a lot of things, hen. ‘We’re in this together’, ‘I’ll do whatever it takes to help ye’, ‘Rely on me, even on bad days’,” he leans in, nose pressed to your hair and taking a whiff. “Cannae let you go… no’ now.”

You try pushing yourself off him again to no avail. “Johnny…”

With both arms now wrapped around your middle, he lifts you with ease, setting your ass down gently on top of your desk. He brushes a stray hair out of your face. “Said I can ‘always say no’ to ye. I’m saying it now. Cannae let you go, hen,” he repeats.

“Johnny,” you echo, strained as you attempt to wiggle out of his hold. You try to keep your voice strong and even but it’s becoming more and more difficult the longer you’re stuck in his hold.

He shushes you before you can continue talking, a massive palm covering your mouth. “Know ye want it too, pretty girl.” His large knee forces your legs apart, bumping it against your clothed center. You startle and he chubs up — your jump barely moving you in the strong grip of his arm. “Take such good care of me. Let me return the favor,” he murmurs, pupils blown out wide as he replaces his hand with his mouth.

You try to push him away again as he kisses you, but it’s no use. You’d have better luck tipping over a skyscraper with your bare hands. Defeated, you submit — not by kissing him back but no longer fighting him either.

“Tha’s it,” he coos when he decides to back away. He takes you with him, sliding your bottom across the desk and supporting your body weight until your legs are firmly underneath you. Suddenly you’re turning around and he’s forcing your face down to the cool wood. The action causes you to screech and he lays his body against yours and shushes your cries, smoothing a hand along the exposed skin of your cheek.

“S’alright, pretty girl. S’alright. Nobody’ll ever touch ye again. Safe with me, always.”

A shiver races down your spine. Johnny hums in delight, his hips crushed firmly to your ass. His thick length is pressed against you and he shudders. Impossibly, he pulls you by the waist against him even more and wraps a massive paw around your middle to tear your pants down your body. Your panties come with it and you can’t help the moan that escapes at the sensation and sudden coolness.

“Johnny…” you start again, knowing that kissing him is beyond innappropriate but fucking him on your desk is a different monster entirely.

A few thick digits in your mouth quiet you and you gargle at the sudden intrusion. “Shh, bonnie,” he pacifies you, before wrapping his arm around your front and swiping a long stripe up your core with his spit-moistened fingers.

He braces your squirming body down with his large forearm. You yelp as he continues to swirl around your sensitive nub, the motion getting his fingers wetter and wetter as your body responds to his touch. He continues his ministrations with deft and experienced fingers that have your legs trembling underneath you. Eyes closed, you cry out in pleasure — and then come back to reality when you realize you’re about to be fucked by your vulnerable head trauma patient.

“Johnny! We can’t do this,” you plead.

“Why no’ hen? We both want it.” You can’t see him with how you’re positioned but you just know he’s doing that little head tilt thing he does when he’s genuinely confused.

“It’s not right, I’ll lose my job,” you whisper.

He huffs. “Don’t need it. I’ll take care of ye.”

A bulky finger slides into you and your knees knock together. “You’re my patient,” you reply, breathless.

“Gonna help me at home from now on,” he responds effortlessly, stretching you with another finger, continuing his slow, lazy pumps.

Home?

“W… what do you mean by ‘home’, Johnny?” your psychiatrist brain asks, waiting for your patient to define his train of thought like you would in any other session. As if you were across the couch from one another — instead of his fingers spreading you wide as your body is splayed on your desk.

“Home,” he replies simply, like the word should explain itself. A third finger enters you and you suck in a breath at the slight burn. You whimper.

“Pretty baby,” he coos, accent thicker than you’ve ever heard it.

Your nipples pebble but you attempt to resist giving him anymore physical responses. “We can’t do this Johnny,” you tremble — from his fingers or the situation you currently find yourself in, you’re not sure.

“This beautiful body is telling me otherwise, Doc,” he practically purrs, his fingers picking up speed.

“Please Johnny… I…” you gasp.

He rips his hand out and you bite down hard on your cheek to prevent yourself from crying at the loss of contact.

“Want more, baby?!” he beams, the sound of his zipper your only warning before his thick, warm cock rubs lengthwise against the entrance to your cunt, hard length massaging your clit as he pumps.

‘No,’ your mind thinks, but your traitorous body says ‘yes, yes, yes,’ as you draw in a sharp breath, legs pushing your ass back without asking your brain.

Johnny makes a pleased grunt as he continues, lubing his cock with your wet, pulsing pussy. You can’t help it — you moan. A sharp slap on your ass pushes you further into the wood and Johnny soothes the sting by hitting your reddening cheek with his sticky cock a few times in a row.

His hand wraps around the back of your neck, keeping you in place but he’s surprisingly gentle. “Meant to be mine,” he declares as he enters you slowly. You suck in a large breath. “Only good thing that came outta this,” and you know he’s tapping the side of his head with his other hand without looking back at him. You whine and he groans when he enters you to the hilt, squeezing the flesh of your hip with the hand not securing your neck.

That’s it.

You’re fucked.

In more ways than one.

Johnny’s fingertips dig into your skin as he picks up the pace slightly. You grip the side of your desk, not bothering to stop him now. It’s too late for that. Arguments die on your tongue as Johnny pounds into you from behind, the bony protuberance of your pelvis hitting bruisingly against the hardwood with every thrust.

You resort to holding on as best you can as Johnny slams against you, like his anger is seeping out of his skin by doing it. The slapping of flesh and your combined pants sucking the air from the room. Johnny bucks into you until his pace gets sloppy and then he stills, pulling himself out with frustrated groan.

His hands leave you and you lay there, boneless, but watch as he drags your chair around the desk, cock bobbing and glistening in the light as he walks. He supports your weight effortlessly as he places you in your chair, like a delicate piece of china. He grunts as he drops to his knees in front of you, and you watch with hooded eyes as his arms come up underneath your knees and pull you to the edge of the seat — right to his waiting mouth.

Johnny swirls and curls his tongue around the sensitive flesh of your pussy, wrapping a strong arm across your lap to keep your bucking hips down. It stings a little, his solid arm pressing into the bruises forming on your hip. You pant and whine, unable to control the noises spilling out of you.

He doesn’t stop, licking and sucking until that little bundle of nerves can’t take it anymore. With all your strength you try to back away from his mouth but the effort is fruitless. Tears stream down your cheek, the sensitivity making you plead with him. “I can’t… Johnny please… please…”

He hums, the vibration sending a shockwave up your spinal column. He slows down but only slightly and you see stars, head floating as you cum on his tongue. He hums again and you shiver violently in reaction. Pulling back now, he smiles drunkenly at you and kisses your pussy before standing and lining himself back up with you.

Your legs are firmly secured and he throws your calves onto his broad shoulders. He teases your entrance before he lets out a sputtered groan. “Bonnie little thing,” he sighs before spearing you on his cock. You're contorted at an impossible angle, one you’re definitely going to feel later, as Johnny relentlessly drives himself into you.

Voice cracking, you can’t stop the sounds of pleasure that escape from between your lips. Sweat drips down Johnny’s brow as he concentrates. One of your hands grips the arm of your chair and the other finds your lower stomach, feeling Johnny’s cock push into you. The thick hair covering his muscular body tickles but it’s barely noticeable over the pleasure coursing through your system.

Your toes curl as another orgasm rips through you, and you bite down hard on the forearm braced beside your head. Johnny whines in pleasure, hips stuttering before resuming their normal brutal rhythm.

“‘M close, bonnie,” he pants. His motions become more flustered as he approaches his climax. The hand gripping onto the arm of your chair now curls around his forearm as you hold tight to him.

He releases, his spend coating your walls in thick spurts and he drops his body on top of yours. You can feel him twitching inside of you as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

After a few moments, Johnny catches his breath and snakes his arms under you. He lifts you out of the chair and brings you to the couch he’s sat on countless times before, letting your limp form curl against his. He pets your head lovingly as you lay against him, humming softly to himself.

When you fall asleep, Johnny whispers his plans of the future to you. The house he’d purchased in the Highlands a couple of weeks ago is ready to move into. You won’t have to worry your pretty little head about a thing. The plane is chartered, and you’ll both be on it. He’ll be able to last longer next time, and you’re going to give him the most beautiful family — together you’ve already started to.

[syndrossi]

Happy New Year! For the prompts, maybe something from the vet!Jon verse, like the boys deciding their names, or the twins teasing Jon about Laena (or any courtiers batting their eyelashes at him)?😂

You know, I 100% intended to do the latter (with bonus Laena joining in on the fun of teasing Jon), but somehow ended up writing the former instead! Ah well.

x~x~x

“Rhaegar, of course,” his brother said, hands twisting behind his head with enviable precision as he braided his silver-blond hair.

It was still strange to hear, and even stranger after his older brother’s—his older self’s—explanation of his original parentage, but Jon was able to hold himself to a shrug. “If I am changing my name, you should change yours.”

Rhaegar shrugged, looking unimpressed with his argument. “You do not have to change your name. It would merely be confusing otherwise.”

“Daemon said that I must,” Jon said with a scowl, flopping back onto their bed.

Their father had claimed that duplicative names might throw their parentage into doubt, but Jon suspected he merely didn’t wish to be tittered at for having two sons with the same name. And since their older brother had lived with his name longer, it fell upon Jon to change his instead.

He turned his head. “What would you choose?”

It was not as though Rhaegar were truly his father, not anymore, and he had been no older than Jon’s four-and-ten years when he had been drawn through the doorway at Summerhall. But he found himself curious nonetheless. 

“Well, you cannot be Aegon,” Rhaegar replied. That was their cousin’s name. “Or Daeron.” Yet another of their cousins’ names, much to Jon’s disappointment. Rhaegar’s smile was bittersweet. “Those were my brother’s names. The ones who died in the cradle.”

Jon had not known that. He did know that two of the mad king’s children had survived him, though Rhaegar of course would not. The son’s name was Viserys, he vaguely recalled learning. The daughter’s name eluded him.

“I like Aemon,” Rhaegar continued after a moment, “but then there is already Aemond.”

Their father had suggested Aemon despite that, though not for Jon.

“I am fond of Jaehaerys, but I do not think it suits you.” Rhaegar’s hands paused, mid-plait, his mouth drawing into a frown. “Nor do I think Daemon would favor it.”

That left only one real option. “Baelon, then.” That had been their father’s wish.

“He was a skilled warrior and dragonrider—and a good father. His memory seems dear to both Daemon and the king. There were no others who carried his name after and lived past infancy.” Rhaegar studied him. “Or you could take a name that has no legacy, like Valerion, who died in the cradle. Or you could forge a new one of your choosing.”

“But what would you choose?”

Rhaegar did not answer for a while, seeming to sense the importance of the question to him, until at last he gave a nod. “Baelon.”

If two fathers had given it to him, who was Jon to deny it? “Baelon,” he repeated, sounding it out. “Not because it was Daemon’s choice?”

“He had short hair like you,” Rhaegar said with that crooked little smile that told Jon he was teasing.

Jon combed his fingers through his own hair, which fell slightly past his shoulders now. Ordinarily, he would have asked for it to be cut, but then he would be just like Jon—the other Jon. “It is only short by our family’s standards.”

“It is long enough for a foxtail braid, I think. Would you like me to show you?”

Jon hesitated, though he was not sure why. His hair before had held a slight curl to it, which often kept it from his eyes, but his hair was straighter now. It did not quite have the thick weight of Rhaegar’s or Daemon’s, which had always seemed to him the strangest thing about their hair—fair hair normally seemed very fine, like Queen Cersei’s and her brood’s. But it could sport a braid without becoming wispy.

“Here,” Rhaegar said.

He had finished with his braid, which captured hair from around his face to dangle down the back of his hair, and he showed it to Jon. It wasn’t the simple three-strand that Jon had helped Arya with many a time, but a series of thinly woven strips that reminded him almost of the bones of a fish.

“I can braid yours, and if you like it, I can teach you to do it yourself.”

It was nothing like the fashions of the North, where men mostly just wore their hair long enough to keep their ears warm.

But you are not of the North, are you? Not anymore.

Neither of his fathers had been. And only one of his mothers. But often the wolf felt at least as thick in his blood as that of the dragon.

And other times he dreamed of the craggy mountains of the Vale.

He did not know who he was—or it felt like what he did know kept slipping from him, piece by piece. He was Snow, he was Redfort, he was Stone, he was Targaryen. He had traded his direwolf pup for a hatchling, his fierce auburn-haired brother for a contemplative, silver-haired one. Ned Stark’s dutiful calm for Daemon Targaryen’s frenetic fire.

Jon for Baelon.

But he was not defined by it, not in the way that being a Snow had ruled his fate before. His brother was Lord of Runestone, and Jon was not a threat to his power but rather his heir.

And a braid was a braid. It meant whatever Jon decided it meant, and he had yet to decide.

He turned around, presenting the back of his hair to Rhaegar. “Go ahead.”

x~x~x

This Rhaegar honestly would have very little attachment to Aemon as a name, since he has yet to become penpals with Maester Aemon. So the fondest name for him would be his grandfather's, but Jon is very different from the frail man that Jaehaerys II was! So Baelon seems as good a choice as any, if Aegon and Daeron are out of the picture.

And if Jon had still been unenthused, he was going to start throwing dragon names at him. 😂

[idkanymark]

[ I hate the weather]

jeno x f!reader | jaemin x f!reader | love triangle

INTRO: You finally had Jeno, the boy you always wanted. But as time passed, your heart couldn’t ignore the pull you felt for Jaemin. The more you tried to change for Jeno, the more you realized the truth. It was Jaemin who had always held a piece of your heart.

Lowkey inspired by: Moth to flame by The Weeknd and Swedish House and Favourite crime by Olivia Rodrigo

----

“You should be happy” you tell yourself for the hundredth time, staring at the photo of you and Jeno on your phone. His arm draped protectively over your shoulders, his smile wide and carefree. You finally got what you always thought you wanted—a boyfriend who loved you, treated you well, and made you feel safe.

But then why does your heart ache every time Jaemin’s name pops into your mind?

It all started three months ago

Back then, it felt innocent. You had confessed your crush on Jeno to Jaemin, your best friend since childhood.

“You want me to do what?” Jaemin had asked, his voice incredulous.

“Help me” you pleaded. “Drop hints, invite him to hangouts—something.”

Jaemin frowned, his arms crossed as he leaned back on the couch. “I don’t know, Y/N. This sounds… weird.”

“It’s not weird” you countered. “Please, Jaemin. I just… I really like him.”

Jaemin had sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. I’ll do it. But only because I want to see you happy.”

And he did try. He invited Jeno to your usual Friday movie nights, though the result wasn’t exactly smooth. You and Jaemin argued over movies, as always, and Jeno sat awkwardly in the middle, trying not to take sides.

Then there was the Dreamies’ hangout, where instead of impressing Jeno, you managed to catch Haechan’s relentless teasing instead. Still, you learned something important that night: Jeno liked blonde hair, and he seemed drawn to girls like Yoo Jimin.

That revelation sparked a change.

The next day, while hanging out at Jaemin’s place, you blurted out a question that had been gnawing at you.

“Should I dye my hair blonde?”

Jaemin looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow. “Why? You hate blonde hair. Remember that movie we watched and you said ruined it for you?”

“Jeno likes blonde hair” you replied matter-of-factly.

Jaemin’s face darkened slightly, but he didn’t say much. “If you want to, go ahead. Just… make sure you’re doing it for you.”

A few days later, the transformation was complete. You stepped out of the bathroom at home with newly dyed blonde hair, nervously smoothing it down as you opened the door to Jaemin’s knocks.

“Y/N?”

When he saw you, he froze. His gaze lingered longer than usual, taking in your hair.

“What do you think?” you asked, doing a small twirl.

“You look good” he said finally, though his tone carried an edge you couldn’t place.

But as time went on, things started to change.

The more you learned about Jeno’s ideal type, the more you started changing to fit them. The more you tried to be the girl he would notice, the further you drifted from the version of yourself that Jaemin had always known.

You started wearing clothes that you knew Jeno would like—more fashionable, more polished. You dyed your hair blonde and even started wearing red lipstick too.

Jaemin noticed the changes. He’d watched you, his best friend, slowly morph into someone else—the someone Jeno would want, but the someone you weren’t. And it hurt.

One afternoon, you were getting ready to go out to another one of Jeno’s hangouts. You stood in front of Jaemin’s mirror, touching up your red lipstick while he watched you in silence. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

You glanced at him in the mirror, not fully focusing on his words. “Sure.”

“What’s this?” Jaemin asked, gesturing to the transformation with a sweeping motion.

“What’s what?” You were confused, still busy perfecting your lipstick.

“This” Jaemin repeated, his voice a little louder now. “The hair, the clothes, the parties—you’re not the same person anymore. You hate bold lipstick colors!”

You shrugged, applying the final coat of lipstick. “Oh, but Jeno likes it.”

The words hung in the air, and Jaemin visibly flinched. His expression shifted, his eyes clouded with hurt. “Why does it feel like I’m losing you?” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

But you didn’t respond. You didn’t know what to say. You were too busy watching Jeno, the boy you wanted.

That night, when Jeno finally noticed you the way you’d always hoped he would, Jaemin stood on the sidelines. He watched quietly, his heart sinking deeper as you slipped further away from him.

As the days passed, your relationship with Jeno, on the surface, seemed perfect. You went out on dates, spent time together in lavish places, and everyone around you admired how "ideal" the two of you were. But with each passing moment, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling deep in your chest, the one that whispered something’s not right.

Jeno, with his effortless charm and undeniable affection, was everything you thought you wanted, yet when you were with him, your mind would drift. You would catch yourself thinking about Jaemin—the way his presence brought a sense of calm, the way he always seemed to understand you without saying a word.

As the Friday nights turned into elegant dinners and crowded parties that weren’t quite your style, the memories of those simple movie nights with Jaemin, full of laughter and familiarity, started to feel like a lifetime ago. You hadn’t realized how much you missed them until it was too late. Jeno's world was exciting, but it was a world where you couldn’t always be yourself.

And so, you felt trapped. You loved Jeno, or at least you thought you did. But why did it feel like you were losing a piece of yourself every time you changed for him?

You tried to push it away—told yourself you should be happy. You had Jeno. He was everything you ever thought you wanted. But your heart wasn’t on the same page. Why did you still want to talk to Jaemin when you were sad, when you felt alone? Why, when you looked at your bedside table, did that photo of the two of you get your attention even when your boyfriend was right next to you? Why did you wish it was him laying beside you instead of Jeno?

It didn’t make sense. You had the attention you’d always craved, the validation, the relationship you’d fought for, but somehow... it felt hollow. You wanted to scream, to pull at the pieces of yourself that felt lost between the two of them.

You should’ve been happy. Why weren’t you?

----

Then the inevitable happened. Jeno and you had your first fight.

It wasn’t anything major, just a disagreement that spiraled out of control. You fought about something silly, but when his voice rose and he grew frustrated, something inside of you broke. For the first time, you saw the same tension you had witnessed at home. The yelling, the frustration, the way your parents had always argued when things went wrong.

It made you feel suffocated. Just like that day years ago. The day you ran away from home.

*FLASHBACK*

It was one of those nights where the air felt heavy, suffocating. The usual quiet of the house was shattered by the sound of raised voices—your parents. You had heard them argue before, but tonight felt different, louder, more desperate.

“I’m sick of this!” your mother shouted, the strain of her voice cutting through the walls. “I’m sick of you treating me like this, of everything we’ve become!”

Your father’s voice came back, sharp and defensive. “What do you want me to do? I’m trying my best! Do you think I’m not tired of this too?”

You sat on your bed, your heart racing, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping that if you just stayed quiet, it would stop. You wished for peace, for silence, but it didn’t come. The fighting only escalated, becoming uglier with each word.

“I don’t want to do this anymore!” your mother’s voice cracked with frustration. “I don’t want to keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not! You don’t care about me or this family anymore!”

“I care!” Your father’s voice boomed through the house. “I’ve been holding this family together, working, providing. And you just sit there and criticize me every chance you get!”

And then, you heard it. The word you dreaded most.

“I want a divorce!” Your mother screamed, the final blow.

“Y/N will stay with me!” Your father snapped back, trying to claim ownership over something you felt you had no say in.

“No! She’ll stay with me!” your mother insisted, her voice full of hurt and anger.

The sound of your name, spoken like a pawn in their war, broke you. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You didn’t care about the rain, the cold—everything just felt wrong. You needed to get away, to escape the suffocating air inside the house. You put on your shoes without thinking, ran past the door, and out into the storm.

The rain hit you hard as you ran through the streets, your legs aching from the effort, but you didn’t care. You had to leave. The cold felt almost comforting, numbing the pain that twisted inside of you.

It wasn’t long before Jaemin found you. You didn’t know how, or when, but you felt a soft tap on your shoulder and looked up to see him standing there, umbrella in hand, his concerned eyes searching yours.

“Y/N?” Jaemin’s voice was calm, but there was an undeniable worry in it. “What are you doing out here in the rain? You’ll catch a cold.”

You didn’t respond, your mind too clouded by the chaos you’d just run from. Jaemin didn’t push. Instead, he opened his umbrella wider and stepped closer to you, giving you his jacket without a word.

He sat down next to you, his presence quiet but grounding. There was no rush to fix things, no pressure to explain. He just let you be.

For a long time, neither of you said anything. The rain continued to fall around you, the only sound in the world. Jaemin broke the silence, his voice soft but knowing.

“It’s raining a lot lately” He wasn’t really talking about the rain. He was talking about everything—your parents, the fight, the storm inside your head and the way he found you crying in the middle of the street.

You took a deep breath, finally breaking your silence. “I hate the weather” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain.

Jaemin’s eyes softened. “I hate the weather too” he replied, his words holding more meaning than just a shared distaste for the rain. It was the quiet understanding between the two of you, the unspoken comfort.

Jaemin didn’t leave your side, not until you felt like you could breathe again.

When you were ready, he helped you back to your feet and led you back to your parents’ house.

*END OF FLASHBACK*

The rain was pouring down as you stepped outside, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t care about the weather, about the cold, or about getting wet. All you could feel was the weight on your chest, the pressure to be something you weren’t, to be the perfect version of yourself for Jeno.

You ran, just like you had all those years ago. Running from the noise, from the suffocation, from the fight that reminded you of everything that had been broken in your life.

You didn’t even notice where your feet were taking you. You just wanted to escape.

Meanwhile, Jeno was desperate. He’d searched everywhere but couldn’t find you. His last resort was calling the one person who always seemed to know where you’d be—Jaemin.

“Jaemin” Jeno’s voice cracked over the phone, “Y/N’s gone. We had a fight, and she ran off. Do you know where she might be?”

Jaemin’s heart sank. He didn’t need to think twice. “I’ll find her” he said firmly, hanging up and grabbing his car keys.

He knew exactly where you were.

----

When you found yourself standing on that familiar side street, drenched and shivering, you sank to the ground. The world felt too heavy, and you didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. You just wanted to disappear, to forget about everything—Jeno, the changes you’d made, the fight.

But then, like before, someone appeared.

Jaemin.

He had found you again, it was like stepping into a memory.

“Y/N” Jaemin said softly, rushing to your side and holding an umbrella over your head, just like he had years ago. “What are you doing out here in the rain? You’re not even wearing a jacket. You’ll catch a cold.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You just sat there, too exhausted to move. Jaemin slipped his jacket off and draped it over you, sitting down beside you in silence.

And for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel alone. You didn’t feel suffocated.

“Some things never change, huh?” Jaemin said, breaking the silence softly.

You looked at him, your heart aching as the rain soaked you both. “I hate the weather” you said, your voice barely audible.

Jaemin’s eyes softened as he replied, “I hate the weather too.”

For a while, you just sat there, both of you seeking comfort in the quiet, in the simple act of being there for each other.

Jaemin brought you back to your apartment, helping you inside with quiet care. When the door opened, Jeno was waiting. His eyes widened at the sight of you—soaked and shivering, wrapped in Jaemin’s jacket.

“Y/N!” he rushed over, his hands cupping your face. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You didn’t respond. You pulled away gently, muttering, “I need a shower” before disappearing into the bathroom.

Jeno watched you leave, his expression a mix of guilt and confusion. When he turned back, he found Jaemin standing by the door.

“I don’t know what happened” Jeno confessed, his voice full of worry. “I didn’t mean to upset her. I just…”

“I think you should give her some space” Jaemin said quietly. His tone wasn’t accusatory, just… resigned.

Jeno nodded, though his face tightened. “Thanks for bringing her back.”

Jaemin didn’t reply. He just nodded, his gaze lingering on the closed bathroom door for a moment before he left.

While under the hot spray of the shower, you let the tears fall freely. You had everything you thought you wanted—Jeno, the perfect boyfriend, the dream relationship.

But as you stood there, your heart ached. Not for the boy waiting for you in the other room.

For the one who had found you in the rain.

For the one who had always found you.

----

The weeks after weren’t easy. A crack opened in your relationship with Jeno, and you began to pull away, unsure of what to say or how to explain the distance that was growing between you both. Jeno noticed, of course, but every time he asked, you brushed him off with excuses. The truth was, you weren’t sure how to explain the whirlwind of emotions inside you, or how to face the growing realization that your heart was no longer with him.

One cold night, Jaemin found you in front of his house, looking utterly broken.

“Y/N?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern. Without waiting for you to say a word, he pulled you into his arms. At first, you couldn’t even speak. The flood of emotions you had been keeping inside for weeks came pouring out. You started to cry in his embrace, shaking with the weight of it all.

Jaemin held you tighter, never letting go, whispering comforting words as you cried. He didn’t ask questions, just let you let it all out, feeling the raw emotion that you had carried for so long. When your sobs slowed down, he pulled back slightly, still holding you gently.

“Here” he said, handing you a steaming mug of hot chocolate—the one thing that always made you feel a little better when life felt too heavy. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you.

You took a sip, trying to steady your breathing, but it didn’t make the confusion inside you go away. Jaemin sat beside you, watching you silently. After a while, he asked quietly, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You hesitated, unsure if you had the strength to put it into words. But somehow, in his presence, it felt like you could say anything.

“I... I feel so lost” you whispered, the tears threatening to return. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I should be happy, but it’s like something inside me is telling me I’m not. I’m with Jeno, but... It doesn’t feel right, but I don’t know how to fix it.”

Jaemin didn’t say anything for a moment. His hand reached out, and he gently stroked your hair, his touch soft and comforting. “It’s okay” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You’re going to be okay. Let it out. I’m here.”

The warmth of his words settled over you, but it was the closeness, the way he held you, that made everything else fade away. In that moment, everything felt like it finally made sense. You weren’t alone in this. You hadn’t been alone for a long time, but you had been too scared to admit it.

And in that silence, surrounded by his presence, the truth spilled from your lips.

“I— I’ve been trying so hard to make things work with Jeno, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I know it’s wrong, but it’s like... my heart is telling me that you’re the one I’ve always wanted. Not him. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Jaemin’s breath caught at your words, his gaze locking onto yours. He seemed surprised, but there was a sadness in his eyes, a softness that made your heart ache even more.

“Y/N” he began, his voice gentle but filled with emotion. “I’ve always loved you. You were just too obvious about it. Why do you think I’m still single, even when you know there are so many girls after me? I’ve always wanted you.”

The confession hung in the air, filling the space between you with a weight you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to lean in, to close the distance and let everything out, but something held you back. The reality of your relationship with Jeno, the guilt, the fear of what this would mean, kept you frozen.

Jaemin leaned in slightly, his lips on your forehead“i want to kiss but I can’t... you’re still with him.”

Your heart clenched at the words. You knew he was right, but it didn’t make the truth any easier to accept.

“I know” you whispered, your voice shaky. “But I’m going to break up with him soon. I can’t keep lying to myself. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help how I feel.”

Jaemin’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the tension was almost unbearable. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes held everything—everything you had both been too scared to admit until now.

The lingering words between you both pulled you closer, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could finally breathe.

But Jaemin, with all his care for you, took a step back, his expression full of understanding. "Whenever you're ready, Y/N," he said quietly, "I'll be here. But you need to figure this out... for yourself."

And you realized in that moment, the hardest part wasn't admitting how you felt—it was knowing what you had to do next.

----

The day after your conversation with Jaemin, you invited Jeno over. It was time to be honest. Time to confront everything that had built up between you two, to explain how you had changed, how you had tried to mold yourself into the version of you that you thought he wanted.

Jeno sat across from you, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and hurt as he waited for you to speak. You took a deep breath before you started.

“Jeno, I... I’ve been pretending. I changed for you, thinking that this was what I had to do to get your attention,” you said, your voice trembling a little. “The hair, the clothes, the way I acted. It wasn’t me. It was just... a version of me that I thought you’d like.”

Jeno’s gaze softened, but there was disbelief in his eyes. “So I always loved a version of you that you created?” he asked quietly, his voice holding a tinge of sadness.

You nodded, unable to look him in the eye. “I thought that’s what I had to do to make things work with you.”

There was a long silence between you two as he processed your words. His fingers twitched slightly, as if he wanted to reach out to you but didn’t know how.

“But I don’t think that’s entirely true” Jeno said after a moment, his voice gentle yet firm. “I think there were a lot of times when you were just... you. The real you.”

You looked up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “That could be true” you whispered, your heart pounding. "But I didn’t know how to balance it. I thought I had to change to fit into this perfect image of what I thought you wanted."

Jeno’s expression grew more serious, his brow furrowing slightly. “But I won’t lie. I’m hurt, Y/N. I’m hurt that you felt like you had to change to get me to notice you.” His voice trembled with a mix of frustration and sadness. “I thought we were already fine just being ourselves around each other. I never needed that perfect version of you. I just needed you.”

The confession hit you harder than you expected. You hadn’t realized how deeply your attempts to change had affected him, how much he had cared for the person you were beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry” you whispered, your heart aching for him. “I never meant to hurt you. I just... I didn’t know what to do. I was confused.”

Jeno sighed, looking down for a moment, before meeting your eyes again. “I understand that you were confused, but it doesn’t make it any easier. It’s hard, Y/N. I thought we had something real, but now I’m wondering if I was just falling in love with a version of you that wasn’t even... you.”

His words stung, but there was an honesty to them that you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to reach out to him, to apologize again, but the words didn’t come.

“I think we both need to take a step back and figure things out” Jeno said softly, standing up from the couch. “I need time to process all of this... and so do you.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the situation press down on you. “Yeah... I think that’s the best thing to do.”

Jeno hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on you as if he wanted to say something else, but he just shook his head and walked toward the door. “Take care of yourself, Y/N” he said quietly before stepping outside, leaving you alone with the mess of emotions swirling inside.

You couldn’t help but feel like you had lost something important, but at the same time, you knew that it was the right thing to do.

-----

Seven months had passed since that moment, and in those months, you had done a lot of healing. After taking some time to yourself, focusing on finding out who you were without anyone else’s expectations weighing you down, you found the courage to follow your heart. And it led you to Jaemin.

You and Jaemin had been inseparable ever since you began dating, and eventually, it just made sense for you to live together. It was as if you'd been living with each other in spirit long before the move—always crashing at one another’s places, always finding comfort in each other’s presence.

Jaemin had been the one to convince you to adopt three cats—Luna, Lucy, and Luke—and you were honestly grateful. The apartment had become your little haven, complete with furry companions who brought so much life and joy into your days. The sound of purring had become one of your favorite melodies.

As you were preparing dinner one evening, you felt the familiar warmth of arms wrapping around you from behind. You couldn’t help but smile, already knowing who it was.

“Smells good.Do you need help?” Jaemin’s voice was soft, his breath warm against your ear.

You placed a hand on top of his, squeezing it lightly as you continued to chop the vegetables. “It’ll taste even better once it’s done” you said, a playful tone lacing your words. "You’ve been working hard today, haven’t you?"

Jaemin leaned in closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Not nearly as hard as you” he replied, his voice filled with admiration. "But I’m always happy to help, especially if it means being with you."

You let out a soft laugh, turning your head slightly to meet his gaze. "I’m glad you’re here” you whispered, feeling a warmth spread across your chest. "I wouldn’t want anyone else with me."

Jaemin’s smile softened, and he kissed your cheek gently. He looked at you with so much affection, as if the years you had spent together and all the feelings he'd kept inside were finally making sense. "I always knew you were the one” he murmured, his voice full of certainty. "I just didn’t know how long it would take for you to realize it, too."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment. "I feel the same way” you said softly. "It took time, but I know now."

Jaemin pulled you into a tight hug, his warmth surrounding you as he whispered, "We’ve made it through everything, Y/N. And now, it’s just us, always."

It had taken time to get here, but now, everything felt right. The past was behind you, and the future, with Jaemin by your side, seemed full of endless possibilities. The love you shared was a quiet kind of happiness, built on trust, understanding, and shared moments that made everything feel so effortless.

No more doubts, no more pretending. Just you, Jaemin, and your three cats in your little world, exactly where you were meant to be.

"I wouldn't change this for anything in the world” you whispered, your hand finding his once again, squeezing it tightly.

Jaemin’s voice was steady and full of affection as he replied, "Neither would I, Y/N. Neither would I."

[lilacwatchguard]

The Blue Glow Softens You And Me

If this looks familiar it is also on my ao3 under the same name by Lexitennant2 :)

Relationship: Jayce x Viktor

Warnings: 18+smut, most if not all are in tags but; sex, praise kink, dom/sub undertones, pwp, use of 'puppy' as term of endearment but could be interpreted another way if you really want to, I'm not here to judge

Summary:

Jayce feels dirty.

He's only known Viktor for a week now but the man is constantly in his thoughts. He wants to touch him, to bask in his partners attention and hang off his every word. He's obsessed and he thinks he'll never get a chance with Viktor but then...Viktor sees him in the shower and he sees his own wants reflected back at him.

Maybe there is hope.

Word Count: 15,189

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jayce feels dirty.

Physically , he’s still sweaty from the forge, the small towel for his face hanging limply around his neck. There’s black tingeing his fingers; could be oil from the machines or any other number of countless substances lingering in the forge. His white tank top clings to his chest and he wants to pull it off, feeling itchy from the cooling sweat, but he’s walking the halls of the academy and he can’t walk through it shirtless. It’s probably taboo that he's not in his uniform, but he forgot his change of clothes in the lab he shares with Viktor.

Which is where he’s heading now, keeping his head ducked low to ignore the stares he’s getting - some appreciative, some disgusted - and hurries his pace.

Not because he wants his clothes - well that’s not the main reason, he would love a chance to shower, the hot water hitting pleasantly sore muscles, changing into academy issued sweats so he can keep working in the lab - but because Viktor is still there.

Mentally, he’s dreamt of fucking Viktor on their work bench, the blue glow of the hextech highlighting every sharp angle of Viktor’s face, and giving him a soft ethereal glow. It kind of scares him, this wanting , he has for his partner. His science partner. He wants to bite and chew on that stupid mole that sits a little above his upper lip. He wants to lick and trace the curves of Viktor’s angled nose. Jayce wants to sit him in his lap and tear him apart, slowly. Wants to know what sounds he’d make, if he’d bite his bottom lip like he does when they’ve reached a snag in their research.

Fuck, it’s only been a week since councilor Medarda gave them their chance to stabilize the hextech. Seven days since Jayce’s ears started ringing when he registered Viktor’s excuse later in the night, after they’d finally found a way to come back down. 

Oh this isn’t my bedroom.

Who fucking says that?!

Jayce had already been a little hot under the collar, the exhilaration from the weightlessness, of his Arcane dream finally, finally coming to fruition. The leftover adrenaline from getting caught outside Heimerdinger's lab.

He’d started out picturing Mel. 

She was stunning. Only an idiot couldn’t see it. Her eyes were sharp but playful, her lips full. The glittering gold that shimmered on her face made her seem like a dessert, brushed with gold dust. A rich cake that Jayce wanted to try. But when his mind drifted to her waist, imagining grabbing the white fabric of her dress and bunching it up to pull it up, to reveal her to him, the waist had changed.

There was no white dress anymore, the white now the vest of the academy’s uniform. The waist was slightly larger now but still ridiculously small for who it belonged to. 

Jayce hadn’t even paused with palming at his cock, which was hardening faster. 

Jerking off to Viktor had made him cum so hard he saw stars.

He’d laid in his bed, in the aftermath, panting heavily and feeling like the biggest asshole in the world.

He felt guilty. He shouldn’t have even been jerking off to the councilor let alone Viktor. These were two people he knew , arguably not that well, but it was clear their future’s would become intertwined after this night.

And they had.

He doesn’t think he’s left Viktor’s side for more than a couple hours over the span of the week. They both were night owls, though Jayce at least tried to get some semblance of sleep with naps on the lab's saggy couch. 

It was with sleep delirium that Jayce spent half an hour unsure if he was actually tracing Viktor’s face with his fingertips, or if he was hallucinating the entire time. Viktor never brought it up but Jayce could’ve sworn he’d felt the beginnings of stubble under his fingers; a warm cheek in his palm.

Jayce takes the towel around his neck and uses it to wipe some more sweat off his forehead. The towel is soaked in his hand and he grimaces.

Clothes bag. Shower. Something to eat. Stolen glimpses of Viktor at the chalkboard, his long fingers twirling the chalk in one hand while he leaned heavily on his cane.

Jayce pushed open the lab doors, slinging the towel on the table, wincing when it made a wet smack.

“Ah good thank you, I always thought our notes needed a biohazard intermingled with them,” Viktor says dryly, not even looking up from where he’s sitting, hunched over the lab table with notebooks strewn everywhere.

“It’s just sweat Vik,” Jayce says lightly, though he does go over and pick up the towel again, spinning in a half circle to figure out where to put it. He should’ve just left it at the forge. They had a basket for used towels there but Jayce had wanted it for the walk over.

Viktor lifts his head up and raises an eyebrow.

He looks Jayce up and down, sending a fire straight to Jayce’s groin and he has to think of naked Councilor Hoskel to stamp down anything stirring downstairs.

“Yes well, your sweat just got several pages wet,” Viktor says, licking his lips and looking at the papers that indeed have a wet splotch on them.

“Shit were they important?” Jayce asks, deciding to just drop the towel - he’ll deal with it later - and walks over to scoop the papers up.

Viktor waves a dismissive hand and sighs.

“No, no. Just more useless equations that make me question if I ever knew math in the first place.”

Jayce sets the papers down in a neat pile and rounds the table to stand behind Viktor. He doesn’t really think much of his actions as he puts both hands on Viktor’s shoulders and gives them a harsh squeeze.

Viktor tenses under his touch and lets out a slow breath.

“How long have you been working at it? Since I left for the forge?” Jayce asks, bending over Viktor so he can get a better view of what his partner is working on. The back of Viktor’s head is now pressing against Jayce’s chest but for once he’s not focusing on all the places their bodies are touching. He’s more focused on trying to remember when the last time he saw Viktor take a break was. The other scientist was always pushing himself to the brink and it was up to Jayce to reel him back.

Viktor seemed to forget he was only human.

“Yes,” Viktor says, his voice sounding oddly choked to Jayce’s ears and he gives Viktor’s shoulders another squeeze.

“You feeling ok V? You know if you work yourself too much you’ll get sick,” Jayce says, worry in his tone as he takes one of his hands off Viktor’s shoulder so he can put the back of it against Viktor’s forehead.

“You don’t feel that hot,” he mutters out loud and Viktor shudders against him.

Jayce is suddenly aware of how he’s looming over Viktor and he pulls away reluctantly, giving Viktor space.

“Right well, I’m going to quickly shower and get changed, in the mean-time think about what you want for dinner. We can order in.”

Jayce is half-way across the room by the end of his sentence, his heart beating fast and his ears starting to get hot with embarrassment. He locates his duffle bag under a chair and heads off to the decontamination showers. 

After the stabilization of the hextech, Viktor and Jayce had been given one of the larger labs in the academy. It was meant for practice labs with up to ten students so it was quite large and had its own decontamination suite. There had been some changes made since it was only two men working there instead of a class, but there were still a few showers and sinks for safety reasons. 

Jayce threw his duffle bag onto a bench and started stripping off his clothing, letting it all pile onto the bench next to the duffle.

“Jayce, do you think you could-” 

Jayce stops himself from turning around fully by just a hair and looks over his shoulder.

Viktor is standing in the doorway, his eyes widening in shock. 

“That was fast,” he murmurs, his eyes staying level with Jayce’s upper back

Jayce feels the heat from his ears traveling down to his cheeks. He coughs, awkwardly, wanting to shield himself. Another part of him wants to present himself to Viktor instead. He knows he’s good looking, he’s not arrogant but he’s not stupid either. But he’s not just going to flash Viktor just because the other scientist is eyeing him like he’s something to eat-

Wait.

Viktor is leaning against the doorway now, his eyes at half-mast, his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s looking up at Jayce through long eyelashes, a soft blush to his cheeks.

“Do you think I could what?” Jayce asks, his voice hoarse as he keeps his body tilted away from Viktor’s stare, his neck straining from how far he's looking over his shoulder.

Viktor holds up the fucking sweaty towel in his hand, his grip on it tight enough that Jayce can see the whites of his knuckles.

“There’s a laundry basket in here,” Viktor says, adjusting his stance against the doorway.

“Figured this was the best place for it,” he says, clearing his throat and tossing the towel at Jayce who whirls around to catch it, realizing his mistake at the last minute. He tries to shield himself but he over-corrects and his feet are sliding on the tiles. He lands on his stomach and a whoosh of air rushes out of him.

“Fuck, Jayce are you ok?” He hears Viktor ask and tentative steps of Viktor’s loafers hitting the tile.

“Never fucking better,” Jayce says into the floor, letting out a low groan and turning his head so his face isn’t smushed into the floor anymore.

“You were airborne,” Viktor teases, crouching down carefully by Jayce’s face.

“Just leave me here,” Jayce whines, his knee starting to ache from the fall.

He feels long fingers moving through his short hair and he squints up at Viktor. 

“We can do something eh, simple for dinner. The fish place outside the university?” Viktor asks and Jayce does his best to nod as he melts under Viktor’s touch.

“Go take a shower then, you reek,” Viktor’s nose twitches and he pushes off the floor. It’s clunky and there’s a wince on his face as he relies heavily on his crutch, but today has to be one of the better days that he even entertained the idea of squatting for less than a minute. Jayce waits until Viktor is officially gone before he heaves himself off the floor and glares at the offending sweaty towel. 

He picks it up and tosses it in the laundry hamper and stomps over to the showers. 

He doesn’t even wait for the shower to get lukewarm before he’s under it’s spray, wanting to wash away the embarrassment of that moment.

Viktor’s face flashes behind his eyelids and he rests his forehead against the tiled wall.

The way Viktor had been staring at him had been hungry. He had been looking at Jayce like he had wanted him.

Fuck, that couldn’t be right could it?

He hits his head softly against the tiles, trying to shake that image out of of his head but it’s unmistakable.

Jayce reaches blindly for the soap dispenser and gets a good handful before slathering it all over himself. 

He needs to think of something else, anything else. 

Viktor’s plush bottom lip with the imprint of his slightly crooked canine; eyelashes long and thick over doe shaped eyes, a warm chocolate color; bitable cheeks a pretty pink.

Jayce can’t help the groan that escapes his lips as he feels himself hardening. 

If Jayce had approached Viktor would the other man have stayed put? Would he have let Jayce push his naked body against him, pinning the slighter man against the doorway. Jayce’s hand moves down his stomach to his hardening cock. He gives it a rough stroke, shifting on his feet as the heat in his stomach pools lower and lower.

He growls in frustration and reaches for the shower knobs. He twists the cold all the way to the left and lets out a yelp as icy cold water blasts him directly in the face. It’s pleasant to his burning skin for a few seconds and then he’s dancing in place as he freezes his ass off.

Jayce finishes his shower, properly, with lukewarm water and washes his hair as well.

When he finally dries off and has his sweats on, Viktor’s already sitting on their lumpy couch, a take-out menu in his lap and a pencil tapping against his bottom lip.

“The fish place is closed, apparently there was a robbery and several people were killed,” Viktor says and Jayce stumbles to a stop.

“Oh my god, what? How have we not- oh very funny,” Jayce huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as Viktor lets out a chuckle.

“Relax Jayce, they just aren’t open on Tuesdays,” he says and pats the space on the sofa beside him.

Jayce flops onto it dramatically and lets his shoulder rest against Viktor’s.

“Your sense of humor is lacking,” he says and grabs the takeout menu out of Viktor’s hand.

“Sushi? Seriously Vik,” Jayce scoffs, eyeing the menu with distaste.

Cooked fish was bad enough but raw?

He could already sense the puppy dog eyes from a mile away so he stubbornly reads the item description for one of the foods.

Caviar, cream cheese, eel sauce -

“Please Jayce, you know how the upper city food makes my stomach upset,” Viktor pleads and Jayce rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, that’s why you can plow through enough sweetcakes for a man twice your size,” he says and Viktor nudges his shoulder sharply.

“Jayce,” He whines, and it’s not sexual. It’s not , but Jayce has been finding it harder and harder to not lump his lab partner and carnal thoughts together. Especially after not getting off in the shower.

“Sure, ok,” he huffs and drops the menu in Viktor’s lap, getting off the couch so he can take a moment and breathe.

“They have other food options,” Viktor says, his voice laced with uncertainty. 

Jayce can hear him flipping through the pages of the menu, and Viktor starts to ramble.

“There see! They have noodles and rice, that spicy chicken dish you like. We don’t actually have to get anything from here if you don’t actually want to-”

“Viktor it’s fine,” Jayce says and goes back to sit next to Viktor.

“It doesn’t seem fine,” Viktor says softly and Jayce wants to smack himself in the face.

He’s pretty sure he’s the only one who can get Viktor to second guess himself. It’s not a power he likes to wield, it makes him feel guilty that Viktor seeks his approval.

“I had a long day,” Jayce says as an excuse and Viktor makes an ahh sound.

“Did you meet with councilor Medarda again?” Viktor asks and uses his pencil to start filling out his order. 

“Huh?”

Viktor puts a checkmark next to some salmon sushi before he speaks.

“She’s a very beautiful woman Jayce, it didn’t escape my notice how you looked at her,” he says.

But you’ve missed how I look at you every time, Jayce thinks.

“Viktor, come on,” he says and feels Viktor shrug against his shoulder.

They sit in silence as Viktor hands over the pencil and menu to Jayce. He flips to the back to the cooked food options that he can stomach. He knows sushi is the closest thing Piltover has to what Zaun eats but he doesn’t like fish. Raw especially makes his mouth pucker and he wants to gag it up. He’s eaten it before to humor Viktor but Viktor put a stop to that once he realized just how badly Jayce disliked the food. They only got fish or sushi when Viktor was really craving it, and the place had other foods Jayce could get.

He scratches haphazardly at the box next to the spicy teriyaki chicken and ponders over rice or noodles when Viktor speaks, breaking the silence.

“Do you find her beautiful?”

Jayce tenses and stares intensely at the menu.

“Do you?” he asks, tapping the rice and the noodle option, back and forth, hesitating on which one to go for.

“As much as anyone else,” Viktor says, his answer hesitant.

Jayce isn’t expecting that and he looks up from the menu finally to look at Viktor.

“So that’s a yes then?” Jayce asks and can’t help but let disappointment settle in his chest. Which is hypocritical of him seeing as he’s had dreams about Mel.

“Eh…” Viktor trails off and won’t meet Jayce’s eye which makes Jayce feel confused and almost a little hopeful. 

He decides to extend an olive branch, provoked by the earlier moment when Viktor had stared at his naked back.  

“She is really beautiful but she’s not who I’m interested in.”

And fuck that was too much. He doesn’t mean to word it like that and he prays Viktor doesn’t pick up on it but it’s Viktor.

Viktor cocks his head to the side, causing some of his hair to fall in his face and Jayce resists the urge to brush it back. To tuck it neatly behind Viktor’s ear.

“There��s someone you’re interested in now?” he asks, his voice low and rumbly. There’s a look in his eyes that Jayce can’t grasp and he feels a strange tension in the air.

“Um…maybe?” he says, his voice squeaking at the end.

“You haven’t said anything,” Viktor says and there’s a slight hardness in his tone that has Jayce wanting to sink to his knees.

He’s never seen Viktor like this before. 

He should probably be getting annoyed. They’ve known each other for a week, Jayce didn’t owe Viktor anything. If he was actually interested in anyone else it wasn’t like it was Viktor’s business, but Jayce liked this side of Viktor. It was almost like he was jealous.

Viktor’s leaning closer in his space now and Jayce leans back.

He’s aware of the couch digging into his back, of Viktor’s hand resting in between the space between their thighs, his long fingers almost touching Jayce. 

There’s a knock at the door and they both flinch and sit further apart.

“Come in!” Jayce calls, clearing his throat.

Sky stumbles in, a pile of folders in her arms.

“I’m so sorry about this but Heimerdinger wanted me to drop this off before I go home.” She waves the folders at them earnestly and Jayce gets up with a sigh.

Probably more legal shit they needed to sign. 

He takes the folders gently from her and rolls his eyes internally as he reads the first few lines of the top folder.

It is more legal papers. The council sends it to the older yordle and then Jayce and Viktor receive it. Godsforbid either of them actually be involved in the rules and regulations of their own research and invention/

“Um, it is getting late,” Sky says shyly and Jayce looks up at her but her gaze is focused on Viktor.

“Did you have any dinner plans?” she asks Viktor, her tone hopeful.

Jayce feels his blood freeze.

“Actually, he’s coming by my place for dinner,” the lie comes out smoothly and Sky’s eyes widen and she puts up a small smile but Jayce can see she’s disappointed.

“Oh ok, maybe next time?” she asks, and Viktor softly replies, “next time.”

That has her spirits up again and she leaves the room with a cheerful goodbye and that she’ll see them in the morning.

Jayce picks up the menu again and selects the noodles.

“I’ll go and give this to Callisto and they’ll pick-up the order for us-”

“What was that?” Viktor interrupts, his voice deceptively casual.

Jayce clenches the menu tighter in his hand.

“You getting hard of hearing V? I said I’ll go and give-”

“Don’t be obtuse Jayce,” Viktor snaps and he’s standing up now. The crutch stays tucked tightly under his arm as he walks the few steps to stand before Jayce. 

“You just lied to Sky.”

Jayce scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“You don’t want her to think that we live in the lab do you Vik? Like bats? Lab bats,” he chuckles at his own stupid joke but it dies down quickly as Viktor stares up at him.

“Jayce,” Viktor says, his voice low again and Jayce can’t take it.

“I’m going to give this to Callisto!” he says, his words rushed and walks calmly out of the room.

That’s a lie.

He speed-walks, attempting to appear casual but he hears Viktor call out after him and he all but sprints to get out of there. 

His clothes feel tight and he’s getting sweaty again, but he manages to calm down when he gets to Callisto.

They’re standing at their usual booth and accept the takeout menu and charge Jayce’s student account. They say the food will be ready in forty minutes and Jayce keeps a hysterical giggle from escaping.

Forty minutes, there’s no way I can avoid Viktor for that long, he thinks to himself. He lingers outside for the booth, long enough that Callisto is eyeing him weirdly, so he finally leaves and heads to the lab. He realizes he's left the pencil at the booth downstairs but he decides against wasting time to get it, he needs to just face the music.

When he lets himself in, Viktor is waiting.

He pushes Jayce against the doors as they shut with a click. 

Viktor isn’t the strongest, but he’s caught Jayce off guard. He keeps his hand spread flat against Jayce's chest and stares up at him defiantly. 

“Talk. Talis.” 

The words are clipped and harsh. 

“Viktor please,” he says and he doesn’t know what he’s pleading with Viktor not to do.

There’s a line they’re about to cross, Jayce can feel it. They have the potential to be great partners, no matter what kind, but Jayce has been too scared to take that step further. To solidify what direction and what type of partners they will be. 

He wants Viktor as a friend but he also wants him as so much more.

It’s probably insane given their short time together but Jayce is certain of this. He doesn’t half-ass things, he dives head first but he’s been hesitant because he hasn’t been able to get a good read on Viktor. They’re learning each other surprisingly fast but not fast enough for Jayce to know where Viktor stands.

Until today.

Until earlier when Jayce saw his own hunger reflected back at him in Viktor’s eyes. 

“Who are you interested in?” The hand presses harder against his chest and Viktor leans up slightly, making Jayce take some of his weight.

Jayce swallows hard.

“If it’s not Medarda is it…is it Sky?”

Viktor looks unsure now, no longer determined and confident. He blinks rapidly like he’s trying to gather his thoughts and then he’s wincing.

“Oh shit it is Sky isn’t it, Jayce I’m sorry-”

Jayce doesn’t let him finish. He presses his lips harshly against Viktor’s. He wants to be gentle but he misjudges how close they are and his own eagerness.

He knows where Viktor is getting the idea from, he thinks because Jayce lied it was to stop Sky from having dinner with Viktor because Jayce wants Sky. But it’s the opposite. Jayce wants Viktor.

He will always want Viktor.

It seems to click in Viktor’s mind as he lets out a soft moan and he starts kissing Jayce back. 

His lips are slightly chapped and have grooves where he’s bitten the skin off, but there’s soft patches too and the juxtaposition is driving Jayce wild.

He breathes in heavily through his nose, stubbornly not wanting to take his lips off of Viktor’s now that he has him like this.

The hand on Jayce’s chest closes around the fabric of his sweatshirt, holding on for dear life it seems. He hears the distinct ting of the metal crutch hitting the floor and then Viktor’s body weight is leaning fully on him, his other arm snaking up to cup the back of Jayce’s head, a pillow between the door and Jayce’s head. 

Jayce holds Viktor around his waist to support him, one hand staying firmly locked around the man while the other dips down to rest partially on Viktor’s ass.

Jayce licks at Viktor’s lips, pleadingly.

Viktor moans again, pressing closer and opens his mouth.

He tastes sweet and bitter. Like black tea and honey, coffee and cream. Jayce doesn’t know if it’s just his taste or whether there’s a mug of sweetmilk lying around somewhere but he doesn’t care. He wants more, no, needs more. 

He let’s his tongue take over. It’s like he’s a desperate man searching for a drop of water in the middle of the desert. His tongue nudges at Viktor’s, wanting a response. When Viktor hesitantly greets Jayce’s tongue with his own Jayce let’s out a low moan. He suckles at Viktor’s tongue until they both pull apart. 

They’re panting heavily, their chests raising and falling together.

Viktor has drool in the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, Jayce leans in and laps it up.

Viktor lets out a whine and Jayce feels heat rush straight to his dick. 

“Not…Sky then,” Viktor huffs out, letting his hands move to Jayce’s shoulders.

“Not Sky. Only you,” Jayce says and Viktor smiles so wide that Jayce feels like he’s staring at the sun. 

He leans forward and nips lightly at the mole above Viktor’s lip just because he can .

Viktor let’s out a disbelieving laugh that’s mixed with amusement.

“How long have you been waiting to do that?” he practically purrs, his slender hand coming up to cradle Jayce’s cheek. 

Jayce shyly looks away and Viktor adjusts his hold so he can grab part of Jayce’s chin and make him look back at Viktor.

“I’ve seen you looking at me, hard not to with all the time we’ve spent together. You’re not subtle Mr. Talis,” Viktor says, pulling Jayce in for another kiss.

So he has noticed, Jayce thinks, feeling giddy. 

This one is slower, more dragged out, but it doesn’t lack any of the heat or passion of their earlier kiss. Jayce tightens his grip around Viktor and starts to walk them back towards where the couch is.

“How could I not look at you,” Jayce mumbles against Viktor’s lips.

It’s a little awkward with Jayce having to support most of Viktor’s weight and he’s not exactly paying attention to where he’s walking, he’s just aiming for the general idea of where he thinks the couch is.

Viktor let’s out an oomph as they walk straight into a table. 

“Maybe open your eyes puppy,” Viktor says and gently taps Jayce’s cheek. Jayce sheepishly blinks them open and carefully walks them over to the couch.

He lays Viktor down, making sure his bad leg is stretched out on the couch. He kneels in between Viktor’s legs and Viktor’s good leg hooks around his waist as he settles down over Viktor. He uses one elbow and forearm to prop himself up, his hand by Viktor’s head, as the other hand wraps around Viktor’s arm.

“Good boy,” Viktor whispers, pushing up his pelvis to meet Jayce’s.

Jayce whines, hiding his face in Viktor’s neck as the slender man wraps an arm around Jayce’s back to bring their bodies closer together. 

“See how you make me feel Jayce? Feel how hard I am?” Viktor says harshly into his ear as he thrusts up again.

Jayce nods fast, attaching his lips to Viktor’s exposed neck. 

Viktor shudders under him and tilts his head up so more of his neck is available for Jayce.

Jayce is greedy now that he can touch Viktor. He sucks and licks, trying to leave as many marks as possible. He discovers another mole, one hidden usually by Viktor’s high collars and cravat. He’s not wearing a cravat today and his top button is undone so Jayce has easy access. He nips at the mole, giving it the same treatment as the one on his partner's cheek.

“Gotta get this off of you,” he mutters, slipping the hand not supporting him down between their bodies so he can untuck Viktor’s shirt out of his pants.

“Impatient,” Viktor says with amusement, turning his head to kiss Jayce’s knuckles.

“You have to remove my vest first,” he says and raises an eyebrow when Jayce pauses his frustrated searching for skin under Viktor’s white button-up.

“Um, right,” he says and shakily pulls away from Viktor, sitting back on his heels. He doesn’t want to be away from Viktor for too long but he needs their clothes off faster. He starts unbuttoning Viktor’s vest and sneaks glances up at the shorter man.

Viktor is looking up at him, his mouth slightly parted and his cheeks flushed. His hair spreads out against the arm of the couch and some shorter strands have fallen forward, just shy of covering his eyes.

Jayce reaches up and brushes them away, letting out a sigh when Viktor hums contently and nuzzles into Jayce’s touch. 

“Look at you,” Jayce whispers and Viktor’s eyes flash in the dim lighting of the lab.

“You can do more than that,” Viktor says earnestly.

He tilts his head up and takes Jayce’s thumb into his mouth.

Jayce blanks out, his other hand clenching down on Viktor’s vest as he watches Viktor start to suck on his thumb.

Viktor’s mouth is a furnace, his tongue soft and silky, catching on the rough pad of Jayce’s thumb. 

Jayce is pretty sure all his blood has gone to his dick as he watches Viktor’s cheeks hollow out, his eyes fluttering, and he starts to feel light-headed.

Viktor pulls off with a pop , looking utterly blissed out. 

“Hurry up,” he commands. It’s soft but definitely an order and Jayce goes back to the last two vest buttons. He helps Viktor wiggle out of the vest and then practically rips Viktor out of his button-up, his patience running thin. 

He’s covered in moles.

Jayce really needs to figure out what his obsession is with the man's moles but he’ll deal with that later. He takes off his own sweatshirt and preens at how Viktor looks at him. It seems like Viktor can’t settle on where to look for long, his eyes bouncing from Jayce’s pecs, to his arms, to his stomach.

There he feels a little self-conscious and struggles to not cover himself.

He’s fairly muscled, his years in the forge making his body chiseled but he’s always had a layer of soft fat that doesn’t seem to go away. No one’s ever complained about his stomach before and it’s not like he’s fat, but the v of his hips are not flat and he is able to pinch his stomach and hold some of it in his fingers.

Viktor on the other hand is slender and lithe. His arms have some muscle built up from having to support himself and he’s not underweight but Jayce can see the shape of his ribs. He shifts under Jayce’s gaze and Jayce tracks the movements of his muscles, the flex of his stomach and the soft shudder that wracks his body.

“Are you just going to stare at me all day?” Viktor asks. He’s not looking at Jayce now, instead looking at the back of the couch where his fingers are twisting and pulling at a string that’s come undone from the backing.

He sounds defensive and Jayce hurries to remedy the doubt that seems to have crept up between them.

“I can’t help it V. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you, and now you’re here and your m-mine.”

He can’t help but stutter over his words because is Viktor really his? Could Viktor possibly crave him as much as Jayce wants him to? Call him a helpless romantic but when he’s pictured himself in a relationship he wants it all; he wants to walk down the streets with Viktor’s hand in his. He wants to argue about how hot or cold they need to keep their bedroom. He wants to bring him over to Caitlyn’s and have a family dinner, he wants Viktor to meet his mother and have her fuss over him. He wants to know every crack and crevice in Viktor’s body and his mind. He wants to be known too. He wants the knowing looks they’re already sharing to blossom fully. Viktor already knows his coffee order and he’s already cataloged every micro expression Viktor has when he’s irritated or annoyed.

Something must show on his face because Viktor’s face softens and he sits up, unraveling his leg from around Jayce. 

He pushes at Jayce until he has him sitting how he wants and then he sits down on his lap.

Jayce tries to protest but Viktor waves him off.

“If my leg starts bothering me I’ll let you know,” he says firmly and cups Jayce’s cheeks in his slender hands.

“We should talk about this, what this means for us,” he says, removing one hand so he can motion between them and then puts it back.

Jayce swallows, his head a little foggy with how their dicks are pressed against each other even closer than before. Viktor seems to sense this and moves his hips back a little but not too far because Jayce’s hands quickly grab onto his hips to keep him there.

It’s torture but he knows he’ll lose his mind even more if Viktor moves too far away.

“I think I’ve done most of the talking so far,” Jayce says, squeezing Viktor’s hips.

Viktor sighs and drops his hands from Jayce’s cheeks. They fall into their laps and Viktor starts playing with the strings of Jayce’s sweatpants, keeping a careful distance from Jayce’s straining cock.

His knuckles keep brushing against Jayce’s stomach though and he’s having a hard time concentrating.

“Vitya, ” he pleads, the name falling out from his lips and Viktor inhales harshly.

“I will not be some…notch on a bedpost yes? I believe that’s the saying,” Viktor says, his nose scrunching in distaste and Jayce remembers how thrilled Viktor had been when he’d learned about ‘crank it’. He thinks about those other students and the lockers he’s punched, overhearing how they talk about his partner, like he’s an object and not a person.

“I don’t believe you’re like that, you don’t think of me as some fetish, some new thing to fuck and add to a tally of life experiences,” Viktor snarls out and Jayce knows the anger isn’t directed towards him, it’s towards the whispers he must’ve heard ever since he stepped foot into the academy.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t still fall into a one night stand category,” he says, and Jayce squeezes his hips encouragingly when it looks like he’s not done speaking but he’s been silent for a minute.

“If we do this, we can’t pretend this never happened. I can’t pretend.” Viktor stresses, his hands moving from the strings to rest firmly against Jayce’s stomach. He jolts at the coolness meeting his heated flesh and Viktor waits, the question unspoken but hanging in the air.

But it’s not even a question because now that Jayce has him, he’s never letting go.

Even if one day Viktor turns into some mad scientist or decides to start wearing dresses, Jayce would follow him into eternity.

His mind halts on the image of Viktor in a dress, one of the clingy ones that councilor Medarda wears that show off her legs…

Viktor clears his throat and Jayce comes back to reality, realizing his nails are digging into Viktor’s hips.

“That’s a lot of thinking going on in that pretty head of yours Jayce,” Viktor says, pointedly looking at Jayce’s hands on his hips. 

He eases his grip, apologizing.

“I can be intense,” he starts out and Viktor gives him a ‘yeah-duh’ look and he scrambles to get the rest of the words out. “When I like someone I give them my all. My mom says I wear my heart on my sleeve, so all this that we’re doing together, it’s because I want all of you Viktor, and I want you to have all of me .”” Viktor looks at him like a deer in headlights, like he’s stunned by the possibility.

That Jayce could want him so badly that it hurts.

“I’m obsessed with you V. You say you’ve seen me watching you in the lab yet you look surprised,” Jayce says gently and Viktor leans forward, digging his hands into Jayce’s stomach. He looks like a bird, studying its prey. He’s got a calculated look on his face like he’s analyzing Jayce.

Jayce can’t resist and leans up to meet him, licking at his nose. 

Viktor sputters as Jayce’s tongue traces over the curves of his aquiline nose.

“You really are like a fucking puppy,” Viktor says, swatting Jayce’s face away so he can rub the saliva off his nose.

Jayce sits back feeling proud of himself. That’s two fantasies he’s completed in the short amount of time they’ve been together. Which reminds him, the food.

“We have about twenty more minutes,” he says, looking at the clock on the wall behind Viktor, bouncing his knee so Viktor will pay attention to him again. Viktor slides down so their crotches are pressed against each other again, as Jayce’s leg dislodges him from where he was sitting. Jayce drums his fingers against Viktor’s hips and looks at him adoringly.

“I want our first time to be in bed,” he says shyly and Viktor’s smile is perfect. Crooked and small but still one of the best things Jayce has seen. Second only to the Arcane.

“I’m sure there are other…activities we can familiarize ourselves with,” Viktor says cheekily, the heel of his palm moving from his stomach to his cock, Viktor’s touch sending a bolt of pleasure through Jayce.

“Yeah. Definitely,” he pants out and surges forward to kiss Viktor again.

Jayce finds himself losing himself in the kiss again, the world around them turning sluggish. He tries to keep his touch light but Viktor protests at every turn, shoving his lips harder against Jayce’s, grabbing Jayce’s larger hands and pressing them into his waist.

Jayce knows Viktor’s not a doll and would hate to be treated as such, but Jayce can’t help it. 

Viktor huffs in frustration, momentarily breaking their kiss when Jayce once again meets Viktor’s thrust but with a subdued passion. It’s taking everything in him not to just toss Viktor over one shoulder and have him against one of the lab tables or the workbench. 

“Jayce,” Viktor says quietly, a warning in his tone. 

Jayce can sense where this is going and he sighs and wraps his hand around the entire circumference of Viktor’s wrist.

“I know I won’t break you V but don’t you want me to be gentle?” he asks. Maybe it’s only because he’s been with girls before and there were certain expectations with how rough he could be. He liked it too, being gentle with them and getting to cradle them and draw low moans from their throats. The pressure just shy of too hard only when he started rubbing circles into their heat.

But maybe it needed to be different with Viktor.

“How about you tell me what to do,” he says eagerly, before Viktor can say anything.

Viktor looks at him, considering what he’s said.

“You want me…in control.” He says it as a statement and not a question but Jayce nods.

“Sex is a learning curve and I’ve always been a fast learner,” Jayce teases, flushing when he sees how interested Viktor looks now.

“We can work with that,” Viktor says softly and then starts to get up, pulling a whine from Jayce.

“Ah-ah-ah,” He tuts, shaking a finger at Jayce. 

“If I’m in control of this then we’re putting me fully in control. If you don’t like something, tap my arm three times, or if you’re able to speak then say…” Viktor trails off looking at Jayce expectantly.

Jayce’s head is already in the clouds at the implications of what Viktor is suggesting. His partner seems more confident now, like he’s slipping into a role Jayce only really sees when he’s deep in the throes of his work. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he looks up at Viktor.

“A safe word Jayce,” Viktor prods gently.

“Um right…” Jayce says as his mind rushes a mile a minute.

Fuck he needs a safe word? Ok something cool, something not embarrassing

“Sushi,” he says and then stares at his hands in abject horror.

Sushi is what he’s going with?!

“At least it’s not your own name,” Viktor smirks, standing in between Jayce’s spread legs and tilting his chin up with a finger. “That’d be even more egotistical than signing every page in your notebook.”

Jayce huffs, willing the urge to stomp his foot, like a child, to go away. 

“It was just one notebook,” he pouts.

Viktor raises an eyebrow.

“Ok a few of them and really it’s smart ok. Especially after we’ve created the hextech together I mean, anyone could have found my notes and done who knows what with them,” he says defensively.

“Of course baby,” Viktor says, brushing his hand through Jayce’s hair.

There’s a curl of something in Jayce’s stomach as he realizes there’s no mocking in Viktor’s tone. It’s not sarcastic or teasing, he’s just being comforting.

“Right well…what do you want me to do?” he asks, his throat feeling thick like he’s about to cry.

“You want to be such a good boy for me don’t you,” Viktor says, the hand leaving Jayce’s hair to cradle his jaw.

“Yes,” Jayce breathes out, surprised he isn’t stammering.

“You always make sure I’m taken care of, what’s one more chance for you to do the same here hmm? Do you want to make me feel good Jayce?”

Jayce nods and there’s now a finger prodding at his lower lip. He opens his mouth to let the finger in but it barely goes in, staying teasingly just out of reach, barely pressing against his teeth.

“Take off your pants,” Viktor says and steps away, giving Jayce more than enough space.

He hurriedly unties the strings to his sweatpants before realizing he needs to take his boots off. He toes them off with haste and shimmies the pants down, cantering his hips upward with a grunt so they’ll slide off faster. He leans over to pull off his socks and then sits there in just his underwear. His fingers rest on the waistband but Viktor makes a soft noise and Jayce looks up.

“Stand up.”

Jayce does so, trying not to seem too eager. He’s aware of how hard his cock is straining in his briefs, leaving not much to the imagination. 

Viktor steps up to him and trails a finger over his clothed cock. He inhales sharply and tries not to buck under Viktor’s wandering fingertips.

“Look how hard you are already,” Viktor says, the palm of his hand working gently against Jayce’s cock. He can feel it getting heavier, the ache getting stronger. If Viktor keeps this up Jayce fears he’s going to cum in his underwear like he’s a teenager all over again. He tries to see how hard Viktor is but Viktor’s pants are a darker brown than his and he can’t really discern the shape really well. 

“Can I touch you?” Jayce asks and Viktor shakes his head.

“Not yet,” he says completely composed and Jayce wonders how he can be so calm right now while Jayce is short-circuiting like faulty wiring. The hand on his cock slides upwards to the waistband of his briefs and Viktor slowly pulls them down, revealing red and angry lines where the waistband has dug into his skin.

Viktor hisses in sympathy, rubbing at the sore spots with such tenderness the urge to cry is back again.

“I’m getting you a new pair,” he says though it sounds more like he’s talking to himself out loud rather than to Jayce. 

He motions for Jayce to pull his underwear down the rest of the way and he wastes no time doing so.

He’s now completely bare in front of his Viktor.

It’s oddly thrilling to be looked at like this. Normally he’s the one undressing the women in front of him, taking time to delicately undo their corsets and peel away their lacey underwear. But now he’s the one undressed and standing before Viktor. He puffs up his chest, can’t help but pose a little.

Viktor smiles, noticing what he’s doing and exhales softly.

“My man of progress,” he says softly. 

Jayce’s dick twitches a little and he groans, which makes Viktor take that final step to press himself against Jayce.

Jayce’s hands move of their own accord, trying to grab the fabric of Viktor’s pants so he can pull them off, but Viktor shakes his head softly and grabs both of Jayce’s wrists in each hand.

Jayce knows he can change their positions easily. Even if Viktor tried to put force on his grip, years of the forge and Jayce’s own size would easily overpower Viktor. But Jayce lets him maneuver his arms so they hang at his side. Their chests rise and fall together and Viktor releases Jayce’s arms, giving an unspoken command for Jayce not to move.

He moves his hands slowly across Jayce’s torso. His fingers slide over collarbones and flex over Jayce’s pecs. He’s like a canvas, Viktor’s fingers the paintbrush. Viktor takes his time, learning every curve and dip of Jayce’s exposed chest. His fingers linger in space between Jayce’s chest and stomach, his diaphragm, and then his left hand lays flat there while the right continues its tortuous path. His body shivers and Viktor’s left hand drifts down to Jayce’s stomach.

Jayce feels self-conscious again with the attention Viktor is focusing on his stomach. His cock is leaking precum, looking red and eager for Viktor to pay it attention where it curves up, but Viktor pays it no mind. 

The right hand joins its partner on Jayce’s stomach and Viktor gives Jayce’s stomach a soft squeeze and Jayce lets out a squeak.

“Viktor,” he admonishes, but Viktor pays no heed to his harsher tone, leaning up to nip his lower lip.

“I plan to worship all of you Jayce, that’s what will please me I’ve decided,” he says, his breath hot against Jayce’s mouth.

“And for me to do that I need to appreciate all of you, will you let me do that? You want to be good for me don’t you?” he says hotly and starts kissing Jayce in earnest. 

A whine, high-pitched and needy is pulled out of Jayce’s chest and escapes his mouth without thought. He didn’t think he could make those sounds.

Viktor’s cool skin is starting to get warmer, but nothing can match the burning Jayce is feeling from within. 

He’s being led back to the couch, the back of his calves hitting the low couch making him stumble. He lands on his ass and he takes a minute to catch his breath as Viktor stands above him. 

The lab lighting doesn’t do him justice but he’s still gorgeous. His hair frames his red face, his upper body getting a light flush as well. There’s a mark on his neck from where Jayce had sucked and he’s pleased with himself. He wants to mark Viktor more.

“Hand me that pillow,” Viktor commands, pointing to a square plush purple one. Jayce hastily grabs it and offers it up.

Viktor puts it down at Jayce’s feet and carefully kneels on it.

Jayce has a brief moment to wonder where Viktor’s crutch is, in case he needs it anytime soon, but then Viktor’s hands are on his ankles and slowly trailing upwards in deep caress and he loses his senses again.

Viktor doesn’t so much dig into his legs as almost caress them with a reverence Jayce never would’ve expected.

Jayce can’t really see his face but he can for sure feel him, his nose dragging along Jayce’s calf, his mouth leaving the barest of kisses; butterfly kisses. His thumbs rub mirroring circles on Jayce’s ankle bones between each kiss. His hair is all Jayce can see until he starts to move upwards.

“Such a pretty boy, my Jayce,” Viktor purrs, his accent sounding thicker to Jayce’s ears. When he reaches Jayce’s knees he gives them two soft kisses on each one. He taps the inside of Jayce’s left knee and Jayce hesitates before lifting it. Viktor presses in closer, moving Jayce’s left leg up further so it hooks over his shoulder. He starts leaving open mouthed kisses against the soft skin of Jayce’s inner thigh. Starting at the top of the thigh and working his way up.

Jayce feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. He’s starting to pant again, groaning with each gentle lick Viktor administers to his inner thigh. Viktor squeezes his right knee, the fingers actually digging in this time as he bites down on Jayce’s inner thigh.

Jayce lets out a yelp and shudders. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he wants them on Viktor so badly. They are basically one with the couch cushions with how hard he’s clenching them, gripping them like a lifeline as Viktor licks at the bite, soothing it.

He taps the right inner knee and Jayce raises an eyebrow.

“Are you sure?” he pants out and Viktor looks up at him with dark brown eyes, the pupils almost taking up the entire irises.

“Move Jayce,” he says and as soon as Jayce has his other leg over his shoulder he moves swiftly, attaching his lips and giving the right inner thigh the same treatment as the left. His hands hold onto the outer sides of Jayce’s thighs, keeping them spread open to his liking.

It could’ve been hours, or it could have been minutes, but Jayce loses track of time until he is brought back to awareness by Viktor nuzzling his nose deep into the space where his pelvis and leg connect. He was right there, but he expertly avoids touching Jayce’s cock, only his hair brushing against the underside making Jayce tremble and grab the cushions harder. 

“Please,” he whimpers, not knowing what he’s asking for.

Viktor huffs and gently kisses the spot before leaning up more so he can rest his chin on Jayce’s stomach.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” Viktor whispers, his gaze adoring.

Jayce bites his lip and Viktor watches the motion with an intensity that has Jayce almost cumming on the spot.

Viktor trades bites and kisses across the supple flesh of Jayce’s stomach, paying the most attention to the rolls that have formed because of how Jayce is sitting. His nose dips into every crevice.

He pauses his ministrations, flinching and trying to hide it by resuming his kisses but Jayce never misses any of Viktor’s motions, he’s attuned to them. He could also feel the flex of Viktor’s hands on his thighs.

“What’s wrong? Your leg?” he asks, licking his dry lips.

He’s guessed right judging by how irritated Viktor looks.

“It seems I cannot be granted this simple pleasure with my…imperfection reminding me of itself,” he hisses out, wincing and letting go of Jayce’s thigh so he can massage his own leg.

“ Vitya ,” Jayce says, carefully bringing his legs down. Viktor's attention snaps to him but he looks defeated. 

“I’m sorry,” he says bitterly and Jayce releases his hold on the cushions, flexing his fingers. It hurts from how long they’ve been curled up and the strength at which they were holding on to the cushions, but he pushes that pain aside. He reaches out for Viktor, resting one hand on his shoulder and the other goes to cradle Viktor’s cheek.

“It’s not an imperfection,” he says harshly, stroking the sharp line of Viktor’s cheekbone with his thumb.

“You have no imperfections in my eyes Viktor.”

Viktor leans in to his touch, turning his face to press a fleeting kiss to Jayce’s palm.

“I wish I had your confidence,” he says and uses Jayce’s knees to push himself up. 

He stands there for a moment seemingly lost in thought. Jayce is about to call to him when hungry eyes find him and he’s at a loss for words.

“Jayce, you trust me, yes?” Viktor asks and Jayce nods eagerly.

“With everything.”

There’s that flash of surprise on Viktor’s face and then it’s gone.

“Scooch over then,” he says, flapping his hands at Jayce until Jayce makes room on the couch.

Viktor hobbles over a few steps closer to the couch and sits down carefully. He quickly removes his shoes and socks and unbuttons his pants. With a grimace he gets them off.

Jayce can see more moles trailing down the expanse of Viktor’s legs. His bad leg looks a little thinner than his good one but there’s nothing else to distinguish the two. 

He takes off his underwear too.

Jayce has never found a cock nice to look at. Not that he makes a regular habit of looking at any besides his own, but when he was younger he did some exploration of himself. He may have only had experience with girls, but he had magazines still stashed under his bed of naked men.

Caitlyn had been the one to get it for him, though she never revealed her source. It was in their late teens that Caitlyn had confessed to him that she didn’t like men, after another awful male suitor her parents had arranged for her to meet.

Jayce had never really put much thought into his own sexuality. He liked girls, had slept with some already by that time, and no man had ever turned his head but he took it anyways. For science was his excuse.

It lay untouched for a long while, before Jayce casually decided to browse it. He could see some attractiveness in some of the naked males but nothing really gripped his attention until one particular slender male. Jayce still remembered the photo, the man draped suggestively over a chaise lounge, his skin dark and glistening, his cock in one hand while the other tugged at his collared shirt - the only thing he was wearing.

That was the first time Jayce jacked off to a man.

After that discovery, he still leaned more towards women, but every now and then he’d try to capture a guy's attention but he always failed miserably.

Caitlyn said it’s because he exudes a straight aura, whatever that means.

But it’s never been a man’s cock that has drawn him to a man, and he never really understood the allure with some of the girls he slept with, their mouths eager to taste him, but now.

Well now he had an inclination of what it was all about.

Viktor’s cock looked beautiful to him, the urge to touch and taste growing stronger the longer he looked. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the elegant curve, the color, the precum that leaks from Viktor’s tip and drips down the base as Viktor lays himself down on the couch, oblivious to Jayce’s stare. 

“Alright Jayce, I need you to sit on my chest,” Viktor says and Jayce coughs.

“Um..you want me to…huh?” he asks and looks at Viktor in disbelief.

“Sit on my chest. This is the most comfortable position for me right now I’m afraid, so I’ll need you over here so I can suck your dick,” he says, patting his chest like an owner calling their dog to them.

“I’m not sitting on your chest ,” Jayce hisses, and Viktor has the audacity to roll his eyes.

“You said you trusted me, yes?”

“Well of course but-”

“Then why aren’t you trusting me to know my limits? We’re running out of time Talis,” Viktor says, jerking his head in the direction of the clock and Jayce gives up.

“Fine, fine, but if my big ass crushes you it’s your fault,” he grumbles. He slowly crawls on all fours, hovering over Viktor and hesitating for a second before he sits back, his knees on either side of Viktor’s chest. He doesn’t lower down though, his nerves getting the best of him.

Viktor’s hands snake around and grab Jayce’s ass, giving both of his cheeks a firm caress.

“Your ass is rather nice,” Viktor says, giving one a squeeze.

“I’m not going to break,” Viktor says after Jayce still hasn’t sat down.

“I’m just, uhh, getting more comfortable,” Jayce lies, making a show of shifting on his knees, thankful that even though the couch is relatively old and shitty, it's quite wide and soft. There’s no added stress to Viktor’s back and they’re not at threat of falling off.

“ Sit ,” Viktor barks out, not believing his bullshit.

Jayce sits. 

Viktor lets out an oomph and Jayce immediately tries to get back up but Viktor holds him by the ass, his nails digging in.

“See I told you,” Jayce complains, feeling guilty as Viktor looks up at him with a slightly pained expression. He manages to get off of Viktor, hovering once more.

“That’s because you just dropped on me, you overeager puppy.” 

Jayce flushes. 

“Now, slowly, sit down,” Viktor says patiently, guiding Jayce with his hands.

Jayce’s cock is hovering right by Viktor’s lips and he swears he can feel Viktor’s heart pounding under his ass.

“Look at this, all just for me,” Viktor says, his breath hitting Jayce’s cock, making it harder than he thought possible.

“ Vitya, please,” Jayce pleads, starting to get fed up. 

“Say that again,” Viktor demands and Jayce is helpless to comply.

“Vitya, please for the love of everything, suck my fucking cock right now or-” his words are choked off by Viktor almost inhaling him into his mouth.

His lips pull off before Jayce can even register what’s happened.

“Whose in charge here Jayce?” Viktor says, his dark eyes demanding under his long lashes.

“You are,” Jayce whines and presses his finger against the mole under Viktor’s eyes.

“And whose setting the pace?” Viktor asks, allowing Jayce to trace around his mole.

“You,” Jayce says breathlessly.

“Remember that Jayce. I know you’d look so pretty begging for me, but that’s for later, so don’t give me a reason to make you beg sooner,” Viktor warns before his mouth is engulfing Jayce’s cock again.

Viktor’s mouth is hot . It’s just like when his thumb was inside Viktor’s mouth but his cock is more sensitive and the sensations all feel new. It’s velvety soft in there and Viktor’s tongue is exploring with tentative licks and prods. He’s careful off his teeth, barely grazing them as he takes Jayce in deeper.

The heat in Jayce’s stomach starts coiling and more precum comes out. He knows he’s not going to last long like this. It’s embarrassing and he tries to warn Viktor but he doesn’t know if he should use the safe word or just tell Viktor to release him.

Viktor does something with his mouth, a mixture of tongue and teeth that has Jayce hearing the blood rushing in his ears. He moans out some gibberish words, managing to get out a ‘I’m close’ and ‘I’m going to cum’.

This seems to encourage Viktor and he doesn’t pull off, instead he’s sucking with abandon, his cheeks hollowing more and Jayce can’t hold it in. Not with Viktor sucking him off like he’s the sweetest treat in all of Piltover.

He cums with a shout, the world going black and filled with stars as he cums into Viktor’s mouth, only vaguely aware of Viktor’s hands clamping onto his sides, his fingers sinking into the fat of his love handles.

“Fuck,” he shudders and watches through half-lidded eyes as Viktor pulls off of his cock, giving the tip a gentle kiss.

“You did so good for me Jayce, you were wonderful,” Viktor purrs.

Jayce slides off of Viktor and nudges the other scientist until he’s trapped between the couch and Jayce.

“What about you?” Jayce asks, trailing a finger up and down Viktor’s side and ribs.

He looks down between them and is shocked to see Viktor is flacid.

“I came with you,” Viktor says, looking at Jayce smugley. 

Jayce kisses him desperately, not minding the taste of his seed mingling with the taste of Viktor.

He wants to lay here forever, his face pressed against Viktor’s cheek, his body draped over the slender man, but there’s a throat clearing and Viktor nudges him gently with his shoulder.

“The food will be here shortly,” he says and Jayce sighs heavily.

“I forgot about that,” he confesses and Viktor laughs.

He feels Viktor’s laugh reverberate through his whole body and he smiles, brushing sweaty hair off of Viktor’s forehead and gives a kiss to each of the moles on Viktor’s face.

“We still have time to clean ourselves in the bathroom,” Viktor says and Jayce reluctantly rolls away and hops off the couch. Viktor barely has time to sit up before Jayce is scooping him up in his arms, holding him bridal style.

“Jayce,” Viktor scolds.

“You took care of me, let me take care of you. Didn't you say that's what I like to do?” Jayce asks, easily carrying him and navigating around the lab to the showers.

He sets Viktor down gently onto a bench and grabs a clean towel, soaking it in the sink before taking the time to gently wipe away any of Viktor’s cum from Viktor’s body. He wipes himself off with a new towel as well, feeling sticky from the sweat their coupling had produced. 

“Are you going to carry me back?” Viktor asks, not seriously, as Jayce throws their towels in the hamper.

Jayce raises an eyebrow and easily has an armful of a spluttering Viktor in his arms again. 

“You are being ridiculous!”

Viktor’s face is a stunning shade of pink and Jayce kisses him, savoring the feeling of his lips before bringing them back into the main room.

He lets Viktor down so they can get dressed, sneaking glances at each other.

There’s a knock on the door just as Jayce smooths down his hair and Viktor goes over to the door, crutch secured under his arm once more.

Callisto is at the door as Viktor swings it open. They eye the scientists with disinterest and hand over the large bag of food. Viktor thanks them and closes the door with his shoulder.

“Great timing, I’m starving,” Jayce says and walks over to Viktor to take the bag from him.

“We have to fill you up with something for now until I can later,” Viktor says, patting Jayce’s stomach and walking around him in the direction of their mini fridge.

Jayce is frozen in place, his mind processing what Viktor just said and he almost drops their food.

His cock gives a twitch of interest, images of Viktor fucking into him long and slow fill his head and he can't help the sound that slips from his mouth.

“Jayce,” Viktor says warningly, looking over his shoulder as he stoops to dig in the fridge for drinks. “Food first, the rest later. ”

Later, there’s going to be a later, Jayce’s mind does a dance of happiness and he rushes over to start spreading the food on the table.

There’s plenty of sushi for Viktor to focus on and Jayce catches himself staring at Viktor’s lips as he slurps up some sashimi. He hurriedly shovels the chicken into his mouth. Normally he’d like to savor the food, talk to Viktor about their lab work or some gossip he’s heard, but he’s impatient. The promise of what Viktor is going to do to him is exhilarating.

“Relax puppy,” Viktor reaches across the lab table to squeeze Jayce’s forearm.

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

Jayce flushes and chews his food a little bit slower.

Viktor starts talking about the Kiramman gardens, expressing curiosity in what grew there. The conversation morphs into Jayce telling Viktor about the misadventures Caitlyn and he shared. He talks about how at twelve they had been racing each other. They’d been too close to the ponds and Caitlyn had elbowed him, trying to get him to slow down. The momentum had sent Jayce flying and he’d grabbed onto her by instinct, taking her down with him. They had both fallen in, getting soaked instantly. 

Viktor laughed with his whole body, tilting his head back and his shoulders shaking.

Jayce doesn’t think it’s that funny, but he loves watching Viktor laugh. He rests his elbow on the table and props his chin in his hand, content to watch Viktor. 

Viktor shares his own stories of growing up in the undercity in return. 

“I’d have liked to have seen the boat you made,” Jayce says and Viktor looks at him surprised.

“It wasn’t anything special,” he says shyly.

And there’s that uncertainty in Viktor again that Jayce wishes would go away. He’s usually so confident. He’s professor Heimerdinger’s assistant afterall, that’s not a position the yordle just gives out on a whim, but something like designing a mechanical boat as a toy in his childhood trips Viktor up. Kids around that age would still be struggling to fold paper to make airplanes - Jayce knows this from experience, a childhood annoyance of never being able to fold the lines just right to get them to go far.

“Can you imagine it? I would’ve been able to get you scraps from my family’s forge and you could’ve made us an army of boats,” Jayce says, excitement getting the best of him and Viktor looks a little less shy now. 

“I think I would’ve appreciated that,” he says softly, and returns his attention back to his sushi.

They eat the rest of their meal in companionable silence. They sort out their leftovers and clear the table. Jayce throws everything away while Viktor puts their containers in the fridge.

Jayce stands, uncertain now as he watches Viktor close the fridge.

“Um…your place or mine?” he asks, his usual suaveness is gone.

“My place is closer,” Viktor says and goes to gather his things. Once he’s loaded with his notebooks and his bag, they both wordlessly leave the lab.

They take the elevator down and Jayce sneaks glances at Viktor the entire time.

“Are you nervous?” Viktor asks and Jayce jumps at getting caught.

“A little,” he confesses and Viktor shuffles his papers so he has a hand free. He reaches down and intertwines his fingers with Jayce’s, gripping firmly. 

“It’s just me,” he says and that’s just it.

It’s Viktor. It’s finally happening and it’s Viktor.

The touch helps ground Jayce but not that much.

They walk the streets of Piltover holding hands. Jayce is now holding Viktor’s notebooks and carrying his bag, there was no feasible way Viktor would be able to hold his crutch, his belongings, and Jayce’s hand while walking.

It’s late enough that not many people are out but it’s not like Jayce wants to hide away this simple affection. Hell, he wants to race down the streets with Viktor in his arms, shouting to everyone how lucky he is.

He settles for walking as close to Viktor as he can, which earns an annoyed and amused noise from Viktor as he keeps messing up the scientist's strides.

“Do I need to tell you to heel,” Viktor mutters and Jayce stumbles. He keeps to himself after that, careful not to walk into Viktor again, feeling ashamed.

He’s done it to Caitlyn before and his mother and well, anyone he’s close with while they’re walking. He gravitates towards their space and suddenly they’re walking further to the side than where they started and he hasn’t even realized it. Caitlyn usually shoves him and his mother gently reminds him of his space but he and Viktor haven’t ever walked together for long stretches of time like this one, so it hasn’t happened. Or at least it didn’t happen for long enough for Viktor to comment on it.

Viktor sighs and releases Jayce’s hand. 

Jayce gets a sour taste in his mouth and his shoulders start to sag, but then Viktor is in his space, hooking his elbow around Jayce’s arm.

“I didn’t say I minded it,” Viktor says and they walk the rest of the way like that, bumping into each other every once in a while making Jayce smile and feel light.

Viktor’s home is one side of a townhouse near the edge of the academy district. There are flower pots on the stoop but it’s too cold for anything to be in them. Inside there’s a fire that automatically lights when Viktor turns on the lights. The kitchen is simple but has a certain charm to it with darkwood and dark blue accents. The table is piled high with textbooks and notebooks. There’s a new set of kitchen tools on the table that has Jayce puzzled. He walks over to it, noticing a post-it on the box. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Viktor asks, opening one of his cupboards and Jayce makes a noise of agreement.

“Sky got you kitchenware?” he asks, tapping the see through screen of the box.

“Oh yes, she saw how old my last set was and bought me a new one,” Viktor says, sounding bashful and he scratches at the mole under his eye.

Jayce feels something hot flow through him but it’s not a pleasurable warmth. No this is an angry warmth.

“She’s been here before?” he asks, trying to keep the jealousy out of his voice but failing.

Viktor sets two mugs down on the counter and leans back against it, setting his crutch off to the side where there’s a custom made nook for it to rest in.

“Sky and I grew up together. We were closer when we were younger and reconnected at the academy,” he says slowly, his gaze steady on Jayce like he’s trying to understand him down to his core. 

It feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on Jayce’s head. This is new information that he should be tucking away, he wants to learn everything about Viktor after all, but this particular information curls around his heart and makes him unsteady.

He didn’t even know Viktor liked to bake. 

“Jayce, come here.”

He hesitates, his eyes glued to the post it note.

I found this cute set at Nobles and thought of you! I can’t wait to taste what you’ll create next

- Sky 

There’s even a little heart doodled next to her name.

He turns away and walks over to Viktor.

“Closer,” Viktor huffs and Jayce goes until the tip of their shoes touch.

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation to be honest with you,” Viktor says, a disbelieving smile on his lips and Jayce cocks his head to the side, confused at the reaction Viktor has to his jealousy.

“Sky is nothing more than a friend , Jayce. I need to tell her in blunt words but I…I’m not used to others holding affection for me. Really, I only took any notice of it today when I saw how you reacted to her asking me to dinner.”

He rubs his hands up and down Jayce’s sides and Jayce relaxes.

“I’m being silly-” he says but Viktor cuts him off.

“No, it’s natural for someone who likes another person to…eh…” he trails off and looks embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with the slightest of color.

“When two people love each other,” Jayce teases, meaning to say like and not love but now it’s there in the open between them.

“Yes,” Viktor says, his eyes wide and hopeful as he looks up at Jayce.

“I was jealous when I thought of anyone holding your attention,” Viktor whispers, licking his lips.

Jayce leans down, caging Viktor in by putting his arms on either side of his slighter frame and slotting one of his legs in between Viktor's. 

“Yeah?” he asks, his breath coming out as a long exhale, causing Viktor’s hair to stir.

“You don’t like it when I’m not giving you all my attention,” Jayce states.

They hadn’t had many interactions with others since they’d spent most of the week in the lab, only really leaving for their apartments - or in Jayce’s case, the gym and the forge as well.

But there had been one time, when one of professor Heimendingers students had come to the lab instead of Sky or Heimerdinger. He’d been starstruck by Jayce apparently and Viktor had made a blunt comment to the boy about his overeagerness. Jayce had chalked it up to Viktor just being fed up with the boys floundering all over Jayce, not any actual jealousy because he’d become distracted by all the compliments the newcomer had been giving him.

This new angle was intriguing. It seemed that Viktor was just as caught up in Jayce as Jayce was caught up in him. 

“No,” Viktor says simply, his hands playing with the short strands of hair at Jayce’s nape.

“Then you have my attention,” Jayce says, closing the distance between them to kiss Viktor.

With his lips still on Viktor's, he uses one hand to nudge the mugs off to the side. He then gently but firmly grasps Viktor’s hips and lifts him up onto the counter.

The angle is better this way and Viktor molds his upper body to Jayce’s wrapping one good leg around his waist like when they were on the couch. 

“I could take you right here,” Jayce pants out as Viktor breaks the kiss and moves down to kiss at his jawline.

“Hmm but you said a bed Mr. Talis,” Viktor says, moving further along Jayce’s jawline until he reaches Jayce’s earlobe. He nibbles it gently, before pressing a tender kiss just under Jayce’s ear.

“And I’m still the one in control,” Viktor says.

Jayce’s knees feel weak and he leans his forehead onto Viktor’s shoulder. The other man continues his ministrations to Jayce’s earlobe and down to his neck.

“You are still ok with that, right?” Viktor asks, pulling away and pushing at Jayce’s shoulders until the bigger man lifts his head up.

“We can always renegotiate, have you inside me.”

Jayce shakes his head slowly.

“No, no it’s ok. I like the idea of you inside me just as much as I like the idea of it the other way around.”

Viktor looks at him critically.

“Next time then,” he says and Jayce can’t help but nod, the butterflies in his stomach swirling around.

Next time.

“Let’s go to my room then,” Viktor says and Jayce moves back only enough to allow the man to slip off the counter and onto the floor. He immediately starts kissing the shorter man, crowding him against the counter again.

“We can’t- Jayce you need to-” Viktor tries speaking but Jayce is determined with his kisses.

Viktor gives a particularly hard nip to his lower lip and he pulls away reluctantly.

“At least let's take off our shoes, I’m not having dirt trekked all over my house,” Viktor pants, running a hand through his hair trying to tame his tresses. It’s really no use as Jayce’s hands have made good work of messing up the thick wavy hair.

They toe off their shoes and Jayce tries to be patient, he really does. He follows Viktor, who is using his cane now instead of his crutch. They almost make it all the way down the hall before Jayce figures he’s been patient enough and scoops Viktor into his arms again.

“Is this going to become a…thing?” Viktor asks dryly, one arm around Jayce’s neck and the cane still in his other hand.

He kind of looks like he wants to smack Jayce with the cane.

“If it makes you feel any better I’m just impatient and you’re light. I’d do this with any partner,” Jayce soothes and a complicated span of emotions show on Viktor’s face.

Jayce is telling the truth though. He knows a part of Viktor assumes he’s doing this because Viktor isn’t moving fast enough or he thinks Viktor is weak and needs to be carried. Jayce’s mind doesn’t see it like that, he just wants to hold Viktor and get to the bedroom too. The simplest solution is to just carry Viktor to satisfy those needs in him. 

“Alright,” Viktor says, sensing the truth there and carefully stretches to lean his cane against the wall. It still falls but it makes less of a clatter than if Viktor had just dropped it.

“Proceed,” he says and waves a hand for Jayce to continue. 

“Um, Vik, I’m not a mind reader,” Jayce chuckles. “Which one is your room?”

Viktor points to the door that slightly ajar at the end of the hallway and Jayce speedwalks to it, his steps only faltering when Viktor starts licking and sucking on his previous lovebites he’s scattered across Jayce’s neck.

They’re both going to need to wear turtlenecks for the foreseeable future.

Jayce guesses where the light is on the first try, flicking the switch with the back of his arm. It’s awkward and the switch digs into his arm making him wince but no way in hell is he letting go of Viktor. He closes the door with his socked foot and neatly side-steps some clutter on the floor.

The bed is massive . There’s also a ton of pillows, some of them longer and more squished so Jayce assumes they’re support pillows for his partner's leg. He pauses, trying where best to put Viktor down.

He sits Viktor down onto the edge of the bed and starts taking pillows and placing some of them on the floor after he can’t find a good enough spot. Viktor starts taking off his clothes while Jayce starts putting the rest of the pillows not on the floor against the headboard. He makes a nice mountain and catches the tailend of Viktor taking off his briefs. 

He makes a mental note that a lot of the pillows had silk cases.

Viktor hadn’t struck him as someone to have those kinds of luxuries but maybe that’s why his hair was always so silky looking and felt so nice under his hands. 

Viktor wordlessly scoots across the bed and beckons Jayce forward with a finger.

Jayce quickly undresses, taking everything off so he’s naked too and crawls over to Viktor. Hell even the comforter under them is soft as fuck. 

Once he’s propped up comfortably against the pillows, Viktor is on him.

He’s a good kind of weight on top of Jayce and he gets lost in the sensation of all that flesh against his. 

It seems Viktor is impatient now that they’ve finally reach here, as he soon is slipping his hand in between them and grabbing both their cocks so they rub up against each other with each thrust. His thumb swirls the tip of Jayce’s cock, rubbing smoothly because of the pre-cum. 

Jayce moans and holds on tight to Viktor’s shoulders, his head thrown back into the pillows.

“Do you think I could make you come from just this?” Viktor asks, his lips pressed against Jayce’s pecs.

Jayce just whines.

“Answer me,” Viktor commands, his lips finding Jayce’s nipples and playing with the bud there. He sucks it into his mouth and tongues at Jayce’s nipple while the taller man tries to get an answer out of his mouth.

“Yes Viktor but…please, I need you inside,” he keens as Viktor sucks harder, his hand releasing their cocks so he can brush his fingers teasingly against Jayce’s balls.

“What do you want me to do?” Viktor asks and Jayce thrusts his hips up, jostling Viktor so their cocks still slide against one another without the other man's hand on them.

“Please,” he begs, the heat in his stomach coiling and spreading.

Viktor’s fingers are against Jayce’s lips and he opens his mouth without thought. This time Viktor slips them all in.

“Suck,” he commands.

Jayce is eager to obey, coating the digits in his saliva as he licks and sucks. The fingers taste slightly salty from sweat and metal. He loses himself in the feeling, his eyes crossing as he tries to stare down at the fingers in his mouth. 

“So good for me Jayce, such a good boy. You’re going to look even more beautiful on my cock,” Viktor rasps, stroking the side of Jayce’s face. 

Jayce keens again and sucks harder.

“Oh pretty boy,” Viktor coos and pulls his fingers out of Jayce’s mouth, replacing them with his tongue.

Jayce can’t get enough, the kiss getting sloppier and wetter with each passing second.

“Have you done this before? Even just to yourself?” Viktor asks after they’ve broken apart and he’s scooted down to lay down between Jayce’s legs. 

Jayce shakes his head no, feeling shy.

“It’s going to be uncomfortable and there may be a little pain. I’m going to stretch you and take care of you though, and you just tell me if you need a break or it’s too painful, ok?” Viktor says.

Jayce nods, feeling heady with how careful Viktor is being in this situation.

“Tell me with your words Jayce,” Viktor says and Jayce chokes out a yes.

“Ok, good boy,” the praise rolls off Viktor’s tongue so easily and it shatters something in Jayce each time. 

Viktor tells him to bring his legs up and he does, revealing his hole and giving Viktor easier access.

Viktor kisses Jayce’s hole, making him shudder and the muscle to flutter, and then Viktor’s saliva coated finger is breaching.

It’s a strange sensation to say the least, having Viktor’s finger up his ass, wiggling around to start stretching Jayce out, and he can see his own chest starting to get red from how flushed he is.

“You’re doing so good baby,” Viktor says, inserting a second finger. This one makes Jayce feel a little uncomfortable and he shifts a little.

Viktor coos softly and kisses the underside of Jayce’s cock. He mumbles soft affirmations and slowly starts a scissoring motion inside of Jayce.

He withdraws his fingers, leaving Jayce feeling strangely empty, and dips his fingers in his own precum and Jayce’s so they’re slick again, before interesting them back in.

Jayce moans low in his throat and clutches at the pillow behind his head.

A third finger goes in and he hisses, starting to feel a fullness he’s not sure how to process yet, and then VIktor’s finger curls and his knuckle brushes against something that makes Jayce shout.

It’s pleasure beyond belief, the uncomfortableness gone as he’s gotten used to the feeling of Viktor’s fingers inside him.

“More,” he gasps out and Viktor looks up at him hungrily.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Viktor asks, his fingers stilling inside Jayce.

Jayce nods fast, wanting Viktor inside him. He needs it to happen like he needs to breathe, he needs to have that feeling again. 

Viktor’s fingers withdraw and there’s a hollowness now inside Jayce and he whimpers. The whimpers turn into senseless pleading as he watches Viktor lick his fingers. 

Viktor makes a pleased noise and Jayce feels the desire spark again in his stomach at Viktor liking the taste of Jayce’s cum.

“There’s lube in the top drawer, can you be a good puppy and fetch it for me?” Viktor asks, giving a kiss to the inside of Jayce’s thigh.

Jayce hurriedly moves, nearly kneeing Viktor in the face in his haste to get up and grab the lube. He starts apologizing but Viktor just laughs and there’s a twinkle to his blown pupils. 

“My eager sweet miláček,” Viktor says fondly and waits patiently for Jayce to hand him the lube.

“What’s that mean?” Jayce asks, watching intently as Viktor uncaps the bottle.

“Little love, or darling,” Viktor says, leaning over to kiss Jayce sweetly on the lips.

“I like it,” Jayce says.

“Do you have one for me?” Viktor asks, spreading Jayce’s legs wider with his free hand so he has room. His cock is right at Jayce’s hole and he starts squeezing the lube into his hand. 

“ Mi vida , my love,” he says easily.

Viktor smiles a bright and lovely thing.

“I like that too,” he says and starts covering his cock with the lube. Jayce watches in a trance.

Once Viktor is satisfied he lines himself up and takes the base of his cock in one hand and starts to push in. He takes his time, watching Jayce’s every bodily twitch and facial expression, keeping a slow and even pace until he’s fully bottomed out. 

“You feel so good, so tight,” Viktor says, and leans down so they’re pressed chest to chest.

He kisses Jayce, hugging Jayce to him almost desperately. Jayce wraps his arms around Viktor’s back, feeling each notch of his spine as he trails his fingers across each one. He plays a large hand on Viktor’s ass and another one on his lower back. He feels a divet in Viktor’s back and explores it more with his touch.

Viktor has back dimples.

Jayce can’t wait to explore more of this gorgeous creation he’s so lucky to have as his.

“You can move,” Jayce says, finding himself aching from the lack of movement. 

Viktor starts moving, his hips dragging slowly as he thrusts in and out. It’s a pleasant feeling, this added fullness and the slight burn of having something larger than Viktor’s fingers inside of him. But any pain dissipates as Viktor starts to speed up and he hits that spot again. 

Once he finds it he keeps hitting it. Jayce digs his fingernails into Viktor’s back and ass, trying to get him even closer, like they could merge and become one if he just cradled Viktor close enough. 

The room is filled with their harsh pants and skin on skin. Jayce is lost to the sensations, the same for Viktor.

Jayce is not even sure they’re really kissing anymore, it’s more like they’re breathing each other’s air and sometimes their lips make contact as the force of their bodies keeps them brushing against each other.

“Jayce yes, uhhh, my little sweet thing, you’re so pretty, so good for me,” Viktor says, over and over, more and more compliments and praises fall from his lips as he pounds into Jayce, hitting that spot over and over and over again.

Jayce can feel his stomach tightening and he whimpers. 

He squeezes Viktor’s ass again, kneading the soft flesh there and whispers that he’s close.

Viktor makes a delighted noise and the praises get lost to the rushing in Jayce’s ears.

He feels Viktor shudder against him and the most beautiful noise escapes Viktor and then there’s cum filling him up. Viktor looks beautiful, his arms digging into Jayce as he releases inside of him, his eyes closed and his kiss swollen mouth slightly open.

“Jayce,” he calls out and that does it for Jayce.

He cums too, and his vision goes black.

He comes too with Viktor pulling out of him.

He almost begs Viktor to stay inside but holds his tongue.

“Let me get a rag to clean us off,” Viktor says, brushing a tender kiss on his lips before sliding off Jayce to get off the bed.

He doesn’t make it but to the edge of the bed before he lets out a muffled cry and his hand falls to his leg.

Jayce sits up instantly, post sex haze clearing at seeing his lover in pain. 

“I’ll get it,” he offers softly, pressing a reassuring kiss against Viktor’s neck.

“The room to the left,” Viktor says, sounding put out as Jayce crawls out of the bed and heads towards the bedroom door.

The bathroom is as comforting as the rest of the house, the light over the mirror a welcoming yellow. He lets the water run until it’s warm and then runs a washcloth under it. He turns off the faucet and twists the washcloth to remove the excess water before going back into the bedroom.

Viktor has taken off the top comforter - clearly they got it dirty - and it’s folded neatly on the floor by the end of the bed.

Jayce takes his time cleaning Viktor’s stomach and the inside of his thighs.

He blushes when he realizes there’s fluid leaking from his ass and he blushes as Viktor takes the washcloth to clean him up.

Once Viktor is satisfied, he tosses the washcloth on top of the comforter and pulls Jayce into the bed. 

He has one of his long pillows already in the bed and Viktor situates himself before tugging Jayce more firmly into his side. The mountain of pillows have also already been rearranged so they won’t wake up with sore necks from sleeping with too many pillows, though Jayce is more than happy to use Viktor as his pillow.

Viktor doesn’t seem to mind either, pressing his lips against Jayce’s forehead as Jayce snuggles further into his lean body.

“I think this is the first time we’re both in bed by three am,” Jayce says and Viktor snorts.

“Maybe we can make it a habit,” Viktor says, holding Jayce tightly and urging Jayce to tangle his legs with Viktor’s good one. 

“How do we turn off the lights?” Jayce yawned, stretching his body before curling back up against Viktor. He rested a hand on Viktor’s stomach while his other one stayed between the two of them. It was probably going to fall asleep and give him pins and needles, which he hated , but he’d sacrifice it if it meant staying like this with Viktor.

“Did you know that I am somewhat of a scientist?” Viktor says and claps his hands, descending the room into pitch dark.

Jayce almost squeals because that’s so cool. 

He settles for kissing Viktor’s collarbone instead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Viktor says, not a question, but a fact. 

“See you tomorrow,” Jayce answers back, sleep finally catching up to him and dragging him under.

They have all the time in the world now. They’re young, they have the hextech and each other in their futures, and Jayce has never felt so safe and content before. It would be him and Viktor, in all timelines and in all possibilities, them . 

[xxlady-lunaxx]

"have you been eating recently?"

obanai tensed at the question. he reassured himself his mask was on before turning slightly, facing sanemi.

"what do you mean?" he asked, reaching for his belt. they were changing after taking a quick stop in the hot springs, whilst waiting for their swords. coincidentally, they'd both needed their katana repairs at the same times, so after running into each other in the village, they had taken a much needed break together.

sanemi was busy buttoning the single button on his uniform top, but he spared obanai a quick glance. "you look thin. and, like, not in a healthy way," he said pointedly, eyes vaguely tracing obanai's frame.

uneasily, obanai slipped on his shirt, feeling slightly better as it hung loosely on his figure, allowing less room for exposure. "i do eat," he muttered. kaburamaru waited impatiently on his folded haori, beady eyes set on obanai as he waited for the man to finish.

"do you eat enough? i didn't see you eat earlier today," sanemi noted, shrugging on his haori. he cocked his head to the side slightly, eyeing obanai. "have you eaten in the past few days?"

"i... have." obanai was aware how uncertain of his answer he sounded. he was sure he had eaten—truly—but that derived purely from his memory of feeling increasingly nauseous at the sight of food. he remembered, clearly, the need to spit the food out as he'd been eating, but he couldn't recall whether or not he'd actually eaten.

and sanemi understood that. he knew obanai better than anyone, sometimes, and it proved true now, as always, accompanying his disappointed frown. yet he didn't press the subject, waiting for obanai to finally pull on his haori and readjust kaburamaru on his shoulders. then he stepped forward to walk beside him as they left the room, a silence settling between them before he spoke.

"let's get some food, iguro."

obanai bit back his retort, instead bowing his head in assent.

"alright."