#and like the way he does have to take responsibility for times hes genuinely crossing boundaries with his friends

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

In Any Reality: Revelations

(continuation of the alt!Assistant AU-- they are no longer boss/employee at this point)

---

Please come.

That’s all the text on Kara’s screen says, and even though she waits several minutes, no further clarification comes in.

Where are you? She sends back. Are you okay?

Apartment.

Kara is already logging off when the response buzzes on her cell. Working late, there’s no one to criticize her speedy exit. She flies to Lena’s apartment, but when her x-ray vision confirms Lena is alone and in no apparent danger, Kara ducks into an alley to wait a reasonably human amount of time before officially arriving. 

Only then does she let herself up, using her key to slip inside Lena’s apartment. There she makes a beeline to where Lena sits on her too-white couch, elbows on her knees with her shoulders slumped. 

“Lena?” Her girlfriend doesn’t look up at her approach, and alarm flares in Kara’s chest. She crosses the room and kneels in front of her, taking Lena’s hands in hers. “Lena, what’s wrong?”

Finally, Lena lifts her chin, meeting Kara’s gaze with flat, empty eyes.

“Lena, what happened?” Kara insists. 

“Is this real?”

Lena’s voice is rough and dull. Kara blinks in confusion. “You mean us?”

“I mean… me.”

In an instant, Kara knows exactly what’s happened. It’s her turn for her shoulders to slump as she sinks back on her heels. “Lex told you.”

Not a question. There’s no doubt in Kara’s mind. Only Lex would see his sister happy, then pull the rug out from under her entire reality, just to see her miserable. Broken.

Lena exhales. “He says I’m just an echo. A construct of his will.”

“Lex is a self-obsessed maniac,” Kara snaps. “He couldn’t build a construct of you if he tried.”

Green eyes sharpen. “But it’s true, isn’t it. He made this world– made me. This version of me.”

Shaking her head, Kara releases Lena’s hands to reach up and cup her cheeks instead.

“You are real,” she says firmly. Lena’s eyes fill with tears. “You are real. Lex may have had a hand in shaping this world, but he made nothing.”

“But…”

“Do you think he would be this pissed if he had any control over you? Over us?”

Doubt clouds Lena’s gaze, which self-consciously slides away from Kara. “He says you loved her too.”

“Yes, “ Kara says. “I did.”

Lena pulls away from Kara’s hands. “I must be a poor consolation prize.”

Gritting her teeth, Kara struggles to rein in her temper. She doesn’t understand why Lex can’t stand to see Lena happy. Before, she would have believed it was just Lena’s happiness with her, a Super, that burrowed under his skin. But in this reality, where she isn’t Supergirl, where she only rarely uses her abilities… This is about Lena, not Kara. 

Lex hates his sister. 

“You’re not listening to me,” Kara says, keeping her voice even. “Lex didn’t create you.”

“But–”

“Lena. Look at me.” Kara waits until Lena meets her gaze. “Some things may be different. But no matter how different things may be… In any world, in any reality, I love you.”

“And you’ve met so many of me then?” 

Kara bites back a laugh. In the old reality, her experience reality-hopping with Mxy had hardly seemed different from any other thursday, but here in this reality? Kara shakes her head, half to herself.

“It’s too long to explain,” she replies, “but yes. I have.”

Lena doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and Kara gives her time to absorb the new information. Finally, Lena nods, running her palms against her thighs. 

“All right,” she says. 

Genuine confusion crests over Kara. “All right, what?”

Lena gazes at her solemnly. 

“I’ll help you get home.”

Silence hangs between them. Kara’s heart twinges– she can’t deny she misses her old life. It’s like losing Krypton again, in a way, but with the continued reminder of what used to be in the faces of her friends and family. If she had a choice, would she return to that world?

Luckily, she doesn’t have to make that impossible choice.

“This is the only home there is,” she delivers plainly. “It’s a miracle even this one still exists.”

Lena’s features soften. “I’m sorry.”

Kara nods her gratitude. “I’m just relieved I still have you.”

“Lex said…” Her voice cracks. “Lex said we hated each other.”

Of course he did. “We had a falling out,” is all she says. “We didn’t have time to work through it.”

Lena swallows thickly. “You loved her?”

“I love you. All of you.”

“I don’t…” Lena’s voice sounds uncertain, for the first time Kara has seen in this reality. “I don’t know if I can live in the shadow of another version of me.”

Kara bites her lip. “That’s a decision only you can make,” she says softly. “But know this: of all the Lena’s I’ve ever loved, and those I’ve lost, you are the only one I’ve ever kissed.”

—-

Kara gives Lena space over the following week. Her stomach churns in apprehension of Lena’s decision but she refuses to let despair claim her. No matter what happens, Lena is alive– she exists, and she’s breaking away from Lex with every attempt he makes to tear her down. 

Alex notices the change in her demeanor, but Kara declines to share. This feels too intimate to explain, even if she could. But Alex doesn’t know the truth of the multiverse, and Kara has no desire to walk her through it. 

On the sixth day, Kara is at her easel– fiddling with her brush more than she actually paints– when a knock sounds at her door. Even without looking, she knows that it’s Lena. Taking a breath to steady herself, Kara sets her brush aside and lifts away from her stool.

Lena stands stiffly beyond the threshold when Kara opens the door. Her discomfort is plainly visible, and her features hold too much uncertainty to put Kara’s heart at ease. 

“Hey,” she says softly, stepping aside to invite Lena in.

“Hey,” Lena returns, just as soft. She ducks her chin as she enters, and looks up through her lashes at Kara. It’s an image Kara knows well from the previous reality– it’s the first time she’s seen it in this one. 

“Lena…”

“I want to know.” Lena finally lifts her chin. “I want to know why we hated each other so much.”

Kara breathes a quiet sigh. “I’m an alien.”

Lena clearly wasn’t expecting that. She blinks. “Oh.”

“That wasn’t why you hated me– it was that I lied about it, and let you believe I was two different people for far longer than I could justify.” She swallows. “I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

“Even though…?” 

Even though it never happened. Even though it didn’t matter any more.

“Even though,” Kara confirms. Crisis may have eradicated countless worlds and lives, but Kara’s regret will persist to eternity. 

Lena looks at her hands, where her fingers nervously twist and worry each other. 

“Kara… I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. And I don’t know what I would do if I had the memories you do.”

Kara’s throat tightens. She braces herself against hope and disappointment both. 

“All I know,” Lena continues, “is that I love you. So if you’re willing to love this flawed, inglorious version of me, then… I’m not going to let Lex take you away from me.”

Kara closes her eyes, sending tears spilling down her cheeks. She sniffs, and a sob pops out of her. She hears a thump when Lena drops her purse to the floor, and then Lena is reaching for her, tentative hands pulling Kara’s arms from where they’ve wrapped around herself, until their hands link together.

Kara offers a trembling nod, blinking up at Lena. 

“Thank you.”

“No,” Lena whispers hoarsely, voice thick with tears of her own. “Thank you. Thank you for finding me.”

"Always."

[jackass-jones]

Something about the way Ashton Frey has horrible self worth issues and constantly feels like he’s a bad friend and letting everyone down by existing wrong but also the way he shows his affection for his friends is by bothering them by invading their personal space crashing on their couch without asking first using stupid nicknames no one likes and like, they genuinely do get annoyed with him for this! But he lacks the social awareness to know where he’s gone wrong and just assumes he’s this horrible presence who inevitably ruins everything for everyone. It’s like he knows he’s annoying but doesn’t know WHY or how to make it stop. Good shit

[yanderenightmare]

part one

TW: nsfw, dubcon, blackmail

fem reader

As promised, you receive the pictures in the mail while the payment is forwarded almost emmidiatly. You don’t know which makes you gawk more, the photos of you or the numbers.

You also get an email—an invitation. The photographer is asking you to dinner. Or, asking is putting it nicely—which he most certainly didn’t. It’s phrased like a notice from your boss—matter-of-factly, he’s picking you up at eight, wear something nice.

You think about declining, but then you think about your friend again and how you don’t want to cause her any trouble. A free dinner isn’t really all that bad, is it?

It’s worse, actually.

“You should have told me you didn’t have anything to wear. I would have lent you something,” is the first thing he says when you get in his car. He hadn’t opened the door for you or anything, just sat in the driver’s seat waiting.

And though your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you think you’re foolish for it. You hadn't really dressed to impress him, after all—something you might as well tell him, “Maybe I just didn’t feel like dressing up. You didn’t exactly leave a good impression last time we met, so I don’t believe I owe you anything.”

He scoffs with a grin—face turned towards the road as he starts driving. “You have a lot more bite without your friend.”

“She has too much respect for you.” You cross your arms and look out the window. 

“That’s for sure.” You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t offer any more of a response. You’re glad to spend the rest of the drive in silence.

You feel underdressed at the restaurant. You hadn’t thought he’d take you somewhere so nice. Most of the other couples there are dressed as if for a gala, while you’re dressed as if you’re going to an office party.

He hasn’t tried too hard himself. But still, he fits in—fat watch on his wrist, kempt hair, neat shoes, dress trousers, and a silk shirt with one too many buttons undone—a nauseating skinny chain beneath the collar as well as the hint of a chest tattoo. You bet it’s one of those dumb tribal inks, probably with some mundane Japanese characters he doesn’t know the meaning of.

“Is this where you undermine all the models desperate for your recognition?” you sigh as you sit down.

“We haven't even gotten our menus, and you’re already causing a scene?” 

He’s the one who was rude the moment you got in the car. In fact, he was rude the minute you met him. “Might as well speed this along.”

He chuckles—his smile genuinely amused instead of angered the way you’d imagined—the way you’d remembered from last time when he sent girls crying. “You know, for a face like that, you have one hell of a tongue.”

He orders wine by the name with ease and swiftness before returning to what he was saying.

“I like that. Most models are dull, but not you.”

“I don’t agree. And I’m a model,” you snip, showing no interest in his flirting.

 “No? Didn’t you see the pictures?” Your attitude doesn’t seem to deter him—rather, it only seems to egg him further on. “I have them all mounted on my walls at home—you should come see.”

This makes you falter. Looking at him from across the table with rounded eyes. “On your walls?”

“Framed.” He smiles, finally having broken through—he only intends to take it further. Not that what he was saying wasn’t true. “I just couldn’t help myself. I consider it my best work.” 

The look on your face is something between disgusted and uncertain—speechless in a sense.

It makes him laugh again. “Does anything flatter you?”

The wine comes. He’s poured a glass for testing.

“Not when spoken by men like you.”

His grin grows as he swirls the liquid around, smelling it like a phony.

“That’s a shame,” he says before taking a sip. He nods to the waiter, and you’re poured a similar glass. Meanwhile, he looks at you. “I’d like to flatter you—I’d like to spoil you even. You seem like you deserve it.”

You sip your glass. “No need.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You currently work at a diner, right?”

You gaze at him from atop your glass, brows furrowing. “How do you—”

“I didn’t.” It’s a lie, of course, he’d searched you up and gone over every little detail he could find. “It’s clear from the looks of you—”

“Fuck you,” you snap, putting your glass down a bit too harshly, enough to make a little wine slip and spill.

He doesn’t mind it. “Oh, I want you to,” he says instead. “After I pay for dinner and drive you back. We can fuck right under my favorite portrait of you.”

You’re stunted by his crude words, but only for a second. “How about we skip dinner, and you go fuck yourself.” 

His smile doesn’t drop, even as you get up to leave. “Settle down, sweetheart.”

“Make me, jackass.” 

You’re on your way to go, but his next words have you halting. 

“Either you humor me, or I make sure your friend never models in the country again.”

You turn around to look at him. You don’t really know why you’re so surprised. The card he just pulled is the very reason you agreed to the dinner in the first place. But an incentive is very different from outright blackmail, and suppose you just hadn’t really believed he’d take it that far.

“It’s my impression you don’t want that,” he continues.

You sit back down. He tops your glass off.

“I could make her big, you know?” he offers while pouring for himself as well. “Really speed her career along—set her up for life. I’ll do the same for you, too, of course.” 

He swirls his wine, lifting it as if to make a toast.

“And all you gotta do is come back home with me.”

You don’t have the words.

“You won’t be disappointed,” he promises. “I’m good at it.” As if that’s your concern. “You’ll never want to fuck anyone else again.”

You hate how right he is. 

You’ve never cum sooner or harder before in your life, not with anyone else or on your own. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced—so good, you’re screaming—moaning out in echoes throughout his giant penthouse, bouncing off the marble floors into all unlocked rooms, creating a cacophony of your undeniable pleasure.

He’s on his knees beneath you as you lean with your back against the window overlooking the city, barely able to stand as he buries his face between your soft thighs, canting his chin up while lapping hard at your slit and clit. His hard stare set on your face and the way you throw your head back while cumming in his mouth—your hand tussled in his hair, yanking on it hard enough to make him growl.

Your legs and feet give you little support. It's his hands that keep you up as you slide further and further down the floor-to-ceiling window until you’re almost about ready to drop your weight completely.

But he’s made you come undone three times by then, and just can’t wait any longer. 

He’s spun you around before you know it, making you face the pretty lights of the city skyline—his mouth hot on the shell of your ear, “I told you so, didn’t I?”

Your breath fogs the glass with your panting—knees wobbly, only standing thanks to the thick arms he’s got supporting you, each with a tit in their hand, giving them rough squeezes as he starts pounding away at your womb—hard enough to make the city lights blend in with the stars. 

“You won’t wanna fuck anyone else again.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Oikawa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[earthtooz]

x : TO LOVE, TO CHANGE: *+ﾟ

in which: you tell veritas you love him. he gets upset with you.

warnings: contrary to what the synopsis implies, it's fluff, i promise. 1k words, first time saying ily, slightly cranky reader, no mentions of reader's gender, dr. ratio being so in love he becomes so soppy and lovestruck. confessions.

a/n: there's a phenomenon that happens whenever i write for dr. ratio, and it's that my heart literally lunges out of my chest and begins typing at the keyboard for me. i should get it checked out. anyways, this is to preemptively celebrate his release!!

“Why- why are you mad?” You exclaim, watching the way Veritas crosses his arms and pouts with the petulance of a child. His gaze has strayed away from your eyes, and all you can do is sit in his lap with your arms hanging at your sides, brain tirelessly racking for all the reasons that you could have angered him.

He doesn’t give you any clues, displeasure brewing in his eyes instead.

“Is it because I said ‘I love you’?”

The purple haired scoffs and sticks up his nose, hair bouncing with his actions whilst you jostle slightly on his legs from the quick action. As much as you love his side profile, you’d love it even more if he spoke to you about what is bothering him.

During this moment, the world stills. You think he’s genuinely mad, and Dr. Ratio’s fury-driven state is not something you should take lightly. Really, you’ve seen it multiple times, and though it has never been directed at you, you hope it never will be. Which is why you sit on his lap now, tensely anticipating his response, and for the answer as to what you did wrong. 

“I was meant to say it first,” he grumbles, losing the arrogance that fills his tone whenever he speaks, air filling with sincerity. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I was meant to be the one to say ‘I love you’ first.”

Your confusion is tangible at this point. Audible, if you will, because it rings like cicada sing. “Are you being serious?”

“Deadly.”

“You- why, then couldn’t you just have said it?” You sputter, slapping his defined deltoid, concern slowly melting into frustration. “Need I remind you that it was me who confessed to you first as well?”

“Yes, and it was positively the best day of my life.” He says that like it’s a simple fact. No sentiment, no heartfelt declaration, just another logical statement straight from a textbook of his life.

They say to be loved is to be changed, but no matter how much you love Veritas, all he knows is how to be an astronomical pain in your ass. Does he know how scared you were for his answer? You thought you did something unforgivable, or that he didn’t love you enough to respond in kind, or worst of all, that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore?

However, he's acting petty because he was not the first one to say those three words? You frankly don’t know why your heart beats for him as strongly as it does. In fact, you want to whack him over the head with his own codex.  

Placing your hands firmly on his shoulders, you shuffle out of your position from his lap, planting your feet onto the ground. “Oh, you are so infuriating! Pretend I never said anything, I’m going back to my office until you-”

Not even two steps away from him and a hand clasps around your wrist to drag you back to where you started: on Dr. Ratio’s lap. His arms come to wrap around you like chains, leaving no room to wrestle him out.

“I never said you could leave. Especially not after telling me you love me,” he grumbles lowly into your collarbone, breath tickling your skin.

“I’m starting to regret it.” 

“Can’t you at least say it again?”

“I don’t want to,” you grumble, arms snaking up to rest around his shoulders. “You don’t deserve it.” 

“Well, that’s a little harsh. Is this how you treat the ones you love?”

“You haven’t even said anything back,” you pinch his skin. “Talk about harsh.”

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asks with a fond chuckle, not missing the opportunity to leave kisses in a trail along your skin, making his way up your neck. Then, when his eyes meet yours, you almost crumble in embarrassment at the memory he’s injected into your mind. 

You push him away and raise a hand to shield your eyes from him, clearly reliving a haunting memory. “Please don’t remind me.” 

“Y’know, it’s not everyday someone gets to scold me and be right. If you weren’t so beautiful, I wouldn’t have let it slide, but it’s not everyday a gorgeous genius falls into my lap with guts to challenge me.”

“I was… agitated that day, so stop talking about it, please. In fact, for my sake, please just forget that moment. Completely.”

“Forget about it? Completely?” The scholar asks with genuine shock lacing his tone. “I fell in love with you in that very moment, how can you expect me to stop talking about it? You rendered me a fool in love and expect me to not think about the very moment it happened? Sweetheart, it was a pivotal moment of my life!” 

“Not pivotal enough if you can’t even say ‘I love you, too’.”

“On the contrary, I have loved you longer. I yearned for you in wakefulness and in my dreams. I wished for you to look my way, and when you did, I never wanted your eyes to stray from me. How heartbreaking it was when they did.” His hand has snuck under your shirt now to rub circles on your skin. If he detached from you, he fears you’d slip away from him, and the worst thing you can give him is space. “Do you know how it felt chasing after you because you were the only one out of my reach? For three years, the only thing I wanted was to be yours. You made me an idiot.”

Stunned by his confession and the weight of it, you let him continue, sharp tongue softening. The only motivation you offer is a hand coming to cup his cheek, tucking aside his bangs so you can see his expression in its entirety. 

His gold eyes shine when they look back up at you. For the first time, you feel like you’re seeing the parts of him that Veritas hides from everyone else. 

“I love you.” He continues with heart wrenching devotion. “I’ll continue loving you until the streams stop, the rivers freeze, and the oceans dry. With three hundred thousand, eighty-three thousand, five hundred and seventy-one discovered planets in the cosmos, that phenomenon will approximately take-”

You seal his lips with yours in a gentle kiss, cradling his jaw and swallowing his words. Like wax to fire, Veritas sinks into you, completely helpless against your affections. 

But, oh, you love him, and nothing else in the entire universe matters.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[dadsbongos]

studying birds and bees

3.5 k words / warnings - penetrative sex (i imagined a vag but there's no anatomy listed), riding

summary - viktor, alone and glum, is not comforted by the company of a fellow scientist at a hextech exhibition party. not until you mention taking him home, at least.

Gold drenches each wall in streamers and plates. Curtains shimmer overhead. Silver platters dazzle each passing caterer’s hand -- specialties half the size of his palm gleam fresh and dewy. Clear coupes and flutes pass, full of wheat sparkles. Sour, no doubt, but sure enough to waste a man as thin as he.

So surely, in fact, that Viktor actively avoids drinking anything besides water. He’s a common lightweight, never finding time to flex tolerance between working hours, and he distrusts anything he can’t see through. Anything that has a smell, whether it’s sour or sweet, he staunchly avoids.

Similarly, he refuses to follow conversation: people unreasonable or unfortunate in nature that approach are limited to singular, curt responses. Thankfully he’s smart enough, well-regarded enough, famed enough that it has no bearing on his life outside these miserable hours. Hours he’s sure are better spent down in the lab. Nose buried into his work: he’s most comfortable that way, living as he always has.

Viktor believes his hate is layered beneath several swathes of cool. An expression he believes to be neutral -passive, if anything- is actually a scathing scowl that has many guests rushing off to inform Jayce of his unapproachable partner.

He hears that a lot.

He’s impersonal, strange, distant.

He likes living that way. It makes working easier.

Jayce is everything he is not: warm, talkative, generous. His face is on porcelain mugs.

Viktor would know that, he got one for a generous discount of Free. It’s sitting in his sink at this very moment, coffee dribbling the rim and baked into the bottom. It could risk a stain if he doesn’t wash it before bed tonight.

But then, who knows? Perhaps he’ll be too exhausted from standing all night and straining a smile whenever he makes eye contact with Jayce. At some point, the muscles in his cheeks become too sore, so he begins ignoring the man wrapped around Mel Medarda.

If he’s lucky, Jayce will not try waltzing over to ask for the third time if Viktor is enjoying the night.

And if he’s unlucky, as he suspects he is, then someone else is rapidly crossing the shiny tiles toward him. Two glasses, one in either hand, glinting beneath ball lights. Shoe heels clicking closer and closer until it’s pounding right beside his ear.

“Never saw anything like this back home, did we?”

You say it so familiarly, as if you know anything about Viktor’s home. Maybe you do. But not like that.

“No,” he answers politely enough despite pointedly ignoring the glass you offer him, “we didn’t.”

“I got a real drink for you,” you’re not content to be ignored though, “I noticed you’ve been nursing an empty cup.”

“We didn’t have anything like that in the undercity, I don’t know if I trust it.”

“Then trust me,” you sip from your glass, leaving a dewy smear around the lip, “It’s not bad. Sharp, but not bad.”

Viktor leans more weight onto his cane as he leans, grabbing the glass from you before slanting back, “Sharp, but not bad.”

You swing another sip, watching from the corner of your eye as his arm remains stationary -though you don’t comment, “You seemed incredibly lonely.”

“So you thought it’d be generous to bother me.”

“Practically,” you clink glasses, “You strike me as a man who doesn’t get bothered often. Someone should keep you upright.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” not even he can tell whether he means that genuinely or not. Maybe he does, but only as long as it isn’t you providing the company. His eyes flutter and he imagines: if it were Sky, would he be satisfied?

Jayce?

Mel?

Heimerdinger?

His long disgraced mentor?

“You finally get to leave the lab and you insist on spending the time alone, I wonder why…” you say with enough wisp in your tone to excuse it as a non-question.

Viktor puffs a laugh, weighed down by annoyance -- do you have no eyes? Are you ignorant to your surroundings? Scratch that, his laugh was a total scoff by the time it breached his throat.

“I’m not interested in people,” Viktor briefs, then sighs, “Especially the types that feel the need to keep me company- like I’m some sad thing on the side of the road.”

“You don’t want to feel pitied?”

“Who would?”

“People who’ve never experienced harshities.”

Viktor shakes his head, swirling the glass flute and watching the bubbles twirl, “I don’t care for any of this conversation.”

“Then what conversation would you care for?”

“Why are you here?” he forces himself to remain quiet, afraid that raising his voice could attract attention.

“Like I said, you looked lonely,” you turn onto your shoulder, budding it against the wall to solely stare at Viktor, “I wanted to find solidarity between two Zaunites.”

He shoots you a wary look at that; nobody in Piltover refers to the undercity by that name -it would sling a series of implications the council hasn’t even begun to tackle. Hearing it here, no less, strikes him unpleasantly -- are you being bold or defiant? Is this earnest support of underground independence or are you mocking the Piltover riches that fund his life’s work?

Either way, you’re foolish to declare yourselves Zaunites in the back of this room.

“Sky is also from the undercity,” Viktor jerks his chin toward her, as if you can’t spot her defined curls and moonglasses from where you are.

“I’m not interested in Sky, lovely as she is,” you shrug, “I’m interested in you. I was hoping to see the brain let loose.”

“I don’t get loose.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t.”

“So, you’ll die having never gotten ‘loose’.”

“I’ll die having not done lots of things, but I will have been part of Hextech’s creation.”

“That’s all you want to do before you die?”

“I want to give Hextech to the people, anything other than that…” he shakes his head and taps a blunt nail against the glass stem, “I will die in any case.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Dying?”

“Yourself dying.”

“It will happen eventually,” Viktor shrugs, “Probably sooner than others. Heimerdinger says the brighter sparks, they go the fastest,” he lets the sentiment sit a moment before awkwardly flipping it back unto you, “How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t think you should ever die.”

“Flattering, but unlikely.”

“Then why do you work like you’ll live forever?” when the only response you get is a single thick eyebrow raise you continue, “Really, you work like a man without time, as if you could just come back into the world after locking yourself away for years. You worry only about the science behind Hextech rather than the humanity in you that wanted you to create it.”

Softly, you cup his shoulder. Regardless of how bold the gesture is he doesn’t find himself wanting you gone.

Perhaps because of the gentle furrow in your brows, your pout accentuated with reddish stains.

“Why don’t you enjoy yourself, Viktor?”

Viktor has so much he needs to do, but nothing as pressing as easing you. He holds his hand over yours, kindly massaging the flat plain across the back of your hand, “I enjoy myself plenty.”

“Alone?” your gaze flicks toward his hand with no subtly, “With only your own hands?”

“Where did that come from?” he gasps, squeezing your hand tighter in shock, eyes widening with stained cheeks.

“Nowhere, I suppose. Just curiosity,” you shrug coyly, about as innocent as your prior question wasn’t, “You have no date, after all. And I never see your arm occupied with anything besides your cane.”

“I’m content with my work.”

Unabashedly, almost sneered, you speak without grace for the first time all night, “What a sad way to live.”

“Excuse you?” Viktor scoffs, “Do you not work for the same goal?”

“I’m a person, too.”

“I’m not?”

“Not as you are,” you shake your head, eyes now downtrodden as you finish off the glass in your hand, swallowing without cringe before saying, “If you’re so dedicated to living for Hextech instead of yourself, then I’ll take your drink for you. My only plan tomorrow was to nurse a hangover anyway.”

Viktor instinctually swivels so his drink is out of reach, which is something he cannot explain. Why does he suddenly want it? Why does he suddenly care?

But, more importantly, when did he decide he should never want it- decide that he should never care?

Was it before or after clawing his way into Piltover under Heimerdinger’s wing? Was it before or after Jayce blew up an apartment? Was it before or after Jayce began leaving his side to become a political head?

Or was it everything -- slowly one thing upon the other before he realized he had a carefully alphabetized and numerically categorized library of all the reasons he shouldn’t and couldn’t abandon Hextech. Maybe it’s not advancement now, but the security of a purpose. A goal he’ll die to achieve, and at the rate he’s burning: die before achieving.

Perhaps, one night as a man rather than a scientist wouldn’t hurt?

Viktor gags the champagne in a single swing, startling you to pat his back as he hisses and coughs.

“Viktor! What’re you doing?!” you whisper with all the venom of an outraged mother.

“I’m living,” he shoulders you off and straightens out. Chin jutting with all the dignity of a man who didn’t choke down alcohol at an expensive gala.

“Is that so?” you giggle, silently expecting him to back away, “And does life have you for the whole night? Or just until the party’s over?”

Viktor looks down at his empty glass, then toward yours. Then to the lipstick marring the rim -- it’s smudged at the corner of your lip. It’s darker than the more neutral shade you swipe on before venturing into the lab. Suddenly, his belly is warming and his head is fuzzy -for once nothing but pleasant thoughts consume him. He smiles to one side and clicks your empty flutes,

“I have no plans tomorrow, either, wouldn’t you know?”

“For once.”

Waving away the bitter thought, Viktor leans just that touch closer that sends your sweet perfume up his nose. He feels like maybe he should get another drink and step a little more into your space, if you’ll let him.

“Let’s make the night of it, then?” he’s the one bravely going forward, certain you’ll trail after as he paves toward the bar, “You sounded eager to get me into the world, now what?”

“Oh, Viktor,” you coo, “Don’t ask things like that.”

“Why not?” he’s a little cocky now with some booze in his empty belly, he forgets how unashamed the new assistant is, “Second thoughts?”

“No, I’ll just tell you that I really wanted you in my bed tonight.”

You’re grinning- he’s blushing now, a little surprised and a little delighted. But you just smile that devilish way that always has him distracted.

A new assistant hadn’t been Victor’s idea, and if Jayce had bothered conferring with Viktor at all then you especially wouldn’t have been the hired candidate.

“Or did you intend to die a virgin, as well?” you lull into the shell of his ear, soft and warm lips just grazing clammy flesh.

“You’re forward.”

“Am I? Is it too much?” if not for the slightest concerned twitch in your brow, he could’ve thought maybe you were just laying another harsh tease.

“I find it incredibly attractive,” finally, finally Viktor says the terrible thing out loud. Vivid and bright and all things he is not -temptress! he declared when you two first met.

***

Viktor paused, eyes widening from the doorway and fingers tightening around his cane, “Who are you?”

“The assistant,” you smiled in a way he was sure you meant as warm and welcoming, “Viktor, right?”

How he stared at you, however, told you that maybe you’d bared teeth too sharp. So your lips shut, hands clasping and shoulders straightening. Your name but a whisper into the lab, bouncing off each wall before awkwardly cluttering to the ground. Melting in chunks into the grouts.

“I have an assistant,” he murmured, sights scattered across the area, “Where is Sky?”

“Her day off,” then you groaned, baffled by how confused such a famed brain could get over a truly simple concept, “I can show you my qualifications, if you need to be convinced?”

Your frustration seemed to snap him straight, his jaw unhinged and he flubbed for a nice way to retract himself, “No. No. I’m…” he cleared his throat and glanced away pointedly, “You’re my assistant for today, then?”

“Of course.”

“Ah, perfect,” it was not, in fact, perfect. Viktor dreaded your stay; lingering over his shoulder and invading between his eyes with your perfume. You’re cursed with curves and full lips and fluttery eyelashes.

A temptress!

***

A temptress without trying- or you are trying and you play dirty. Either way…

“I want to see more of your shamelessness, show me how much I’ve missed not living,” he means the last part as a jest, but it seems to make you happy.

…he wants you so bad it makes his gut ache.

You gnaw your bottom lip and nod, “Shall we leave now then? I can certainly make you a drink at home you’d like more anyway.”

Propriety flies out the window.

If Jayce wanted Viktor to enjoy himself, then he damn well would! And he wouldn’t bother with acknowledgments or goodbyes or gratitude, not when your hand tangles with his. Fingers locking with all the familiarity of seasoned lovers, you even add the tiniest swing though sure to not jostle his balance. Peachy streetlights cast the most flattering flushed glow upon you, stray hairs catching gold beneath the beaming bulb. Shining in stressed loops around your head, not like a halo but just… you. Graceful in all the misaligned strands and smudged makeup.

Whether you’re tethered off in a clinical coat with a clipboard perched on one hip or strapped to the finest in this little black number -something you could never pray to pull out of a dump in Zaun.

“I think…” you muse while sliding the front door open, your home smells like vanilla and the space is so precisely spotless he’s not sure you even live here, “I’ll need some help out of this dress.”

Your bedroom is worse off -or would it be better?- not a single article of clothing on the floor, no crumpled notes or mugs of shame decorating the nightstand. Eerily empty until, then, he notices the faint orange flame twinkling over his shoulder.

“Did you leave that burning while you were gone?” he’s too focused on the fire risk of it all that he doesn’t notice you’re stretching out over the bed.

“I figured I wouldn’t be out long,” you prop your head on a fist, the other hand perking onto your cocked hip, “Whether or not I’d be alone when I returned was the only mystery.”

He swivels in place, a humored so that’s why it’s so clean! dying on his lips as soon as he sees you splayed out. Stuttering back and clutching his chest as if scandalized -- as if he didn’t come here for the exact kind of modeling you’re doing. Viktor clears his throat, heat swelling up from the comfortable bubbly in his gut and all up toward his reddening forehead. Brows shooting upward.

Silken sheets caressing your bare skin. Moonlight carding through the askew curtains and layering you in a thin pale gleam. Your hair cascaded down your forearm. And that rouge smudge at the bottom corner of your lip. Tempting.

Viktor lets his cane drift back until it’s slanted against the wall, kneeling onto your bed. Hands trembling as if he’ll sink through and wake in his own sheets. But the feeling of his cold dress buttons beneath his fingertips is real enough; peeling layers from sinewy limbs feels real enough. Nails scrape wrists and hips as he removes his vest, and shirt, and long pants.

“Can I… “ he pauses, swallows, and assesses the curiosity in your eyes. Then, before finishing the question, surges forward -one hand gluing to either of your cheeks, tenderly tilting your face to press his lips to yours. Brows knotting toward the center of his face and cheeks flaming with embarrassment. His lips are incredibly soft, though, and they slot smoothly against yours like gears rolling into one fluid motion. You wonder how familiar that is to him.

Sliding up onto your knees, you tangle your fingers between his and pry his hands from your face. Squeezing him affectionately before using the leverage to lay him onto his back slowly so as to not break the kiss.

Straddling Viktor with both hands still wrapped together, at least until you slip one of his hands onto your chest and the other your thigh. He squeezes, not not affectionately just with something a little… murkier. Hips jump up toward yours -- he sighs, frustrated, and takes it out on your nipple -rolling the bud around his thumb before sucking it into his mouth. Cheeks hollowing around, tongue searing up, bright gold eyes peek over wetly.

You arch your back into his face, lifting off his lap with the encouragement of his spare hand shifting toward your ass. Something soft and thick twitches between your thighs, ripping an earnest gasp from you. Viktor snorts, you feel him smiling into your chest.

not expecting that?

You yank his hair at the base, curling a whine through his throat.

shut up!

Leaky and hot red at the tip, Viktor only thickens toward the base. Maybe just longer than your palm, but certainly fatter than you can hold in one palm. Reaching down just to rut his tip along your slit, both of you huffy messes as you drool down his cock.

Viktor sags back, glaring at you with his ruddy lips -- juicy with raw saliva.

“Enough teasing,” he grunts, trying to force you down with his grip on your hip, “You bring me here just to watch me squirm?”

“I do enjoy the sight,” you mewl softly, swirling his tip around your hole, “Don’t you?”

His head swivels in a very lumpy circle, caught between nodding and shaking before he attempts pushing you down again, “Not as much as I want to be inside you.”

You’re prepared to tease more when he abruptly snaps up while shoving your hips low. His whole face twinges at the sudden movement in his thighs but it’s soon overshadowed by the complete, all-melting mellow of having his cock sucked into velveteen walls. Head thrown back and chestnut hair splintering across the dark headboard -- he grins as you loudly gasp and scramble to grasp his shoulders for purchase.

“Ah- Vik- !” you hiccup, scratching into his shoulder blades.

He hisses, lips curled with utter bliss and eyes fluttering shut, “Feels much better.”

Now both of his hands circle your waist, coaxing your movement with firmly pressed fingers. You pray he leaves bruises.

Viktor chases your warmth every time you squelch off, the most he can manage without an uncomfortable cringe is teeny jumps focused in the pelvis but it’s more than desperate enough. Any concern he could have of you finding his display anything except arousing is tossed out the window as your pace hastens. Leisurely drags rapidly devolving to full bounces, little splatters of your wetness painting up his abdomen. And he fucking thrives on it: sticky and lewd and thick, hearing each thrust hammers him closer to the purest release he’s had in years.

He can’t even pluck grains of thought to discern when the last time he felt so good was- not when you’re canting and wailing.

On a particular grind, you could feel his dick slam into some open-wire spot inside you. White neon sparks crackling so bright your whole body snaps above Viktor while he watches starry-eyed. Bopping that spot impetuously, clinging to frayed energy if it means watching you split apart again. You moan -broken vowels and breathy vik- vi- uh, viktor! vik- vik- vvvv- and shudder, clutching him like you’ll fly off without such an iron hold. Openly tearing up inside you before his eyes are wetting too, and webs of spend sprawl into you.

Viktor greedily snatches you by the neck and wrings you forward, lips spreading until he can lick inside your mouth. Moaning shamelessly into you as he fucks the last of his orgasm out on you.

Left humming, content and pliant, you and Viktor break the sloppy kiss to play more politely. You peck the corner of his mouth, wiping the dazzling threads of spit tying you two by the mouths. Viktor blinks up at you in a haze, smiling aimlessly.

“Happy?” you unceremoniously roll off the man, grimacing as he and everything he buried slide out onto your thigh.

“Very,” he remains slick back on the headboard, moist skin skidding against wood as he slides onto the mattress.

You twist an arm over his waist, chin piking his ribs as you give the most outrageously sweet, “I’m sure you can stay the night, then?”

And as Viktor’s discovered, trying to deny your power over him is useless. Why not indulge just a little more?

“Maybe even for breakfast,” he muses.

tagging those who asked/seemed interested :3

@lpvmal + @im-just-a-simp-le-whore + @littleenglishfangirl + @fortheharbingers + @duffycrow + @zemosbunny + @urmommt + @crocwork-clockodile + @petti-fry + @sparklygreentrash + @marshy-moo

[lnfours]

us. | l.n

summary: and what seemed like fate becomes "what the hell was i doin'?" ; aka time heals all wounds, so they say, but has it been long enough for it to heal the one he left?

warnings: the highly requested part two to ‘august’, use of she/her pronouns, childhood friends to lovers, second chance romance, oscar giving lando advice bc duh, pining, language, lando absolutely word vomiting when it comes to his feelings, fluff towards the end.

‘august’ | listen | masterlist

oscar piastri took pride in being more observant rather than being the life of the party. he much rather preferred to be labeled as the 'wall hugger' rather than the wild child between him and his teammate. he let lando have that role, opting on sitting on the sidelines more often than not.

but tonight, it was completely different. the aussie driver had agreed to hitting the club in monaco tonight to celebrate charles' first home win and his own second place finish. he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on with his teammate, eyeing him as he sat down in the lounge area the group had gotten for the evening. something out of the normal for the brit.

he decided to take matters into his own hands, joining his friend on the couch. lando sent a tight lipped smile to his teammate, another red flag the aussie picked up on. he wasn't sporting his usual smile, the one that beamed. one of pure joy.

"you feeling alright, mate?" oscar asked, genuinely concerned.

lando nodded in response, "'m good, just a bit tired."

he hummed, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked out at the dance floor of people. the crowd normally lando would be in the middle of, but not tonight.

"gonna make me pry it out of you or are you just gonna tell me?"

lando chuckled softly, letting out a soft sigh, "y'know that new reporter for sky who was in the media pen earlier?"

oscar furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, trying to remember your name, "think so? shit, what was her name?"

"y/n," lando said and oscar nodded in agreement.

"yeah, that's it," the aussie turned back to look at his teammate, "what about her?"

"well, a few years ago, her and i kind of..." lando trailed off, leaving his teammate to raise his eyebrows.

"you two had a thing?"

lando nodded, "yeah, she had a vacation rental next to mine in the states, and one summer we just really hit it off. y'know, we went on dates and eventually it turned into something more, and... oscar, i was in love with her."

the australian was shocked, "did you tell her?"

"i did," lando nodded, swallowing before continuing, "and i was with her when i got the call that they wanted me to join the team, and i just... i fucking left. i left without waking her up and saying goodbye. the best few months of my entire life, falling in love with someone who has never made me feel more loved and appreciated, and it all went down the drain because i fucked it all up."

oscar sat in silence for a minute, processing what the brit next to him had just told him, "well, do you still love her?"

"i never stopped," lando looked over at his teammate, his expression showing the guilt he still felt for leaving that one night, "i don't think i could ever."

"have you told her?"

he shook his head, "pretty sure she hates my guts, so, no."

oscar sighed, "listen, although she has every reason to hate you, i mean, i would too, doesn't mean deep down that she does. obviously, running into you again has probably brought up all of those feelings she worked to get over, but if you really feel the way you're telling me you feel about her, and it seems like you do, you gotta fight for it. you can't just let her slip through your fingers, again, and live a miserable life. nothing's gonna come out of it if you don't work for it."

lando sat in shock at his teammate, blinking at him like a deer in headlights. he had never known oscar to be this wise when it comes to relationship advice. he truly didn't know he had it in him.

"what?" the aussie laughed, "mate, i've been with lily for five years. you think we haven't had our own fair share of ups and downs?"

"no, i'm just amazed that at your age you're so wise." lando joked back, the two of them laughing.

"yeah, whatever," oscar waved him off, "but seriously, i mean what i said."

he nodded, "i know, i just don't know when i should talk to her."

oscar shrugged, "the sooner the better. that way you stop moping around like a sad, lost puppy."

lando jokingly rolled his eyes, pulling his phone from his pocket, "shut up."

his heart hammered in his chest at the thought of messaging you, opening instagram. but, just when he went to open his messages, your profile picture caught his eye at the top of the screen. he tapped onto the story you had posted not long ago, holding it down so it wouldn't disappear as he scanned over the picture.

you were still at the track, posting a picture from one of the offices. a video from your interviews today sitting on the screen, clear that you had stayed late to finish working on them. a caption written out on the photo.

'in desperate need of another cup of coffee'

he was up on his feet before he could even think through what he was about to do. shoving his phone in his pocket as oscar smiled at him softly.

"where're you heading?"

lando turned, walking backwards away from the lounge area, shouting over the bass of the club music playing loudly through the speakers, "'m feeling like having a cup of coffee! thanks for your help, osc!"

oscar raised his glass in a cheers motion to his teammate, watching him turn around and make a beeline for the exit. lily found her way to the lounge area, sitting next to her boyfriend and jabbing her thumb over her shoulder, motioning towards his teammate.

"where's he heading?"

oscar smiled, swallowing the sip of his drink, "going to get his girl."

the night breeze in the monaco air felt nice on lando's skin, a contrast against the overly warm club he had been in. he pulled his phone out once again, searching for a coffee shop that would still be open at this hour. he found one that looked promising after a few minutes of searching, putting in the directions to it and taking off in the direction.

he ignored the hammering of his heart in his chest as he carefully placed the cup in the holders of his car. was it the best idea to show up unannounced with a coffee in hand, especially when he wasn't sure how you felt about him? probably not. but after the conversation with oscar, all he could think about was how he couldn't lose you again. how even after searching for someone to fill the ache in his heart that was put there by his own doing, no one could compare to you. they couldn't ever be you, even if they tried or if he tried to make it work. it wasn't the same.

he parked the car, heading towards the building he knew all the journalists worked in. some of them still hanging around, sending lando smiles but confusion clear in their eyes as his eyes scanned the room.

"do you know where y/n is?" he asked an older man, a guy he had recognized to be your camera man from earlier. the man nodded, pointing towards the room with glass walls. he could see you in the room, your back facing the door. headphones sitting on top of your head, clearly invested in your work. he swallowed nervously, thanking the man before heading towards the room.

you hadn't noticed he entered the room until a hand placing a coffee next to you caught your attention. you slipped the headphones off, placing them on the desk before turning to see who was standing behind you.

he met your eyes, which were also laced with confusion as you spun around in your chair. he sent you a small, nervous smile. the same smile you had given him in the media pen hours ago.

"lando? what're you doing here?" you asked, "and how did you.."

he smiled softly, "saw your story."

"what is it?" you asked, moving to grab the warm cup, "i mean, i like my coffee-"

"with light cream and two and a half sugars. the pink packets, though, not the white ones."

your heart squeezed in your chest, he remembered the way you liked your coffee.

you took a sip of the warm liquid, tasting exactly the way you liked it. you took in a deep breath, meeting his green eyes once again and you swore you were slowly falling in love with him again. it was like you were back at the beach house, back at the exact moment you had realized you were in love with him.

maybe the feelings you thought had gone away after the years weren't truly gone.

your lipstick left a pretty mark on the white lid and he scanned your facial features. in the dim lighting you were still as gorgeous as the day he met you, pretty colored eyes that complimented the color of the strands of your hair. a pair of glasses sitting comfortably on your face, remembering that you only wore them when your eyes were starting to get irritated after a long day.

your voice was soft, "lando, what're you doing here?" you asked again, still confused on why he had come, "i mean, other than dropping off a coffee, which thank you for, by the way, but shouldn't you be out with the rest of the drivers? y'know, celebrating..?"

"well, i was," lando breathed, ignoring how it came out a little shaky, “but, to be honest, i just.. really want to talk to you.”

everything he rehearsed in his head during the driver over here was going out the window with each passing second. the longer he looked in your eyes the more he wished he had never walked out of that house all those years ago. the more it was eating him up inside that he let the best thing he ever had go, that he never told you why.

you sighed, pointing over your shoulder to the screen behind you, “i really have to finish this,”

“it’ll be quick,” he was almost begging. about to get on his knees if he had to, “promise.”

you nodded, your brain yelling at you for agreeing but your heart almost leaping out of your chest at the fact that he was here. standing in front of you. right now. when he could’ve been at the club, wrapped around some other girl. but he wasn’t.

“okay, just, let me grab my things.”

he nodded, biting down on his lower lip nervously as you saved your work and exited out of the editing software. you packed up everything in your bag, pushing the chair in before grabbing your coffee from the desk.

he held out his hand, “here,”

you furrowed your eyebrows in response. he motioned to the bag and you smiled softly, “oh, thanks,”

he nodded, letting you lead him out of the office. you said goodnight to the crew that was left, not batting an eye at the looks they gave you for having the, arguably, most sought out driver on the grid tailing behind you.

once you were outside, he walked next to you. matching your pace as he looked over at you, “so, uhm, how’re they treating you at sky?”

you nodded, “good,” you smiled softly, “didn’t expect i’d work in the same sport as you, to be honest.”

“you’re telling me you didn’t follow me here to make me realize i’ve been missing out all this time?” he joked and you laughed, shoving his shoulder with yours.

“shut it,”

“sorry, too soon?”

you chuckled, “forever might be too soon.”

he chuckled with you, unlocking the doors to the mclaren. he opened the passenger side door, letting you sit down in the seat. you took your bag from him and smiled, a silent thank you, before he closed the door for you and rounded the front of the car to get in on his side. he started the car, looking back over at you, "hungry?"

you hummed, "starving."

"perfect," he said, putting in the directions for a place he knew you'd like. you rubbed your lips together nervously, watching the monaco lights pass by you. the breeze was nice, something you could get used to.

you cut through the silence that fell over the two of you, speaking over the soft music he had put on for the drive, "so, what did you want to talk about?"

he looked over at you, the red of the stoplight illuminating his face. he had grown into his features, but the boyish things about him was what you loved. the way his dimples deepened the wider his smile was, the moles and freckles that littered his skin like stars, and you had noticed the small scar on the bridge of his nose. one that wasn't there years prior, but you had grown to love. you silently hoped he'd tell you the story sometime. wanting to know every detail of his life the past few years, the years you spent watching from the sidelines.

"about what happened," he said, the light turning green and his attention fixing back to the road, continuing to drive, "i feel like i owe you a very long, detailed, explanation."

you nodded as he pulled into a parking lot, "okay, yeah," you breathed out softly, "sure."

he parked the car, turning the engine off before looking back at you. you turned to face him, giving him a soft smile as he looked at you, eyes dancing around your face before he took a deep breath.

"listen, i know it's been a while and i really wouldn't blame you if you hate my guts, but i just... can't. i can't pretend that i've lived in a world i'm completely satisfied with. and i can't bring myself to fall in love with someone else because no matter what, i find myself wishing i was with you, at that stupid beach house where i first felt what love truly felt like."

you sat in silence, taking in his rambling thoughts. this conversation definitely wasn't going as well as he had rehearsed it in his head, but it was too late to turn back now. he was sitting here, spewing every emotion he's felt over the past couple of years in front of you. it's how he truly felt. no filter, no hoops to jump through, just pure emotion and longing and hints of regret, and true apologies.

"you're the first thing i think of when i wake up and the last thing i think of before i go to bed, and hell, sometimes i even find you in my dreams because for a while that was the only place where you and i co-existed. and i'm so fucking sorry for how i left you, how i packed up and moved on with my life without even considering how you would feel. it makes me sick to my stomach to think about the fact that i've fucked up the part of my life that felt normal. that felt real, and all because i was too much of a coward to tell you what was going on. too scared to drag you into all of this,"

he was still rambling and you couldn't help the way your heart hammered against your chest. the moment you had wished for all these years finally unfolding in front of your eyes and you couldn't help the tears that were starting to prick your eyes.

"but now, you're here, and i'm here, and... holy fuck i'm still so in love with you."

his throat bobbed, swallowing down the nerves as you watched him. you were speechless, unsure how to respond to everything he had just spewed to you. your heart was caught in your throat, the tears closer to spilling over after his rambling. he had said everything he was feeling and little did he know it was the same way you had been feeling too.

after every wish and journal entry wishing he'd waltz back into your life, he finally was here. sitting across from you, and now you were speechless. unable to find the words to tell him you felt the same way.

"i'm sorry," he mumbled, looking away and straight ahead of him, almost as if he was embarrassed to spring all of that onto you, "that was a lot all at once, i'm sorry-"

you leaned over the center console, grabbing his face in your hands, turning him to face you and smashing your lips against his. the tears falling down now at the feeling of having him this close again. the familiar feeling of having his lips on yours again being enough to send them dripping down and onto your shirt.

he was quick to kiss you back, as soon as the initial shock wore off. his hand moving to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss as you grabbed his shirt in your fist, not wanting to let go after he had been away from you all this time.

he pulled away when he needed to catch his breath, forehead resting against yours. you smiled softly, the two of you panting breathless and in love. he brought his thumb up to your cheek, wiping away the few stray tears that were still lingering. you leaned into his touch and he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"i love you," you breathed, nose bumping his, "so much. i never stopped, even after you left."

he smiled, his voice soft, "i'll spend a lifetime making it up to you."

you shook your head, "it doesn't matter. you're here now, that's all that matters."

"can i start with dinner?" he asked, smiling softly and brushing a piece of hair from your face. you hummed and nodded, pulling away from him as he got out of the car, jogging to open your door. you smiled and placed a quick kiss to his lips, joining your hands together. he walked with you into the restaurant, and as he opened the door for you all he could think about how he was the luckiest man on earth.

there was no way he was letting you again. you were incomparable. chemical.

[skyahri]

And Suddenly |JJK Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Sukuna Ryomen, Gojo Satoru, and Geto Suguru

Summary: They proposition you for a baby.

Warnings: Cult Leader!Geto, Heian Era!Sukuna, Canon Gojo. A little smutty, but nothing specific.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna swears he doesn't play favorites.

He always gives the same response when prompted by Uraume- that he hated everyone equally and that if anything, they were the only person he could tolerate. That specific line of questioning always riled him up, oftentimes making him irrationally angry and defensive.

Despite what he says, everyone on the estate knows he's full of shit. No one else is dumb enough to call him on it out of fear of being brutally murdered, but it's clear he does have a favorite. That fact is only further cemented when he approaches you in the middle of the garden and publicly demands that you give him a child.

"... what?"

"Are you deaf? I need an heir and you're going to give me one. Let's go."

Just like that, you're being slung over his shoulder and carried off. You only manage a peak at Uraume before the door closes, but even they seem surprised by the sudden declaration.

When you finally reach his chambers, he sets you down on his bed and drops his robes to the floor. When you don't move to do the same, he shoots you an impatient look, but you only offer him a confused one back.

"My Lord, I apologize if this is out of line, but what brought this on?"

"I want an heir."

"Yes, but why now? And why me?"

"Are you denying me, woman?"

"No, of course not, My Lord, I'm just- this is all very sudden."

After the initial spark of anger that flashes through him, he does genuinely think about it for a moment. Requesting a baby was quite the ask, and it would be in his best interest to keep you happy. Perhaps he could at the very least answer your questions...

"You are fertile."

"Is that really the only requirement you look for when considering the potential mother of your children?"

"Of course not."

He hates that little look you give him. It's pointed in a way that makes his nerves flair. It's not direct enough for him to ever call you on, but it screams defiance nonetheless.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. You should feel honored to have been chosen. Be grateful, brat."

Your face doesn't change. You only cross your arms and wait for his little tantrum to pass in hopes that he'll be a more willing participant in the conversation.

"What do you want from me?"

"Honesty, My Lord. That's all."

He bares his teeth at you. It's an empty threat- that much you learned long ago. You're well aware of his soft spot for you, and while you typically don't use that against him, you really did just want answers.

In the three years you'd served him, he had never once mentioned wanting children. He'd go as far as to kill any concubine who fell pregnant or even brought the topic up. Something was most definitely amiss, and you weren't one to cave into his ridiculous demands so easily.

After a momentary standoff, he sighs and stands a bit straighter in front of you.

"You are well aware why I have chosen you."

"Am I?"

Oh, if looks could kill you'd be six feet under already. He seems almost... embarrassed? It's not something you've ever seen on him, the red tint to his cheeks and ears are undeniably different from when he's angry. His lower right hand twitches ever so slightly and you can nearly hear his teeth grinding together.

"It is possible, that I may not entirely hate you."

"Careful, My Lord, that almost sounds like a confession."

"If that is what it takes for you to agree, then so be it."

You won't get anything more out of him, at least, not today. You'd been fully expecting him to choose an easy way out, something about biology or hierarchy or whatever, but this? No, this was a thousand times better than anything you could've imagined.

"Now, as to why, My Lord?"

"Is it really so surprising to want a child with you?"

You... don't know how to answer that. His response both does and does not answer your question. You were initially looking for something more, concrete? Something like him needing a successor or maybe needing to prove himself in some way.

Whether he intended to or not, he had given you a very intimate response that you were not in the last bit prepared for.

You were very aware that he treated you differently, not just from the other concubines, but from everyone in general. You had certain privileges that others did not, like joining him for dinners and baths or sleeping in his chambers. He indulges you with little acts of affection, things like kissing and brief touches. You spoke out of turn without consequence and could get away with doing things without his explicit permission.

But all of that was a whole Hell of a lot different than wanting a family. The man would sooner die than admit to liking you, but here he was admitting to wanting children with you. Not wanting an heir, not allowing you the privilege, no- wanting children with you.

"I accept."

"You say that as if you had a choice."

"We're alone, My Lord, there's no need for the tough guy facade."

"It's not a facade. Don't forget I can kill you, woman."

"Mhm, if you say so, My Lord."

Satoru Gojo

"You know,"

He slowly slides his hands up your sides, slipping them underneath the hem of your shirt.

"With the kids being so busy nowadays, I can't help but feel like our nest is a little empty."

He moves his head from its resting position on your head to trail kisses down your face. He pauses at your lips for a moment before continuing down your neck.

"Lucky for us, I know just the thing to fix such a problem."

You're only half paying mind to the attention he's giving you, the majority of your thoughts running over his recent behavior, trying to piece together anything that could've prepared you for the current situation.

He was a little upset when Tsumiki had gone full swing into high school last year. She had lots of friends, joined a few extracurriculars, and took her classes seriously. It didn't leave her much free time for family. You understood, and so did Satoru (albeit reluctantly), but that didn't make it any less bittersweet.

With the new school year starting, Megumi had begun drifting as well, and it didn't help that he was living on campus now. Of course, Satoru was one of his mentors, but that only meant their time together was spent working.

Both kids had always been independent, most likely a side effect of their shitty unconventional upbringing, but it seemed time was only making that fact more apparent.

You'd noticed he'd been a little deflated lately, but you'd chalked it up to extra stress from the council. You never thought it would be over something like this- not that you doubted how much he loved his pseudo-family or anything, he's just never shown any particular interest in expanding at all.

Even now, aside from a few stray comments about missing the kids and prioritizing family dinners, nothing he did really popped out.

"Satoru-"

He pulled away and took your hands in his, bending down a bit to make the height difference less obvious.

"Just hear me out,"

He swallowed hard and squeezed your hands a bit tighter.

"I know it's not something we've really talked about, but I can't stop thinking about it. I love raising kids with you and I don't want it to end."

"Babies and toddlers are a lot different than kids, Satoru."

"I know."

"It's a lot of work. We'd be starting over just as they've become self sufficient."

"I know."

"There's also significant risk associated with having Satoru Gojo's biological baby."

"All the reason to work harder."

Usually, when he wants something, he gives you this sappy, wide eyed, puppy dog stare and tries to bargain wit you. This, however, is starkly different. His gaze is intense, like he's peering straight into your soul, but it's also desperate, like he wants you to say yes but for once in his life, he's not going to pressure you.

Not that he'd have to, honestly.

He's right. You have enjoyed raising kids with him. He's dorky and definitely on the irresponsible side, but he cares for Tsumiki and Megs more than anything else in the world. He'd take them to the park, engage in whatever board games they wanted to play, and always did his best to make it to school events. He's a good dad, and you aren't eager to see the end of the peak quite yet.

The house is also very quiet as of late. There's no bickering, no loud music, and no one pestering you to make snacks. There's no more homework to help out with and no more rides to give. It's rather lonely.

So you put on your best poker face, just to spook him a bit, and focus your gaze on his pretty blue eyes. He looks hopeful. He knows you well enough by now to know you're going to say yes, but that little bit of fear overshadows any certainty he has.

"I think, maybe, possibly, that our family doesn't quite feel complete just yet, and might have room for one more."

That's all the confirmation he needs before he's scooping you up, pressing sloppy kisses against any surface of your skin he can reach, and taking you straight into your shared bedroom.

Suguru Geto

He had truly never thought about the prospect of having kids before. He was seventeen when he took in the twins and life had been pretty hectic since then, not leaving much room for additional personal affairs.

But he couldn't get the girls' words out of his head.

They'd come home from school last week and told him about one of their classmates who had just received a baby brother. He wasn't sure if they knew the scope of what they were asking when they started begging for a little sibling, but it did get him thinking. So he told them he'd consider the idea and sent them off to do their homework.

He wasn't... completely against the idea. He's at a point where he has the means to provide for one more. He loves Nanako and Mimiko more than anything and he's sure he can love another kid all the same, but that wasn't the issue.

It was having another kid that was difficult. He'd essentially kidnapped the twins, and while the deed was justified, he wasn't eager to do it again. Anything formal was off the table, being a mass murderer slash cult leader, and all.

That's when you entered his field of vision. Like an answer to his prayers, you walked past him with a bright smile on your face and a quick 'Good morning Geto-sama' before running off to wherever the girls currently were.

The answer seemed a bit too obvious. You'd joined not too long after he'd taken over, offering support in any way you could. At the time, he was having a hard time adjusting to everything. Raising children was a lot harder than he'd anticipated, mostly due to the trauma they'd endured. You took some of the load off of him. You watched them while he was in meetings, cooked them meals, and made sure they got to and from school when he couldn't.

You're around his age, smart and pretty, and essentially already a mother to his kids. You loved them as much as he did, so surely, you'd be more than happy to help him out with this, right?

"You... want me to give you a baby?"

He wasn't sure what to make of that response. It was ambiguous, and your blank expression didn't lean any one way the other.

"Yes. Nanako and Mimiko would like a sibling, and I've decided to indulge them. Would you be so kind as to help me?"

"I'm not pregnant, Geto-sama."

"I'd hope not."

Your confusion only grew. There was no precursor to this conversation. Just yesterday you were discussing the week's itinerary and what all was expected of you. He hadn't looked at you any differently, hadn't dropped any hints, or asked any strange questions. This was truly out of the blue.

You must've taken too long to continue the conversation because there's suddenly a hand grabbing yours. It's warm and rough, and despite the newness of it, it's grounding.

"Please don't feel pressured to say yes. I'd like an honest answer. This will only work if both parties are consenting."

You hesitate for a moment. It's not like you haven't thought about it before. Not this specifically, but being more of a permanent fixture in Geto household. It's usually a fleeting feeling, a fantasy of sorts. You'd never allowed yourself to mull over it, assuming that it was a lost cause.

"Why me?"

A perfectly reasonable question.

"You're already a mother to my children, what's one more, hm?"

"And this baby..."

"Would be ours, if you're willing if course."

Suguru is actually pleased by your hesitation. A fair number of his followers would jump at the invitation without much thought. He finds it rather pathetic that some would follow him so blindly, so your reluctance only further cements his confidence in his decision.

"And what would all of this mean for me?"

"I suppose you'd be a wife of sorts. 'Nanny' seems a little degrading for someone bearing my child."

He laughs and it immediately cuts through any tension in the air.

While the offer is certainly jarring, denying it had yet to cross your mind. Geto is a harsh leader, sure, but he's incredibly kind to those close to him, and that extends to you. He's a great dad and loves his children, and you're sure any baby of yours would meet the same fate.

"Yeah, okay."

"Good. Why don't you meet me in my quarters after you put the girls to bed."

[grimesbunny]

tonight i feel like more

summary: dry humping. sub daryl (but he doesn’t know it) lets goo. awkward sex. probably ooc. they do everything but kiss LMAOO.

inspired by that one s2/3 panel where norman says if someone tried to kiss daryl he’d start crying cause he isn’t ready for all that. hasnt left my head since i watched it. title from digital bath by deftones

dry humping farm era daryl :( coming out to his secluded tent one night under the guise of checking on his injuries and your playful flirting gets too real too fast somehow. you’re both pent up from what feels like months of tension that you can’t even bother to shed your clothes— or maybe daryl just isn’t ready to cross that threshold yet— it doesn’t even matter because the moment you sit yourself on his broad lap and feel the hard, thick outline of him pressed against you through your clothes, you forget to care.

he’s instantly whining at the friction, ducking his head and using your neck to shield you from seeing how red his face has grown, how embarrassed he is that simply talking to you has made him so hard. you do it on purpose, talking to him in that sweet, endearing tone that you know drives him crazy. constantly teasing him with your eyes and touches until he scoffs off your advances. in your defense, the effect you have on him is just too addicting not to play with a little.

“aw, dar, don’t be shy.” you giggle out quietly, your soft arms coming to rest on his shoulders and intertwine behind his back. “look at me.”

the defiant grunt he lets out doesn’t have the same effect when it cracks with desire. like yanking the leash on a dog, you pull the hair at the nape of his neck firmly enough to send him into action. his pupils are dilated, but his eyes remain squinted stubbornly even as he does as he’s told.

“what? we gonna make out all night like a coupla teenagers?” he attempts to be snarky, but the nervous tremor in his voice betrays him.

“why, is that the farthest you’ve ever gone?” it’s half joking, half a genuine question.

from what you’ve heard, daryl had spent most of his life following merle around like a lost puppy pre-apocalypse. you wonder if any significant others had filled some of the space in between, and a part of you is jealous just thinking about it.

he snorts. “i ain’t no virgin mary, that’s for sure.”

well, that’s too bad. you could’ve really gotten off on being his first.

“oh, okay. so you know what you’re doing then?”

he’s silent, an unreadable expression on his face.

as if to prove a point, you grind down on his bulge with one fluid motion. daryl’s jaw falls slack and a barely there whimper tumbles out, eyes widening up at you with submission, vulnerability. it makes your cunt throb, makes you want to give him everything and make him beg for it at the same time.

“feels good, hm?”

“cmon, stop… stop playin’ around.” he huffs— grits out more like. as if using his voice while he’s in such a compromising position is physically paining him. you watch his eyes drift to your chest, which is quickly rising and falling with your synchronized pants.

“oh, you can do better than that, dixon.” you chide lightly. “what happened to that smart mouth of yours?”

“i… can you…” daryl sucks in a deep breath, his gaze lowering to the spot your groins are connected. “just fuckin’ move.”

you lean back, giving him a better view of the expanse of your torso, the way the strap of your camisole has started to fall down your shoulder. daryl seems to bite the bait, tongue darting out to gather the pool of drool starting to gather around his lip. it rings a laugh out of you.

“with that attitude, i should just go back inside. leave you all alone to take care of yourself.” you threaten. his response is immediate, as his large hands that were once gripping the blankets below him come to hold your waist in place with a bearish grip. waiting, you raise an eyebrow at him.

he looks off to the side. “p…please.”

it’s faint, reluctant. still, the rush of power he’s giving you makes your head spin. he’s realistically much stronger than you, could quickly take control of the situation without breaking a sweat with that advantage alone. but he’s choosing to let you lead, to do as you say. you can’t say it’s something you expected, but you’re not gonna complain.

your lips stretch into a grin, patting his cheek like one would a puppy. “attaboy. that’s what i thought.”

you can feel daryl’s cock kick at the praise, and it encourages you to buck down into it. you both moan at the same time, hands tightening around each other as you continue to slowly drag your cunt along his cock. the heat emanating from your clothes is blossoms in below your navel and traps you in.

“you like that, don’t you? doing what you’re told?” your hips slowly gain speed, hands traveling to perch on daryl’s shoulders. his muscles flex underneath your fingertips from exertion.

he does nothing but lowly whine in response, attempting to duck his head again.

“say it.” you push. “say it or i’ll stop.”

“fuck. yeah. i don’t know.” he grunts, his hips canting to chase your warmth. “i like hearin’ you say it.”

“that you’re being so good for me? letting me get off on your lap?” you tease meanly, lifting forward to talk in his ear. “that your cock feels like heaven right now and it’s not even out of your pants?”

the groan that emits out of him is followed by a frustrated sigh. daryl’s hands shakily run under your shirt, up to your waist. you can tell he’s unsure of his movements.

“you can touch me.” you allow graciously.

building up to it, his hands travel slowly. you almost start to believe he’s purposely teasing, but the clumsiness of it all makes you think otherwise. its like a dam breaks when daryl finally reaches your breasts, the fabric of your top bundling up on your chest. he squeezes hesitantly, then his calloused thumbs circle around your areola as your hips draw circles in his lap. daryl watches your nipples harden in unadulterated fascination, his breathing heavy. either he does know what he’s doing or he’s aimlessly exploring and just so happened to make the right move.

he looks up at you for permission and your nod is all he needs to lean forward, catching one of your supple titties on his tongue. it sends your back arching, nearly knocking him back onto the ground.

“fuck, yeah. just like that, baby.” you feel his spiky hair underneath your fingertips as you tug on the roots for stability, which earns a distinct noise from the man below you. the pleasure curling at your spine from his tongue spurs your movements on, beginning to hump into him with all your effort. his bulge keeps knocking against your clit in a way that has you on the verge of seeing stars. “feels so good, daryl.”

“oh, shit. y’gonna… i’m about to…” his voice splits on the last part and it makes your heart clench, disbelieving as you lift his head up to meet his eyes. sure enough, they’re glistening with unshed tears in the dim light.

“already?” your smile and voice are dripping with sympathy. “it’s okay, let it out. i want to feel it.”

you’re bound to have bruises from how hard daryl squeezes you when he releases. it’s a sight to be seen; his face twisting up, strong muscles bulging as he struggles to stifle the cry that’s ripped out of him. his hips drive up into yours, and you swear you can feel it paint his pants, his cum mingling with the damp spot you’ve left.

“you’re so sensitive. god, that’s hot.”

he’s too high on his orgasm to come up with a retort to that. to his surprise, you continue chasing your own pleasure, paying no mind to the fact that he’s rapidly softening. your hearts racing, body tingling with warmth as you reach the brink.

“wait,” his voice is watery. “s’too much.”

“don’t be selfish, dar. i’m not finished with you yet.” you’re breathless at this point, just barely expending the last of your mental energy to respond to his whines. “you can take it a little longer, can’t you?”

his head falls back, and you’re not sure if the noises come from his mouth are from pain or pleasure or both. he nods anyways, watery eyes flicking down to watch your supple tits bounce.

you squeeze onto his biceps. “you’re being so good. gonna make me cum so hard.”

daryl’s whining and squirming underneath you, fingertips piercing your thighs exposed by your shorts.

“you’re so pretty.” he sniffles, whispers in a way that seems subconscious. “how … how can i help?”

ironically that question, of all things, is what sends to the edge. your orgasm is wrung out of you, rippling through your body like a wave as you spasm on his lap. daryl’s noises rival your own in volume, the overstimulation becoming painful.

you both pant together as the last of the aftershocks fade.

“are you okay?”

“my dick is sore.” daryl says at the same time. his voice is raw, vulnerable.

“i’m sorry.” you giggle breathily, going to stand up. his hands hesitate in letting you go, but eventually he drops them to his sides again.

he scratches the back of his neck as you straighten all of your clothes out.

“where’d you learn to… talk like that?”

a smile makes its way back onto your face as you shrug. “you kinda just brought it out of me. seems like you liked it.” you pointedly glance at the large stain on the front of his pants.

“shit. gonna have to burn these in the walker pit. don’t want carol clutchin’ her pearls at me on laundry day.”

“nuh uh. save ‘em for next time.” you joke.

he squints at you again in true daryl fashion. his face is red and his hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat. the sight is almost enough to make you want round two right there and then. maybe with a little less clothes.

“ain’t gon’ be a next time.”

you snort, bending down to grab your forgotten flashlight. “right.”

he watches you unzip the tent, eyebrows pulled together pathetically. there’s definitely going to be a next time.

[boyfhee]

﹙𝓲ssue﹚ㅤ:ㅤsurprise back hugsㅤ...ㅤ( 엔하이픈 )

ㅤㅤ﹙1258﹚ ㅤ장르 fluff, est. relㅤㅤwarnings kissingㅤㅤᐢᗜᐢ i have so many hcs ideas but im so confused where to start from ㅠㅠ iNDEX

HEESEUNG

he would flinch like every other time he does when you hug him from behind. it's not too much, just enough to set his heart racing before his lips curve into a sweet smile. “need something, sweetheart?” and you shake your head at his words, holding him a little tighter as you bury your pretty face in his back. “just you” and he loves to see it— as he turns his head slightly to look at you and smiles at how cute you are. he would undo your hands from around him and turn slowly, wrapping them back around him, hugging you back just as warmly and sweetly. “we should do this properly,”

JONGSEONG

jay would be expecting your arms anytime around him with a knowing smile, especially when he's cooking. he knows you love to watch him cook, you love to hug him while he's cooking, and you love being a distraction. “was waiting for you, doll,” you giggle at his words, teasing him in your sweet voice. “oh, you're so obsessed with me,” and it makes him laugh, the way say it when a hint of playfulness. it's mostly quiet after that, but the smiles on yours faces speak volumes of how much you two enjoy this.

JAEYUN

he would genuinely get so scared sometimes, giving you pouts and whines as you laugh at him. “it's not funny, baby” he would say with a hand on his chest, eyes wide open and all, you know it's exaggeration. “i almost had a heart attack,” and you keep laughing, shaking your head, claiming how sorry you are but you can't help but crave for his adorable reactions every time you surprise him with back hugs. he would take a few seconds before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “you better compensate me with kisses,” and who are you to say no?

SUNGHOON

would know you're about to pull something like this from a mile ago. it's like a sixth sense. you'd tip-toe and sneak around, being as quiet as possible, and he would still know, stepping aside just when you're about to hug him. “hoon! you're no fun,” you huff, arms crossed, a frown on your lips as you look away, trying to be mad. sunghoon to just laugh at your actions, his heart swelling at how adorable you look with that frown— he wants to kiss you and he does, making you look at him. “all this for a hug? c'mon, princess, we both know you can't be mad at my pretty face for long,” and you hate how he's right. he would sigh, opening his arms to you in invitation as you quickly give in. “so spoiled,” you giggle at his words, face nuzzled in his chest, and sunghoon realises, yet again, he wouldn't mind spoiling you more

SUNOO

he would get really shy, but also groan softly as if trying to show that he doesn't enjoy it when you suddenly chime in with a sweet hello and wrap your arms around his waist. “gosh, this again...” you can hear him smiling as he says that, arms still around him as you tilt slightly to the side, looking up at him. “what? i know you like it,” and who is he kidding? he loves your hugs and kisses, he likes to have you close to him, and you know it, especially now that it's so evident. “you're even blushing,” he laughs softly, feeling his cheeks heat up even more. and then at some point he just pulls you in front, burying you in his arms. “you have that effect on me,”

JUNGWON

would get scared in a way that it activates his flight or fight response. “oh my god, you scared m— oh,” accidently hits your nose with his elbow while turning around, immediately dropping whatever he was doing to tend to you, cupping your face ever so gently with an apologetic look. “gosh, i'm so sorry, baby. it's just that you hugged me so suddenly...” and you would shake your head, saying it's fine in your little, slightly pained voice which would make him feel even more guilty. “i'm sorry, love,” he would pull you in a warm hug, kissing the top of your head. “let's go to bed so we can hug and cuddle all your want, lunch can wait.”

RI-KI

he would freeze for a good few seconds before looking over his shoulder and chuckles in amusement when he spots the cheeky grin on your lips. “no 'good morning' to your handsome boyfriend?” you laugh at his words, swaying left to right a little along with him. “i know you like this better,” he loves your cute laughs and actions, but he shakes his head, scoffing softly. “it's cheesy, if anything,” and when you turn away with an annoyed look, he wraps his arms around you from behind and pulls you closer. “i never said i didn't like it. besides—” he pauses, turning you around to make you face him and stealing a quick peck. “—i need my hugs too.”

[thewizardingpost]

Bound by Fate

poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary ⌇ you’ve always felt a strange pull toward James, Sirius, and Remus, but since you’ve come of age, the bond between you and your three closest friends deepens, and you begin to understand that they are your destined partners, your mates

warnings ⌇word count  4.2k, ABO AU, eventual smut (penetration & oral), friends to lovers/mates, omega!reader, alpha!james/sirius/remus, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending 

Mates were a concept you’d only heard about in tales—an undeniable bond that grew between two souls, a connection so deep and instinctual it could never be ignored, no matter how hard you tried. It wasn’t just about attraction or desire; it was about belonging, about finding the person—or persons—that you were meant to be with. The kind of bond that shaped your very existence, binding you together in ways words couldn’t explain—like a key to a lock, a flower to rain, or the stars to the night sky. It was a force that simply was, and nothing could break it.

You’d always imagined the day your mate was revealed would be one of pure joy, a fairy tale come to life. The thought of having someone destined for you filled you with a thrilling, eager anticipation. But all that fervor, all that restless longing to discover who your mate—or mates—might be, came to a crashing halt. It felt as if your heart, once brimming with hope, had splintered into a thousand shards.

The realization of who your mates happened overtime, not some sudden onslaught of emotions like you had expected. It came through scent, intense emotional responses, and heightened physical sensitivity. It was late in the afternoon, the four of you hanging around in the library, when the “change” started. 

There’s a section in the library that the four of you consider your hidden nook. It’s not genuinely hidden, just tucked away in the far corner, behind a row of dusty old books and faded tapestries. Few people venture that deep into the library, and even fewer linger long enough to notice the secluded alcove. But to you, it’s the perfect little refuge—a space that feels entirely your own, like a secret world where time slows down.

The four of you are seated on the worn rug, scattered across the floor in comfortable silence. James sits with his legs crossed, leaning against a stack of heavy textbooks, his eyes focused on the pages of a book he’s half-reading, half-absentmindedly flipping through. Sirius is sprawled across from him, one arm resting on his knee, staring at the crackling flame of a nearby candle, his mind seemingly elsewhere. Remus, ever the quiet one, is at the edge of the group, his book in hand, but his attention more often than not drawn to the stillness of the room, as though taking in the peacefulness of the space.

The soft rustle of turning pages is the only sound that fills the air, a steady rhythm that matches the calm energy of the nook. It’s not the usual kind of gathering—no loud conversations or jokes, just the simple presence of each other in a shared, unspoken understanding. 

Then, without warning, Remus’s shoulder brushes against yours. It’s nothing—just the briefest contact, the kind of thing you wouldn’t normally notice, except... something about it makes your skin prickle. A spark of warmth, a flicker of something you can’t quite place. You freeze for a split second, feeling the pulse of it surge through you, and then just as quickly, you shrug it off. It must’ve been the wind, or the way you shifted—anything but what it really was. You try to ignore the slight tremor still lingering in your chest, pretending it never happened. The air in the nook feels the same as it always does. Quiet. Safe.

Yet, there’s no denying that something’s begun to stir beneath the surface, even if you’re not ready to face it yet.

Then one by one, like dominoes, it all began to spiral out of control. At first, it was just a subtle thing—Remus’s hand grazing yours while passing you a book, his touch sending a wave of electricity up your arm, leaving your skin buzzing. Then, it was Sirius leaning a little too close as he joked about something, his scent wrapping around you, stronger than usual, more intoxicating—like fresh earth after rain, something comforting and wild all at once. And James, always nearby, his proximity suddenly making your pulse race, the warmth of his presence a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you in no matter how hard you tried to fight it. Each moment felt like a spark, a jolt, until it was impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just their touches or the way their scents seemed to fill the air—it was the way everything about them felt more intense, more overwhelming. Their voices had a deeper resonance in your chest, their laughter echoing in your bones like an unspoken invitation. At first, you tried to pretend it was nothing, just your imagination, but soon, it became impossible to deny. The way your body reacted to them—too sensitized, too attuned—felt like the inevitable shift of something you could no longer outrun.

And then, in the middle of Potions class, it happened.

One of the other students—a nameless boy from Slytherin, someone you barely thought about—brushed past you. He reached across the table for an ingredient, his arm brushing against yours in a way that should’ve felt completely normal. A simple touch. But as his skin made contact with yours, nothing happened. No spark. No warmth. No shiver running up your spine like you’d come to expect. Just, nothing.

You blinked, confused at first. Normally, physical contact wasn’t something you’d really notice, not the way some others seemed to. But this time, you couldn’t shake the contrast. His touch felt so bland—empty even. You felt the coldness of it, a distance that was somehow more obvious than if he hadn’t touched you at all. It left you with a strange, hollow feeling.

Your breath caught as the realization hit you like a bolt of lightning: The Marauders. Every time their hands brushed yours, or their scent filled the air around you, it was different—alive, almost electric. They didn’t just touch you, they reached you. They made you feel things you hadn’t known you could feel. Now, at this moment, it clicked.

This wasn’t just some passing attraction, some infatuation or idle crush. It was something deeper, something undeniable. They weren’t just your friends—they were your mates. And the stark difference between their touch and this boy’s was all the proof you needed.

Your heart raced. The truth, like a wave crashing over you, was undeniable now. There was no escaping it. You didn’t just feel something for them. You felt everything.

What should’ve been an exciting day—the day you discovered who your mate was—only left you with a gnawing anxiety deep in your chest. These were your best friends, the three people you trusted most. The thought of a relationship with them was overwhelming, and the idea of all three? It made your stomach churn. Could this even work? How would things change between you? Would they accept you as more than just a friend? It felt impossible. The four of you were connected, destined even, but they already had each other. What could you possibly add to this bond? Was this “fate” really a thing, or just some cruel twist of circumstance? 

You pulled away from them out of fear of them realizing they’ll notice the strange connection between the four of you. It was easy to avoid them knowing their schedules and habits. If they were in Hogwarts, you went to Hogsmede. If they were in a class with you, you called out sick. If they started down the hallway you were in, you’d turn on your heel and speed-walk in the opposite way. Despite the tug towards them and how much you missed them, you decided it was better to run away and deal with the pain in your heart. 

It was impossible to keep running from them. They’d given you space, respecting your need to figure things out, but even they knew there was only so much distance you could put between yourself and them. Fate, however, wasn’t so patient. The Marauder’s Map marked your every step, your exact location, as if it were pulling them toward you—like invisible strings already tying everything together. You couldn’t escape them, not anymore. You couldn't outrun it—not when fate was already pulling you together, no matter how much you tried to distance yourself.

You stepped out from the entrance to your dormitory, expecting the usual quiet corridor stretching before you. As soon as you crossed the threshold, you froze.

There they were, standing in your path, as though they had been waiting for you. James, Remus, and Sirius—all of them, their presence unmistakable. The air was thick with tension, and you could almost hear the unspoken questions hanging between you.

Sirius was the first to speak, his voice sharp, laced with frustration. “You gonna keep running away?” he demanded, arms crossed tightly over his chest. There was a flicker of something else in his eyes—hurt, confusion. “We’ve given you space, but this… this is getting ridiculous. You can’t keep doing this.”

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to avoid the topic you weren’t ready to face. You didn’t want to, confront it, not yet—not ever. Your fear of their response to finding out was too strong. “I’m fine,” you muttered, trying to brush it off, but your voice came out a little too quickly, too quietly. "It’s nothing. I just needed some time."

Sirius’s eyes narrowed at your words. His jaw tightened, frustration turning into something sharper. “Nothing?” he repeated, his voice rising just enough to show the tension in his words. “You think we’re that stupid? You think we haven’t noticed? You can’t just pretend like nothing’s wrong. You’ve been shutting us out for days. We’re not blind.”

Before you could respond, Remus stepped forward, his brow furrowed. He shot Sirius a brief glare, his eyes softening when he turned back to you. “Sirius,” he said, voice calm but insistent, trying to de-escalate the situation. “We’re just worried. Please, talk to us.”

You could feel their eyes on you, waiting for you to speak. But your mind raced, and all you could do was let out an awkward laugh, forcing a tight smile. “It’s really nothing,” you said, your voice shaky. “I just… need some space, okay? I’ll be fine. It’s fine.”

You tried to take a step back, hoping to end the conversation before it spiraled further. You wanted to escape, to not deal with it.

But James stopped you, his voice soft but laced with hurt. “Please, can we talk?” he asked, his eyes full of concern. “We can go somewhere private.”

You felt the weight of his gaze, the silent desperation behind it, and for a moment, it softened something inside you. You hadn’t meant to hurt him. You hadn’t meant to pull away from them like this. The sudden realization of how much his feelings mattered to you hit you all at once, and for a brief moment, you faltered.

But despite the softening in your heart, you still couldn’t bring yourself to stay. You didn’t have the words, didn’t know how to explain it.

Still, you nodded reluctantly, and with that, the four of you found yourselves back in your dorm room, the heavy silence following you inside. The door clicked shut behind you, and the room seemed too small for what was about to unfold.

You sat on your bed, hugging your knees to your chest, your gaze dropping to the floor. The tension in the room was thick, the unspoken words filling the space around you.

Sirius paced, his footsteps sharp and purposeful, the restless energy in his movements clear. He looked angry—his jaw was clenched, and his hands were shoved in his pockets as he walked back and forth. His expression was hard and unreadable.

Remus stood a little further away, his arms crossed, brow furrowed in concern, though a subtle frustration lingered in his posture as well. He kept looking at you, his gaze soft but questioning, like he was waiting for you to open up. You could see he was trying to read you, trying to understand why you were pulling away, but there was an edge to his calm that you hadn’t seen before.

James, standing a little off to the side, looked almost... small. He was still, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze fixed on you. The hurt in his eyes was undeniable, and you could feel it pressing down on you. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t push, but the silence between you two seemed to speak volumes. His usually carefree nature was gone, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable.

You swallowed hard, unable to meet any of their eyes for long. The weight of everything was suffocating.

“I… I didn’t mean to shut you out,” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur, but it felt like you were shouting. “I just… I don’t know what to do with all of this. Everything’s changing, and I—”

Sirius stopped pacing and turned sharply toward you, his frustration bubbling over. “What is changing?” His voice wasn’t angry, but there was a harshness to it. “You’ve been shutting us out, and we have no clue why. We’re here, but you just keep pushing us away like we’re the problem.”

Remus stepped forward, his voice gentler, but you could see the frustration lingering behind his calm demeanor. “Sirius, let her speak,” he said, a quiet plea for understanding. His gaze softened again, but there was a flicker of concern. “We’re just trying to understand. Whatever this is, whatever you’re feeling, we’re here for you.”

James didn’t say anything, but his arms dropped to his sides, his posture deflated as he moved a little closer, his eyes never leaving you. You could feel the weight of his concern and hurt all at once. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, as if everyone was waiting for you to finally break it.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, but it was hard to find the right words. The reality of what you had been avoiding, what you had been pushing down, seemed to finally come to the surface. "I just… I don’t know how to deal with this," you said, the last word slipping out before you could stop it. "It’s too much.”

What if I’ve already lost them? What if this is it?

It felt like sand slipping through your fingers, everything slipping away from you as you stood there, helpless. You were losing them, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

Remus, his voice gentle yet firm, broke through your spiraling thoughts. “Please, dove,” he said, taking a small step closer. His tone held an urgency that made your heart flutter, though it only added to your feeling of being overwhelmed. “Talk to us.”

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to find the strength to speak. Your thoughts twisted and turned, and for a second, you almost couldn’t breathe. Tell them?

You exhaled shakily and gave a sigh, the words finally slipping out despite every part of you wanting to avoid it. “It started slow,” you whispered, voice trembling. “At first, I didn’t even realize. It wasn’t like anything changed overnight. But... when you touch me—when any of you touch me, I feel it. This electricity, this spark that... I don’t know how to explain it. The way your hand brushed against mine, it felt like something else. And then, when I smelled you… your scent—God, it pulled me in. It felt so right. So natural. And I started noticing it with all of you. It was like I couldn’t breathe right unless I was near you.”

You stopped, feeling the weight of the words you hadn’t let yourself say before. The words you didn’t think you could say. The words that terrified you.

“Then there was the day I realized,” you continued, barely above a whisper. “It was in Potions class. Another guy—he just bumped into me, reached over to grab an ingredient, and... I felt nothing. His touch was just... bland. Empty. No sparks. No pull. And it hit me all at once. It was like I couldn’t deny it anymore. I wasn’t imagining it. That’s when it all clicked, that I wasn’t just feeling this because I was going mad. I was feeling it because you—you three—are my mates.”

You blinked rapidly, and a few tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You looked away, embarrassed, but you couldn’t stop them. The dam had broken, and all you could do was let the words spill out, hoping that in some way, it would make sense to them.

“And I was scared,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Scared that if I let this happen, it would ruin everything. That I’d lose all of you, that I’d lose the friendship we had, that I’d mess it all up.”

James sighed softly, his voice full of compassion. “Oh, love...” he murmured, his tone so gentle it almost broke you further. You could feel the sincerity in his words, the warmth in his presence as he took a small step toward you. “We’re not going anywhere, alright? You’ve never had to be afraid of that.”

Remus nodded, his expression serious but soft. He stepped forward as well, his gaze unwavering. “You’re not alone in this. We’re never leaving you. We’ll face this together, all of us.” His words felt like an anchor, pulling you back from the whirlwind of your own doubts.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, but you didn’t feel like you were sinking anymore. Their presence, their words, wrapped around you like a blanket, calming the storm within you—at least a little.

But then, as if on cue, Sirius stepped forward. He was quiet for a moment, his gaze intense as he studied you. And then, without saying a word, he reached out. His hand brushed gently against your cheek, wiping away the tear that had escaped down your face.

You froze for a second. The touch, light but deliberate, shocked you. It was like electricity coursed through your veins, a rush of warmth and something deeper, something you hadn’t fully understood until now. Something that made your heart skip a beat.

His eyes searched yours, a question hanging in the air between you two. “Did that feel like what you explained?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with curiosity. You could feel your breath catch in your throat, but when you looked up at him, something in you shifted. Your chest tightened, but not from fear. The tension inside you seemed to ease, just for a moment.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, leaning into his touch as if you’d done it a thousand times before. It was crazy—how quickly you just... let go. How quickly you could calm down under his touch, like the world outside of the room didn’t matter. Like everything was right again, for just a breath.

His thumb gently brushed across your cheek, the contact grounding you. And somehow, in that one moment, the tears halted–your spiraling thoughts stilled. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his hand, the familiar scent of him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe it could all work out. The bond—the mateship you’d been avoiding, the feelings you’d been too afraid to admit—it was no longer just a weight, an anxiety-filled weight.

Sirius brushes his fingers over your neck, lulling over to your exposed right shoulder. His touch brings heat, making your mind grow dizzy from it. Its insane how much a bond carries control over you, your emotions–it’s scary, terrifying how much power it holds. 

He brings his hand upwards again, brushing your chin up. Sirius moved slowly, eyes trained on yours as he leans in–his breath falling onto your face. With a quick glance down to your lips, you knew his intentions. You nod, admitting your permission and his lips are on yours in a heartbeat. The brief brushes of your bodies touching brought upon was nothing compared to the feeling of his lips on yours–hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes had fluttered shut, your own hand reaching to tangle in his black hair and pull him closer. 

He ends on top of you on your dorm bed, body slotted between your opened thighs. His kisses travel down your neck, his voice breathless, “are your roommates returning today, beautiful?”

You have to pull your mind out of the dizzy headspace it had begun to enter into to hum your confirmation. When he continued his kisses on your neck, you’ve been sent into orbit. Your head is tossed back against the bed sheets, whines escaping you. You’ve let go completely, no more holding back your feelings against the bond–you’re trying to bring it closer to you, needing it to encapsulate you. It’s almost like you're trying to make time for all the days you spent avoiding them. 

When Sirius nips at your neck, at a spot where your pheromones are strongest–James and Remus step back in. You’re dazed, but you hear them talking in the back. You catch a few words–mating mark, where, need to choose different locations. It all spiraled from there. Clothes were almost ripped off, moans and the smell of sex filled the air. 

Each one–James, Remus, and Sirius–got a chance at fucking you. You took each one’s knot, your cunt sore–so unbelievably sore, red, and puffy from the way they all were feral. It was everything you wished for, everything you were pleading them for. Your moans of, “o-oh… Please! James, shit–please.” Your whines for more, begging Sirius to go faster–harder. Your gasps and tugs on Remus’ hair when he ate you out, pleading that he never stopped. It was a frenzy, one that didn’t even begin to slow down until the sun had begun to rise again. 

Remus, having taken you in doggy–his length pressing against your cervix–placed his mating mark on the back of your neck. 

Sirius, doing it in missionary, placed his on the right side of your neck–by your ear. 

Then James, letting you ride his length to your heart’s content, had his placed on the opposite side of Sirius’. The guys had placed theirs on each other, but you were too out of it to remember–maybe even see it with how blurred your vision was. 

Your earlier tears—those tears of sadness, of fear that they might leave you, that they might break your heart—shifted. They no longer stung with the weight of abandonment but softened into something more profound. They became tears of pleasure. 

Your heart, once clenched with fear and doubt, was now full—overflowing with something gentle, something unspoken, but undeniable. It wasn’t just relief; it was something deeper. The marks of your bond, the quiet promises that passed between you, were beginning to settle in your skin, into your soul.

The anxiety that had once twisted in your chest, the fear that they would eventually slip away, was transformed now. In its place, you could feel the steady, unshakable presence of their connection to you. Their touch, their scent, the weight of their bodies near you—it was all part of you now.

Later, you found yourself nestled between them, your body tucked close as the four of you curled up together in the small bed. The room was quiet, save for the soft sounds of breathing and the occasional rustle of blankets. Sirius, who had been the most distant, now lay with his arm across your waist, his breath even and calm against your skin. Remus was on the other side, his back to yours, his warmth a comforting constant as you all found a rhythm together.

James, still close, shifted slightly in his sleep, his hand brushing across your hair. You sighed deeply, feeling the peace settle over you like a thick, soft blanket. Every part of you, every part of this moment, felt complete.

And with that, you understood. You understood the bond—how, in a way that was unexplainable, yet irrefutable, you were intricately woven into their lives, and they into yours. It wasn’t just fate. It was this—the quiet knowledge that, from now on, you would always be part of them. That you were theirs, as they were yours.

As you lay there, tucked into them, your body began to relax, the warmth of their embrace washing over you. Your skin seemed to hum with the connection, a gentle vibration of energy coursing beneath your skin. It was a bond, a promise—one that would last, that would hold.

The mark, invisible to the eye, burned into your heart—a symbol of the truth you now knew, of the future that had been set long before you could even comprehend it.

The weight of their promise to stay with you, to never leave, fills the space between your hearts, and you let out a shaky breath, feeling a peaceful purr rise from your chest, soft and content. There was no fear now, no loneliness. Only the warmth of their love, their touch, their presence.

You were theirs. And they were yours. And everything, finally, fell into place.

[idiaa-shroxd]

THE PREFECT’S CAT CAFE ꒱ ❝ dormleaders. ❞

SUMMARY: after an off-handed comment made by Idia, you find yourself taking what he said into genuine consideration. instead of just bringing some cats into your guest room though, why not find a way to have both cats and profits while being comfy?

warnings; gn!reader x dormleaders. long post. the keep reading line may repeat a bit of text, but please continue reading if it does. inspired by this video. by interacting with this post you agree you’ve read through my navigation and i hold no responsibility for the content you view. part i. part ii. part iii.

PROLOGUE.

“Are you really sure about this, Henchman?” Grim asks, crossing his arms as he huffs, jealousy laced in his voice. He was used to your occasional strange idea, but he considered something to be sincerely wrong with you at the moment if you thought bringing other stray cats into his territory were a smart idea, not to mention the way you were cuddling them and scratching their bellies. Where did you even find this many cats? Did you make a deal with Azul?

Puffing your cheek slightly, you ignore your cat’s comment while putting the collar on the last one. “Do you want to have fancy tuna?” You reply, fixing the collar’s bow as you smile at your hard work. “You’re not believing in me, Grim. This is an untapped market potential, in case you forgot we have a whole dorm here at school dedicated to gamers and introverts practically. And you know what they like? Cats and silence!” You tell him as you look at your array of cats.

You’d found yourself surprised that Professor Trein actually entertained your question if he knew where to find cats on sage island, even more so when Crowley eventually relented to letting you keep a few cats in exchange for not bringing up the fact you’ve been through how many overblots against him for awhile. This was a chance you could not lose. “There’s cat cafe’s in my world with relatively simple rules and a quiet atmosphere. We simply need to make it a reality, and lucky for us we have a magical furniture tool and an investor.” You say, getting up from the chair and walking toward your little notebook to check off another item off the list.

“You have an investor?” He asked, not quite believing you as he raised a brow. Hearing his disbelief you chuckle a little, pointing your pen at a corner of the room to which he jumps in surprise, letting out a shock ‘nyagh!’ “Idia has been here for the past two hours, ever since I told him what I was going to do. I don’t know how or why he has money, but he has it and that’s enough for me.” You say, Grim still surprised he hadn’t notice Idia once in well over two hours. He still wasn’t convinced on your plan, but if it got him tuna and money, your plan surely can’t be that bad?

HEARTSLABYUL. riddle rosehearts.

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS.

“Are there any rules I need to follow while I’m here?” Riddle asks, a little antsy as it were his first time in a room with so many cats before. It were against the queen’s rules to bring cats to a formal affair, but this wasn’t too formal, it were a cafe. And you did get explicit permission from the headmage so indulging in you just a tiny bit wouldn’t hurt, right? With a laugh, you point in the direction of one of the walls with the rules on display next to a signed plaque from the headmaster giving his approval to your whims.

“The rules are really simple. No forcing or disturbing the cats, do not go around picking them up, do not let them have your drinks, and refrain from running around and making too much noise. Outside drinks, food, and shoes are not permitted for sanitary reasons. You can only feed the cats treats sold by the prefect or in the gacha machines, and you have to log in which cat you’ve fed to ensure one cat doesn’t get particularly overweight.” You read off the board the rundown as he nodded, determined to follow the rules. As he stepped inside your now transformed guest room, his eyes sparkled as one of the cats immediately begun purring at him. Perhaps a cat cafe truly wasn’t too bad a place.

Riddle was really weary of your little project when you first told him about it. He really stopped lecturing you after you explained you had all the proper permission and even an investor. He had no idea who on campus would help you with this, but after hearing it were Idia he thought that maybe you were actually a bit more serious than he realized about your cat cafe plans. He takes awhile to convince to actually come, but after maybe seeing a picture you text him of the kitties with the caption, “I want Riddle to play with me!” he concedes ever so slightly into your demands.

His eyes light up in genuine happiness as little cats meow at his feet. His only other real experience with cats was Grim as his mother would not let him near them, but now he understands what the appeal to cats is about. They’re all so soft and he may use an occasional toy, but he also gets to hear their affection purrs as they nudge him nearly making him forget why he was so angry just ten minutes prior when he was collaring a student again. He isn’t a regular since he’s busy, but whenever you happen to ask he tries to make time, only because you’ve asked him to or his dorm members ask him to visit, not because he’s succumbed to being a cat person, he says, lying through his teeth.

His favorite cat is a Queendom of Roses (British) shorthair with pure dark grey fur and orange-yellow eyes. He wasn’t too sure how to act around the cats but this one plopped it’s chubby body onto his lap while nipping at his hand demanding to be pet while meowing right to his face and Riddle could not say no to that face. The cat is not as furry as the others and he quite prefers that, less hair to clean off of his clothes. He thought he would of preferred a less demanding cat, but Sesame is very calming and distracting for his anger. He at some point also noticed cat collar’s slightly changing and asked you about it.. and you found a gift from him, more specifically Sesame received a gift. His previous yellow collar replaced with a higher quality rose-red collar with white outlines of rose petals engravings. Now instead of a silent bell he had a rose attached to the front of the collar, and at the back of the collar was a bow designed to resemble leaf petals.

Absolutely plays favorites, he’s still a bit weary for long haired cats to approach him but won’t tell them to go away, and he always feels guilty if he pets a cat that is not Sesame. He would be willing to buy cat popsicles and cat treats on occasion but tries not to overly them as he knows you’re trying to not get them to be overweight and stay within a healthy range. He’s also able to get some work done when he visits, though not too often as his cat takes up most of his time and does not like him to share his attention with his paperwork, deliberately plopping down onto the paper if he deems he has not received enough attention. You could probably get away with asking him a single stupid question while he is relaxed. Only one, so use that question wisely.

Overall is a good guest since he keeps quiet to himself and his cat, and if he’s talking he’s really quiet about it since he respects your rules. He follows every single one to heart, not only that but also makes sure other guests are taking it to heart as well.

SAVANACLAW. leona kingscholar.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR.

“Shut up, herbivore.” The beastmen hissed as you tried to hide your overly smug expression. “I haven’t even said anything yet, Kingscholar.” You tease as he opens one of his eyes and snarls at you in a nonthreatening manner, one hand running through his hair as the other runs his fingers through the fur of the sleeping cat on his chest, unable to stop you from taking pictures without disturbing said cat.

“Aren’t you two adorable?” You can’t help but snicker as you snap another photo of the annoyed beastman. You were definitely going to post this on your magicam story when you were free. Distracted by your phone, you fail to notice his ears twitching ever so slightly as he looks away from you, his face just a little bit darker in color than before as he shuts his eyes, going back to sleep.

Leona had no interest in being friendly with a bunch of strays you brought in from who knows where. He actually laughed in your face the first time you offered him some coupon to your cat cafe, he had no interest being near rowdy students. That was until he had the most annoying day alive, a conversation twice with Malleus in a single hour and he used you as his stress relief, nearly knocking you onto the floor as he plopped onto you after following you into your cat cafe.

No one else was there as you hadn’t opened, and he understood the appeal. The room wasn’t overcool with regulated temperatures perfect for a cat, with dim lighting and soft music. You even had different parts of your cafe for different guests as you place him onto one of the longer sofas, finally getting him off of you as you poor him a drink and listen to his complaint. At some point he had a group of cats just laying on him and purring against him and snuggling and he’s fallen asleep, not waking up until you inform him you’re closing for the night, and not to move too abruptly with the cat still sleeping on his chest.

His favorite cat had claimed him during their first fateful encounter, being a persian breed. The cat is very fluffy with creamy white fur and golden eyes, enjoying swaying her tail against Leona’s nose and kneading at his chest, arms, feet, wherever she gets her paws on. She does not enjoy being disturbed but does enjoy the occasional pet and spends most of her time just napping with Leona and pawing at him. He claims the cat is noisy every once in awhile but he can be seen petting her with one hand as the other shields his eyes as he lays down, letting her purr against him. He flat out told you he was replacing her stupid black collar with a new one, a brown silk collar that’s just a tad bit loose, with a few golden engravings and a beautiful bow on the back in a lighter brown and golden moons. Nebula also gets cat popsicles every once in awhile that he gets Ruggie to buy from you.

He is used to a bunch of different cats crawling over him as they seem to naturally approach him, and he’s very smug about that to Malleus, but he does have his favorite. Nebula is his number one cat and he will pick her up even though you have a no disturbing the cats rule and he will place her beside him as he has a drink as he lays down in his unofficial spot while she climbs atop him and goes to take a nap. He’s not jealous but he just does not allow other people to touch his cat is all. Whenever you come over to bring him a drink he’s trying to pull you down and shamelessly puts an arm around you as you ignore his clinginess and return back to your cats and cafe. May use a cat toy on occasion but not when you are watching because you get a stupid grin and ask him if he feels like pawing at the toy and he tries not to leave you on a street corner.

Overall a horrible guest but a decent guest. He definitely does not follow every rule and acts grumpy but he’s very quiet except the occasional snore. He will also take a very long time to leave because you need to scratch his ears because he’s not “fully awake”. But in terms of cat parenting he’s a pretty good guest.

OCTAVINELLE. azul ashengrotto.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO.

“So… do you still want to complain?” You ask, raising a brow as you stare at the bespectacled boy with a smug grin. He swore that there was zero charm to a cat cafe and that you stole his business from him just two weeks ago, but now he had a cup of coffee between his fingers sitting on the sofa with his eyes closed, a purring cat on his lap with documents on the table spread out as he worked. Azul’s face flustered a slight tint of red as he let out a small cough much to your and the twin’s amusement.

“That was the past, prefect. We found a way to make this arrangement mutual benefitting now, no need to bring up old problems.” He tries to sound professional as you snicker. Two weeks ago was not really a distant past, but you did work thing out. “Whenever you want a refill just let me know, I’ll leave you guys alone for now, I’ve got more to do.” You say, deciding not to tease the octomer further as you retreat back into the kitchen, leaving him to be teased by his two ‘friends’.

Azul had stormed into your establishment one day with a single goal in mind, to figure out how you had stolen his business. He came perplexed, how were you allowed cats on campus? Where did you get the money for renovation? Who was your supplier? Most importantly why did everyone favor the prefect’s cat cafe over the Monstro Lounge with quality service and quality food?

He had sat you down trying to be scary but you ended up putting him. You had offered him a proposal of a collaboration. If anyone orders a special item off the Monstro Lounge menu that day before coming into your cafe they’d be eligible to receive a little something from your cafe for free such as a cat popsicle or an extra thirty minutes added onto their time. He was weary at first but people came to the Monstro Lounge as though they were giving away free money as they came in groups. You both benefitted from this as you did not want food near your kitties that weren’t for them as that posed health and safety issues. He doesn’t know how but he also finds himself on occasion coming to your cafe during breaks as it was surprisingly calming despite his absolute hatred for these innocent cats when he originally entered.

His favorite cat is a Queendom of Roses (British) longhair with dark orange-esque fur with a fluffy white front and light blue eyes. He has no clue as to how but somehow this cat became his favorite as he purred against Azul’s shoes, nudging at him before eventually crawling into his lap. The cat makes little disturbance as Azul works, the purring soothing the octomer as he finishes up, occasionally finding his sleeves being tugged at when Butterscotch declares he’s been working enough by demanding pats. Butterscotch has also found himself on the end of receiving a lot of cat popsicles recently, and a collar upgrade. His collar went from a plain leathery texture to some high quality collar blue collar with tentacle engravings, and a sea patterned bowtie at the front of the collar, the center being a pretty shell.

He entertains other cats but keeps an eye out for his favorite, always reserving his lap space just for him. He mainly spends his time at the cafe after a large rush or when he has time off to work in the silence with his cat instead of the silence of his office. He actually finds himself working a lot faster in your cafe than all alone and he gets free refills on his coffee, so technically he is profiting than if he used his own supply, he justifies to himself. When he finishes work he may on occasion be found talking to you attempting to flirt poorly as you remain oblivious as he has no interest in manga or gaming. May occasionally be found brushing his favorite kitty’s fur and telling him he is going to become fat like he once was then still feeding him the treat regardless because he is very polite.

Overall is a very good guest as long as he has his kitty. Gets a bit antsy if he has to spend his time without his favorite as though he had been replaced but does not cause a scene or whine. Please make sure before you close he gets to squish his cat’s paw and knows he has not been replaced with a different cat dad.

SCARABIA. kalim al-asim.

KALIM AL-ASIM.

“Aha, prefect! Could I have another cat treat, please?” Kalim pleaded with you as you shake your head, doing your best at giving the puppy eyed dorm leader a firm no. He already had two today, that was enough. “But look at Taffy, she’s starving!” He says as you raise a brow, staring at the cat that was getting plumper by the day.

“Kalim, I love you like my actual child but no more. She’s even eating the other cat’s leftovers now at lunch time.” You scold the boy as he apologizes and pleads he will stop after maybe just one more treat as you sigh, putting your foot down and eyeing Jamil pleadingly who only pretends he can’t see you as he plays with his cat. “I’ll even pay four times the amount!” He said, pouting as you shook your head, ready to dive into the same discussion you’ve had with him the past three days.

Two hours, that is how long it took for Kalim to hear about your business venture and ask, beg, you to let him see. Apparently Idia had told Ortho who told the board game club members and word got around to Cater and Cater told him and Lilia and now he was bouncing off the walls in excitement with Jamil in tow. He was already prepared to meet the kitties and Jamil said it was okay so could you please go now? When he hears that there’s rules to follow he listens intently and follows them as best as he can remember, but he’s just so excited about the cats and trying your drinks! Also looking at the interior and more. Wait you also have gaming pcs and manga? He has to check those out too! His hyperactiveness could not be contained and you were a little concerned for the cats.

You were right to assume Kalim could not be contained for more than two seconds as he pspspspss at all of the kitties, toy in both hands as he was already playing with them, cats crawling on his lap and nudging at him, biting at him playfully and surrounding him as he held a cat popsicle out towards them, talking your’s and Jamil’s ears off about how fluffy and wonderful of a place this is. He had to tell every single person in his dorm about it, and his family, and people from other dorms as well, this was the greatest place on campus so far! Do you also need help buying the cat food or anything? He’d be willing to be another investor in a heartbeat but Jamil talks him out of it, partially. His favorite thing is official a cat in his lap as he drinks your own tea brew that he gifted you from his country… which may cost more than your entire life.

His favorite cat is a maine coon with black fur and green eyes. This cat has the world’s finest at her fingertips if she just meows. Kalim knows it’s wrong to pick favorites but he can’t deny that she is his favorite when she headbutts his chin and meows at him for minutes at a time even if he’s petting her. She’s extremely fluffy and starting to become pudgier but he doesn’t mind that as he gets her more treats. Her pink collar has long since been discarded as she now has a full wardrobe, but her collar is now the finest white silk and handmade embroidery with real gemstones and solid gold for the silent bell. Even the bow on the back of the collar is large and beautiful, she’s worth more than the students that actually visit the cafe and you hope you aren’t robbed.

Kalim does play favorites but also doesn’t. Things are very clear he has a favorite cat but he will play with any and every cat that approaches him. He respects your do not disturb the cat rule, really, but he just really wants to pet every single kitty. He always says he wants to try one of the pcs but ends up forgetting as he works on his homework failing to pay attention while petting Taffy and giving her kisses and then eventually falling asleep because he’s all tired out. He has read a few of the mangas but he reads it to Taffy specifically and Jamil has to remind him to be quiet for your other guests. He may have also asked his family to visit your cafe so you may be visited by one of the world’s richest couple in the future when the campus opens for outside guests.

Overall a great guest for the cats but a nightmare for you as he looks like a sad puppy when you refuse to let him buy treats. Also occasionally forgets and makes a loud noise when he enters and sees his favorite cat, and he can be a little distracting because he can’t sit still for too long at times.

POMEFIORE. vil schoenheit.

VIL SCHOENHEIT.

“When in Twisted Wonderland did this happen..?” You mutter to yourself as you brewed another cup of tea for Vil using the brand he specifically gave you for himself when he visited. He was adamantly refusing to even set foot in your guest room after hearing what you had done, but now Rook was taking a photo of him elegantly sitting down in one of your lounge chairs with a cat on his lap, purring loudly looking at the camera as though she understood how to pose and was a natural born model.

You bring the tea over to his table as he thanks you, lifting the cup and saucer elegantly as Rook takes a photo, already singing praises on how great it would look on his magicam as Vil looks confidently smug. You couldn’t believe this all happened just because Rook had said something about Neige and how cute it would be for a boy like him to be surrounded by cats. “Thank you for your patronage.” You say with a small smile on your lips, amused. Well at least a happy Vil is free promotion for your business on campus.

Vil was happy for you, really, but he was not going to visit the cat cafe even if you pleaded by his feet and rose someone from beyond this mortal realm to drag him in. That was until he heard Rook talking to you and Epel about how Neige would surely be so beautiful surrounded with cats and you agreeing and throwing in a comment about how it would make him seem more likeable and relatable. He knew Rook was a Neige fanboy but he couldn’t have you converting into one too, are you forgetting he’s the fairest of them all, and the only celebrity you should praise like that? If it is relatability you truly desire he can spare one afternoon at your cat cafe since he needs to check up on the place his dorm members have been spending their time at recently to ensure it is up to Pomefiore standard.

He originally looked as though he was going to fight one of the cats with how he was trying to mentally tell the long haired cats to stay away from him. He was so intimidating to even the cats that none were willing to approach him but one, a very snooty girl that begun pawing at his ankles, jumping up into his lap and kneading him as she claimed her seat. He found her demeanor pleasantly charming as she wasn’t that furry and she was good enough, he thought. He managed to get some high quality photos that did trend on magicam for the rare domestic sight of the Vil Schoenheit and a cat. It was surprisingly soothing for him and he did eventually come back where the cat once again claimed him as her’s.

His favorite cat is a siamese with cream white fur and black siamese patterns and bright blue eyes. She’s rather thin and does not shed fur all over his lap like some of the other cats. He makes sure to keep her fur shiny as he brushes her down and uses some toys on her. He refrains from often buying treats as she doesn’t seem fond of them and he doesn’t want her to be too overfed, a model should keep a strict diet. Her collar was replaced without even informing you, the old white one did not fit his or apparently her standard so he simply had to replace it for her. It was a pretty fancy dark blue color with golden engravings in the pattern of pomefiore’s insignias, a purely custom design, with a pretty bow in front, with a silent bell. It’s hard to believe she was ever a stray at one point.

He does not entertain most of the other cats beyond looking at them as he pets Iris. He knows his cat is a complete snob and will likely not entertain other guests, perched up high in her cat tree bed until he comes along so he would never cheat on her with being another cat’s dad. He has full faith that he is the only one that she will ever go to so he does try to stop by every once in awhile to make sure she’s getting the attention and grooming that is needed for a cat of her standard. He’s not into your gaming pcs or your manga corners, but does appreciate you do have school textbooks to borrow and a quiet study nook so that he can elegantly pet Iris with a cup of fine tea while doing his assignments as Rook fawns over them.

Overall a very good guest as long as you leave him alone. Follows your rules, does not talk loudly or much, and goes above and beyond with taking care of your cat that you begin to think it’s actually his cat he’s just letting you keep. You’re a little concerned he may just tell you he’s taking your cat with him once you graduate, but he is a rather good cat dad, at least!

IGNIHYDE. idia shroud.

IDIA SHROUD.

“I-di-a” You coo, bending down and whispering in the ear of the man currently on the floor, two cats surrounding him as he feeds them cat treats. The blue haired boy physically jolts upwards letting out a small whimper of utter shock of being spoken to as you chuckle. “Are you having fun?” You ask as he blushes, looking away from you as he turns his attention back to the cat pawing at his pant leg. “Ehehe, this is even better than watching the series finale to an anime live.” He whispers as one of the orange kitties crawls into his arms, headbutting him.

“You flatter me, glad to know you think so highly of my hard work. Ahem, our hard work.” You say as you pick up the other kitty, fixing their collar as you lightly run your fingers through the cat’s fur. Giving the cat a kiss to his nose and boop, you set him back down as you notice Idia staring at you only to blush insanely red as he looked away quickly from being caught. “Thank you for your hard work… prefect.” He quickly whispers much to your amusement.

Idia has become the number one patron. From the second class ends to the time you close for the evening Idia is right there petting the kitties. He’d actually volunteered to work for free, not as a waiter or anything but as a sort of cat playmate. He’d make sure the cats are satisfied and not bored and no one can touch him or look at him, but you said no, he needs to share the cats.

He’s the reason your wifi is amazing despite your run down dorm, and he makes sure absolutely everything regarding technology is perfect. It took him a bit to understand what you want and why that was necessary beyond you just saying cat cafes in your world have these things, but he understands what bliss is now. Anytime some machine seems even remotely broken he fixes it at a record pace.

His favorite cat had claimed him awhile back. A pure white ragamuffin that is extremely fluffy. The cat is extremely docile and she’d claim her spot in his lap, purring as he’d read manga or play on one of the cafe pcs, occasionally nibbling his finger when he squirms too much from gamer rage. Her original collar was a nice shade of orange, but he not so subtly changed it into one he got. A pretty light baby blue shade with small jewel engravings, a little silent bell at the front with a pretty bow on the back with golden stripes. You are partially convinced he genuinely does believe Ivory is his firstborn child.

He does play with other cats but has a favorite. He always pays for one cat popsicle a day at minimum to feed the cats and pays for other cat treats whenever he can because he is weak. He also is rigged at crane games so he can easily snack through the day never leaving the cafe. There are occasions you tell him stop feeding human snacks to the cat, they will get chubby. He ends up looking super offended on behalf of the kitties you dare said any one of them are chubby. When he’s not pampering the cats you can find him gaming in one of the pcs, grinding through an event. At moments like these do not approach him and leave him alone so he can forget he is actually in public and not his bedroom.

Overall a very respectful guest. He’s quiet, makes sure to respect the boundaries of the cats and the rules you’d set up, and does not cause any scenes. The only issue is getting him to leave may be a little difficult as he tries to give one more kiss… Or that he tries to come on your days off just to keep the little babies company. there’s also the occasion every so often that you can feel his gaze on you, only for you to catch him as he hides his face, the tips of his hair turning pink as he watches you work.

DIASOMNIA. malleus draconia.

MALLEUS DRACONIA.

“Child of man, could I please have one of those.. cat ice creams I believe they’re called?” Tsunotarou asked, eyes sparkling ever so slightly in childlike wonder as you let out a charming laugh, handing him a popsicle that was specifically made for cats to eat. He had always been fond on ice cream but now he had the ability to share it with someone else he liked, the cat that had claimed him a few weeks ago.

“Just one though, we don’t want to feed them too much now.” You say but know it will fall on deaf ears as you didn’t wish to ruin his fun. You didn’t think he had experience with cats before so you were pleasantly surprised one of your cats had practically claimed him, but it all worked out. “Worry not child of man, I won’t give him too many treats. Though I’m sure if I too were eating your cooking right now I wouldn’t be able to stop myself either.” Flustered by his comment, you leave him to play with the cat as you retreat behind the counter, he really was dangerous for reasons different than rumors.

He heard about your business venture from Lilia and was ready to pay a visit not caring if he scared off your guests but halted in his tracks when he heard you telling Sebek you were going to invite him. His mind tells him he has won the lottery and he retreats to fix his outfit waiting in the lounge for an hour until you reach Diasomnia’s doorsteps to speak with him. He is not listening as you greet him with a hug and tell him you’d like for him to come to Ramshackle for a surprise. Something about you also not opening the cafe today so it’d just be you and him so he’d be comfy, there’s really no reason to try and continue speaking he’s been charmed for over an hour, prefect.

He practically vibrates from sheer joy as he’s frozen, then rapidly shaking, then beaming as a cat waltzes up to him as though he owns the prince. He basically blue screens momentarily as the cat with such soft fur and pure innocent eyes meows up at him, pawing at his feet to be picked up. He picks up the cat as you watch curiously, finally figuring out he wasn’t listening to you at all as he stares at the cat’s eyes and then your’s. “Our child is beautiful.” He says as you raise a brow, shrugging it off as you tell him you’d brew him a black coffee and to sit wherever he would like. He instead chooses to sit at the counter bar, watching you and the cat that’s on his lap nipping at his fingers and demanding his attention as well. For the first time in awhile he feels as though something doesn’t fear him other than you.

His favorite cat is a ragdoll cat with white fur and black splotches and deep blue eyes. He claims this cat is your child and you have no idea what he’s thinking of but he seems happy as he shamelessly pulls out a cat toy and plays with him. Also slightly insults the cat by calling him brave or stupid as though a cat can comprehend what he means while mewling at him. Also asks you if he can also have a custom collar after Lilia tells him about his cat, and after you allow him to replace the old red collar he’s excited. Black is the color of royalty in the briar valley and Oatmeal has the privilege of wearing it on his new collar. A pretty black collar with green wings beside a silent bell that may be made of actual gold, along with a little dragon hood-cape and short plush horns you got him so your boys match.

Very possessive of Oatmeal. He will applaud other cats if they dare approach him but everyone knows he has a bias. He practically has been claimed by his cat and no one else is brave enough to go near his cat and no cat is brave enough to approach him, they are a perfect match. He has tried to take your cat back to Diasomnia but you have to remind him that the cat stays with you, he needs a proper schedule, friends, and he needs to stop being fed so many treats. He’s also incredibly smug about it and will come to the cafe on your off days as he talks to you petting Oatmeal and glaring at Leona on the opposite couch who’s busy petting Nebula but refrains from getting physical or suffer your wrath. You’d kicked both men out for an entire weekend.

Overall a good guest personally, but his reputation may cause some people to be scared of visiting. Regardless, he’s very polite to you and treats his cat very good, making sure to give him treats and enough exercise with a toy. May also overpay for coffee and start fights with Leona when you aren’t even open yet. In fact, how on earth did the two of them even get into your cafe? You literally just woke up and they’re spitting insults at one another.

EPILOGUE.

“Fnaygh! I guess I really am a business genius, Henchman.” Grim said as he dug into a can of fancy tuna, one that you had bought without having to worry about your budget for once. You expected success from Ignihyde students, but it seemed like your little business venture went above and beyond with students from all different dorms trying to be booking ahead of time and trying to visit your cat cafe.

“Right right, you’re the genius, Grim.” You laugh in response to your friend as you finished checking on the other cats, finishing up for the evening. In terms of profit, almost every single day you were fully packed with as much people you’d allow in at once, and you had to temporarily increase the charging rates. Despite the increase people still begun to visit, who knew the school filled with villainous kids would be so excited to pet some cats? Especially your regulars, they adored these cats enough they got the cats gift, not you, but the cat.

It was tough work to manage the guest room cafe all by yourself though, you had to admit to yourself. Perhaps you should take up Ace’s offer and idea at hiring some part time employees, your first year friends had already offered, so maybe you’d start training them for help?

a bit of a long post but i have had this thought for awhile ever since reading Idia’s guest room lines? So I figured I would just turn my headcanon into an actual written work. I have more ideas though for a separate post, but I am unsure if I’ll post it, but I do need to share my thought’s of Floyd’s favorite cat being a sphynx cat named prune that is very vocal and has a cozy ugly little sweater that Floyd likes to bathe with you.

©idiaa-shroxd. do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or use my works to train ai.

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter six

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a love confession, a PR scandal, and an explanation (5.2k)

a/n: don’t hate me for this folks 😅 things are going to be fine with our favorite couple, don’t worry! (or are they??? guess you’ll just have to read and see mwahaha)

previous chapter | masterlist

Somehow Lando convinces you to stay the night with him after spending a little quiet time together at his place once the jet lands, instead of going home like you’d originally planned. You won’t go into detail, but it involved little talking and a lot more kissing. 

He lets you shower off the nightclub musk first, and only when you’ve made yourself comfy in his bed can you shoot a text to your friends. 

You: staying at lando’s tonight. no need to wait up for me, he’ll drop me off at ours in the morning

Samira: ouuu get it girl 

Maren: be safe wear protection etc etc 

You: GOD no not like that you perverts

Camille: sure 👍🏼

Camille: is he reading over your shoulder? WE’RE ONTO YOU NORRIS. 

You: i hate you guys ❤️

Maren: why are u still texting us go spend time with ur man 

“Everything good?” 

Lando’s toweling his hair dry as he walks into the room, wearing only a pair of shorts. He’s a bit sunburnt on his chest and shoulders from today, but he’s still got that aftersun glow about him as he makes his way over to you. He collapses dramatically beside you on the mattress, wasting no time in sprawling into your space with a content sigh. 

“Yep, fine. The girls say hi and goodnight,” You say airily, putting aside your phone. Lando lets out a noncommittal hum, too busy with making himself comfortable next to you to form a response. In the end, he finally settles with an arm thrown across your thighs, face pressed into your side snugly. 

Your fingers trace the dip of his spine gently, coming up to brush over his reddened skin. “You’re all burnt, Lando.”  

“Sun cream is for wimps,” He mumbles, words muffled. “I’m tough.” 

“You might rethink that when your skin starts to peel.” 

“Did you have fun?” He asks, changing the subject in favor of aiming a hopeful smile up at you. 

“I did. I still can’t believe you’re friends with Martin Garrix, though.” 

Lando chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re still hung up on that?” 

“Uh, yeah! Normal people usually don't know world famous musicians!” 

“Guess I’m not normal then, am I?” 

“No, you’re not,” You hum, pushing his damp curls away from his forehead. His face screws into an overdramatically offended look that makes you giggle. “You’re not normal, you’re better.” 

“Good save, that,” He mumbles, face morphing into what has to be the most fond, heart-melting, doe eyed expression you’ve ever been looked at with.

What you say next seems to fall out of your mouth before you realize just what you’re doing. All you know is he’s gazing at you like you’re holding up the moon and the stars, and suddenly it feels like exactly the moment to say what you’re thinking. 

“I think I’m in love with you too.” 

Funnily enough, Lando’s eyes widen the same way Max’s did when he’d accidentally told you. “What?”

“I love you too,” You say, though a little more unsure this time. There’s a key difference between your first and second confessions, but saying it out loud the first time only solidified what, deep down, you think you’ve already known. 

You love Lando. You’re in love with Lando, and you want him to know. 

Only now he’s staring at you like you’ve just told him some deep dark secret that he wasn’t supposed to know, which definitely isn’t the response you thought you’d get from him, and it makes your brain kick into overdrive. 

Max had seemed entirely genuine at the time, but maybe he was just messing with you. Maybe your entire relationship with Lando was some sort of a prank, or god forbid, a fucking bet. The thought had crossed your mind at the beginning, but you’d shoved it aside because Lando was so charming and so painfully your type that you were willing to take the leap. 

Less than two weeks. It took less than two weeks to fall in love with the boy in front of you, less than two weeks for you to put your heart into his hands and pray that he wouldn’t break it. The heart that he’d already wormed his way into and made his home.

It’s definitely fast, you’re fully aware of the fact. At the beginning, you weren’t expecting to get into anything serious. Telling yourself you’d let things play out, let whatever was to happen happen, prepared to leave any and all thoughts of Lando behind if things didn’t work out. 

You didn’t actually think you’d end up in love with him, and for some reason, it scares you more than you could’ve ever imagined. There’s something terrifying about falling in love, but something even worse than it was him not feeling the same. 

“How did you—” He stops mid-sentence, looking so utterly floored you’ve figured it out that you forget any and all previous doubts of Lando not sharing your feelings. “Have I been that obvious?” 

“Max let it slip.” 

He lets out a groan, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily before opening them again. “Max couldn’t keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it, the twat.”

“Y’know, he said the same thing,” You giggle quietly. 

“Because it’s true! His big mouth has been getting me into trouble since the day we met.” 

“Do you think falling in love with me is trouble?” 

“No! God, no, absolutely not,” Lando insists, shaking his head. In one fell swoop, he manages to shift the both of you so you’re on top of him now, sitting on his thighs with a leg on either side of him. His hands travel up from your waist to cup your face in his palms reassuringly. “The opposite, really. I think you’re the best thing to ever happen to me. I just…I wanted to tell you on my own terms. Had it all planned out too.” 

“Oh yeah?” You hum, hooking your fingers over his biceps. “What'd you have planned?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teases, grinning from ear to ear. You make a pleading noise from the back of your throat, but he just shakes his head, zipping his lips with an imaginary key and pretending to hold it high above his head. 

You play along, going to reach up for it, but Lando leans forward, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. It’s a total distraction move, and it works. You forget all about what his plans could’ve been, the thoughts quelled by his mouth on yours, kissing you sweetly. 

Your hands slide over the broadness of his shoulders without thinking, fingertips pressing into lean muscle to keep yourself upright. 

“Ow, fuck—” He hisses, pulling away from you with a wince. Thinking you’ve hurt him, your eyes go wide. “Sunburn,” He explains hastily. 

You scramble off of him. “I am so sorry!”

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m fine, let’s just—” He leans in for another kiss, but the moment is over now. 

You snuggle into his side, splaying a hand over his chest. Your fingers immediately go to toy with his necklace. “What will things be like when your break ends, when we have to go back to our separate lives?” 

If your question catches him off guard, he doesn’t show it. He just sighs like he’s been thinking about the same thing, rubbing a hand down your arm. “Honestly? I’m not sure. Tried not to think of it much, really.” 

“It’s coming soon.” Your voice is almost a whisper, like saying it as soft as you can would make the day you have to leave each other never come. “Too soon.”

“Too soon,” He echoes sadly. “Do you—I mean, would you want to go public?” 

The first answer that pops into your head is no. 

No, you don’t want to make your relationship known to the public. Lando is a celebrity, and within that territory comes many things you aren’t comfortable with sharing. And it might be selfish of you for the thought to even cross your mind, but part of you doesn’t want to share Lando with the world. 

You’ve gotten used to your peaceful little bubble the last few weeks, and once he returns to racing, that bubble will be popped. It might only be a matter of time before people start to figure things out, and you’re not ready for that. Until you part ways, you don’t even want to think about it. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lando murmurs, drawing you out of your spiraling thoughts. His hand is on your face again, cradling your cheek tenderly, thumb rubbing over your cheek. “We’ll keep things under wraps. I’ve got no problems with that.” 

“You don’t?” 

“You sound surprised.” 

“I’m not,” You say immediately. You must not sound very convincing, because Lando tilts his head in question. “I mean—maybe I am? I just thought you’d want to, y’know, go out and stuff. Press events and races, like the other drivers’ partners.” 

“You’ve been looking?” He sighs, but not unkindly. More like an oh, I wish you hadn’t kind of way. 

“Yeah. A little.” You feel a little embarrassed admitting it, but you just wanted to know what might be expected of you as Lando’s girlfriend. 

In doing so, however, all you’ve done is hurt your own feelings. In your hours long deep dive about Formula 1 WAGs, as you’ve come to learn they’re called, there seem to be some commonalities.

They’re all brilliant, accomplished women. Some of them are models, some athletes, some businesswomen. Everything about them seems pristine and polished, always perfect. From their makeup, to their clothes, even their posture is perfect. You, on the other hand, you’re nothing like them. You’re not a model, you’re not as accomplished or as brilliant, and yeah, most of the time you slouch when you sit. 

You’re just…you. 

And for some reason, Lando likes you. Loves you. That should be enough for you, and you hate that it isn’t. 

You hate that at the very back of your brain, the thought that you’re not good enough for him digs its way into your self conscience, burrowing deep into the pit of your stomach. It has its claws in you, and it isn’t letting go any time soon. You’re not sure it ever will. 

“You’re spiraling again, baby,” Lando chides lightly, bringing you back to the present moment once more. You meet his gaze again, thinking you’ll find pity, but seeing nothing but adoration. He bumps your chin with his knuckles lightly. “I love you. Not who you think you should be.” 

Your heart swells so big you’re certain it might burst out of your chest. Lando knew exactly what you needed to hear in this moment of self doubt and didn’t hesitate to tell you. 

You smile at him, leaning forward to press your lips against his with all the love and affection you can muster, because words aren’t enough to explain just how lucky you are to have found someone like him. 

Lando sighs against your mouth, having no hesitation in swinging himself to hover over you. 

You let him nudge you back gently against the pillows, knees falling apart easily to accommodate the thigh he slots between them, and it has him pushing in even closer, chasing the breath right out of your chest with the way he’s kissing you. 

Safe to say, sleep does not take you until a long while later, not until you're both wearing a lot less clothes, tangled in each other’s embrace, fighting to keep your eyes open. Lando tells you he loves you one more time before you drift off for good, a whisper pressed against your temple in the darkened room. 

You’ll sleep well tonight with the ease of knowing that there is no question of how Lando feels about you, about your relationship. Everything is perfect. 

-------

“No, that’s bullshit. I’m not doing that. I don’t care if that’s what they want, I’m not doing it.” 

Lando’s hushed voice is what wakes you up, quiet but still sharp. Firm. 

Light from the bathroom pours in one beam through the cracked door on the other side of the room, piercing the darkness of early morning. You can see him pacing back and forth too, phone pressed to his ear, and it piques your concern. Whoever is on the other side of the line has obviously said something to get him heated. 

Work again, maybe? 

“Is everything okay?” You yawn, squinting at him through the sleep in your eyes as he shuffles back into the bedroom after the call ends.  

“Sorry for waking you,” He says stiffly. You pull yourself into an upright position.

“S’okay. What’s wrong?” Lando just tosses his phone into the mess of clothes in his bag on the chair. You’ll take that as a no, everything is not okay, and yes, something is wrong. “Lando.” 

He sits at the edge of the bed, facing away from you, elbows braced on his knees. You scoot towards him, smoothing a gentle hand over his back as your chin presses into his shoulder, his skin still warm under your fingers. You’re not sure what's wrong, but whatever it is, you’re there for him. 

“There’s pictures of us from the other night, at the club, and the beach. People took pictures of us together and now they’re all over social media.” 

Your heart sinks. “Oh. That’s not great, is it?” 

“No. Not really.” 

“Was that your PR officer calling?” You ask. Lando nods. “What did they say?” 

“Best to not go online today. And turn off your notifications too, because they’ll find you fast. Honestly, just turn off your phone.” He stands abruptly from the bed, away from you, pacing and muttering and raking his hands through his hair. You can almost see the cogs in his brain spinning from where you are.

This is foreign territory to you. You haven’t the slightest idea on how to deal with a situation like this one. You’re not even sure Lando fully does, given the way he’s acting right now. 

Still, it feels…violating. Having photos taken of you without your knowledge or consent, then having those photos spread around like they’re some sort of gossip. Even more so because you’ve felt safe around Lando up until this moment. 

Now he’s telling you to stay offline, to turn off your phone because strangers on the Internet will find you. You don’t even want to know what’ll happen when they do. 

“Will you slow down for a minute, please?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. He doesn’t answer, just continues in his back and forth actions. “Can we talk about this, or have you gotten everything about our relationship figured out on your own already?” 

It’s a bit petty, a little bratty of you. Of course he hasn’t gotten much of anything figured out—he’s only just been made aware of the situation that had likely progressed overnight. It isn’t something he should be having to deal with on his summer break, but he does. 

He stops in his tracks, stares at you blankly, and for a second, you think he’ll sit down and listen to you. But then he’s on the move again, rifling through his bag for something. “I think I should take you home.” 

You let out a sharp exhale, raising a skeptical brow. “Are you serious right now?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be? This isn’t a joke, this is my image we’re talking about.” He procures a wrinkled shirt from the depths of his bag, wasting no time in pulling it over his head. 

That leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You’re very aware that you have no idea what it’s like for him, no idea what it’s like to have your every move be so up for public speculation. That being said, you do know how a biting jab like that makes you feel. 

“Your image!” You chuckle wryly. “Oh, I’m so sorry, you’re right. You need to keep up your image, my bad.” 

There goes the tic in his jaw again. He’s still not making eye contact with you either, which irks you to no end. “Let me find my keys, I’ll drive you home.” 

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just take an Uber. Wouldn’t want to put your image at risk any more than I already have.” You throw the blankets off yourself, going to find your clothes yourself. 

Lando lets out a frustrated noise from the back of his throat. He’s probably just as ticked off as you are, but you're not really thinking of that right now. “C’mon, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll drive you home, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. He’s being all pissy like this and he still has the nerve to call you that. You fight to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at the nickname. You’re still getting used to it. Right now, you have a love hate relationship with it. 

“Fine.” 

That’s the last word said by either of you until you're almost back to your place. By this point, you've cooled down considerably. You’ve gathered your thoughts enough to realize you were being a little bitchy about the situation. He’s frustrated, you're frustrated, but it's not either of your faults. 

The car pulls to a stop and the doors unlock automatically, so technically you could just let yourself out without saying anything at all. You almost do, but you don't want to leave things the way they are with Lando right now. 

“I love you,” You say softly, carefully watching him for a reaction. 

The clench in his jaw softens almost imperceptibly, but the crease between his brows, the set of his shoulders, the laser focus he's got on something off in the distance, those still remain. 

It’s an entire world away from the way his face had lit up brighter than the sun when you said the exact same three words to him for the first time, just last night. “Text me when you get back so I know you're home safe?” 

“Yeah, sure.” His voice is clipped, void of any emotion. He doesn't want to talk. That you can see loud and clear. 

Still, you try again. “I’m sorry about the photos, Lan.” 

“Not your fault.” 

It’s not your fault either, you want to say. You want to look him in the eyes and tell him everything will be okay, that things will work out in the end. You don't—you can’t—because he’s angled himself away from you. 

Tears burn at the edges of your eyes and you think you can feel your heart crack a little bit, but you will yourself to get out of the car before he can see them fall. The last thing you need is to add to whatever is going on inside his head right now. 

Yeah, maybe you’d been a little combative with him at first, but at the end of everything, you love him now. You still want to figure things out together. But judging by the way he won’t even look you in the eye right now, it isn’t what he wants. 

How could you go from basking in the light of newfound love to barely being able to get a word out of him, with just one phone call? A phone call about you, your relationship with Lando, one where you don’t even know what was said. 

You hear him pull away as soon as you shut the door behind you. 

Is it bad that a small part of you is glad he waited for you to get inside? It means he still cares about you enough to make sure you’re in safely, even though he might be upset with you. 

Then you’re hit with the fact that he is upset with you, and that sliver of hope vanishes. 

You sink down onto the cold tile of the entryway, back against the door. Everything was so good and now it’s all going to shit, and you hate to think about how you’ve messed things up. 

“Tell us everything and don’t leave a single detail—” Maren’s gleeful shout dies in her throat the second she comes barreling around the corner and sees you on the floor with your head in your hands. 

She’s quick to call for the other two, rushing to your side in a second and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“I’m gonna kill him. Do I need to kill him?” Samira sounds beyond angry. You’ve only ever seen her this angry a few times, all of which you were glad to have never been the source of. 

Camille hushes Samira’s threats, kneeling by your other side. “What happened?” 

“Too much,” You mumble, half muffled by the sleeve of your jumper. Lando’s jumper. You want to rip it off and chuck it in the bin, but it’s the same one he’d been wearing the first night you spent together—soft and well loved, smelling like his cologne. Instead, your hands clench into fists around the worn cotton, squeezing the material tight between your fingers. 

You eventually find your way to the couch, where you remain until nightfall nears, a half empty bottle of wine sitting open on the coffee table in front of you while your comfort show plays quietly on the television. Realistically, you should be getting ready to go for a night out on the town, but you’re all in your pajamas, curled up against each other nicely. 

You’d managed to tell them what was going on through tears that had stopped a while ago, but the thought of Lando putting up walls to keep you out of the situation still burns bright in your mind. 

The doorbell rings suddenly and you wrinkle your nose, confused. 

Camille untangles herself from the pile, squeezing your hand gently. “I’ll get it! It’s probably our food.” You didn’t even know she’d ordered dinner, but you won't complain. All this wallowing in your hurt feelings has really spurred an appetite. 

But then Maren and Samira leave for the door too and you're alone on the couch, even more confused. 

“Don’t get mad at us, okay?” 

Your mouth pulls into a confused frown at your friends who’ve just reappeared, but then you see Lando step into the room. He looks disheveled and just like you were hoping he’s been feeling—guilty. 

Your eyes flick to the girls. You don’t feel betrayed, but rather the thought of them reaching out to Lando brings you a surge of love. 

They’ve always known what you need, even if you don’t know it yourself. 

“You two need to talk things out, so we’ll be in the kitchen. But if you make her cry again and I’ll kick your pretty rich boy ass, I swear to—” The rest of Samira’s threat is cut off by the other two pulling her out of sight. 

That just leaves you and Lando, staring at each other, expressions unreadable. He steps forward, hesitant feet bringing him to the edge of the couch, where he perches awkwardly. 

“Hey,” He says meekly, shoving his hands into the big pocket of his jumper. You can’t bring yourself to greet him back. “You weren’t answering any of my texts or calls.” 

He looks like he wants to reach out for you but refrains himself from doing so. You’re partly glad he does, because if he did, you’re not sure you could’ve stopped yourself from burying yourself in his arms. 

Instead, you stare at him blankly. “You told me to turn off my notifications.” 

Lando sucks in a breath through his teeth, head bobbing slightly. “I did say that, didn’t I?” 

“You shut me out, Lando. You wouldn’t even tell me what was happening,” You grit out. You’re hurt, to say the least. You hope he knows that. “Don’t you think I have the right to know what’s going on?” 

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry,” He insists, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean to shut down like that. I guess I’m just used to doing these kinds of things on my own, y’know? Usually when my name trends on social media, it’s something I’ve done. Something I’ve got to deal with the aftermath of. But now, this time…” 

“This time, there’s me,” You finish, frowning.

“Yeah. It isn’t just my life I have to think of, it’s yours too. Having your every move watched and judged by people who don’t know you is the last thing I want for you to have to go through. I can handle it because it comes with the job, but you shouldn’t have to. It isn’t fair to you.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“Isn’t it? We’re in this situation because of me. Because of who I am.” 

“You didn't ask for this. Like you said, it comes with the job, no matter what you do.”

“Yeah, but I—”

“Lando, I’m not mad that the photos got leaked, I was hurt because you just took me home and left me here without telling me what was going on,” You say. Your voice only wavers the tiniest bit, and you fight it even more. “It felt like you didn't want me to have any input on our relationship, and that's not what a relationship is supposed to be like. At least, not one that I want to be in. I would hope you’d feel the same way.” 

“I do. Baby, I do feel the same way. I love you, and I should’ve said it back in the car, I know. And I was angry this morning, but not at you, and I should’ve made that clear too. I was upset and I made some rash decisions, and I’m so sorry,” He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them again, there's pain swirling within them. “I just wanted something to be just mine for once. I wanted our relationship, I wanted you to be that something, because in my life, everything is public. Even if I’d rather it not be, somehow it always ends up out there for the whole world to see, and I don’t want that for us. I know you don’t want that. I don’t ever want you to feel like you're giving up anything to be with me. That being said, I understand if you want to call things off.” 

He doesn’t look at you when he says it, but the pure sense of defeat in his tone makes your guarded posture finally soften.

Despite how things were left this morning, the thought of calling things off with Lando had never even crossed your mind. The fact that he thinks it was enough to make you want to break up with him has every ounce of frustration you have towards him leaving your body. 

“I don’t,” You say firmly. His head flies up, gaze snapping to yours, a mixture of relief and confusion. “I don’t wanna break up, Lan.”

“Thank god, ‘cause I don’t either.” Finally, he reaches a hand out towards you, and you feel okay enough to crawl over and curl into his side. He immediately presses a smattering of kisses against the side of your head that makes your stomach feel all fuzzy again. “I hate that your privacy was stripped away so soon.” 

“Honestly? Part of me knew something like this might happen,” You admit, pulling his arm around you snugly. “I’ve made my peace with it.” 

“You have?” 

You shoot him a tiny frown paired with a sharp exhale. “Well, obviously it’s not great, but it was bound to happen at some point, right?” 

“So you’re cool with it?” 

“I’m not ready to make it publicly official, if that's what you're asking. But I’m…not as upset as I thought I’d be.” You shrug, humming thoughtfully. “Can I ask what your team said on the phone?” 

Lando lets a mirthless scoff escape from the back of his throat. It stings less now that you know he's not upset with you for asking about it. “They wanted me to say you were just some random girl. That you were a fan, or something, and that I didn’t know you.” 

“Well, that seems a little excessive.” 

“Yeah, I know, I said the same thing! Nobody with half a brain would believe it either. I mean, just look at us.” He digs his phone out of his pocket, scrolling around until he finds what he’s looking for and flipping it around for you to look at. 

Turns out you’d been right on the nose about someone recognizing Lando at the club. The photo is grainy and a little blurry, but you can tell it's him cozied up behind you even though his head is tipped down. There’s no mistaking that messy head of curls. 

Then there’s the one at the beach, of the two of you holding hands as you walk along the shore with your heels dangling from Lando’s fingers. There’s a video too—Lando brushing your hair away from your face before leaning in to kiss you gently. 

It’s still an invasion of privacy, definitely, but there's something romantic about it. Like, at least it's nothing bad. It’s just an outwards expression of your love. You might not be quite ready to share that love with the world just yet, but one day, you might.

“Y’know, if you ignore the whole gossip mill of it all, the pictures are actually kinda cute.” 

“Ha! You think so?” 

“Sure do. My boobs look great in the club one.”

Lando draws his lower lip between his teeth, shamelessly zooming in on the specific photo. “Mm, yeah they do, huh?” 

You scoff, digging your elbow into his stomach lightly. “Stop that!” 

“What? You said it, I’m just agreeing!” He protests, holding his hands up in surrender. Then he tilts his head hopefully. “We’re okay now? I’m forgiven for being a big stupid idiot?” He asks, tilting his head hopefully. You chuckle, nodding, and he beams. “Mint! Love you.” 

“I love you too, you big stupid idiot.” 

"Fuck, I love hearing you say that."

"What, big stupid idiot?" You tease, dodging the decorative pillow Lando swings your way.

"Funny. The first part, obviously. Say it again for me?"

"I love you, Lan," You say again, looking directly at him.

The giddy smile that curves his lips and makes his whole face brighten is worth everything to you. You'd tell Lando you love him every single day if it'd make him happy.

“Am I allowed to ask you all to come over? Max is fetching Pietra from the airport and she wants to meet you all so badly, I don’t think I’ll be allowed back in the house if I don’t bring you back with me,” He says, smile turning sheepish. “D’you think the girls are gonna try to kill me?”

“Uh, I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure? It’s a yes or no answer, baby.” 

“I’m ninety percent sure you’ll be fine.” 

“Ninety?” 

“Eighty five.” 

“That’s so much worse.” 

When you inevitably do make it back to Lando’s villa, Max and Pietra have just arrived home too, still outside as Lando pulls up right next to their car. 

Max folds you into a hug once you’re in range, pausing briefly to say quietly into your ear, “I knew you’d work things out. I’d have kicked his ass if he didn’t.”

You squeeze his shoulder gratefully, because you know he’d had something to do with getting Lando to make things right. 

Pietra and Lando bicker kind of like siblings, but even then you can tell they're close. He introduces her to all of you, and she instantly melds in so seamlessly with you and your girls it feels like you’ve been friends for ages, chattering away about what Max has told her about your adventures in Greece so far.

Finally, things really are all perfect in your little world. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new chapter :)

[shizuturnspages]

I love your yan Diluc, it's genuinely one of THE best ones I've seen!!

Please consider: Diluc w/ reader being Knight of Favoinus

Yandere Diluc with a Knight of Favonius Darling

Diluc doesn’t hate the Knights of Favonius—not entirely. But the idea of the one person he cherishes most being a part of the organization he’s grown so disillusioned with? That’s a bitter pill for him to swallow.

Conflicted Emotions:

❥ Diluc sees your role in the Knights as both a strength and a vulnerability. He admires your bravery and dedication, but he loathes the idea of you putting yourself in harm’s way for an institution he believes is fundamentally flawed.

❥ “You work yourself to exhaustion for people who wouldn’t lift a finger for you,” he says one evening, his tone sharp. “The Knights don’t deserve you.”

Possessive Concern:

❥ Your status as a Knight makes Diluc hyperaware of the risks you face daily. Missions, patrols, skirmishes—they all represent potential threats to your safety, and that drives him mad.

❥ He often tries to convince you to take easier assignments or outright avoid dangerous missions. If that doesn’t work, he’s not above subtly interfering—delaying your orders, pulling strings to reassign you, or even secretly completing your mission for you.

❥ “You can’t expect me to stand by and watch you risk your life,” he insists when you confront him. “I’m only doing what’s best for you.”

Tension with the Knights:

❥ Diluc’s disdain for the Knights creates friction in your relationship, especially when it comes to Kaeya. He doesn’t trust his brother’s motives or influence over you, and he’s not shy about expressing that.

❥ If Kaeya so much as teases you in Diluc’s presence, the tension is palpable. “I’d appreciate it if you kept your distance,” Diluc says coldly, his eyes narrowing at his brother.

The Darknight’s Shadow:

❥ As the Darknight Hero, Diluc often follows you on patrols without your knowledge. He sees it as his duty to ensure your safety, even if it means operating in your shadow.

❥ You might notice fewer threats during your patrols, unaware that Diluc has already taken care of them. To him, it’s proof that he’s the only one truly capable of protecting you.

Scenario: A Dangerous Mission

The bustling streets of Mondstadt were a far cry from the quiet tension brewing in the Dawn Winery. You stood near the doorway, adjusting the straps of your armour, while Diluc leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

“You’re not going,” he said, his voice low but firm.

You sighed, not for the first time. “Diluc, it’s my job. There’s a report of hilichurls near Springvale, and I’ve been assigned to handle it. It’s routine.”

“It’s unnecessary.” His crimson eyes met yours, burning with intensity. “They’re sending you on missions that anyone else could handle. Why does it always have to be you?”

“Because I’m good at what I do,” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “And because this is what I signed up for.”

Diluc straightened, pushing off the wall to close the distance between you. “You’re risking your life for people who wouldn’t care if something happened to you.” His voice wavered, and for a moment, his mask of stoicism cracked. “Do you think they’d mourn you the way I would?”

You faltered, taken aback by the raw emotion in his words. But you couldn’t let him control you—not like this.

“That’s not fair,” you said, your tone softer now. “I know you care, Diluc. But this is my choice, my responsibility. I can’t just abandon it because you don’t like the Knights.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue further. But instead, he turned away, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Fine,” he said, his voice icy. “But don’t expect me to sit by and do nothing.”

Later that night, as you patrolled near Springvale, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. The moon hung high in the sky, casting long shadows over the forest. Every so often, you thought you saw movement out of the corner of your eye, but when you turned, there was nothing there.

Unbeknownst to you, Diluc trailed in the distance, his claymore resting against his shoulder as he eliminated threats before they could reach you. He moved silently, his dark cloak blending with the night.

When you returned to Mondstadt unharmed, you’d chalk it up to an uneventful patrol. But for Diluc, it was proof that his vigilance was necessary.

As you fell asleep that night, exhausted from your duties, Diluc stood watch outside your window, his gaze unwavering.

“You’ll see it one day,” he murmured to himself. “That I’m the only one who truly cares. The only one who’ll protect you.”

[thequeenofthedisneyverse]

How to NOT write like Vivziepop guide!

Writing tips:

1. Don't treat SA/Rape as a joke. Seriously, it shouldn't be that hard. EX: In Helluva Boss; Spring Broken, Moxxie goes to talk to Verosika and her crew in hopes to get them to move her car. He gets SA'd as a result and we're supposed to see that as a joke.

I don't specifically remember the episode name, but Sir pentious asks Cherri if she wants to have sex with him but he then gets scared/nervous and says "BECAUSE I WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH EVERYONE!!" or something like that. He then gets taken by a bunch of people into a room and he CLEARLY looks uncomfortable. Again, I suppose we're supposed to see that as a joke for some reason.

SA/Rape isn't funny, and you can offend tons of people writing it so carelessly. DON'T DO THAT!

2. If your characters come from a certain era, RESEARCH THAT ERA. Ex: Alastor was supposed to be a famous radio host in the 1920s (seeing as he died in 1933) when he was alive despite being a mixed (Black and white) man. Jim Crow laws existed in those times so Alastor couldn't have become a popular radio host unless he was white passing, which we don't know. Also, from what I got from @bump-inthe-night the first black radio personality in Louisiana was Vernon Winslow, known as Dr. Daddy-O, in 1949.

Also, from @bump-inthe-night - (her words were pasted here because I couldn't have said it better myself) Despite dying in 1947, Angel overdosed on PCP. This drug was discovered in 1926, and it started being utilized as a general anesthetic in the 1950s. PCP became a street drug in the 1960s and gained popularity in the 1970s. It's impossible for Angel to have overdosed on this drug when he was alive. RESEARCH. BEFORE. YOU. WRITE. THE. CHARACTER.

This is also from @/bump-inthe-night. Sir Pentious died in 1888, but he’s wearing a shoulder-padded suit. Shoulder pads, invented in 1877, were used in football uniforms. They didn’t cross over into fashion and become popular until the 1930s. Sir Pentious shouldn’t be wearing a shoulder-padded suit, and neither should Vox, who died in the 1950s, when this started falling out of style.

3. Don't victimize characters that obviously shouldn't be victimized. Example: Stolas.

I will tag the people who inspired this post and paste their stuff here because they say these things better than me.

@flower-boi16 says "So fucking what if Stolas was neglected as a child or had a mean wife? How does that relate to ANY of his actions he takes throughout the series??? It doesn’t excuse SHIT. Granted, the “this character’s trauma is not an excuse” argument is a kind of argument I’ve grown to be annoyed by due to how often it gets misused. Yes, a character’s backstory or trauma doesn’t excuse or justify their actions.

The issue arises though when the character’s bad actions are a direct response to that trauma and so it can make it look like your just ignoring major context for what lead to the character doing these actions just so you can label them as irredeemable. With Stolas, however, I have no hesitation in saying that whatever backstory and trauma he may have I genuinely don’t care because that trauma doesn’t matter to ANY of his actions.

The “his daughter doesn’t like him” defense doesn’t work because 1. Octavia is shown to still care for her father and is actually shown to be excited to spend time with him in Seeing Stars and 2. Octavia has a perfectly valid reason to dislike Stolas given how shitty of a father he is to her.

The “Stolas is well meaning/believes that Blitzo likes being treated like a sex toy” defense also doesn’t work when Stolas can very clearly see that Blitzo does NOT like being treated that way. Ffs Blitz was completely shocked and disgusted by Stolas’ sexual remarks on him on the phone in Loo Loo Land, Stolas can clearly see Blitz DOESN'T ENJOY THIS but continues flirting with him anyway. Anyone who is well-meaning can still see when they fucked up."

@floralcavern "Stolas is the epitome of writers thinking they wrote a deep character when they actually created the most shallowly written character of all time. Stolas receives no consequences, no call outs, no growth, because he gets the excuse of ‘he’s abused’ to not have to face anything bad happen to him. It’s infuriating how shielded he is by the writers."

4. Understand what your writing! This is also from @/floralcavern and I couldn't agree more. "And Helluva Boss didn’t need extremely deep characters. It started off as a comedy, where characters could do messed up, edgy shit because nothing is meant to be taken seriously. But then suddenly the show decides to become a super serious, soap opera drama?? It completely derails its original premise to be something completely different. The beginning of Helluva Boss and what we currently have are 2 completely different shows. And I’m not saying comedies can’t have depth. One of my favorite examples is Dan Da Dan! It’s literally a show about a guy whose dick was stolen by a ghost. And yet, the show writers know how to balance ridiculous comedy and storytelling with genuine, human moments. But Viv’s shows don’t have that balance. The show is hardly a comedy anymore and takes itself way too seriously, while also refusing to acknowledge actual things that need to be acknowledged."

5. This should be obvious but don't make male characters (or any characters for that matter) that are supposed to be gay call their sisters "hot" or "Sexy". Example: Andrelphus or whatever his name is. It comes off as extremely gross and really unnecessary. Vivziepop said he does that to make others think he's straight?????...Andrelphus was literally in the pride parade art. WTF VIV?!

So yeah, don't do that unless it's relevant to the plot. Like the characters have a secret incestual relationship or the incest is being pushed/forced onto the other sibling character or SOMETHING! And no, before you say it, Stella never looked comfortable being called attractive by her own brother.

5. Don't fetishize rape or have/hire people that work under you that do. It's as simple as that.

6. When writing serious topics such as SA, TREAT THE TOPIC SERIOUSLY!

7. Be mindful of stereotypes. I've learned (with the help of others pointing it out) that Angel Dust is a stereotype of gay men.

8. Call out your characters for their actions. Angel is shown to sexually harass other male characters with no call outs or apologies. Same can be said for Stolas.

I'm not sure of what else to add. If anyone else wants to add something, feel free to comment or reblog. Your words will help others a lot!

[kjack89]

New year, same bullshit. I’m sorry I’ve been so MIA, friends, but I hope you accept this drabble as an explanation of sorts. Love you all ❤️

“Should I be worried?”

Grantaire’s eyes flicker up to Enjolras’s, his cereal spoon halfway to his mouth. “Do you mean, like, in general?” he asks. “Because I mean, like, it’s 2025. And we’re all fucked. So.”

He sticks his spoon in his mouth and shrugs. Enjolras doesn’t smile. “That’s on me for not being more specific, I guess,” he says, scrubbing a hand across his mouth before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You’re not painting.”

Grantaire swallows. “Well, no,” he allows, “mainly because I’m eating breakfast at the moment.”

“Be serious.”

Grantaire’s lips twitch. “It’s somewhat less funny when you know it’s coming.”

Enjolras arches an eyebrow. “And yet that’s never stopped you before.”

“Fair.” Grantaire twirls his spoon between his fingers before pronouncing, like the well-worn, inside joke it had become, “I am wild.”

Almost certainly despite himself, Enjolras smiles, just slightly. “Yeah, you are,” he agrees. “But you’re also not painting.”

Grantaire’s answering smile fades. “Could be,” he says, a little sullenly. “It’s not like you’re around enough to know.”

It’s a low blow and he knows it, but Enjolras doesn’t flinch. “Maybe not but we live in a late capitalist surveillance state so I have my ways of finding out.”

“Well, well, well, typical white man, complaining about the system except for when it directly benefits you.”

“Yep,” Enjolras says. “Are you going to keep deflecting? Because I can do this all day.”

For a moment, Grantaire’s tempted to take him up on it, to see just how long he’ll actually allow this to drag on. It’d almost certainly be good fun, and it isn’t like Grantaire’s got anything better to do.

But he can also see that Enjolras is genuinely worried, can see it in the tightness of his shoulders and the lines at the corners of his eyes that he tries to claim aren’t crow’s feet because he’s not old enough to have crow’s feet. And considering Grantaire’s previous point about all of the other things that are almost certainly more worth Enjolras’s worry, he supposes he owes him at least a semblance of the truth.

“Yes, I haven’t been painting,” he says, dipping his spoon in his bowl of cereal and stirring it, mostly to give himself something to do with his hands. “No, you shouldn’t be worried.”

Enjolras nods like he didn’t really expect a different answer. “Are you depressed again?”

Enjolras’s bluntness, characteristic though it may be, still startles a laugh from Grantaire. He sighs and looks down at his cereal bowl. “There’s not really a way to say this that won’t worry you.”

When he sneaks a glance at him, Enjolras meets his eyes evenly. “Try me.”

Grantaire jerks a shrug. “I’ve never really not been depressed,” he admits, which isn’t really a dirty secret so he’s not entirely sure why he’s saying it like it is.

Maybe because he really doesn’t want Enjolras to worry. They don’t talk about this, really, other than for Enjolras to reiterate more times than Grantaire can count that he’s always there to listen if ever Grantaire wants or needs to talk.

He knows that Grantaire’s in therapy, and takes meds, and had some very low lows previously, but Grantaire’s never felt the need to fill him in on the specifics.

It was depressing enough living it the first time.

He made that joke, such as it was, to his therapist, who didn’t laugh. “Do you frequently feel like you’re a burden to your loved ones?” she asked in response.

Of course Grantaire does, but again, he won’t tell Enjolras that.

Enjolras taps his fingers on the table, the way he does when he’s deciding on the best plan of attack or how to most effectively dismantle whatever asinine argument Grantaire’s brought up. “I thought you were doing better,” he says hesitantly after a moment.

He doesn’t pitch it as a question but Grantaire still nods. “I was.”

“What happened?” Enjolras asks, before pausing and asking, “Did something happen?”

Grantaire sighs and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “It doesn’t always work that way,” he says. “It’s not always triggered by something happening.”

Enjolras’s brow furrows. “Right,” he says shortly, something like disappointment flitting across his expression.

It took Grantaire a very long time when they got together to realize that this kind of disappointment isn’t aimed at him, but at a problem Enjolras can’t fix, an enemy he can’t fight.

At least, not directly.

He clears his throat. “But in this case, I think probably everything over the past few months played at least a contributory role, shall we say.”

True though it is, he mostly says it for Enjolras’s sake. Enjolras just nods slowly. “Are you not painting because your depression is bad again?”

Grantaire exhales sharply. “I’ve painted a lot while depressed.”

Enjolras’s expression doesn’t shift. “Another excellent deflection.”

Grantaire barks a laugh and scrubs both hands across his face. “You know me too fucking well.”

“Or just well enough.”

Grantaire lowers his hands and sighs again. He doesn’t quite meet Enjolras’s eyes as he says, “Every time I go try to paint…it’s like I can’t see it anymore, you know?” Enjolras almost certainly doesn’t know, but he’s struggling to put it into words in a way he can understand. “Like I can’t picture it in my mind, how I want it to look, or how to get there. It’s– it’s like trying to paint in fog.”

It’s not an exact metaphor, but it’ll do.

Enjolras nods slowly. “But I don’t need to be worried.”

“No,” Grantaire says, before wrinkling his nose. “Yes? I never know what the correct response is.” Enjolras just gives him a look, and Grantaire tells him, “No, you don’t need to be worried.” He pauses, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before telling Enjolras with an almost tired conviction, “It’ll come back. It always has.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Enjolras asks.

Grantaire cracks a smile. “Then you can worry.”

Enjolras takes a deep breath. “Ok,” he says simply.

Grantaire eyes him resignedly. “You’re going to worry anyway, aren’t you?”

A smile twitches at the corners of Enjolras’s mouth. “Newsflash, asshole, I’ve been worried this whole time,” he says dryly, and Grantaire’s smile widens at the quote.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Enjolras’s smile disappears.

“What? Why?”

Grantaire shakes his head, mostly because he knows Enjolras won’t like his explanation. “Because you shouldn’t have to—”

Sure enough, Enjolras cuts him off with a scowl, though his voice is gentle as he tells him, “That ship I’m pretty sure sailed when I fell in love with you. Or, frankly, probably a good deal sooner than that.”

There are so many things that Grantaire wants to say that, but he can’t bring himself to. Instead, he stretches his hand across the table and tells Enjolras, sincerely, “I love you.”

Enjolras takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I know,” he says softly. “I love you, too.” He squeezes Grantaire’s hand before adding, “I hope it comes back soon.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire agrees. “So do I.”

[nonranghaes]

heads up: this is longer than what i usually post here. oops.

this... is not how the story is supposed to go. your head is pounding when you wake up, body slumped slightly forward save for the way you've been bound to the chair you were thrown into. you blink a few times, brows drawing together as you lift your head. when did you get here...? one minute you were escaping up into this tower, the next...

fuck. where's your satchel? you gasp, immediately trying to pull one of your arms free. what the hell is this--hair? "shit. shit, shit, shit--"

"struggling..." a voice calls out, faltering just a bit, and you freeze. "struggling is pointless."

... fuck, what did you get into this time? the kingdom's already after your head and, with your luck, they're probably on their way to haul you off into a cell for the rest of your life. you can hear the sound of someone climbing down, and can make out the frame of that same person standing in the shadows.

"i'm not afraid of you. so... who are you?" he speaks again, slowly making his way forward. "and how did you find me?"

... huh? "sorry?" you furrow your brows. "i don't--"

"i said--" he steps into the light, and you're met with the pretty face of a young man... and the owner of the hair you're currently, literally, in. "who are you," he grips an iron pan in one hand like a weapon, and he looks like he could kill if he had to (then again, you think most people are like that when they see you nowadays), "and how did you find me?"

for a moment, you think you've seen his face before. a passing moment, nothing serious, but the feeling fades all too quickly. "look, buddy--"

"jeonghan." he spits his name at you, but there's a playfulness in his eyes as he makes his way over to you, lightly poking you with the pan. "you're the one tied up right now. you should respect me, hm?"

"look, jeonghan," you say, "i don't know who you are. i don't even want to be here. i just want to leave you alone, alright?" you tug again at the restrains. since when was hair this strong...? "you let me go, give me my bag, and i'll get out of your hair."

he crosses his arms, sizing you up. "i don't think so."

shutting your eyes, you try to gather some sort of patience. you don't have time for this. that fucking horse is probably sniffing you out right now. "i mean it! thought this place was abandoned, and, uh," you put on the most charming smile you can as you look at him, "didn't expect a handsome fella like you to be here--my bad, truly--but i've got places to be that aren't here."

that playfulness disappears in his eyes as he studies you. "... you really don't want my hair, then?"

"with all due respect, why the fuck would i want your hair?"

jeonghan eyes you suspiciously, and makes his way over to a different wall behind you. "no reason. how about we make a deal?"

you can hear the sound of him climbing behind you, and then the harsh tug of his impossibly long hair sends your chair spinning until you've hit the floor with a grunt. with a little struggling, you manage to peer up to where he's pulling back a curtain, revealing a mural of the lantern festival the kingdom does every year for the lost prince.

he nodes toward it. "you know what these are?"

"who doesn't?" you push as hard as you can just to get your weight off of your face and neck, and manage to get the chair sideways. "floating lantern thing. king and queen do it every year. think it's tomorrow." you pause for a moment. "... was that the deal? i answer your question and you let me go?"

his brows lift, and he's genuinely delighted with your initial response. he rushes down to you, already pushing your chair up so that he can be face to face with you. "the deal is," he presses the end of the pan against your chest, "you take me to go see those things and bring me back home... and then i'll give you your satchel back."

"... uh. no." you eye him suspiciously. does this guy... not have any idea who you are? waltzing back into the kingdom now would be a death sentence for you, especially with your name on one third of the wanted posters out there. "just go by yourself."

jeonghan's smile falls, and he crosses his arms. "so you don't want your bag? you'll never find it without me." he strolls away from you, looking out the nearby window. "it might not even be here next time you wake up..."

shit. he's too serious to not mean it. you've risked everything to steal that crown, including trusting two idiots that are probably also planning your death right about now. "that's it?" you turn your face as best as you can see him. "lights show and then home. that's all you want?"

he smiles at you. "is there something i should add?"

fine. if pretty man wants a road trip... then you can give him a road trip. "then it's a deal."

another tug of his hair sends your chair spinning around. to your surprise, you don't hit the floor: jeonghan's hand catches the back of it as he grins at you. "it's a pleasure doing business with you, then."