#and there is so much happening here with the hands

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm: Christmas

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Christmas in the STTC Universe

"Alexia!" Mapi shrieks," Alexia! Stop ignoring me! Alexia!"

Alexia hums to herself, hunched over her phone as she scrolls through another website.

Mapi, however, forces her way through mountains and mountains of stacked boxes to get to the other side of the room.

The locker room is covered in boxes from top to bottom with some even crammed into areas that they really shouldn't be able to be forced into.

"Ale! Alexia!"

Alexia looks up in shock. "Oh! Mapi! When did you get here?"

"About ten minutes ago! Which you would know if you didn't have this place stocked up like the back room of a shoe shop!"

Alexia frowns. "What do you mean? There's only five boxes of shoes here."

"I wasn't being literal!" Mapi snaps before massaging her temples with her hands. "What is all this stuff?! And why is it here?!"

"They're presents," Alexia says it like Mapi's dumb," For Christmas."

"Obviously but why are they here?"

"Well, I couldn't leave them at home. Maya's in that exploring stage so she'd get curious and try to look through them. And Elena's learning to crawl and this stuff would just get in way."

"So you thought that you would put all the presents for your whole family in here? With us?"

"No," Alexia scoffs," Don't be silly, Mapi."

"This is only temporary then? Thank god because I-"

"This is only Maya's gifts. Elena's are in one of the meeting rooms and y/n's are hidden at Alba's...Mapi? Are you okay? Your face is turning an odd colour."

Mapi's dramatic walk off is hindered somewhat by smacking her nose straight into a pile of boxes and nearly falling back into another one but, eventually, she manages to storm out and straight upstairs to your office.

You're sitting in your desk chair, looking through player health files or something when the door is slammed open.

"Your wife is crazy!"

"And hello to you too, Mapi. Come on in!"

"Crazy!" Mapi repeats, pacing in short, aggravated circles," She's crazy! The locker room is covered! Covered! In Christmas presents for your daughter! You have to get her to stop!"

You don't have a time to reply because the door swings open again and Alexia bursts in.

"Amor!" She cries," I found the cutest little booties for Elena! Look! Look!"

"No..." Mapi says softly," No...This-This can't be happening..."

"They're so cute!" You tell Alexia with equal enthusiasm," She'll love them so much! Order them! Order them!"

Alexia types in the delivery address and her card details and orders it happily before looking up.

"Where did Mapi go?"

It's a question that neither of you really dwell on that much as you show Alexia your own present ideas.

Wrapping the presents the night before isn't an easy task and you get the feeling that you and Alexia might have gone just a bit overboard. It's only a fleeting thought as you and Alexia wrap the boxes and tie them off with bows, writing sweet messages to your daughters on them even though neither of them can read just yet.

"We're all sleeping together tonight, right?" Alexia asks as she finishes off her last present, placing it in Elena's sizable pile.

"Us and the girls, definitely," You agree," I'm not sure if you'll get all the dogs and Mr Stinky in bed with us."

Mr Stinky looks up from his spot on the special pillow that's reserved just for him on the sofa. The tumours on his body have gotten much bigger now and he's getting weaker and weaker by the day.

He's got one more scan to come back to see if anything can be done but this could be his very last Christmas.

"Mr Stinky won't mind," Alexia assures you," He loves cuddling in our bed."

"And Lady?"

"Lady loves cuddling too!"

"And Sinky and his sisters?"

Alexia purses her lips. The puppies are still a bit wild and excitable at times, none of them ever content to just stay in one place even though the bed is more than big enough for everyone to fit into it.

"We'll leave the bedroom door open," Alexia says sagely, nodding her head like she's just cracked the secrets of the universe," So they can come in if they want."

"Alright," You say, standing up and stretching your back," I'm going to bring Mr Stinky up and then grab Elena. You'll let the dogs out one last time and get Maya?"

Alexia nods, drawing you back for a moment by your waist to press a kiss to your lips.

"I will, amor."

"Good," You say," And hurry up."

Alexia nods along with a smile, already heading to open the back door for the dogs.

Your footsteps approaching again makes Alexia turn and you speak directly in her ear.

"And I've got a very special present for you tomorrow when the girls have gone to sleep."

"Oh?"

You giggle right in her ear, low and sultry. "You're going to have a lot of fun unwrapping me for Christmas."

[mariasont]

EEEEK your post prison fic for spencer is fREAking me out!!! could you maybe do one where spencer is now teasing the reader a bit? maybe he's giving her extra praise and she freaks (what would i do if he called me a good girl? 😩) (this is very indulgent to my praise kink i'm so so sorry 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️) tytyty!! i adore love and cherish you and your work 💕

I Aim To Please - S.R

a/n: shewwwwww to be complimented by post prison spencer fucking reid. im drooling!!!! but anyway babes i adore & love YOU!!!! so thank u so so sooo much for requesting 💖💖

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x shy!media-liaison!reader

warnings: spencer being hot, reader being shy girl, spencer being a little shit who loves to tease

wc: 1.5k

There were a few basic rules you had established from working at BAU. First, avoid Rossi at all costs until he’s had at least two cups of coffee. Second, never attempt to outwit Emily; she’ll see right through you and crush your argument every single time. And third—perhaps the most crucial—do everything in your power to maintain your freaking composure around Dr. Reid.

That last one, however, was proving to be a monumental challenge. It wasn’t just the way he spoke, his brain firing off at a speed only he could keep up with. It wasn’t even the way he seemed oblivious to how endearing those very quirks were. No, it was the fact that the simple act of him breathing in your direction had you scrambling to hold yourself together. And honestly you were failing miserably.

Which is why you spent most of your time holed up in your office. It wasn’t much—just a desk, a slightly uncomfortable chair, and a perpetually growing stack of case files that seemed determined to bury you. But it offered privacy, and that was enough. Here you could breathe, decompress, and occasionally allow yourself to daydream about a certain genius profiler without the risk of public humiliation.

The bullpen was proving to be too chaotic, too close to him. Your office gave you distance, a buffer. But, as you had come to learn, hiding only worked when he didn’t decide to seek you out. And Spencer Reid had a knack for finding you when you least expected it.

"Hey."

You jumped slightly, nearly fumbling the stack of press notes you’d been carefully organizing.

Turning toward the door, you found Spencer leaning casually against the frame, a file tucked under one arm and a distracted sort of smile on his face. His tie was slightly loosened, his sleeves rolled up just enough to expose his forearms, and—just like that—your brain completely short-circuited.

"Hi," you said, trying not to sound too startled. "Do you, um, need something?"

"Yeah." He further into the room, lifting the file in explanation. "I was looking at the local coverage of our case, and I noticed a couple discrepancies in the timeline published."

"Oh,” you said softly, quickly shuffling the press notes into a messy pile and pushing them to the side. "Well, um, sometimes reporters try to fill gaps when they don't the facts. It's... frustrating, but it happens."

You glanced up at him briefly, but that look of his made your cheeks warm. Your fingers twisted together in your lap as you tried to focus on anything other than how ridiculously self-conscious you suddenly felt.

"That makes sense. I figured you'd know."

Instead of lingering in the doorway or leaving like you assumed he would, Spencer, casually grabbed the chair across from your desk. He spun it around in one fluid motion and sat it backwards, draping his arms on the backrest with an ease that felt strangely familiar—like you had been friends or colleagues for years instead of just a few months.

"I'll reach out to them about fixing the timeline," you said, your hand instinctively moving a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You clasped your hands together to still them, offering a small, nervous smile. "It shouldn't be too hard to correct."

"Thanks," he said. "That'll probably save from giving another long-winded lecture on factual reporting."

You gave a quiet laugh, grateful for the distraction from your tasks, though you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about the company. Not that you didn’t enjoy his company—there was plenty to enjoy, more than you cared to admit. If you could manage to function like a normal human being around him, you might even look forward to moments like this.

But then he tilted his head slightly, his eyes studying you as if he were unraveling some kind of puzzle and for one terrifying second, you were convinced he could hear every single thought racing through your mind.

"So," he began, "how are you liking it here so far? The job, I mean. Is it what you expected?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. "Oh, um... yeah. It's been great so far. Busy, but... I like it."

"That's good," he said, nodding. "I know it’s not exactly the most predictable job. Some people don't expect it to be so... chaotic."

"Well," you said, fidgeting slightly with your pen. "I knew what I was signing up for. Or, at least I thought I did. It's a lot, but it's rewarding."

"That's a good attitude to have," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Honestly, you're doing a great job. I don't know how you manage to keep everything straight."

Your heart leaped, thudding in your chest as warmth flooded your face. You weren’t used to hearing compliments, especially from someone like him. You wanted to savor the moment, to bottle up the way his words made you feel, but your nerves refused to let you fully enjoy it.

"I'm just, um, organized I guess,” you stammered, your hand flying up to rub at the back of your neck.

"More than just organized," he replied easily, completely unaware of how his words were affecting you. "You've got half the team wrapped around your finger already. Even Rossi listen when you talk. That's impressive."

Your face burned. "I think that's more about respect for the job than me."

Spencer shrugged lightly, as he was watching you, like he didn't quite believe you. "Maybe. Or maybe you're just better at this than you give yourself credit for."

You let out a nervous chuckle, fingers twitching as you fiddled with the corner of the paper in front of you.

"I don't... I don't know about that."

He tilted his head, again, his brow quirking. "Do you know how to take a compliment?"

"Of course I do." You were sure your voice lacked the conviction needed.

He smirked, leaning forward over the chair. "Doesn't seem like it."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck in your throat, tangled in the frantic web that was your thoughts around this infuriating man.

"Well, uh, you’ve only done it twice, so I don’t think that’s enough for you to judge."

His grin widened. "Oh? So you’re saying I should try again? For research purposes?"

Your eyes widened, and you blinked rapidly as if to process his words, your hands shooting up as if to physically block the implication. "I—uh—no, that's not what I meant.”

"No, no," he said, sitting up straighter and waiving off your flustered attempt to deflect. "I aim to please. If more compliments are what you’re after, I’ve got plenty.”

"Please, no."

"You're incredibly efficient. Seriously, I think you've managed to anticipate what the team needs before we even know we need it. And your ability to keep your cool under pressure? That's impressive. I mean, do you even get stressed? Because if you do, you hide it really well."

"Dr. Reid—," you squeaked, covering your face with your hands as if that could somehow shield you from the onslaught of praise.

"And," he continued, clearly now enjoying himself. "You're probably the most patient person, I've ever met. Which is something, considering you work with people who constantly interrupt and derail your perfectly planned press briefings."

Your stomach flipped, and you felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment pooling in your chest. As much as you wanted to sink to the floor, the way he looked at you sent every nerve in your body spiraling. Each word felt like it was tailored to you, peeling back the very thin veneer of control you’d desperately tried to maintain over the massive crush you found yourself drowning in.

Your head dropped to the desk with a soft thunk, muffling your groan. "Okay, okay, I get it."

He leaned forward just slightly, resting his chin on his arms atop the chair. "Now what do you say?"

"Thank you."

He smirked widened. "See? That wasn't so hard was it?"

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you averted your eyes, trying to hide the nervous smile tugging at your lips. "You didn't have to go on and on..."

"Oh, but I did." He was still grinning. "You deserved it."

You risked a glance back at him, losing your cool by the second. That only made your face heat up more. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you haven't kicked me out of your office."

"That's only because I didn’t think it would work."

"Well," he said, turning towards the door. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't mind the compliments."

You opened your mouth to protest but no words came out. Instead, you watched helplessly as he shot you one last smile before disappearing into the hallway.

When the door finally clicked shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath and drop your head back onto the desk.

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[kirislovelygf]

self-care night (sevika x fem! reader)

contents: after the battle and after losing jinx and isha, you take it upon yourself to take care of sevika, giving her a much needed quiet night. total fluff, you and sevika are married, post seaosn 2 finale, sevika is finally taken care of like she deserves <3

wrd count: 1.6k

a few mornings ago, sevika had her first day on the job as a councilwoman. 

caitlyn gave up her seat on the council to give sevika the opportunity to speak up for zaun. 

she came home that evening angry as anything. the other councilpeople acted like she didn't even exist. 

and when she was able to speak up, her requests went in one ear and out the other. 

when she received the opportunity to have a seat on the council, we were thrilled. but after that day, she's been trying hard not to blow up on everyone and confirm their suspicions of what would happen with a zaunite on the council. 

tonight, i made her a warm and filling meal and set up the bathroom with candles and pleasant soaps so she can take a relaxing bath. 

i was sitting on the couch reading a book when she came home. 

she closes the door and looks up at me. "hi." she mutters. 

"hey. another long day?" i ask her gently. 

"tch.. you tell me." she joked. she sat down at the kitchen table that was just beside the front door to yank her boots off her feet. 

i close my book and placed it aside before walking over to her. as she struggled to untie the laces of her boots, i cupped her face so she could look up at me. 

"sorry, honey." i muttered before i kissed her. "at least you get the weekend off." i said as i looked at her face. she smiled gently before i crouched to untie the laces of her boots. 

"hey, i was doing that." she chuckled as i threw them on the doormat. "i'm not helpless." 

"just let me take care of you." i smiled. i look at her once more. "why don't you wash up for dinner. i was able to make your favorite tonight." i said to her as i stepped away to check on the food on the stove. 

i hear her come up beside me and take a look at the food that's simmering. 

"damn.. all this for just us?" she said. 

"yeah. i know you skipped out on lunch, so you must be starving." i said as i stirred the meat on the saucepan. 

"how'd you know i skipped lunch?" she asks me. i looked up at her. "i always do. now, go. wash your hands." she laughs softly before washing her hands in the sink. 

i quickly plate everything for her and place ehr food at the table just as she sits down. once i set everything down, i went to plate my own food. 

i turned to go sit down and i saw she hadn't touched anything in front of her. didn’t even move to pick up her fork. "what are you waiting for? eat." i chuckled. 

"i'm waiting for you, dummy." she chuckled, picking up her fork. i smiled at her as i settled into my seat. 

dinner was quiet but nice. i left music playing on the radio as i watched her enjoy her meal like she hasn't had one in forever. 

"this is.. amazing, honey. shit, i was starving." she said after slamming her cup of water down. i chuckled lightly. 

"i can tell." she smiles softly at me. after she got some food in her system, she talked to me about her stressful day as she waited for me to finish my meal. 

"they don't know.. anything about what life is like down here. hell, half of them think we've grown up in sewer pipes." she said quickly. 

"they cannot be serious." i shook my head lightly. "you would think they're stupid at first glance." she jokes. 

"maybe once they have someone with common sense on the council, they'll make better decisions." 

"yeah.. it's gonna take a while though." she hums. i watch her soft expression that is rarely ever seen. i love my wife. 

after washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen, i went nad ran the bath for her while she was occupied in our room, cleaning her mechanical arm. 

once i lit the last candle and turned off the lights, i went to our room to see her at her desk tinkering with the screws and nooks and crannies of her arm. 

"hey, vika?" i said softly. 

"hm?" she looks up at me from her device. "i ran you a bath. come on." i muttered

she smirks over her shoulder. "oh yeah?" 

"don't be gross. it's not like that." i chuckled. 

"oh.. damn.." she grumbled. "come on." i laugh. she follows me to the bathroom and i stand, leaning on the doorway

"you can stay there for however long you want. just relax, alright?" 

"whoa.." she gasped lightly at the acne in the bathroom. 

she looks down at me. "i- you didn't have to do all this." she hummed. 

i shrugged. "you're right. but i wanted to." 

she smiles. she wraps her arm around me while i do the same with both of mine. 

"i don't deserve you. seriously." she hummed after planting a kiss on my head. 

"yeah, you do." i said softly. 

i sat in our room while sevika took her bath. as i was flipping through the pages of my book, i remembered i had gone out and bought a scrub. at a shop up on topside, so it's bound to be good. 

i found it and went to the bathroom to give it to her. i knocked before walking into the dimly lit bathroom. she was sitting in the bath with her hair guarding her eyes from being seen at the side. 

"i bought this scrub today and thought you might like it." i said softly. “you did? why?” 

i sat on my knees as i unscrewed the top of the bottle. “it reminded me of you. here, smell." i said to her. 

i held it up to her nose and she took a quick whiff before humming. "it's nice.. like pine." she said. 

she went to grab it but i pulled it away. "let me." i said. 

"come on, honey. i can clean myself just fine." she chuckled softly. "no one's saying you can't. i just wanna do it for you." 

i look at her eyes before moving her strands aside. "you can't get your back anyway." i said. 

she rolled her eyes. "alright.." she hummed. i got up to find a stool and sat on it as i took a seat beside the tub, sitting behind her. 

the smell of snowy pine trees quickly invaded our noses as i massaged the scrub into her scarred back. 

looking at her muscles and scars, i imagined what it must be like to be her. to experience her life. 

her mother died at birth, father died even later. no siblings to mourn with her.

a best friend turned boss. now dead also.  

two young girls that were like her daughters, dead too. 

i feel like if i followed that same fate, she would end up offing herself. 

so much loss in her life. and she still stood strong every day without fail. 

"why are you doing all this?" she spoke up quietly. 

"hm?" i said as i rinsed off the soap crystals. 

"the dinner... the bath, everything you did tonight." she said. 

"i'm your wife, vika. it's what i enjoy doing." i said softly. 

there was a beat of silence. 

"it feels strange being taken care of like this. " she admitted. 

i poured water over her back again, watching the tiny crystals fall into the water. 

“i know..” i said softly. 

she shifts in the water, bringing her knees up to her chest. 

"sevika, you've devoted your entire life to bringing justice to our people. i've watched you take care of others, put their lives over your own.." i said, glancing over at her scarred stub that used to carry her left arm. 

i gently massaged the scrub over it, letting the scent sink into her skin. 

"it's like that's all you know how to do." i hummed. 

"after a while, you forget how to do anything else." she said quietly. 

"that's why i want to take care of you. while you learn how to pick yourself up again." i said, pouring water over her shoulder.

i’ve reminded her of this since we first got married. while she tells me she believes me, sometimes it slips. 

“you know, people look at you and see a terrifying old woman who can kill them with just a look.. and you are.” i said, to which she laughed softly. 

“but when i look in your eyes. when you hug me in the night when ere sleeping, all i see is a sweet girl who’s in need of love. and i want to give it to her.”

“so, while you're out there looking after the lanes… i’ll be here at the end of every day to take care of you.” i said. 

i rinse off the last of the soap from her shoulders and leaned back slightly. 

“okay?” 

she’s quiet for a second but turns her head slightly. “yeah.. okay.” she hums. 

i moved from my seat and sat next to her. i reached out to her chin and turned her head slightly to kiss her cheek. “i love you, you old softie.” i muttered. 

she looks at me with tears welling up in her eyes. 

“i love you. so much.” she said quietly. 

i held her face in my palm as i scanned her face before i kissed her lips. i pull away from her and smile softly. “you finish up here, alright?” 

i left her int he bathroom and waited for her in our bed. 

it was slightly cold, i just put on the freshly washed sheets, a new fuzzy blanket, and lit a candle that made the room smell like sugar cookies. 

she was dead asleep in seconds. 

a/n: i need to put sevika in my pocket, i love her and she deserves the world.

[fledgedragonfox]

Secondary Colors & Tertiary Souls

Two lovers have reincarnated throughout history, destined to find each other and fall in love all over again. There’s also this third guy that reincarnates alongside them… we don’t really know what he does.

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I've honestly lost track of how many times I've been here. Watching from the outside as they found each other again. Sometimes they remember, sometimes they don't. But they always find each other. And sometimes they find me. But never in a way that matters. I came close once. Violet came back as a beautiful young woman and I happened to be a strapping young man from a noble family.

This was way back when dragons were still trouncing around the countryside. I was her betrothed, and I was so happy. But then she found Forest, as one of the most gorgeous dragons I'd ever seen. To be fair every other gorgeous dragon was either Violet or Forest in another life, but still. He was breathtaking. He stole her away, and they lived happily ever after. 

I don't like to think about how bad things were after they left. I'd like to think that if I came that close to them again I'd handle things better. No elderberry wine and cliff edges for me, thank you very much.

But, well…

It's hard to keep going like this.

There’s a legend about us you know? Two souls, born into the world over and over again. They always find each other. And every time, their love burns through the barriers of forgotten times, and they embrace. Every time, they come back and without fail, a third appears. No one quite knows why, but the third soul is always present. Either in passing, or as a foe, or even a friend. Some say that when the three meet, you can sense it happen. But always it is the lovers, and their shadow. 

They were an orcish warrior and an adorable scholar. I was a merchant passing through their village.

They were a pair of rebellious halflings. I was an elf who barely had a chance to speak to them before the war.

They were a lake spirit and a knight. While I was an ogre he'd been tricked into slaying.

They were a priest and a fair maiden. I was a dangerous lich, despite only using my powers to heal.

They were a bookseller and a musclehead. I was just a regular at the coffee shop they frequented. That time we became pretty good friends. 

They were starcrossed lovers, an astronaut and an alien. And I worked on mission control millions of miles away.

I get to see them come together again and again and again. But I never get a chance. Sometimes we see each other in the interim. The place between life and death. Sometimes they remember me from the previous life, those are the best moments of my existence. We talk, reminisce, apologize, and promise to remember next time. But they rarely ever do. And even if they do, they almost never remember me.

Right now, I'm a bartender. Serving drinks to assholes all night long. Night after night. Last time the higher ups apologized again for the trouble with my memories. They promised that this time things would be different. This time, when I die again, I won't have to come back. My paradise has been waiting for almost a thousand years, and will still be there when I'm ready. I might be ready to just rest, and let them keep up this asinine cycle they have going. 

That’s when I see them. Violet is a tall man wearing a black turtleneck. He looks so kind, like he always does. Forest is a large man, with a thick beard and a wide smile. They are perfect. Just like always. Even when Violet’s sword was cutting through me, or when Forest was soaring away with Violet in his claws. They were smiling at each other, their hands clasped in each others’ as they danced to the pulsing music. They had matching rings on, married once again. 

They glance in my direction and slow in their dance. I fumble, dropping the tumbler in my hands all over the bar. Sticky booze and ice scatter across the surface and soak my apron. I swear quietly, trying desperately to mop up the mess before it could drip onto any customers. I may be set in the afterlife, but here I need this damned job. I jump when paper towels gently move my frantic hands out of the way. My breath catches in my throat. 

They were here. Frantically setting up a paper towel barricade with the help of the security nearby. My hands are shaking. I’m smaller in this life. Lanky, and awkward, and too many stuttered out excuses. I hadn’t really been taking care of myself this time around, if I’m being honest. Forest takes my hands, trying to stop their shaking. My eyes snap to his and I feel it. Oh this one was going to hurt. These ones always did. He remembered me, or at least something about me. I was a homeless man last time. I lashed out in frustration when I saw them walking down the street. They later visited me sometimes after I apologized. They brought me sandwiches sometimes. Then the cycle started again.

“It’s you.” He said. His voice isn’t angry or sad. It’s a soft voice full of awe. I will fully admit that I am beyond confused. We must have been standing here a while because Violet finishes cleaning and looks at us. I expect him to lash out or question his husband, whatever his name is this time. But he doesn’t. He looks at me, and starts to tear up. He remembers too. This is going to really suck. Last time I was so tired and sick. This time I’m a pathetic lanky loser. It’s been a few minutes, both of their hands are clasping mine. I can’t look at them. I keep my gaze to the floor. This will be the last time. I promise myself that, at the end of this one I am staying in the after. 

“Pumpkin.” The name, the name I’ve only ever used sparingly in the after. They said my name. I can feel myself crying as I look at them. Their gazes are full of sorrow, regret, awe, and something that they had only ever had for each other. Forest guides me around the bar, the pair nearly jumping over the counter. The other patrons and bartenders give us strange, knowing, looks. Then they hug me. Well, envelope me more like. They are both bigger than me. They wrap themselves around my soggy boozy body. 

“We’re so so sorry.” Violet mutters into my hair. Forest it patting my front down with paper towels, muttering apologies and explanations that I barely hear. It takes me a few minutes to catch up. But I can still feel it. I feel a shift in myself. Like something slotting into place. 

“You remember…” My voice is a whisper, and I begin to sob when they nod and pull me in between them. They remember. Maybe they’ll want to stay with me in paradise. Maybe this life won’t be quite so bad. They’re running through names I’ve had in the past, some that even I barely recall. When they kiss me, one after the other, it feels like all of the pain is being seared away. 

I’m not a shadow anymore.

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OK! I'm probably gonna make more of these at some point but here we go! A writing prompt for chrimmas!

If you're interested, I have a patreon and unfortunately a gofundme available if you want to support me.

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Two lovers have reincarnated throughout history, destined to find each other and fall in love all over again. There’s also this third guy that reincarnates alongside them… we don’t really know what he does.

[madschiavelique]

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 9 - Death

summary : maybe it is time for reader to move on from patterns that are now useless and reconsider things

content warnings : some angst, then some comfort, then more angst, then more comfort, some crude language an mentions of harassment

word count : 6.1k

author's note : okay i think i might write my old bg3 requests still sitting in my inbox after this but!!!! im excited to write the next chap

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world <3

masterlist : here

taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr @potatointhedirt @atrocioushaircut @ren-ni @schrodingersraven @urmommt

You had spent your Saturday recovering, not without frustration. It was a waste of time, you thought. You could have taken advantage of a day without any classes or work like that to study and make more progress, but Selene had come to visit you, worried.

She officially met Sky, who had always admired her since her first lessons with her. Selene had come to your bedside, placing a gentle hand on your forehead for a moment, then letting it slide down to your warm cheek. She sighed, familiar with your overworking habits.

She asked Sky about your night, about the prescribed treatment, and Selene couldn't help but exchange a knowing glance with you when Viktor was mentioned, especially for such chivalrous deeds. She smiled a playful ‘see, I told you so’ which made you pull your cover over your head in annoyance.

When she left, Sky came back to you, bringing you a chicken broth to restore your health, which she hoped you'd consume to the last drop.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this and calling them, calling him. But..." She sighed, watching you finally eat something with relief. "You were working yourself to death, and with such a pace, you probably wouldn't have been able to pass the exams at all if you'd kept going."

You swallowed your mouthful with difficulty, a small knot of shame and regret tightening it. You'd been so obsessed, so fixated on outdoing yourself and winning back your number one spot from Viktor that you'd become nothing more than an information-gobbling machine.

You didn't even need it, you'd just decided to get ahead on the next year's syllabus in the hope of impressing in the papers and showing your dedication. How could you be so stupid? 

"Your state was deteriorating visibly..." Sky reflected, looking down at her hands before only meeting your gaze for a moment. "You really scared me, you know."

Your heart split in two. You placed your lunch tray on your bedside table, taking Sky's hands in yours and seeking her gaze despite her bowed head.

"Hey," you murmured in your tired voice as you smiled softly at her when she looked back at you. "You did the right thing, Sky. Without you..." you sighed, thinking back on your stupidity, "I don't know where I'd be right now. This was going to eat me alive until there would be nothing left of me but a white chalk outline on my desk."

She smiled softly, squeezing your hands. Her eyes glistened, her chin trembling slightly as she took off her glasses.

"Oh, Sky..." You pulled her into your arms, holding her close. "I'm sorry."

You couldn't imagine how tired she must have been, seeing you wasting away like that, not listening to her, not hearing her. She had her own revisions, her own things to do, and you had made your problem hers.

You could feel her forehead wrinkling, her hands trembling slightly around you as she twitched.

Since when did you become such an important part of someone's life that they cared that much about you?

What would have happened if, for one more year, you'd never had a flatmate? And if that flatmate hadn't been Sky, would she have had even an ounce of patience like your friend?

You'd fucked up and nearly gone off the deep end, and Sky had done everything she could to avoid it.

"I promise you to never do that again," you vowed, pulling away from her to run your thumb over her cheek and wipe away the tears. "Please, don't cry on me. Cry on... I don't know, Heimerdinger's hairstylist."

Don't cry for me, I'm not worth a waste of tears, not yours.

She laughed nervously, her eyes going to the ceiling. "I don't know why I'm crying, really, this is..." she sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "this is stupid."

"No, it's not," you smiled, "It's good to cry."

She raised her eyebrows, wiggling her nose and shrugging. "Well, you never do."

"That's because I sold my lacrimal glands," you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood by joking.

And it worked - she laughed, the sadness slowly evaporating from her face. "So you have no tears, but you still have your heart, right ?"

You closed your fist, banging it against your chest. "It's a dusty engine, but it does its work."

"Well," she stood up, "I hope it can still feel something."

You observed her for a moment, picking up a saucepan and filling it with water. No doubt to make coffee, or at least tea to ward off your addiction and prevent your mechanical heart from overheating under the caffeine. No amount of Piltovian gold could offer you anything like Sky's sweetness.

"My heart's full of room for the very few friends I have." You picked up your bowl of broth again, its warmth cupped against your fingers. "Its aorta is named after you."

She turned to you, smiling, her eyes filling again with tears as she breathed in. 

"You can't just say things like that and not expect me to ruin a box of these," she described movements in the air with her hands in ridiculous, exagerated swirls, "silk-soft tissues they have here."

"Their toilet paper is so thick and soft it feels like we're using pillows," you sneered before blowing on the bouillon.

"Right?!" Sky exclaimed, "It's only been like, a month and a half since I've been here and it all feels so fancy. Everything is so... clean."

"I know!" You laughed, "It's infuriating. The streets barely have a scratch, the buildings have colours straight out of a kid's colouring book, and they have trees."

She sighed, visualising the vegetation the city had before her eyes fell back on yours. "You never get used to it, right?"

You swallowed your mouthful of broth, pressing your lips into a thin line. "Never."

She leaned back against the worktop, watching you for a moment. "Seriously though." She tilted her head to one side. "Don't ever do that again."

You smiled, bringing your forefinger and thumb to your ear and pressing on the lobe. 

It was a custom in Zaun to pledge your word. In the Undercity, you pressed your lobe as if you were piercing it, to imaginatively seal in the skin a ring other than the one on your finger. However, everyone knows that if you pull too hard on a piercing, you can tear the flesh, and find it difficult to retie the skin so that it can be pierced again. So the promise was made with a symbolic ring, anchored in the skin, that the promise would be kept.

"May my flesh tear apart if, by misfortune, I betrayed," you recited.

During the rest of the last week of classes before the exams, you resumed a much more normal revision routine than the original, much to Sky's delight. You'd revise with her in the afternoons outside class, asking each other questions about the subjects you shared while you were trying not to die laughing from the stupid ways you looked with your facemasks during skincare time.

When Friday came around, you decided to go to the library again. Unconsciously, it had become a ritual. With Viktor or without, you intended to surround yourself with knowledge as immense as possible.

You went and sat down at a table, alone, while many students who had come for the same reason were already crowding most of the available ones. You took out your things, rereading your index cards for the umpteenth time until you were almost ready to recite them by heart if the need arose.

You couldn't help but lose concentration when you heard your name spoken in the distance, coming from voices that weren’t familiar to you, further behind your back.

"And to say Viktor got put with her on Heimerdinger's subject," one said, chuckling.

"I wonder which of them pulls their hair out more in each other's company."

You tried not to think about it, but since, for once, the conversation wasn't all about the walking street lamp, you couldn't help but let your ears hang close to their mouths.

"Did you see her the other day? A vision of the apocalypse. Hollow cheeks and dead eyes like she hadn't eaten in a month."

"Gotta have hollow cheeks to suck the teachers better," her classmate sneered.

Your jaw tightened, trying to ignore their remarks. This wasn't your first time hearing such things - the previous two years hadn't been as gentle as this one, even if Viktor had caused a few problems with his arrival.

"Can you believe what she did to Tyler?"

"She's an animal." They both laughed, causing you to sink back into your chair.

"How do you think Viktor handles her?"

"He doesn't, she's just a handicap to him and he seems to have an embarrassing enough one as it is."

You inhaled. Someone will probably tell them to be quiet so as not to disturb the peace of the library. You hoped.

"Who's a handicap?"

Your eyes widened as you suddenly turned around. Viktor was standing there, facing them, both students suddenly looking very confused and ashamed.

"Viktor," one of them laughed nervously, "this was just a joke, she..."

But the student didn't have time to come up with an excuse. Viktor raised an eyebrow before speaking.

"She's an incredible person who no one can defeat," he informed them, the latter two lowering their eyes on their notes suddenly invested in their revisions. "Except me."

He punctuated his sentence, turning away from them and meeting your gaze. He seemed surprised, not expecting to find you there, at least not doing nothing when such needlessly cruel nonsense was uttered in your name.

Inevitably, of course, he moved towards you.

Except me.  The phrase made you roll your eyes for a moment before you tried to read information from your notes that hadn't needed reading for a long time. 

He sat down opposite you, keeping his hand on the pommel of his cane. "Your name seems to be on everyone's lips, Miss."

"What can I say," you sighed, "the obsession they have for me is an undying addiction."

However, Viktor didn't seem amused at all.

"Why do you let them say such things about you without lifting a finger?"

You bit the inside of your lip, feeling the pressure of his gaze on you as your eyes scanned uselessly over your revision sheets. 

"It's not the first time I've heard that kind of comment about me," you confirmed without much interest, "I'll survive it."

"So you spend most of your time worrying about the injustices other people experience but you push your own under a doormat?" Viktor summed up, not seeming genuinely thrilled at the idea.

"If I could push the injustice that Tyler is by his very existence off the face of this world, I'd be stepping on some rich blonde aristocrat every time I left and returned from home."

But Viktor still wasn't laughing, far from it. When your eyes finally met his, they were dark.

He sighed. "Are you trying to punish yourself for something by neglecting yourself so much?"

I'd like to forget more than anything else in the world. The thought was taking over your soul, eating away at you like a gangrene with an insatiable hunger.

"Of course," you chuckled, exaggerating a falsely happy tone.

"Stop this." His tone was firm.

"Stop what?" you questioned.

"Trying to make something funny out of this."

You frowned, raising an eyebrow. "What? You're not feeling in the mood for our ritual chit chats?"

"Do I look like I'm joking around right now?"

His eyes had the same gleam, carried the same weight as when he'd held you in place in your bed just a week ago. You almost gulped, speechless. Why was he reacting like that? Why was he worried about you?

You lowered your eyes, licking your lips as you returned to your notes.

"Fine," you admitted, dropping your sarcastic tone. "I guess I owe you for saving my life, anyway."

It didn't sound like it, but it was probably the closest you'd come to a ‘thank you’ for him so far. He seemed surprised that you were finally cooperating in the conversation, that you were at last sending him a very subliminal magic word.

His shoulders slumped, as if the idea of being angry with you was stupid.

"How are you feeling?" He finally asked.

"I'm no longer sick, if that's the question you meant to ask."

"It was, but also," he brought his cane up between his legs, clasping both hands on the pommel as he came to rest his chin on it, "I just wanted to know how you are doing."

Why are you doing this? You were thinking back over the last few weeks. His questions during the power cut, the attention he'd paid to you, staying awake all night by your side to make sure you were taking your medication properly, and now...

"Well," you swallowed, these thoughts unsettling you for a moment and sending a foreign warmth into your belly, "the exams are approaching and I think you've had quite the close look on their effect on me so... yeah."

He considered you, tilting his head to the side until his cheek was the one pressed against the back of his hands. He scanned you, his gaze sending a warm wind up your spine.

"You're still on the treatment, right?"

The horrible powder you had to mix in a glass at least twice a day wasn't the moment you were looking forward to most in your daily routine, but you did it anyway, under Sky's sharp eyes.

You remained silent, just to see how Viktor would react and whether, as he had dictated, he would make sure you stayed in bed no matter what.

Faced with your silence, he raised an eyebrow as he straightened up, finally wrinkling his forehead as he frowned.

"Right?" he repeated, almost menacingly.

"Relax." A nervous chuckle escaped you. "Yes, I'm taking it."

He sighed in relief at the news, while you shook your head in confusion.

"You're putting all this effort... for me? Why"

The phrase sounded alien in your mouth, as if you weren't worth the time or energy of such dedication. He gazed at you for a moment, his eyes roving over your index cards.

"You know why."

"Because you can't have your best rival go against you while she's sick?" you recited.

"Because I don't want to be your rival."

You found this answer profoundly absurd.

"What do you mean-" But he cut you off, annoyed.

"What do you want, hmm? To become Heimerdinger's assistant?"

Of course, you thought, but the way Viktor had said it sounded... easy, too easy. Or at least, too easy for you.

"I don't intend to be his assistant, and I'm going to tell you why."

He stood up, walking around the table until he was beside you and leaning in slightly.

"Because I've already been his assistant, and I stopped."

The words echoed inside you, like the cracking of something you thought was indestructible. Your lips parted in shock, watching him with huge eyes as he straightened up.

"In any case. I wanted to make sure that you'd be back in good shape." He began to walk towards the library exit, turning one last time to give you a playful look. "And now that I'm sure you'll be in full shape, I know I don't need to hold back, hm, rival?"

He turned away, heading for the big door, leaving you with a short-circuited brain. What did he mean by "already been"? What did he mean he had stopped? How had Viktor ever been Heimerdinger's assistant?

When the sentence finally reached your mind after a long travel from your ears, you gathered your things in a flash as the questions began to fly and you almost ran to catch up with him. You caught up with him in the corridors, under the astonished gazes of all the students.

"What?" you asked, out of breath from the sudden exertion and the gust of wind the news had knocked from your chest.

He turned to you, slightly surprised that you'd practically chased after him. He'd probably expected you to sit at your table, mulling things over until the questions got too much for you and you decided to come and see him after a day or two of mental torment.

"You've been Heimerdinger's assistant?" you repeated, adjusting the strap of your satchel on your shoulder.

He shrugged, turning away from you. "Yes."

Was he really just going to leave like that? Leaving you in agony for answers you wanted more than anything? No, it wasn't going to be like that.

You grabbed his wrist, much to his surprise, and pulled him with you into an empty adjoining corridor. Once you were out of sight, checking from one end of the corridor to the other to see if anyone was there, you finally regained his gaze.

There was something in his eyes, like a hint of something that kept his lips parted until they closed and his eyes lowered to your hand still gripping his wrist.

You let go, the heat of shame spreading across your neck and cheeks for a moment as you took a step away, crossing your arms over your chest.

"When were you his assistant?"

He leaned against the wall, sighing as he stared at you.

"You do remember Jayce's trial, don't you?"

How could you forget? You hadn't been present at the trial. Selene had invited you to come as it concerned your friend, but you were too afraid of the aristocratic eyes and the pressure they would put on you.

The story remained vague. Due to special circumstances that remained under the security and secrecy of the administration as to the extent of Jayce's activities, he had been allowed to stay at the academy.

"Yes."

"By then, I had already been Heimerdinger’s assistant for a month.."

You now were certain you'd never seen him before. It was just one month into your summer holidays, and you had gone to Zaun to find Eris. Your chances of running into him were almost nil, no doubt about it.

"How did you get to become his assistant?" you quizzed.

He shrugged, and that simple movement made you want to scream. "I suppose he must have liked my assiduity enough to take me on. That and the fact that, with his little legs, I was bound to walk at his pace," he joked.

You held your breath in your lungs for a moment, before releasing it. He didn't seem to be lying, at least about the only serious part of his sentence. He was undoubtedly the best choice for Heimerdinger in any case.

However, it seemed to you that it wasn't so much exasperation that you were feeling - you were trying to understand what the feeling was... a relief, but not really about the fact that the assistant's place was free, no, a relief about Viktor that you couldn't really place at the moment.

"Why did you stop?" There was no longer any frustration in your voice, just a new-found curiosity.

Viktor seemed taken aback by your new intonation, straightening slightly against the wall. "It didn't interest me anymore."

What could he have found that was better? The thought, at last, that Viktor's aim was not to be an assistant for the rest of his life, crept into your mind. Viktor seemed to pick up on it.

"See? I told you we didn't have the same goal."

You finally realised what that feeling of relief was: you didn't have to hate him any more. You no longer had a reason to try to outdo him, no longer had a valid justification for becoming number one again. But why was it such a relief? There was rarely anything more gratuitous than hatred in what you knew, and it should have been the same for Viktor, so why was it such a relief not to have to hate him any more?

Hating him served no purpose, no motivation. It was useless, and what do you do with useless things?

You took half a step towards him.

"The truce you suggested, have you come up with any clauses?"

His eyebrows rose, his eyes widened. He lifted himself off the wall.

"Um no-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Find some, and I'll consider them."

And with that, you took off, leaving Viktor speechless. 

You moved quickly, trying to get home as fast as possible. You were afraid that the street air, so pure and fresh, would wash away your conclusions and fuel a hatred that no longer had any reason to exist.

But you didn't go home straight away, making a diversion to Emeline's shop. As soon as you entered her shop, she didn't hesitate to jump on your neck and give you a hug.

"My little lamb," she enthused as she squeezed you until your ribs broke before cupping your face as if to examine you, "are you feeling better? You gave me quite a fright, you know! When your friend came to visit me and told me you were ill I nearly closed up shop to come and see you myself."

"Everything's fine," you laughed, squeezing her arms, "I've almost completely recovered!"

You'd decided that, after your chat with Viktor and all the effort you'd put into your revision, you deserved a little something to comfort you.

After a little chat with Emeline, she packed two pastries, one for you and one for Sky. Of course, she didn't forget to fill you up with an extra small packet of sweets that would have gone unsold during the day.

When you returned home, you greeted Sky with a smile and raised the two bags of treats to your head. She smiled in surprise.

"To what do we owe this feast?" she asked.

You shrugged. "Let's just say I've made resolutions for the better."

You'd been laughing all evening, stuffing your faces with these delicacies as you both took a well-deserved break from studying.

Your eyes turned to your tarot deck, you'd forgotten to draw any cards lately due to your revisions, so after wiping your hands full of sugar, you took the pack in hand.

“I see you pulling one almost every morning,” Sky remarked, lying on her stomach on your bed while you were cross-legged. “Why do you do that?”

You pulled out your cards in your hands. “To have a leitmotif to follow during the day. Although to be quite honest I don't follow their advice every time.”

She laughed softly, knowing by now your stubbornness like no other. “That doesn't surprise me at all.”

“Yeah well,” you smiled in turn as you shuffled the cards, ”some of them are not the best cards to wake up on to in the morning.”

So you cut your deck as usual, and looked at its underside. You raised your eyebrows.

“Just like this one.”

You showed Sky the card: Death.

She winced, her eyebrows furrowing as her mouth formed as if she were pronouncing the letter x.

“Okay, I get it,” she said, shaking her head. “Is it literal? I hope not, right?”

“Nah it's pretty safe.” You laughed. “The description of its meaning is in the little booklet.” You pointed to it with your chin, and Sky grabbed it, flipping through until she found the Death page.

“Transition. Underworld. Flux. Occultism. Letting go. Evolution requiring liberation. Metaphorical death.” She read. “Off to a great start apparently.”

You chuckled, observing the card as she continued reading. “Death moves across a field with a slow, steady march. A king lies dead. He represents the old systems of order cast aside. A bishop begs for mercy, a young girl turns away in fear and only a curious little girl looks up to greet death. She has not been taught to fear it.”

Your thumb passed over the little girl's drawing, your heart clenching. 

“A ship sails away, heedless of death's march. A sun rises between two towers to reflect resurrection and new beginnings. All endings give way to new possibilities. Transformation leads to renewal and growth.” She raised her eyebrows. “Ain't as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Yeah,” you considered, thinking back on your day and the fact that the cards were pointing you in the right direction, ”indeed.”

Exam week was over. You'd had absolutely no trouble at all with any of the exercises. All the subjects were in the bag and you were finishing virtually ahead of schedule in every exam room.

Today was the day of results. The teachers had spent the weekend correcting everything, and the results boards had finally been displayed.

You woke up feeling lighter than you thought you would. Since realizing that there was no longer any point in chasing Viktor to victory, you'd relaxed.

You went down the hall with Sky, passing the student mailboxes for a moment so you could check if either of you had received anything.

You opened the metal door to a single letter, sealed with a metallic black wax seal you knew all too well: Eris.

You took the key to your apartment, using its teeth to open the envelope and take out the letter, which you brought to your nose.

Her letters always smelled of the essential oils and herbs that constantly appeased you. Without further ado, you unfolded the paper and read its contents.

My sweet friend,

I thought you were a lost cause in friendship, but I guess this year the wheel is really turning on your side. I'm delighted, and I imagine the same goes for Selene. I'd love to meet her, that Sky, she sounds absolutely charming. I'm guessing, though, that the day with your Five of Wands must have been no picnic, especially if - from what I understand - Emperor Viktor is to blame. But I'm sure that the Immeasurable Grandeur of the Prestigious Piltover Academy will crown your success.

You giggled to yourself as your eyes passed over the elegant, forced curves that Eris had taken care to add in response to your own inky bows.

I miss you so much. You know how the days are here in Zaun; I open, sell and consult, and close in the evening before any trouble starts. I'm paid with golden trinkets, new flowers to dry and other plants from other regions. I have managed to get some new customers, though, and not the least important ones. Renata Glasc herself has been to my shop.

You'd already heard of Renata Glasc, an ambitious woman who was growing in influence on the streets of Zaun. She wasn't a Chem Baroness, but at the rate she was going, it looked like she was well on her way to becoming one.

In fact, it's through her that I'm hearing about worrying things here. Common for Zaun, you may say, but I can't help thinking the worst. I'll tell you about it myself when we meet. I'm planning to come here around December 23, so let's meet at the usual bridge at three o'clock. I'll be staying with you for a few days. I can't tell you more. But I've lit a candle for you, wishing you success and good health.

I look forward to seeing you again, my dearest trouble,

Eris.

What could she possibly be worried about? The situation was invariably complicated in Zaun, but what could it be that she was worried about?

You carefully tucked the letter into your bag, heading out to the shuttle stop.

“Not too stressed?” Sky asked.

You huffed, a cloud of warmth rising into the air. The cold had been gaining in intensity for over a week, and all the students at the academy had donned their scarves.

“No.” you replied, confident. “You?”

“A bit,” she admitted, her breath trembling slightly.

“Hey,” you pressed your shoulder against hers as she turned to face you, ”you've got this. I know you do.”

She nodded, smiling at you as the shuttle arrived. The journey was swift, some students over-excited at the prospect of their results, others apprehensive about what was to come.

As you arrived at the golden gates of the academy, you noticed that neither Viktor nor Jayce were in sight. Perhaps they had decided to go to the academy later?

The group of students walked up to the scoreboards, an army of others already huddled in front of them.

Sky went in search of her name, while you breathed in, waiting for other students to pass before you.

You didn't know what awaited you at the top of the board, which name would be at the head. Did it still matter? Yes, it probably did, or it didn't. Did you want it to matter? Probably not. But did your mind keep wandering? Endlessly.

What if Viktor was still number one - would you be disappointed? What if you were number one - would you be satisfied? And if neither he nor you were number one, would you be revolted?

“Look who it is!”

That voice alone was enough to make you frown, raise your eyebrows and lower your eyelids in boredom.

Tyler.

You turned to him for a moment, him seeming pleased that you responded to his voice as you rolled your eyes and sighed.

“What do you want, blondie? Searching for a new name on the boards to torment?”

He chuckled, stepping toward you. “You don't change a winning team, darling. Have you found your place at the very bottom of the ranking?”

It was your turn to chuckle, turning to face him. He had no idea about your academic results, it seemed. 

“Tyler you have as many neurons as you have eyes, and they're both fighting for any kind of connection.” You turned to the bulletin board, stepping forward slightly. “Do them mercy and close your eyelids for all eternity before we have to deal with a rain of fire and the horsemen and...”

But you didn't even finish your sentence, the words dying on your lips as your eyes came to rest on your name.

First place.

You were back in first place. Eyes and mouth wide open, you kept blinking to make sure your vision wasn't failing you. And the name underneath... 

Viktor.

Your scores were almost equal, yours barely beating him.

“Told you I wasn't going to hold back.”

You turned towards the voice, the tinkle you now knew too well of his cane echoing on the floor. He stood there, serene, a small smile on his face before his lips pressed into an inverted grin and his eyebrows raised.

“You fight well, Miss.”

You couldn't help it - you cracked a smile at him. And Viktor seemed astonished, as if he'd never seen such a thing happen. No stupid remark, no pettiness behind your drawn lips, just sincere amusement and joy.

“What the...” Tyler's voice died in his throat as he took in the bulletin boards, turning to you. “How did you...”

You turned to him, his sole presence now not even enough to ruin your happiness and relief. “As if you could reach me,” you replied with a triumphant smile, walking out of the crowd to join Viktor.

Once you got away from all this tumult, he nodded. “You got first,” he remarked, “congratulations.”

You observed him for a second, his posture reflecting a sort of disappointment. Was it from losing? Or was it from the fact you seemed so happy in your rivalry with him? You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Quit it,” you pronounced with a smile, shaking your head slightly. “We share this crown, and you perfectly know that.”

He said nothing, just gazing at you for a moment. There was this gleam, the tickling of a smile ready to be born on his lips as the satisfaction that, maybe, these ink duels you were both fencing would wash away and let something different be born from them. 

He was apprehensive about saying something, but Jayce came towards you both.

“Ah, Jayce, exams went well?” You asked, knowing without a doubt that he didn't have to worry about his results.

“Oh yeah, perfect.” He nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line, his eyes darting from yours to Viktor's, surprised that you weren't quarrelling. “Say, hum... can I talk to you guys for a minute?” 

Viktor and you exchanged a confused look, before ultimately following him.

“A masquerade?” you repeated, as if the word had never grazed your lips before.

Jayce had brought you to a room in the Academy where you could all talk without hearing the multiple cries of students as to their result. And considering what he had to discuss with you, he'd done the right thing.

“It's this thing Mel is invited to,” he explained nervously. “All the people of high aristocracy will be there, counselors, lords and ladies... Please, can you both accompany me to it?”

“As your dance partners?” joked Viktor, frowning.

“No, Mel's already my partner. But, she said that there would be no opposition for you both to come as well. You're the,” he seemed to search for words for a moment, ”croom dé la cram?”

“Crême de la crême?” you suggested.

He pointed at you, glad you understood. “Yeah, that. La crême de la crême of the Academy. Such prestigious students as the both of you sharing the top of the board deserve to be in such an event.”

“So you want us,” you pointed repeatedly between Viktor and yourself, ”to come to this event because you're too nervous to go there by yourself?”

The interested party scratched the back of his neck, sniffling before looking at you both with puppy-dog eyes. “Yeah?”

“Aren't you supposed to have a partner to come to a masquerade?” Interrogated Viktor.

“I thought you two could... go together?”

You chuckled, your mouth hanging open. You exchanged a bewildered look with Viktor, who didn't seem to be too upset by the concept.

“You're joking, right?” you asked.

“Please just-” he didn't finish his sentence, “put your bickering aside for one evening. You don't even have to show up together if it suits you better.”

“I don't see any problems with it,” Viktor shrugged, indifferent. “When is it?”

"Tomorrow night."

“Tomorrow night?” You exclaimed. “Jayce, if it's a society gala, I've got nothing to wear.”

He reached into his own wallet, pulled out some bills and handed them to you.

“Here, I'm sure you'll find something convenient with this.”

“Jayce,” you remarked, looking at the fresh bills, “what the hell.”

“This is not much for you to get a decent gown for the gala. Keep the rest, if there is any, to get some fancy accessories.” He grabbed your hand, placing the cash in it. “Truly, this is the least I can do.”

You knew Jayce's patrons were the Kiramman’s, but to have money to give away like this? Since when was that the case?

“Vik, I think it's time for us to go.” Jayce finally remarked before leaving the room, leaving the two of you.

You both stayed in silence for a moment, both digesting the information that had just been given to you.

“What a way to celebrate your victory,” Viktor finally sighed.

“I've seen worse celebrations than a masquerade,” you remarked, observing the tickets for a moment before folding them up, “but I think I've had better experiences than being in a room with nobility sipping glasses of champagne with petty innuendo in every exchange.”

He huffed in turn. “I suppose the next area in which we must excel in no time is the art of conversation in high society. Although, considering our usual conversation,” he leaned his head to the side with a smirk, "we'll fit right in."

“How exciting,” you raised your eyebrows sarcastically, letting silence take its rule back on the room before you finally decided to break it. ”Guess I better go and find myself something to wear. See you tomorrow, Viktor.” 

“Wait,” he called to you, seeming hesitant about what he was going to suggest, ”would you like us to get together first and go? Or...”

“Let's meet directly at the party,” you assured him.

He nodded, his lips pressing in a thin line as you turned away. “Oh and...” you turned back to him at his words, his eyes piercing. “Don't forget the mask.”

You nodded, leaving the room.

You had today and tomorrow to find an outfit, and get used to the fact that Viktor was no longer a threat to be eliminated. Easier said than done. 

But still… What a way to celebrate a rebirth.

✦﹒ previous chapter ✦﹒ next chapter

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part12

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: time jump, anxiety(?)

EXTRA -`✮´- JJ’s and Reader’s lock screen.

previous - next

Twelve Month Old.

Life moved fast. There was no denying it. 

Everything happened in such a whirlwind that before you knew it, an entire year had slipped by. A whole journey you had managed to navigate, though, of course, not without JJ’s irreplaceable help. 

The kitchen hummed with a peaceful kind of chaos, the sweet scent of strawberries mingling in the air. You stood at the counter, focused on decorating the cake while half your attention was tuned to the laughter drifting in from the living room. Small giggles, paired with JJ’s playful chuckles, echoed through the walls of your little home. 

As you carefully placed sliced strawberries atop the creamy frosting, you glanced toward the living room. Your little girl sat in the corner, clutching her stuffed teddy with delighted excitement. Across from her, on his knees, was JJ, pulling the silliest faces imaginable to keep her entertained. Her infectious laughter seemed to chase away every ounce of exhaustion you felt. 

For a moment, a warm wave of contentment washed over you. Sometimes, amidst all the chaos, it was these simple moments that made life truly worth it. Still, you forced yourself to focus. As much as you wanted to join them, you had a cake to finish—and today had to be perfect. 

As you piped the homemade frosting onto the cake, you listened closely to the sounds from the other room. JJ’s low murmurs, the pitter-patter of tiny feet, and your daughter’s joyous squeals filled the house. 

Even without seeing them, you could picture it all in your mind. A soft smile spread across your face as you worked on the cake for her first birthday celebration. Tomorrow, she would officially turn one. An entire year. 

How had you made it to this point? Time had flown so fast you never even had the chance to ask, “What’s happening right now?” Everything had raced by, and now, here you were—your daughter, a whole year old. Twelve months gone in the blink of an eye. 

The party wouldn’t be big. Just a simple setup on the back porch with a decorated table. Your parents would come, along with JJ’s friends and maybe a couple of neighbors. Mostly, it would be Liliana’s playmates from the park. That was all. 

Even though she wouldn’t remember it, you wanted her to smile when she looked back at the photos one day. You wanted her to feel a sense of peace, a happiness unclouded by memories of the separation her parents had gone through. 

In fact, you hoped those memories wouldn’t even cross her mind. 

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled you from your thoughts. You set down the piping bag and turned to see JJ walking toward you, your daughter balanced in his arms. A wide grin spread across your face. 

“She’s all worn out from playing too much,” JJ said, his smile as easy as ever. He started tickling her with his free hand, and the kitchen filled with her bright laughter. Just hearing it warmed you from the inside out. 

“Oh, is that so?” you teased. Anytime they played too hard, Liliana seemed to go straight into what you called “hibernation mode.” She’d be asleep in minutes. Classic JJ effect. Joining in, you reached over to tickle her too, but you both stopped after a moment, not wanting to tire her out any further. She was already sleepy enough. 

You stepped back slightly as JJ leaned in to check on the cake over your shoulder. His hand hovered dangerously close to the frosting, ready to sneak a taste, but when he caught your raised brow, he quickly withdrew. 

“Almost done, huh?” he said, his eyes still locked on the cake like it was a masterpiece—or maybe just his next meal. 

You nodded, glancing back at your work. “Isn’t that right, Liliana? Look what Mommy made!” 

JJ pointed to the cake as Liliana let out a tiny laugh, reaching her hands toward you. Without hesitation, you scooped her up into your arms. 

“Yeah, do you like it, sweetheart?” you cooed, giving her a gentle sway. Her head lolled onto your shoulder, and you and JJ couldn’t help but chuckle. Her sleepy demeanor was always the sweetest thing. She wasn’t an overly hyper child, but when she was tired, she turned into the most docile little angel. 

“You really wore her out,” you murmured, stroking her messy hair with a fond smile. It was far from the neat ponytails you had done that morning—proof of how much fun she’d had with JJ. 

“That’s my specialty,” he said proudly, tapping Liliana’s chubby cheek with a grin. He lifted her tiny hand and planted a series of dramatic kisses on it. “Swear she’s about to knock out,” he added with a lopsided smile. 

You lifted Liliana and pressed a kiss to her plump cheek, unable to stop the warmth that filled your heart. This past year had been the best of your life. Every moment with her had been worth everything. 

The first few weeks had been tough—what new mother didn’t struggle? But you were endlessly grateful for the people who had stayed by your side, supporting you every step of the way. Your parents had stayed with you, helping whenever they could. And then there were Cleo and Sarah—both absolute sweethearts who never hesitated to lend a hand. 

Thinking back to the times when it was just the four of you always brought a smile to your face. And Sarah, oh Sarah. Her relentless efforts to declare herself “Aunt Sarah” to the world were both endearing and hilarious. If you’d let her, she probably would’ve gotten it printed on a banner. 

And then there was JJ. You didn’t even hesitate to call him Liliana’s uncle. Because he truly was. He stood behind you like a fortress, always keeping you steady. Whenever you felt overwhelmed or doubted yourself, he was the one who wouldn’t let you fall. In the early months of your pregnancy, you had stumbled more times than you cared to admit, but once JJ became a permanent fixture in your life, that never happened again. He simply wouldn’t let it. 

Of course, there had been challenges. But his unwavering support had made it all worthwhile. 

Liliana’s tiny hands brushing against your face made you laugh softly. You kissed her little fingers and smiled. “If you can keep her entertained for just a little longer, I’ll finish up the cake and then put her down for a nap. Sound good?” 

You glanced up at JJ as you spoke. He was leaning casually against the counter, one arm propped up while his free hand snagged a strawberry from the cutting board. Popping it into his mouth, he shrugged, barely pausing to enjoy the taste before muttering something nonsensical to Liliana, who giggled in reply. 

JJ licked his fingers clean and reached toward you to take Liliana. “You know, I could do it,” he said with a mock-seriousness as he adjusted her securely against his hip. You watched as Liliana instantly settled, her little head coming to rest against his chest. The sight of the two of them like that filled your heart with warmth. 

“I know,” you replied with a nod. But JJ didn’t look entirely convinced. His uncertain gaze lingered on you, as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. You knew he had a full plate—work often wore him out, and some days it was a struggle for him to even take time off. Yet no matter how tired he was, whenever you needed help with Liliana or anything around the house, he never hesitated. 

Even so, you didn’t want to burden him more than necessary. Besides, it wasn’t a difficult task. Liliana was a calm child, and with her nap time fast approaching, she was already on the brink of sleep. JJ had clearly tired her out with all their playing. You were confident she’d drift off quickly. 

JJ opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get the words out, a small, unmistakable sound broke through the air. 

“Ma-ma.” 

You froze. Completely, utterly froze. The kitchen fell silent, as if the whole world had paused with you. The strawberry JJ had been reaching for slipped from his hand and landed on the counter. His wide eyes darted to Liliana. 

“What… What did she just say?” he whispered, his voice a mix of shock and awe. 

Liliana, grinning ear to ear, pushed herself against him, her small face glowing with excitement. Before you could even process what was happening, she let out a gleeful laugh and bounced in his arms, nearly losing her balance in her excitement. Her tiny pigtails bobbed as she steadied herself. 

This time, more clearly, she said it again, with determination. “Ma-ma.” 

Tears filled your eyes. Your heart swelled in your chest, beating so hard it felt like a tidal wave crashing against your ribs. You took a step closer to JJ, your hand reaching out to gently stroke Liliana’s cheek. “She can’t possibly be saying that,” you murmured, your voice trembling with emotion. You wanted to scream with joy, but you held it in. You didn’t want to startle her. 

JJ, still holding her, looked down at her with a mixture of astonishment and a soft, almost reverent smile. “We’ve been waiting for her to talk, but… Oh God,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. 

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t been sneakily repeating “Ma-Ma” in her presence, hoping to nudge her toward saying it. 

You leaned in, kissing Liliana’s rosy cheeks, your heart overflowing with joy. If only you could’ve captured the moment on video. 

JJ, who had been relatively quiet in the background, finally spoke, his tone tinged with playful sarcasm. “So… do you love me as much as her now? Or am I still in trouble for that time I ruined the cake?” 

“What cake? What are you—” You whipped around to check the cake. Sure enough, one side of it had collapsed, the frosting smudged into an unsalvageable mess. 

JJ winced, offering a sheepish smile. “We can, uh, get a new one, right?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite yourself. There, surrounded by the warm scents of strawberries and frosting, your little family shared a moment that felt timeless. For just a while, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only love, laughter, and the perfectly imperfect chaos of this life you were building together. 

One Year Old

The living room echoed with Liliana’s joyful laughter. The little girl stretched out her arms, wobbling on her tiny feet as she worked hard to find her balance. Amid the colorful plush toys scattered on the floor, she seemed to grasp an essential truth: falling wasn’t as important as learning to get back up. With every step, her small feet trembled, sometimes tipping her forward precariously. But she was persistent. Even when she toppled over, she would immediately try again. 

JJ sat on the edge of the couch, watching her with a proud grin. Setting his coffee mug aside, he leaned forward slightly and called out, “Liliana, careful now. Let’s not bump into the coffee table, alright?” 

At that exact moment, Liliana stumbled again and plopped onto the floor with a soft “Oops!” Her wide eyes turned to JJ, as if asking, What just happened?

JJ was at her side in an instant, crouching down and holding out his hands. “Look here, young lady. Even when we fall, we get right back up, don’t we? Like a true Pogue.” His voice carried a playful warmth as he smiled at her. 

Liliana babbled in response, her tiny, nonsensical sounds making JJ chuckle. She placed her little hands in his, using his support to stand up again. JJ nodded dramatically. “That’s my girl! Now, let’s try it again, sweetheart.” 

Determined, Liliana let go of JJ’s hands, took a few wobbly steps, and fell once more. But this time, her giggle rang out louder than ever. JJ joined her laughter as you sat on the floor nearby, coffee mug in hand, watching the scene unfold. Their shared joy and Liliana’s little triumphs momentarily swept you away into a bittersweet reverie. 

You couldn’t help but think about everything that had been and everything that could’ve been. 

As you watched JJ hold Liliana’s hands and help her stand again, a faint melancholy crept into your heart. Her smile warmed you, but your thoughts wandered far from the present. 

The turbulent times with Rafe felt like a wound tucked into the corner of your mind. The fear, uncertainty, and rejection you’d faced while carrying Liliana lingered, even as your life now brimmed with happiness. Liliana was growing up so fast. She was already halfway through her first year. And one day, the inevitable question would come: Where’s my dad?

The thought sent a pang through your chest. What would you tell her? The idea of saying Rafe’s name out loud made your stomach twist. But was it right to hide the truth? 

Your eyes shifted to JJ, who was now walking hand in hand with Liliana, her little giggles filling the room. JJ raised his arms in mock triumph, shouting, “Pogue for life!” 

You rolled your eyes at his antics but couldn’t suppress a smile. JJ had his way of turning any moment into something fun, and you let him. This was their time, a little world just for the two of them to share. 

Still, you couldn’t ignore the impact JJ had on Liliana’s life. He wasn’t just a friend or a fun uncle—he was a loving guide. But would that be enough? Would his presence fill the gap in Liliana’s heart when the questions came? 

Or worse—would she misinterpret his role in her life? Would she see him not as an uncle figure, but as a father? 

Someday, Liliana would see other kids with their parents. She would want to compare, to understand. When she noticed the difference—that she didn’t have a mom and dad like the others—what would she feel? Would she long for something you couldn’t give her? 

As Liliana’s laughter mingled with JJ’s playful banter, your thoughts continued to churn. But amidst the worry, one thing was clear: you would do everything in your power to be there for her. And so would JJ. Of that, you had no doubt. 

“Hey, you good?” JJ’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. 

You looked up to see him guiding Liliana as she toddled toward you, her tiny hands gripping his fingers tightly. A smile crept onto your face despite yourself. 

“Come to Mommy,” you encouraged Liliana softly, your voice light with laughter. She babbled something in return, her tone cheerful as ever. 

JJ winked at you, clearly proud of their progress. “Little Pogues never give up, you know,” he said, lifting Liliana slightly and twirling her in the air. 

In that moment, the dark cloud of your worries lifted, if only briefly. JJ’s boundless energy and Liliana’s infectious joy silenced the unease in your heart. Her delighted giggle as she clapped her tiny hands filled the room with warmth, and you couldn’t help but join in the laughter. 

These moments, you realized, were precious beyond measure. The future remained uncertain, but this—this love, this warmth—was everything. And for now, that was enough. 

Three Years Old

The backyard glowed softly in the warm light of a summer evening. The table had been beautifully set, laden with delicious dishes that made the scene feel like a small celebration. Over in the corner of the yard, Liliana was busy playing with little flowers. She gathered daisies into her tiny hands, attempting to craft a small bouquet while occasionally pausing to marvel at the bugs crawling nearby. 

For her, bugs were still a fascinating mystery. 

JJ stood in the middle of the yard, holding a bottle of lemonade, shaking it lightly as he exclaimed, “Wait a minute, hold on! You’re telling me this now? You—my childhood best friend—are actually planning to get married? Like, for real? This is happening?” 

Pope, his hands casually tucked in his pockets, smiled with quiet confidence. “I mean… yeah. The time just felt right. Who here didn’t see this coming?” He glanced around at the three of you, and you shrugged in response. 

You honestly weren’t surprised. Cleo and Pope had practically been living like a married couple for ages. Sharing a house, sharing a life—the only thing missing had been rings on their fingers. And now, even that seemed to be taken care of. 

Turning to Cleo, who stood beside you with an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes, you reached out and clasped her hands. Rising from your seat, you pulled her into a tight hug. “Congratulations, babe. But let’s be real—I knew this was only a matter of time.” 

Cleo laughed, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. You adored her, truly. As you pulled back, she smoothed her hair with a smile. “Thank you,” she murmured, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “Honestly, if he hadn’t proposed soon, he was about to start sleeping on the couch.” 

Both of you laughed, returning to your seats as JJ continued to hold court in the middle of the yard. He’d definitely had a bit to drink—not enough to be drunk, of course, especially not with Liliana around—but just enough to be fully basking in the moment. 

JJ flopped backward dramatically, as if falling into an invisible chair. For a split second, you almost reached out to catch him. “No, no, this has to be a joke,” he said, pointing at Cleo with exaggerated suspicion. “Because the Pope I know? He doesn’t do serious. And now we’re talking about marriage? Cleo, are you sure?” 

Without missing a beat, Cleo smacked him lightly on the head, earning an exaggerated yelp from JJ. 

“Hey! That hurt!” he protested, rubbing the spot dramatically. 

“Good,” Cleo shot back. “Maybe it’ll knock some sense into you.” 

JJ raised an eyebrow at her, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, is that what you think?” he teased, leaning closer to you for backup, clearly trying to rile you up too. 

Without hesitation, you pushed his face away with your hand, rolling your eyes as you grabbed a dessert from the table. A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. JJ, ever the entertainer, turned his attention back to Cleo, who was now watching the two of you with a look that was… curious. Maybe even amused. 

You caught the glance and quickly shifted your focus elsewhere, pretending not to notice. Your eyes landed on Liliana, who was still engrossed in her flower-gathering mission. Now, though, you realized she’d made more than one bouquet—the two little bundles of daisies on the ground made your heart swell with pride. 

Meanwhile, Cleo crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at JJ. Her gaze darted between the two of you. “Look at this,” she said, her tone teasing. “Pope might actually be the most mature one here tonight.” 

“Wow, okay,” JJ said, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll give you that, Cleo. But I’ve gotta say—you’re a saint for putting up with him. Marrying Pope? That’s a big commitment,” he joked, grinning. 

Cleo tilted her head, a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, no doubt about it,” she replied, nodding as if in agreement. 

You laughed at their banter, thinking how these friends, once JJ’s alone, now felt like your family too. Thanks to him, yes, but still—there was no denying how much you adored them. 

The cheerful mood seemed to envelop everyone. Even Liliana, who had been absorbed in her flowers, perked up at the sound of JJ’s laughter. She toddled over to the group, holding out one of her bouquets to Pope. “This is for you,” she said, her tiny voice filled with pride. 

Pope crouched down, taking the bouquet with wide eyes. “Wow, thank you, little lady,” he said warmly. It was one of those heart-melting moments that left everyone smiling. 

She went on to distribute her bouquets to the rest of you, looking so proud of her work. 

Then, tugging at JJ’s pant leg, she said, “The flowers we saw the other day aren’t here.” She was referring to the pink flowers you’d noticed on a walk. JJ scooped her up with ease, lifting her high into the air. “How about tomorrow, we go find some of those for you, Lily?” he said, grinning as her face lit up with joy. He followed up with a series of playful kisses, her laughter ringing out like music. 

For a few minutes, the evening revolved entirely around her. But as the hour grew later, it became clear it was time to start wrapping things up. While Pope and JJ entertained Liliana with a game of make-believe involving her dolls, Cleo jumped in to help you clear the table. 

Missing an opportunity to spend a moment with her? Never. 

“She’s such a sweet kid,” Cleo said, her tone warm as she started washing the dishes. 

You smiled, nodding as you packed leftovers into containers. “Thank you. She adores you, by the way. Honestly, I think she’s smitten.” 

Cleo’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Well, the feeling’s mutual,” she said, her voice soft. It was a small moment, but it spoke volumes, the kind of quiet connection that reminded you just how lucky you were to have her—and everyone else—here.

“Not like his father—thank God for that.” You couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t a particularly joyful smile, but the fact that Liliana didn’t resemble him in any way brought you some comfort. You didn’t know much about him anymore, not really. But the thought of even a part of your daughter resembling Rafe was enough to make your chest tighten.

“How’s he doing?” The question slipped from your lips before you could stop it. You hadn’t meant to ask. It wasn’t that you cared—it was just… curiosity. You wondered how he was holding up, what kind of life he was leading. 

Still, it felt like a ridiculous question. You were about to tell Cleo to just forget it. 

“Same as always,” she muttered nonchalantly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. She seemed to understand why you’d asked, even though you hadn’t explained. “We all grew up. Everyone’s got their thing going on now. I don’t even know if most people still bother showing up to parties. He’s running his dad’s business now. I barely see him.”

You didn’t know how to feel. As you packed leftovers into a container, you took a deep breath. What had you even expected to hear? At least he had finally gotten what he wanted.

He was happy, and you were too. Apart, but still happy. In the end, that was all that mattered. 

Whether he still harbored anything for you, you couldn’t say. Your feelings for him felt… dulled, as if they’d been packed away and forgotten. Since Liliana had become the center of your universe, things like dating or romance didn’t even register. And you didn’t miss them. Liliana was still young; she needed you.

Maybe that’s why any notion of love, of attraction, felt so foreign now. 

“This is normal, love. Whatever it is you’re feeling—it’s normal.” Cleo’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned toward her, realizing you’d been staring blankly at the container in your hands. You blinked a few times, grounding yourself. 

Of course it was normal. 

You pushed your hair back and gave Cleo a nod of agreement as you snapped the lid onto the container and placed it in the fridge. When you turned back around, Cleo was suddenly closer. 

“You know,” she started, her tone shifting to something more teasing, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen JJ like this. He’s really changed. The difference between him back then and now? Night and day.” 

You were confused by the abrupt topic change, but you didn’t comment. Instead, your gaze drifted toward the backyard. Through the glass doors, you could see Pope, JJ, and Liliana playing together. 

“He’s good for you two, just like you’re good for him.” Cleo’s voice was softer now, almost like she was trying to coax a reaction out of you.

Your eyes lingered on JJ, watching him scoop Liliana into his arms and pepper her head with kisses. One of his hands was always hovering protectively near her, ready to catch her if she stumbled. A small smile crept onto your lips.

“Is it just me, or is there… something going on?” Cleo’s sly tone snapped your attention back to her so quickly, you almost got whiplash. Her expression was amused, her brow arched, and that same unreadable look was back in her eyes.

“What? Something going on?” Your voice was a mix of disbelief and nervous laughter. 

Cleo stepped back with a shrug, her lips pursed in mock innocence. Meanwhile, your eyebrows shot higher with every second. 

“I’m just saying!” she exclaimed, raising her hands as if she were completely innocent. The smile tugging at her lips told a different story, though. “A girl’s gotta point out what she sees.” She leaned casually against the counter, her eyes fixed on you with way too much amusement. 

“Especially when there are two people too blind to see it themselves.” Her tone was light, teasing, but the implication hit you like a ton of bricks. 

Your jaw dropped. “What? No—no, no.” You shook your head, the words spilling out before you even knew what you were saying. “That’s not… Cleo, come on.” 

She laughed, the sound echoing through the kitchen. You stepped closer, almost desperate to make her stop. “Cleo, no. Just—no.”

The idea made you feel strangely unsettled. JJ? You and JJ? That was absurd. You were friends, and that was it. You’d always been friends, nothing more. 

Cleo grabbed a dirty plate and turned toward the sink, seemingly unbothered by your protests. You leaned against the counter, trying to find the words to convince her. 

“We’re friends,” you said, your voice firm but a little too quick. “That’s all. For three—no, almost four years—we’ve lived together. That’s it. JJ and I are just friends.”

Cleo turned her head sharply, and for a second, her movement startled you into taking a step back. Her eyebrow arched higher, almost disappearing into her hairline. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Cleo’s knowing gaze held you in place like a spotlight. 

JJ and you were friends. Always had been, always would be. The thought of anything else—it felt… wrong. Like it would betray everything you’d built together over the years. 

Cleo’s smirk only widened as she watched you flounder. “I—” you started, but nothing else came out.

The sound of the door opening made you jump. Your eyes darted toward it, and there they were—JJ, holding Liliana’s hand. For a split second, you felt like a teenager caught doing something wrong by their parents. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Cleo’s amused smile. You ignored it. 

“She said she had to pee,” JJ explained, nudging Liliana gently forward. You quickly stepped toward your daughter. 

“Yes,” Liliana confirmed, clutching her doll in one hand. “I have to pee.” 

“I’ll handle it,” you said, smiling at JJ. But when his gaze met yours, you suddenly felt... weird. Cleo’s earlier comments were still fresh in your mind, and now, any interaction between you and JJ felt like it carried a weight it hadn’t before. 

“I can take care of it—it’s no big deal,” JJ said with a casual shrug. He glanced down at Liliana, then placed his free hand lightly on your back. That simple gesture, one that had never bothered you before, now felt oddly charged. 

You hated it. 

This had never felt strange before. Nothing had changed—except Cleo’s remarks, which had now lodged themselves in your brain. Thanks a lot, Cleo. Really. 

“No, no. I’ve got it,” you said a bit too quickly. You saw JJ about to insist again, but you bent down and scooped Liliana into your arms before he could say anything more. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

Even his presence now made you uncomfortable—not because of anything he was doing, but because your mind kept wandering into territory it had no business being in. 

You and JJ were friends. Just friends. Imagining him kissing you, or holding you in a way that felt too intimate, felt like a betrayal of that friendship. And you were sure of that. 

“She’s got it, JJ,” Cleo’s sly tone cut in, and you took the opportunity to bolt with Liliana. You just needed a minute. Some space to clear your head. Surely, if you could shake off these ridiculous thoughts, everything would go back to normal. 

“Go grab Pope and get in here,” Cleo called out behind you. “My back’s killing me. Your turn.” 

Thanks a lot, Cleo. Really.

Three Year Old

The living room was dimly lit, a soft glow creating a calm atmosphere. You’d seized the opportunity of Liliana sleeping to make yourself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. Meanwhile, JJ was pacing the room nervously, shoving his hands in and out of his pockets. He wore a pair of jeans and a simple shirt, but it was clear he wasn’t comfortable. 

JJ adjusted his shirt collar, his chest rising and falling like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. Do I really need to do this? he wondered. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go on this date; it was more like he was searching for an excuse not to. A noise from behind snapped him out of his thoughts. 

You peeked out from the kitchen with a smile, setting your cup on the table. “JJ, relax. It’s just a date, not a job interview.” His stress was written all over his face. 

It’s just a date. It isn’t like he’ll marrying the girl tonight. 

JJ stopped in his tracks, frowning. One hand reached up to rub his chin as if he was still weighing his options. Honestly, he looked ready to ditch his outfit, pull on something comfortable, and settle in for a movie night at home. He just needed one signal, one sign to justify staying—and he would. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “This feels stupid. I mean… it’s something a coworker set up. I don’t even know the woman.” 

You leaned casually against the edge of the table, shrugging. This wasn’t the end of the world. He’d go, spend a couple of hours out, and if he liked her? Great. If not? He’d move on. It wasn’t like you were going to stop him. What were you supposed to say, anyway? Hey JJ, I don’t go on dates, so you shouldn’t either?

Ridiculous.

You had your reasons. Expecting him to share them was absurd. It’s not like you two had ever talked about dating or relationships. Not seriously, anyway. Although, you were pretty sure he’d had his fair share of one-night stands. You weren’t naive; the nights he came home late and went straight for the shower said enough. But what could you do? Judge him for it? He was in his mid-twenties, for God’s sake.

It wasn’t your business. If he needed that, he needed it. Just because you didn’t do it didn’t mean he shouldn’t. Especially when you two were… nothing. 

Damn it, Cleo. You wouldn’t normally spiral into these thoughts. 

By “normally,” you meant before that night Cleo talked to you. Before then, these kinds of thoughts were off-limits, a red line you didn’t cross. Now here you were, dissecting JJ’s sex life. 

Of course, he could do whatever he wanted. Why wouldn’t he? 

It’s not like he needed your permission. 

Not that you didn’t have your own needs. But after years of going without, you weren’t exactly itching to jump into something casual. You didn’t want to leave your house, leave your daughter, and come back having spent the night with someone who didn’t mean anything to you. 

Maybe someday, when Liliana was older—maybe you’d be ready then. But not now. Not while she was just three years old. 

JJ’s nervous pacing snapped you out of your thoughts, and you cleared your throat. These ridiculous ideas running through your head were driving you crazy. He just needed to leave already so you could look at him like a friend again. “And that’s exactly why you should go. Who knows? You might actually have a good time. And at the very worst,” you said, pausing for dramatic effect, “you call me, and I’ll come rescue you.” 

JJ laughed a little, his shoulders relaxing. “You’re a real hero,” he replied with a smirk, running a hand through his hair. He licked his lips thoughtfully before glancing at you again. “But if I do call you, will you actually come?” 

You rolled your eyes. Was he seriously asking? “Of course I would. But not without letting you suffer a little first,” you teased. In reality, you’d hop in your car without a second thought—even though he had a car—and you’d go full drama mode if needed. Just for your friend. Yes, friend.

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “If it comes to that, I’ll call. Promise.” He wandered around the room, checking to make sure he had everything. But as you watched him, something about it made you feel off. The idea of JJ going on a date with someone else felt… unsettling. You’d spent years side by side, and he’d never really left your orbit. Still, you were happy for him. 

At least, you thought you were. 

When he leaned down to kiss the top of your head before heading out, your eyes instinctively closed. He did it so casually, like it was nothing. But you couldn’t stop yourself from reading into it. Again. Thanks a lot, Cleo. 

A few minutes later, JJ was out the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. And oh, how you hated being alone with them. Your mind always found the most nonsensical things to obsess over. JJ was a welcome distraction, and now that he was gone, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

Because thinking made everything feel… weird. 

Even though he has his own house, even though he paid the rent every month, he practically lived at your place. You had suggested it, and you didn’t regret it or find it awkward at all. But now, after Cleo’s comments, everything felt… suffocating. Like you were looking at your dynamic through a distorted lens. 

Your eyes drifted to the clock, the hands moving painfully slow. How much time had passed? You couldn’t tell. Your hands tightened around your coffee mug without you realizing it. You hated thinking. You didn’t want to think. You wished Liliana would wake up early, even if it wasn’t time yet. Anything to distract you. 

Who’s he meeting? What’s she like? The questions popped into your head unbidden, and you immediately despised them. Why do I care? you thought bitterly, shrugging to yourself. “What does it even matter?” you muttered under your breath. But the curiosity inside you wasn’t so easily silenced. 

When your coffee ran out, you didn’t hesitate to pour another cup. Maybe you needed some fresh air or something. These thoughts swirling around in your head were absurd, and you knew it. You blamed it on the lingering toxicity of Cleo’s words from months ago. Ever since that conversation, it felt like you’d been poisoned.

As the hours ticked by, the silence in the living room grew heavier. Every passing second transformed into an expectation—would JJ send a message? You kept your phone close, glancing at every notification with urgency. But there was nothing. 

You were ready, though—ready to rush out the door if JJ sent you a single text asking to be rescued. Or even, as he mentioned, if he called. 

At some point, you couldn’t take it anymore and went to the kitchen, fixing yourself a snack. You tried reading a few pages of a book, even made a couple of trips upstairs to check if Liliana was still asleep. But your mind kept drifting back to JJ and his date. For a fleeting moment, you thought, “Maybe it’s going badly.” That thought didn’t bring relief, though—it unsettled you. 

No, you’d be happier if things were going well. JJ’s happiness mattered. If he’d found someone who suited him, you’d convince him to pursue it. Maybe then, the tension between you could finally dissolve. But—then you wouldn’t see him as often. Neither you nor Liliana. Still, you knew his love for Liliana wouldn’t fade. 

As the night wore on, you kept yourself busy in the kitchen, but your eyes constantly flicked to your phone. No calls, no texts. You were dying to know how the date was going but fought hard to suppress that curiosity. Even after putting your phone on silent and leaving it on the table, you found yourself picking it up to check. 

Close to midnight, the front door creaked open. A few sounds of stumbling followed, grabbing your attention. JJ walked in, and it was immediately clear how much he’d had to drink. He was swaying slightly, the familiar exhaustion in his eyes telling you everything about his night. You were curled up on the couch, a book in hand, but as soon as you heard him, you looked up. 

It hadn’t gone terribly—that much you were sure of. He was drunk out of his mind and—he hadn’t called. At least his demeanor suggested nothing had happened between them—enough for you to focus on your own business. Still, you couldn’t help but note that if the roles were reversed and you’d hooked up with someone, you’d probably have stayed the night at their place. 

Crossing your arms, you watched as he wrestled with his shoes. “Well, since you made it home, I guess it wasn’t that bad,” you said, your tone laced with mockery to mask the mess of feelings churning inside. You hated yourself for saying it but couldn’t stop. 

JJ let out a laugh as he struggled with his shoes. “Actually… it was awful,” he slurred. You watched him stumble toward you, surprised by his response. You’d expected him to say it went well—but here was the truth. 

His eyes were red, and you couldn’t even guess how much he’d drunk. He dropped onto the couch beside you, head tilting back as he let out a long sigh. “She was sweet, but… I don’t know. Boring. And also…” He paused, his head lolling slightly to the side. His lips parted, and the smell of alcohol wafted over. “She wasn’t as beautiful as you.” 

Your mouth fell open in shock. You tried to form a response, but no words came out. JJ, meanwhile, seemed to be watching your every reaction, almost as if savoring it, his drunken gaze locked on you. Clearing your throat, you fought to dismiss his words. 

You were definitely going to kill Cleo.

Smiling, you raised an eyebrow and said, “Care to share the details?” in an overly casual tone. 

JJ leaned forward, reaching for the coffee table. When you realized he was going for your water glass, you handed it to him, watching to ensure he drank. “Rachel thought I was—married,” he said, breaking into a laugh before taking a long sip of water, as if he’d been parched all night. 

The words hit like a bombshell, and your eyebrows shot up as your eyes widened in disbelief. You hadn’t expected that. Now you were even more curious, but JJ’s water-drinking intermission couldn’t have come at a worse time. “Wait, what? She thought you were married? Why?” 

For a few seconds, you just stared at him, lost for words. JJ, now done with the water, clumsily placed the glass back on the table and pulled his phone out of his pocket with some difficulty. He held it out to you before slumping back into the couch. As the screen lit up, it became clear. His wallpaper was a photo of you and Liliana hugging. 

“She saw that and said something like, ‘You left your family to come here?’ Then she lost it.” He spoke nonchalantly, tossing his head back again. His eyes were nearly closed, his speech slurred to the point of incoherence. 

Pressing your lips together, you held back laughter. You wanted to say something, but no words came. JJ misinterpreted your silence, continuing, “Honestly… it doesn’t really matter. Because…” He paused again, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not more important than this.” 

Following his gaze, you saw he was staring at the wallpaper on his phone. Your heart skipped a beat. JJ’s words were purely alcohol-induced—you were sure of it. Composing yourself quickly, you forced a small smile. “You’re going to have a killer headache tomorrow. Let’s get you to bed.” 

Helping him up, you steadied his swaying form. Even though he insisted on giving Liliana a goodnight kiss, you managed to convince him otherwise and ushered him to his room. 

Once he was in bed, you pulled the blanket over him and stood there for a moment, watching him. His face was peaceful, utterly vulnerable in sleep. In that moment, you felt like you understood him more than ever. 

With a head full of swirling thoughts, you quietly left the room, closing the door behind you. But you knew—you wouldn’t forget tonight anytime soon.

Four Year Old

Outer Banks was a tangled web of memories for you. Going back wasn’t just about revisiting a place; it was stepping into a time capsule, into a life filled with complicated, conflicting emotions. The last few years with JJ and Liliana had taught you that no matter how safe you felt in the present, leaving parts of yourself behind was never easy. Outer Banks was the epicenter of your past struggles, losses, and, oddly enough, some of your most beautiful memories. 

The morning Liliana excitedly babbled about the upcoming wedding, you found yourself waking up with those very thoughts swirling in your mind. JJ was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, laughing as he answered Liliana’s barrage of questions. To her, the idea of attending Pope and Cleo’s wedding was an adventure, something to look forward to. For you, it was harder to embrace. While you were happy for your friends, the thought of returning to Outer Banks weighed heavy on you. 

“Let’s think this through,” JJ said, leaning against the counter, his gaze steady as if he could see the unease written all over your face. “I know this is tough for you, but it’s just a few days. I promise we’ll come straight back after.” 

You tightened your grip on your coffee mug and looked at him. Of course, it would be easier for him—you knew that. But going back there with a child made everything feel different. People would do the math. When they asked Liliana’s age, the unspoken questions would surface. “Is it really that simple?” you asked quietly. “Just go, smile, and pretend the past doesn’t exist?” 

They’d ask about Liliana’s father. Not just to you—but to her, too. The funny thing was, JJ had taken on the father figure role in her life so seamlessly that you were terrified she might actually mention his name when people asked. 

And then there was Rafe. The idea of him seeing you and Liliana again filled you with dread. You’d never imagined taking Liliana to Outer Banks; it always felt like you’d stay away forever. But now, with Cleo’s wedding, there was no choice. You wanted to be there for your friends, of course—but the thought of it all was overwhelming. 

JJ’s eyes softened as he picked up on your worry. Shrugging, he stepped closer until he was right in front of you. When his hands wrapped gently around yours, your eyes met. His thumb brushed the back of your hand in soothing circles, his voice calm and steady. “It’s not easy, I know. But we’re not going back for the past. This is about the present—about today. And we’re going together. Liliana’s coming with us. I’ll be with you every second if you need me. You trust me, don’t you?” 

The answer was so obvious it wasn’t even a question. You trusted him with everything—your life, Liliana’s life. You knew he’d protect you both no matter what. Without hesitation, you nodded. “Of course.” The words tumbled out quickly, your voice firm, as if to erase any doubt. JJ’s smile lit up his face, warm and reassuring. 

Liliana’s little voice broke in suddenly. She was tugging on JJ’s pant leg, her wide eyes sparkling with excitement. You noticed the toy she’d dropped on the floor and made a mental note to toss it into the bag. “Can I catch the wedding bouquet?” she asked, her words adorably slurred. You had to resist the urge to scoop her up and smother her with kisses—she was too cute for her own good. 

You found yourself smiling despite everything. Liliana’s joy was infectious, but beneath your smile, the unease lingered. Outer Banks wasn’t just a place; it was a collection of moments—lived experiences, shattered dreams, and wounds that never fully healed. 

“You might be a little young for that, sweetheart,” JJ teased with a grin. He shifted, letting go of one of your hands to scoop Liliana up, settling her on his hip. You watched as he kissed her chubby cheek, the affection in the gesture tugging at your heart. 

JJ must have sensed your inner turmoil because his tone shifted, turning serious as he looked at you again. His hand still held yours. “You know I’m here, right?” 

Those words settled something in your mind, quieting the chaos if only for a moment. There was always a layer of sincerity beneath JJ’s laid-back demeanor—a steadfastness that revealed itself when it mattered most. He wasn’t as careless as he often made himself out to be, especially not when it came to you. 

[laylaayman-blog]

🕊️🇵🇸 A Mother's Cry from Gaza: From the Heart of Fear and Suffering 🚨🍉!

Dear friends and compassionate souls on Tumblr !

After more than a year and 2 months of this war and genocide, and after the circumstances became more difficult and we were unable to provide the simplest needs due to the lack of basic food needs and the high prices, I was forced to run this campaign on the GoFundMe website and I hope to God that it will be a path of goodness, provision and compensation for me and my family 🍉🕊️.

We lost security, which is the most important human right. Read the sentence again, yes, security! Which we were deprived of for a whole year (365 full days!) and the days are still increasing!!

Now I am exhausted from the number of times we have been displaced to different areas of the Strip! And I don't want this to happen to us again, what we have seen and experienced is enough!

I am also tired from seeing my daughter Sally putting her hand on her heart every time she hears the sound of bombing and crying from the horror of what we hear!! It's a really bad feeling guys, I hope none of you ever have to go through it 😞..

My health and psychological condition have deteriorated while I am pregnant and I worry about how my child will come into this cruel world, but it is God’s will on this earth, so praise be to God for everything ❤️..

This is our life is between the past and the present !!

Where it was full of beautiful moments, wonderful trips and delicious food, but now everything around us is destruction, fear, displacement, migration, bad memories and exorbitant prices, we are unable to confront it 💔😞..

In this difficult time. The past 15 months of displacement and famine have exacerbated our suffering and unbelievable difficulties. We have used all the sad words to describe the situation we have reached, but these words were not enough. The scale of the tragedy and suffering is much greater than what you may have seen on social media.

There is only fear that fills my daughter's eyes as soon as she hears the sounds around us. She does not realize what is happening outside, but she feels it and sees it in our eyes when she looks at us.

I cannot protect myself, my children. Help me save my children. They deserve a better life, as do all the children of Gaza and the world. Alone, I can't do it, but with your help we can find a safe place and a better future for my children 🥺🇵🇸.

Be the reason for changing a child's life for the better by visiting our link. And donate to us with anything, no matter how small... Every dollar makes a difference and gives us a good life 💕🕊️.

Vatted by @bilal-salah0 here , @90-ghost here , @a-shade-of-blue here ..

[peachysunrize]

All Too Well ⥃ modern!Aemond Targaryen

Summary: a reunion with your ex boyfriend at his mom’s Christmas party shouldn’t end with limbs tangled under a christmas tree, should it?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Mentions of toxic relationships, Aemond goes to therapy, smut, angst, p in v, oral (F receiving), breeding, secret relationships, alcohol, arguments, drunk sex!!! English is not my first language<3

Word count: 4.3k+

A/n: soooo this happened lol and ALSO THANK YOU TO THE ANON WHO GAVE ME THIS IDEA!!! I hope you enjoy this!! Comments & reblogs are more than appreciated💕💕

I don’t have a taglist so please follow and turn on notifications for @peachysunrizefics <3

Tension surprisingly is not high tonight despite the entire family being present. Perhaps the three glasses of mulled wine Aegon has thrust into your hand are doing the magic at keeping you sane — or perhaps you are too busy trying to escape the dark gaze of your ex-boyfriend.

It is… something to say the least; Alicent’s party is always extravagant, beautiful, and cozy. She outdoes herself each year by going above and beyond to prepare the eve with the most delicious meals and new drinks, terrifyingly expensive gifts, and last but not least, decorating the mansion with the most eye-catching milestones in every corner — probably Aegon’s doing — and a Christmas tree in every room.

You take a long sip from your glass, humming as the spices in the wine hit your tongue, Aegon’s sigh making you roll your eyes in annoyance.

“What?” You hiss, glaring at him as he shrugs and leans on the wall behind you, “It was your brilliant idea to join your family, not mine.”

“Yeah, but you’re sulking worse than me, and no one here has traumatized ya before,” he whispers, pouting as he takes a long swig from his glass, giving you a small yet quick smile.

You sneer at him, recalling every single pain a certain member of this family has put you through. All the tears and screams you shed for him on the bathroom floor, the days you called in sick because you had cried your energy out the night before, the hours you had to spend with Aegon with a fake smile plastered on your face because he could not know anything about your broken heart.

After all, it all happened due to the forced secrecy.

“Right,” you scoff, finishing your drink in one sip before looking at Aegon’s family conversing, only one person keeping himself invisible in the shadows, “That’s why you told me your… brother won’t be here.”

“That has nothing to do with trauma, dumbass,” Aegon says, walking to the long dining table in front of you to grab a bottle of wine and pour a generous amount in his glass, “It’s not like my brother has any interest in you, he is just a fucking sociopath, and a bit fucking weird but ‘s all.”

“Let’s not talk about him,” you exhale sharply, trying to ignore your friend’s point, yet again, the lack of knowledge on what has really happened between you and his younger brother. How could he when Aemond tried his hardest to keep you his secret, a forbidden captive to pour his deranged love into?

You loved him, and he did too! His love was everything you could ever imagine; it was pure, lovely, so warm and world consuming. But then something shifted in him, he wanted you in his corner of the world, tucked away from every eye.

It all started with subtle hints you tried to ignore; you were fine with being his forbidden romance, his lover in the shadows and you knew all too well why he wanted you kept in the dark. He was so in love, so smitten with the way you smelt, the way your lips curled in a smile, your messy hair on the hotel’s soft pillow. 

Your eyes wander around the room, finding Aemond’s eye already on you, his gaze sending shivers down your spine. His eye still weakens your knees; his stare is enough to make your throat dry and your hands tremble. There is not much to do especially when you are used to being the subject of his unwavering attention — most of the time, you would blush and swoon over how he wouldn’t take his eye off you when you both lay on the bed together, but it equally unnerved you how he used to act in front of other people as if he could not care less about your existence, and when he did he was scaring off other men, not allowing them even to have a normal conversation with you.

You avert your eyes back to your glass before you move towards the dining table to grab something to eat and keep your mind from thinking about him and ultimately ruining your night. The spicy taste of Alicent’s cheese twist distracts you for a little, and you can find the strength to look back at Aegon and ignore the piercing gaze of his younger brother.

“This tastes good, your Mum is an amazing cook,” you say, taking another one to stuff your mouth with, and washing it down with a freshly poured wine from your glass.

“Yeah, as if she doesn’t have a whole ass kitchen staff ready downstairs,” he chuckles and steals a bite from your twist, making a gagging sound at the taste, “Holy fuck, how can you eat this crap? It feels like I’ve dumped an entire jalapeno down my throat. Aemond is the same, he can never go without adding kilos of pepper to his food.”

“Stop, Aegon,” you hiss at him, shaking your head as you pinch your friend’s side, “How many times have I told you not to mention him in front of me?”

“Many fucking times,” he groans and leans on his elbows on the table, “I don’t get why you are so defensive about him. He’s a good kid!”

“He forgot my birthday and took you and your family on a fucking trip, so yes, I don’t want to think about him,” you tell him, sighing loudly before leaning back on the wall behind you, “Besides, he always treats me like a piece of trash!”

“He does that to everyone! You’re not different, lemme tell you that,” You know Aegon wants to make you feel better, you know that, but when he utters those words, you can not help but think about how much that statement is true; Aemond treated you like another person who did not deserve him in public while he hated everyone who breathed the same air as you. It was confusing, it was heartbreaking.

You glance back at the spot where you last saw him, only to find him finishing another shot of whiskey, his lips pressed into a thin line as he looks down at his shoes with disdain written all over his face. He looks troubled, his mind is probably racing with a hundred thoughts; you know him too well, all those nights spent in his arms only to listen to his soft murmurs about his family that would always lead to him telling you how much he appreciates and adores you, but can’t let anyone see you being in a relationship with him.

Perhaps it was the duality between obsession and indifference that drove you apart.

With another sigh, you leave Aegon to let him go socialize with his family, smirking when he glares at you with a scowl on his face. But you need to get out of this place and hide somewhere because the more you spend in this huge hall, the more the walls get closer. 

You do not spare him another glance before you walk out of the hall and upstairs, going to the closest bathroom to have a minute for yourself away from him, in hopes of pushing his thoughts out of your head. You can feel the intensity of his stare as he watches you leave, his eye not once leaving your silhouette as you try to hide yourself from him.

You slam the door shut as soon as you step inside the bathroom, chest heaving with each breath; seeing him was enough damage, but to feel him yearning from across the room is worse. You want nothing more than to vanish from this place and never be seen again, but you can’t, and it pains you deeply because you need to walk out of this door with your head held high and act all happy and comfortable while you are bothered by Aemond’s presence immensely.

You put your glass down on the edge of the bathroom sink before you turn on the water and splash some on your face, not caring if you have ruined your makeup or not. The coldness of the water eases your mind a bit, helping you gather your thoughts, but it is not enough, nor were the drinks you took earlier. When it comes to him, nothing is enough to take the edge off.

Looking at yourself in the mirror reminds you of how much you miss having his arms wrapped around you when you were getting ready to leave his apartment or the hotel room, at that moment nothing seemed so out of place, but it all came crashing down because of the two worlds he created and danced around them for too long.

Shaking your head slightly, you take a long and deep breath before grabbing your glass again and leaving the bathroom. You had no wish to go back downstairs, not anymore at least. With one last breath, you close the door before you and march towards another staircase leading to a sitting room you always loved to spend time in when Alicent would invite you over.

Without looking inside the room you open the door and walk inside, making sure to close it with little to no sound, but when you turn around and look up, you find Aemond there, standing in front of the large windows of the room with a glass of whiskey in his hands.

“I–I’m sorry, I’ll leave—”

“Hey-no, no!” he cuts you off quickly, his good eye wide in surprise and fear before he gestures for you to sit, “Don’t, I mean… you don’t have to leave.”

“I don’t wanna disturb you,” you huff nervously, your grip tightening around your glass as you look at him with an equally shocked expression, “I’m so sorry I just—”

“Stay,” he says, and you can see how he swallows his words nervously, his walls crumbling slightly the longer he keeps looking at you, “The room is big enough for at least twenty people so… we’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure—” “Just make yourself at home,” he replies, giving you a small smile before he turns his back to you to stare out of the window, watching the snowfall.

You know he is waiting for you to approach and sit on the loveseat in front of the fireplace but you go and stand in front of the other window on the opposite side of the fireplace from where he is standing, sipping on your drink to distract yourself from thinking about him, which is nearly impossible because you can smell his bitter and cold cologne from here.

You glance at him, finding him nursing on his whiskey; it has been too long since you have seen him so put together and… beautiful. He is wearing an all-black outfit, dress pants, and a black long-sleeve shirt which he has undone the first button. His hair is neatly brushed and he has pulled his locks in his signature halfway-up way that brings his face out more.

You drag your eyes to his hands, clattered in simple silver rings, watching his fingers tap the metal against the glass before you see him turn his body in your direction slightly. His eye meets yours for a second, and suddenly you are the girl who would jump with joy with one of his texts, the girl who would love feeling him breathing her scent in — it terrifies you, the power he holds over you.

“This was a bad idea—” you say, shaking your head but before you get the chance to walk away he grabs your wrist firmly, pulling you back a bit, “Aemond…”

“Don’t leave,” his voice breaks a little, his thumb caressing your pulse point as he looks at you the way he used to do when he would ask you to stay at his place, not wanting you to leave him for even one second.

“We can’t do this again, Aemond,” you say, tears burning your eyes when you look at his face, your heart clenching when you find him in the same situation; teary-eyed and trembling, “We shouldn’t because I can’t go back to the place I was months before—”

“We don’t have to, just listen to what I have to say, okay?” he lets go of your hand, putting his glass on the table in front of the loveseat, “I didn’t have the chance to say anything, you… you cut me off so out of the blue—” “Out of the blue?” you ask, voice dripping with shock and anger, “Out of the fucking blue, Aemond? Ignoring me when we were with your siblings, acting as if I didn’t exist when we were somewhere that we could run into someone you knew! And-and,” you chuckle in sadness, wiping that one tear that slips your eye, “You kept me your little secret while you would tell me that I’m your world, I’m gonna show you off to everyone, you sounded like you were obsessed with me but you couldn’t even hold my hand in front of your brother!”

“Because I couldn’t stomach the idea of you leaving me!” He shouts back, dropping his hands to his sides as he huffs out an angry breath, “I-I couldn’t imagine a world without you in it, and it terrified me so I thought it would be best to—”

“To what? To plan a fucking trip on my birthday and ignore my texts and calls for a whole week? Yeah? Or maybe you thought it best to act like I was a nobody to you when I tried to hold your hand in front of your friends. Which one is it, Aemond?” you step closer to him, craning your neck to look into his eye better, “So? How did it feel when your worlds merged and you lost me? Oh, wait, you didn’t lose anything because you couldn’t care less about me—”

“I care!” he raises his voice a little, fisting his hands to keep himself composed and not touch you the way he likes, “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. I-I went through the worst thing you can imagine after you left me—”

“Don’t put the blame on me when everything happened because of you and your obsession with keeping me “all to yourself” while you barely looked at me when others were present!”

“Stop! Stop, stop—” he finally reaches up and cups your face in his hands, pulling you in even closer as he leans down to look straight into your eyes, “You’re right, I fucked it up, I…I ruined everything because I didn’t know how to handle my feelings. That… That trip was spontaneous, and I never forgave myself for doing that to you. My head…it gets really messy sometimes and I feared I would ruin the only good thing that’s ever happened to me, and I did, I ruined it.”

“You can’t excuse your actions—”

“I’m not!” he brings your face closer to his until you are only one breath away, “I… I’m sorry, for what I did to you, and-and I am going to therapy… because I thought I might somehow redeem myself.”

“You can’t expect me to take you back, not after what you put me through,” you rest your hands on his, gently pulling them down, letting the tears fall freely on your cheeks. 

It has been a long time since you held his hands in yours, and you can feel the itch in his skin as he tries to fight off the urge to wipe your tears. Maybe he has changed as he says, turned into a better man but you can not be sure, not after the hell you went through and managed to pull yourself together afterward.

“I’m not expecting you to take me back, but please know I deeply regret what I did, and I hope you give me another chance…”

You nod absentmindedly before dropping his hands and stepping away from him, walking towards the door as you try to muffle the sob that nearly escapes your throat, and with one last look at him, you open the door and leave the room.

Resting your back on the closed wooden door, you take a shaky breath, trying your best not to cry your eyes out in the hallway, but it is impossible; how can you not sob when you have been waiting to hear those words for so long? It does not matter if he is genuine or not, you just need to listen to him say he is sorry for what he did.

Now it feels like a weighted blanket has been lifted from you and you can breathe again.

Maybe he is sorry, maybe he is not, but there is something within you that makes your palms sweat. You bite your bottom lip, trying to shake the thoughts of him away, but the way he looked at you, how enamored he seemed… after all, many people close their eyes on logic when it comes to the person their heart is beating for.

It does not matter if you regret this the next day or not, you need to feel him, you need to know how it feels to be loved by him again; so with one last deep breath, you open the door and slam it shut before marching toward where Aemond is sitting — under the Christmas tree with a cigarette in his hand and an ashtray resting next to his hand.

“Wha–” you don’t let him finish, you kneel down in front of him and grab his face into your hands tightly, slamming your lips to his.

He moans, falling back on the ground with a soft thud as his free hand roams your back, feeling the soft silk fabric of your dress beneath his fingertips while he tries to find the ashtray with the other while never breaking the kiss.

“Mmm-are you sure?” he manages to ask between the kisses, finally putting out the cigarette. Now both of his hands come to rest on your waist, holding you close as he waits for you to answer.

“It doesn’t matter if it’ll be the last or the first of many, I just need to feel you,” you mumble against his lips before closing the gap again, letting the savory taste of your wine melt against his bitter whiskey and smoke.

The kiss is unlike anything you have shared before; it is passionate, late lovers reuniting, full of emotions that have been left unexplored yet so familiar and welcoming. It must be the alcohol in your system, but his hands on your body set your skin ablaze, and for the first time in a long time, you feel desperation in his movements.

He sits up quickly, his lips moving in sync with yours before he licks your bottom lip, asking for entrance and when you part your lips, he pushes his tongue in, tasting the wine from your mouth directly while his hands come up to rest on your back, one hand reaching to push the strap of your dress down, caressing the skin with such delicacy that it makes you melt beneath his touch.

He breaks the kiss, looking down at your face as both of you pant and cling to each other before he gently lifts you and switches your positions, lying you on the carpet next to the Christmas tree, humming in delight when you spread your legs to make room for him.

You reach up to pull him down again, lips sealing in another breathtaking kiss. He holds himself up by his elbows on either side of your head while he kisses you back, groaning when you wrap your legs around him and rock your hips up, rubbing your clothed core against his growing bulge.

He pulls back and trails his kisses down your jaw to the column of your throat, going lower with each kiss before he reaches your thighs. Aemond waits for you to give him the green light and when you nod he pushes your dress up to your hips, prepping your inner thighs with kisses and bites before he grabs the waistband of your underwear and pulls the fabric down dropping it to the side.

“Aemond…” you sigh when he wraps his fingers around your thighs and spreads them further, leaning in to lick a stripe from bottom to top, ignoring your shocked gasp as he starts feasting upon you — seems like you were not the only one who has been craving intimacy lately.

He flickers your clit with the tip of his tongue, his chin rubbing against your wet folds. He hums when he hears your little whines and sighs, spurring him on even more to go faster and drive you closer to your peak. 

Your hand goes to his perfectly shaped hair, tangling your fingers in his soft luscious locks. He opens his mouth and sucks on your buzzing nerves, dizzying your brain and clouding your mind with each lewd sound he makes.

He loves the way you push his head down and rock your hips up; he deserves this, to be smothered with your scent and taste, and he would die a happy man if you kept squeezing your legs around his head.

With a newfound determination, he pushes his tongue inside you, thrusting the steady muscle in and out while he reaches to play with your clit with his thumb, drawing fast and firm circles as he brings you closer to the edge of the euphoria.

You moan his name loudly, throwing your head back as your lips fall apart and your body as well, shaking in his strong grip when you come on his face, gushing your juices out with a cry, mind going blank as you shut the world out and focus on the waves of ecstasy that rock your body.

Aemond wipes your release from his face with his sleeve, crawling on top of you with a soft look in his eye before he bends down and pecks your lips while he fiddles with his belt and pants, unzipping them and pushing them down to his thighs, sighing in relief as soon as his cock is free from the tightness of the fabric.

“You’re too far away,” you whine and reach for him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and nodding quickly when he gives you a few seconds to rethink this, “I want you, please…”

“Don’t beg, sweet girl,” he whispers, lining up his cockhead with your entrance, gently rubbing it up and down to gather some of your wetness before he starts pushing in slowly, “ I’ll give it to you, you don’t need to beg for anything, ever.”

You missed him; the closeness, the proximity, the way his cock always fills you so deliciously. Now with his cock inside you fully, he pulls you in for a kiss, moving inside you with shallow thrusts while his lips steal the breath from your lungs. 

He picks up his pace, his hips snapping to yours repeatedly, his cock reaching deep inside you. You arch your back, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt as you break the kiss suddenly and moan out loud. His hand goes down to your thigh, lifting it higher a bit so he can reach even deeper inside you, fucking you faster and rougher, pouring his regrets into each thrust and snap of his hips.

“Look at you,” he breathes, the hand that was holding your leg up comes to cup your cheek, forcing you to look into his eyes as he gazes down at you, “So beautiful, so so gorgeous, fuck—”

You gasp, thighs quivering on the side of his hips as he brings you closer to the edge, him not being far behind either. He looks down at you so… lovingly, as if he is trying to memorize every up and down and lines on your face, counting your lashes and carving the shape of your lips in his mind while his cock throbs inside you.

You both reach your orgasms together; it is warm and slow, a heat that comes from the deepest part of your core and spreads like wildfire inside you, the same applies to him. He shakes and groans your name in your ear, burying his face in your neck as he drops his weight on top of you, hips thrusting slowly as he comes inside you, filling you up with every ounce of his being.

Aemond raises a bit, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking down at you as if you hang the stars in his gloomy sky, and perhaps you do.

He finally pulls back, his soft cock slipping out of you with a wet sound and you watch him tuck himself back before he helps you up, handing you your underwear before he stands and holds his hand out for you.

Hesitantly, you take his hand and try to stand up on wobbly legs, but he is fast enough to steady you with his palm on your waist, tightening his grip on you when you bend down to pull your panties up, straightening your back before you look at him.

“I… Thank you.” is all you can say, giving him a small awkward smile before you step forward toward the door, but for the second time tonight, he grabs your wrist and threads his fingers through yours, leading you to the door himself, “What are you doing?”

“A second round never hurt anyone, right?” he asks hopefully, a small smile playing on his lips, “I can’t just let you go without giving you a proper orgasm on my bed.”

“Aemond, we can’t, what if someone sees us?” you ask, your heart beating so hard against your chest you can hear it in your ears, but Aemond doesn’t seem to care as he drags you toward the rooms upstairs, “Aemond!”

“Then let them see,” he shrugs and guides you on the stairs, and to your unfortunate luck Alicent and Aegon are coming downstairs, but Aemond pays them no mind as he leads you past them, ignoring Aegon’s shocked gasp and calls for his name.

Maybe he has changed, maybe.

[mysticmoosenger]

thinking about a tutor!gojo who has a massive crush on you, but you can’t stand him. the tension is insane.

cw: pining, gojo being annoying, lots of tension, organic chemistry, gojo is sexy asf

You had never thought you would be in this position, but here you are, in the corner of the library behind a shelf of old books with your assigned tutor’s tongue in your mouth. Ironically, despite the clear chemistry between you and your new tutor, you were still failing the organic chemistry class that you needed to graduate.

From the start of the semester you have had a silent cold war level of annoyance with the tall white-haired frat bro that sat in front of you. He had a habit of talking through the lectures and spinning his chair around to attempt to talk to you, resulting in your professor to get mad at both of you. several times.

Unfortunately your grades started to slip as you have never been very great with time management and studying, so you approached your professor and asked him to help you choose someone to tutor you. You were pretty much stuck with Gojo as the only option, as everyone else your professor had mentioned had too busy of schedules. Lucky for you, Gojo was not very involved in campus life other than his frat events.

You had never been a fan of Gojo as his ego was taller than Everest and he did not understand the concept of an inside voice. You dragged yourself to the library after your last class of the day to meet him and go over the lecture and reading material from the week. As soon as you entered you found his fluffy mess of a head of hair and walked over, sitting across from him.

Gojo was surprisingly good at organic chemistry. you would never have known, judging by the way he carries himself in class. he talks you through some of the more confusing topics, coming to sit next to you to draw out some messy diagrams to help you visualize some concepts. you both look up at each other at the same time, not realizing how close you were sitting to one another. your heart skips a beat as you make direct eye contact with his beautiful blue eyes. he faintly blushes and gives you a flustered smile, glancing down at your lips before quickly turning his head. internally, you know exactly what is happening. the tension from that point on had become impossible to ignore.

the tension had been so suffocating that despite your previous dislike for the man, you had started to develop a bit of a crush on him. suddenly you caught yourself thinking about how soft his hair must be, how sweet his lips must taste, how talented his fingers may be. you wondered about how he would be in bed, dominant or submissive? how his voice must sound angelic when he’s moaning your name…. fuck.

all of a sudden the glances became longer, the brief “accidental” touches lingered for an unnatural amount of time, the joking got a bit suggestive. you found yourself engaging in conversations about anything but organic chemistry. he would subtly invite you to his frat parties, ask you deeper questions, laugh at nothing. the poor man was obviously so into you, and you were too dense to notice it the whole semester. fuck, you barely noticed it now. you were too wrapped up in trying to decode your own feelings that you didnt take any time to analyze his.

After a few weeks the tension had reached a boiling point. you couldnt focus on anything but him. he could explain a topic to death and you would still not be able to repeat a single thing he said. you were too entranced by the way his soft lips move and how sexy his eyes look when he is focused. you were practically eye fucking him at this point, and he was certainly not oblivious to it.

Gojo was normally a confident and cocky guy but when he is around you all of that disappears. As midterms were approaching and break was just around the corner, he huped himself up to try to make a move on you. to get your number, your snap, hold your hand, ask you to grab food with him… something. he just had to do something before the class ends for an excuse to keep seeing you. he knew that you were starting to enjoy your time with him, it was pretty obvious. Still, he found it very difficult to just make a move.

Midterms were in just a few weeks and it became crunch time to finalize your understanding of the concepts from earlier in the semester. the fifth floor of the library was almost completely deserted due to the late hour on a Friday night. once again, you were staring at him, not hearing a word he was saying. with a sudden, impulsive move, Gojo reaches forward and smashes his lips to yours, leaving you in slight shock for a second, before you begin to kiss him back.

Even Gojo cannot believe what is happening as he snaps back into reality, feeling your soft lips against his and your tongue brushing against his. He quickly breaks away and stands up, backing up a big from the table, blushing heavily and apologizing profusely. “I’m so so sorry I-I dont know what came over me, oh my god, I’m sorry…” and a chain of other similar apologies leave his lips.

You also get up from the table, approaching him, and taking his fingers into your own, lightly grazing his hand and attempting to be as gentle and soothing as possible due to the sheer amount of stress this poor man looked like he was in. you get closer and catch his eyes, locking him into an intense, emotion-driven moment of crackling tension. You quietly breathe out, “…it’s okay ‘Toru, I liked it, please-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence before he whipped you around and caged you against a long shelf of random books no one would look for, once again smashing his lips to yours in the most hungry, passionate kiss imaginable. his body presses to yours, aching to feel closer to you, to feel your heat and flawless body. his hard dick grinding small circles against you. one of his hands snakes up your side and into your hair at the base of your neck, controlling you through the rough kiss. his teeth graze your bottom lip as he lets out a quiet moan of satisfaction.

his kisses were making you dizzy, suffocating you with the urge to let him fuck you in the library, of all places. by the time he breaks the kiss, you are being held up by his knee between your legs. you both have a minute to catch your breath and process the status of your relationship now that a move has been made.

resting his head against yours he nearly moans, “my roommate isnt home tonight… would you want to come over?”

　˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

a/n: hey guys thanks for reading, I wrote this one at like 4am and I havent proofread so ignore anything that doesnt make sense please lol. I kinda liked where this fic was going so I might make a part 2 to it.

[dontopenfairies]

“Hey, what’s going on with you? Ohh, you’re pooping.” She grabbed his head and pulled it onto her lap. “Good boy for going in your diaper. Little baby, huh?” She reached her hand into the back of his shorts. “Wow, you really loaded it up this time. That’s a lot.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, grabbing it close to the scalp and tugging at it every so often. “Tell you what,” she said after a few moments of peace on her lap, “if you’re going to go that much why don’t I just change you into your overnight diaper early? Does that sound good?” He nodded against her lap and she started to stand up. He pulled his head up reluctantly and sat up on the couch.

She pulled him to his feet and he started to walk towards the bedroom. He didn’t make it very far before she grabbed his arms and pinned them to the sides of his body. “No way you’re walking. If you’re going to act so little I’m going to carry you.” With a little bit of struggle she managed to pick him up bridal style.

“You can lift me, but are you sure you can carry me to the bedroom?”

“Shh,” she said sternly, walking him out of the room and down the hallway. In the bedroom she let him down hard on his changing mat, a little rough, but not enough to knock the wind out of him.

He liked how rough she was being with him and she could tell, lifting his hips without warning.

Nothing eventful happened during the change except that he dribbled a little bit of pee, which was embarrassing. “Aw, you’re starting to have trouble controlling it,” she said.

Once he was all diapered again, she dressed him in pajamas and carried him back out to the living room. “See, working out is starting to pay off,” she said, letting him down on the couch and withdrawing her arms.

“Is that why you’re going to the gym so much now?” he asked. “Just so you can carry me?”

“I mean, it’s kind of a perk,” she said, sitting down next to him and pulling him onto her lap.

“Can it be the only reason?” he asked.

“Do you want it to be the only reason. Aw, you’re feeling super little right now, aren’t you?” She pet his hair away from his forehead and he closed his eyes, leaning into her shoulder. “Use your diaper anytime you want,” she said. “It’s a little early for it but I don’t mind changing you again. I mean, we haven’t even had dinner yet, and you know what usually happens after we eat dinner…”

“I have to go again after dinner,” he said.

“Yeah, you usually have to go again after we eat. But that’s okay. Here, drink a little bit of water.” She reached out for his water on the table and he clung onto her as she leaned forward. She flipped the cap off and held it up so he could drink. “You’re going to have a good day at work tomorrow, aren’t you? I bet you’ll sleep really good tonight after I baby you.”

“I’m already getting sleepy.”

“Uh-huh, aren’t you? I can tell. Stay awake so we can eat, okay?”

“I can stay awake. I just need to rest for a second…”

[chungledown-bimothy]

At first I was just gonna ignore this, because it absolutely did not pass the vibe check from the jump, but I realized that that's an equally unproductive kneejerk reaction.

So I went down the rabbit hole on this one. I checked out every blog I could find that seemed to know what's going on, and the information is unreliable and vague.

The only "source" I've been able to find is this low-quality screenshot of a discord message with absolutely no information in the picture itself indicating where it's from. They claim that it was posted in the Wrong Organ (game dev for Mouthwashing) discord server, and a friend who is in said server sent the screenshot to them:

Who is lmao? Is there any indication that anyone's actually going to listen to them, let alone en masse like people seem to think? Who is the friend, and do they or the person who initially posted it have motivation to lie?

God knows I don't listen to every post in discord servers that tags everyone, and I'm sure that's a far from unique experience.

I saw some people on Reddit saying that the tags had been flooded with horrible shit a while back, which does in fact suck, but from what I could tell, it seems like one asshole with a handful of burners, and I couldn't find any indication of asks being sent.

I found absolutely no proof or even mention that stardew valley or any other fandom tags were impacted by this outside of the post screenshotted in the ask. The poster of which admits to not really knowing anything solidly.

What happened before was horrible. I'm not downplaying that. But there is not even a single shred of reliable information indicating that anything is going to happen in a couple of days.

If there really was a plan cooking on discord, is it really at all plausible that no one else is providing any sort of evidence? I've looked through multiple posts with 3-5 digit numbers of posts about this, and I haven't seen a single person give any corroborating evidence, anecdotal or not, not even through-the-grapevine rumors.

I've been here a very long time. I've seen this song and dance many times before. I recall it not being fake exactly once, with 4chan in 2014. I do not go to Mouthwashing or any Wrong Organ games, but I'd bet pretty heavily that they don't have the numbers that 2014 4chan did.

It was much easier to post, well, everything, back in those days, and even then, the bark was orders of magnitude worse than the bite.

I could be wrong, and I'm not saying don't take precautions if you feel the need to, but the seemingly mindless parroting of vague and unreliable information, in some cases elevating it to "it could happen to ANYONE!!!!!", reeks of overblown hysteria.

If it's not real (which I vehemently believe to be the case), this is just causing a lot of unnecessary distress. If it is, this amplification and panic is exactly what they're looking to accomplish. If the scope of the past events is anything to go by, it's far more effective than what they could do with the very small group, if it is even more than one person, they had/have.

Hello dear!

Sorry for bothering you, but it's important to remind you to turn off your asks for a few days! Bad things are going to happen on Tumblr soon...

Don t know anything about this but BETTER BE SAFE EVERYBODY!!!!!!

[no-144444]

winners and losers- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

As you stepped out of the car, you were Champion of the World. The first woman to do so. The only woman to do so. You were a legend. You were going to be remembered, whether people liked it or not. 

You ran straight over to Oscar, knowing he was the only one you’d ever want to celebrate with. He caught you as you ran over and practically jumped on him. He caught you, holding you against him as he beamed with pride. 

He rested his hands on either side of your face, the both of you being covered in champagne by the rest of the team. “You did it,” he cheered. 

“We did it,” you reminded him, then pulled him into a tight hug. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You weren’t a party animal, so you’d decided you wanted to go to a movie, and as you stood outside Oscar’s room, you really wondered what the fuck you were doing. You wanted to ask him to come with you, but as your hand finally met the wood, your heart dropped. You realised how a movie sounded, and well, you already felt conflicted enough from rejecting him. 

He opened the door immediately, a comfy hoodie and sweats on, his hair a bit messy, and his eyes half closed. You felt a little overdressed in your jeans. 

“Y/n?” he smiled when he registered that it was in fact, you. 

“Hi,” you smiled. 

“Hi,” he smiled back, leaning against the doorway. “W-What are you doing here?” 

“I was going to go see a movie, if you wanted to come with me. There’s a cinema down the street,” you explained. “Obviously, if you’re exhausted or just not into movies, that’s fine. I was just wondering.”

Was Oscar Piastri into movies? No, not really. He probably couldn’t even name 3 Christmas movies, and everyone knows Christmas movies. Was Oscar Piastri exhausted after a tense weekend? Absolutely. But was Oscar Piastri going to give up the chance to sit right beside you for 2 (perhaps 3) interrupted hours and enjoy the silent pleasure of your company?

Fuck no. 

So you were both at the cinema in under 5 minutes. You’d insisted on paying for the food, which he insisted on paying for the tickets (ever the gentleman), and you both quickly got to your seats. Neither of you really knew what the film was about, you’d just wanted to turn your brain off for a few hours, and he planned on staring at you the whole time. But not in a creepy way. 

Quickly, the film started, and you were hooked, your eyes darting all around the screen, following the characters. Oscar’s eyes stayed on you. More specifically, the way your hand was holding his. He froze when it happened, unsure what to do, but after a few minutes his body un-tensed and his brain started working again, and he started gently smoothing his thumb over your skin. You were soft, as soft as he remembered you to be when you two had danced together. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You hadn’t planned on crying when the mother in the film died, but it hit you like a bag of bricks and you genuinely left the theatre crying. Oscar, ever the gentleman, noticed immediately and pulled you into one of his perfect, Oscar hugs. The ones that make everything feel like it’s ok. You quickly started rushing out apology after apology, but he was quicker to shut you down, citing random studies saying people who cry at movies are more emotionally intelligent and strong. You didn’t feel very strong holding onto him so hard you thought you might break one of his ribs, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

The walk back to the hotel room was once again, filled with the silence you both loved dearly, but holding his hand. When he walked you up to your hotel room, he stood at the door, watching you open it with your key card. 

“Night,” he smiled, ready to collapse into his bed. 

You stared at him for a moment, clearly in quiet contemplation. He just looked right back at you, enjoying the view. Your teary eyes and irritated nose were pretty adorable in his opinion, and even in the low light of the hotel corridor, your eyes still sparkled just like usual. 

You took a step closer and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, making him almost gasp out loud. 

“Night,” you smiled and rushed inside, jumping into bed and overthinking the tiny cheek kiss you’d given him. 

Sleep also evaded him that night, too wired to think about anything other than your lips on his skin and how he could make it happen again. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Halfway through the second triple header, in Qatar, you found yourself… regretful of that night in Baku, and feeling increasingly good about that night in Vegas. Oscar was no different than before, still the constant pillar of strength keeping you afloat in your mad world. You found yourself wondering about his feelings, wondering if you had them too and just didn’t realise. You liked his unruly hair. You liked his stupid jokes. You liked how much he went on about cricket. You liked his family. You liked his dorky knowledge on things. You liked the way he didn’t realise how beautiful he really was. You liked him. A lot more than you’d ever liked anyone else before. You hadn’t realised when it happened, but Osccar was one of the reasons you woke up. Oscar was who you got in the car for. Oscar was your person.

Fuck. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar jumped out of the car, rushing to get to the paddock in time. He had woken up late (again), and he just had to get your morning coffee, so he was already running a little bit late. As much as he tried to hide it, it did kind of hurt to be rejected by you. I mean, what was he thinking? An F1 driver being into him? It was a silly pipe dream he wished Lando never exposed. 

He quickly rounded a corner, and finally, you were in his sights. You sat at a table, wearing a white dress and white shoes, talking with someone on the phone. He thought you looked beautiful. That white dress. Was it silly that he was thinking about weddings? 

“Morning,” you called out, a soft smile on your face. The shadows cast from the sunlight made your eyes shine even more, if that were possible. 

“Morning,” he breathed out, sitting across from you and pushing the cup over. You took it with a grateful nod and continued listening to the person on the other side. He took a sip of his own drink and just let himself stare. He saw the way a strand of hair fell over your forehead, he saw the freckles on your face, the way you scrunch your nose up, the way you… the way you were you. And he loved it all. All the sarcastic jokes, all the batshit screaming on the radio, all of the insane and deeply romantic things you’d done together. 

You put your phone down. “Hi.”

He smiled. “Hi.”

“How are you?” you asked, gently messing with the lid of your cup. 

“I’m good, thanks. How are you?” he asked, feeling as though you were hiding something. 

“I’m good,” you nodded. “I got you a gift,” you blurted out, and he raised an eyebrow. 

“You did? What for?”

“Christmas,” you said like it was obvious.

“It’s November-”

“We’ll have no time in Abu Dhabi,” you explained. “And I really wanted to give this to you myself.”

“Ok,” he shrugged, his heart swelling as those words. You wanted to give it to him yourself. 

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” you instructed and he did so without hesitation. Something was placed in his hand. A small, rectangular box, he assumed. “Open them.”

He opened his eyes and was met with a gold bracelet with a tiny walkie-talkie charm on it. It was beautiful and heartfelt, and somewhat of an inside joke between the two of you. He let himself giggle slightly, looking back up at your mischievous smile. “I love it,” he answered truthfully. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” you smiled. “You’ve really been my rock this year, and I really appreciate it. Thank you Osc. No one asked you to step up and be my friend, but you did, and I really appreciate all of the support.”

He smiled, taking your hand. “I’d do it again anytime. You’re incredible, and you deserve to know that.”

You smiled bashfully. “So are you.”

He couldn’t help but wonder what that meant. And he couldn’t help but hope it meant more.  

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Up to fifth gear, down to third. 

It was methodical. You were world champion, you’d won it back in Las Vegas, but you still had to fight for the Constructors, and Ferrari were not going down without a fight. You finished Qatar with a podium, but not enough to secure the championship, so onward to Abu Dhabi it went. 

“That was a good race today. Y/n up in P3, just behind the Ferrari’s and Lando in P5. We picked up some good points, but we’ll really need to push in Abu Dhabi, alright guys?” Zak smiled, and everyone groaned in agreement. 2 triple headers after one-another was truly torture, but whatever, you’d be at home in Monaco in 2 weeks time. No racing, no people, just you and your evergrowing reading list. 

Oscar nudged you. “What’s your plans for Christmas?” he asked. 

“Nothing, really,” you shrugged, trying to keep your voice down as Zak continued his pep talk. 

Oscar frowned. “Alone?”

You nodded, completely happy with your answer. His frown deepened. “Come to Australia,” he offered. 

You shook your head. “I will not impose on your family Christmas-”

“My entire family loves you Y/n, please. It’d be as much for them as it is for me.”

You smiled. “You really want me there?” 

He nodded, a bright smile on his face. “I do. I really do-”

“Those your wedding vows?” Lando spoke up. 

You just rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Ask your parents if it’s alright first, yeah?”

He beamed. “Will do.”

Australia for Christmas, that would be new. 

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To say that Oscar didn't have his own agenda when asking you to come to Australia would definitely be a fat lie. After the night in Baku and the night in Vegas, he was becoming increasingly sure that you did like him back, and he thought that getting you to relax in Australia would let you feel comfortable enough to confess to him. Sounds slightly sinister, he knew, but he also knew his mother would murder him the second his feet touched Australia ground if she found out he was leaving you alone at Christmas. 

He had time now. He just needed you.

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[daisymbin]

Ok so this might be very suggestive but imagine getting on the bus with hansol after a casual coffee date and the bus is crowded so you're standing in the standing area and he's standing facing u, kinda Like shielding u frm the crowd or smth & u r sharing earpods (🎵: double take ~ dhruv) & he's staring out of the window & you're staring at him and you randomly say 15. "you’re my favorite person, you know that?" Cuz u just realise u might still hv a crush on ur long term boyfriend

(This is my 5th ask pls bear with me i just love u too much)

Also I can get this look of his out of my mind

!!!! thank you for coming back!!!! i chose another song as requested!!! 🥲🤍

full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hansol's m.list

the bus was packed, the kind of crowded where personal space became a luxury, and you found yourself standing shoulder to shoulder with strangers. it wasn’t unusual, but today it felt different. maybe it was the warmth of the coffee date still lingering between you and hansol, or maybe it was the way he looked so effortlessly himself, casual and calm, as if the chaos of the world couldn’t touch him.

he stood beside you, one hand gripping the railing above while the other tugged at his earphones. he handed you one without a word, the gesture so familiar it made your heart ache in the best way.

“thanks,” you mumbled, slipping the earbud in.

“you don’t even know what song it is yet,” he teased, his lips twitching into a small smile.

“doesn’t matter. your playlists are always good.”

the faint intro of be your everything by boys like girls filled your ears. you bit back a smile at the song choice, wondering if he’d put it on for you or if it was just a coincidence. hansol didn’t say anything else, just turned to look out the window, his profile bathed in the soft, golden light of late afternoon.

you shifted slightly as the bus jolted forward, trying to steady yourself against the sway of the vehicle. the standing area was cramped, people pressed too close for comfort. and then it happened—a sharp stop at a red light sent someone stumbling into you, their shoulder colliding with yours.

you stumbled forward, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you tried to regain your balance. hansol’s arm shot out instinctively, his hand catching your elbow and steadying you before you could fall.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice low, filled with concern.

“yeah,” you breathed, your heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the near fall.

he frowned slightly, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he shifted, stepping in front of you. “here, stand like this,” he said, positioning himself between you and the crowd. his arm stretched out to hold the railing above your head, shielding you from the jostling around you.

you blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden closeness. “hansol, you don’t have to—”

“just in case,” he interrupted, his gaze flickering to yours briefly before returning to the window. “i don’t want you getting bumped into again.”

the way he said it, so matter-of-fact and protective, made your chest tighten.

the song played on, and you found yourself more focused on him than the music. his eyes were distant, watching the buildings pass by, his expression soft and almost thoughtful. you’d known him for so long, but moments like this still caught you off guard—the quiet way he cared, the little things he did without needing to be asked.

as the chorus swelled, you caught a lyric that made your breath hitch: “i’ll be your shelter, i’ll be your storm. i’ll make you shiver, i’ll keep you warm.”

something about those words hit you differently. they reminded you of everything hansol had been to you, everything he still was. he wasn’t just your boyfriend—he was your safe place, your calm in the chaos. and in that moment, staring at him as the music played on, you realized something.

you still had a crush on him. after all this time, after all the little moments and big ones, after he’d already become yours, the feeling hadn’t faded. it had only grown, deeper and stronger, filling every corner of your heart.

the words were out before you could think. “you’re my favorite person, you know that?”

hansol froze, his eyes flicking to yours, wide and disbelieving. “what?”

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, but there was no taking it back now. “i said you’re my favorite person.”

his lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he just stared at you. then, slowly, a shy smile spread across his face, the kind that made your heart do flips. “me?”

you rolled your eyes, trying to play it off despite the fluttering in your chest. “obviously.”

he blinked a few times, his cheeks flushing a soft pink as he turned back to the window, suddenly unable to meet your gaze. “oh.”

you laughed softly at his reaction. “that’s all you have to say? ‘oh’?”

he rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “you caught me off guard. i don’t really know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” you said, your voice quieter now, more sincere. “i just… wanted you to know.”

hansol finally looked at you, his eyes warm and filled with something you couldn’t quite name. “well, for the record,” he said softly, “you’re my favorite person too.”

the bus jolted again, but this time, you barely noticed. your hand brushed against his where it rested on the railing, and instead of pulling away, he let his pinky hook around yours, the small gesture sending a wave of warmth through you.

and as hansol glanced at you again, his lips twitching into a smile that was just for you, you knew one thing for sure—you’d never stop having a crush on him. not now, not ever.

the song faded into the next, but neither of you moved to change it. the bus ride continued, but the world outside felt like it had fallen away, leaving just the two of you in this small, crowded space.

[aimfor-theheart]

to break first

|| mel medarda x reader, jayce talis x reader, viktor x reader || E/18+ || messy dynamics/hurt/comfort || wc: 6k || ao3 ||

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+

Your lovers are strange, demanding types.

a/n: idk man. but this revived my writing so. pls take it. dividers by @/cafekitsune

tags: messy dynamics, light smut/smut mentioned and implied, implied rough/hate sex, some hurt/comfort, ends on a hopeful note. not beta read/edited.

You've never liked Jayce much.

And you might just be the only person he doesn't like, either.

He plays nice, though, especially around Viktor. You think Jayce has teeth that he tries to hide, but you catch the flash of them from time to time. He smiles at you and it doesn't reach his eyes. It's just shy of contempt.

It makes your grin cheshire and sharp. You like watching him squirm. You like watching him wrestle with his distaste for you, try to keep his teeth hidden. Especially here, at this gala, all gold and sparkling and pristine, for all the world to see.

Bubbling rosé is bright and fruity on your tongue. You're shoulder to shoulder with Viktor, the two of you half-miserable together, stuffed into formal wear and ripped from your respective labs and studios. Which is why Jayce lingers; he's hovering in that annoying way of his. Bumbling a little. He's trying to make Viktor feel more at home but—

You have something Jayce doesn't.

Only you can do that.

You're Viktor's childhood friend, thick as thieves and twice as inseparable. You're an artist from the Undercity—a painter, a poet, a musician. An artistic genius, the world claims, an artistic savant. And one of the rare, lucky few who has been exalted and raised above your station to be paraded around Piltover like some trophy of success from their lowest. It's mostly Viktor's fault, you claim—the moment Heimerdinger found him, he also accidentally found you.

"Ah, if it isn't one of the most brilliant and groundbreaking artists of our generation." A smooth, easy voice floats through your thoughts. You turn your head to find Councilor Medarda, swathed in what could be a starry sky of silk and gold.

She's even more beautiful in person somehow; if you were to paint her, she'd be all easy, graceful lines, curved and long. A lily stem. The arch of a tiger.

"Just the person I was looking for." She muses.

"Me?" You balk, at the same time that Jayce gaps, "Them?!"

You swing your gaze to glare at him and even Viktor wrinkles his nose. Jayce tries to clear his throat, clear the mistake.

Councilor Medarda raises a brow at Jayce, but then her eyes flicker to you, honing in on you. Hazel and gold and reflective; a kaleidoscope of color. And with such—intensity. You feel it in her. Thrumming. "Yes, you." She says smoothly and she smiles in the elegant way of royalty; perfect and mysterious.

"Are you sure you have the right person, Councilor Medarda?" You joke, "you know I'm just—"

"I'm certain. And please—call me Mel. I'd love to commission you for several art pieces to be displayed in the council chambers."

Viktor whistles a little, impressed, though you can tell it's a little dry.

(He both rambles and rants about Councilor Medarda from time to time and you can never tell if he adores her or resents her.)

Jayce startles at this, but again, he tries to play it off. He places his hand on her lower back, "I didn't know the council chambers was looking to display art."

Mel allows his hand to remain, but she tilts her chin up and her eyes flash somewhat—quick, sharp. There's a silent conversation there that you can't decipher.

But you can tell there is something more than just coworkers happening between them.

"I'm looking to display art in the council chambers." Mel then says.

Jayce looks away, cowed somewhat, tail tucked between his legs in a way that makes you smile.

Mel drifts from Jayce's hands, offering her arm to you, "will you walk with me? I'd love to discuss what I have in mind."

If only to steal her away from Jayce, you finally peel yourself away from Viktor's side and the wall. Your shoulder, where it was touching his, goes cold. But Mel's arm is warm as you twine it around yours.

She draws you away from the scientists, into the fray of swirling, dazzling people.

You glance over your shoulder only once and catch Jayce's eyes, and let your smile curl into something a little smug, almost vicious; baring your teeth as if to gloat at his own, still tucked behind his lips.

***

"Mel's an artist." You say to Viktor, offhand. "A good one, too. You should see her paintings—"

Viktor sighs heavily, snatching one of the little tools that you'd been fiddling with out of your hands. "You sound like Jayce."

You wrinkle your face in disgust, reaching back for the tool and grappling with him a moment for it. You press all against each other, squabbling, before you win out and take it back from him. He stares at you, almost in some form of a glare and you stare back, watching his eyes, dark in the low light of the lab. He glances at the tool in your hands like he might try to take it back, and when he moves, you move faster, and hold it out of his reach.

"Are they together?" You ask.

He gives up on the tool.

Then, he lifts his shoulders in some form of a crooked shrug, eyes going skyward. "One can only assume."

"She's out of his league." You sigh, throwing your weight back in the chair in despair.

Viktor snorts at that, returning to his work, "I'm sure few are in league with Councilor Medarda."

His voice is dry. A little brittle.

"I don't know what you have against her." You then venture, speaking more to the ceiling, returning to fiddling with the tool. It twists in your fingers, the sound of metal whirling and softly grinding.

"I have nothing against Councilor Medarda." He says too evenly.

"You know, I've never been able to tell if it's contempt or adoration you have for her." You continue, as if he hadn't said anything to contradict you. "But either way, she gets under your skin."

"She does not—"

"Are you jealous? She took your big, dumb partner away?" You press, twisting and twisting away at the tool.

"No—" Viktor says sharply, but it rings with a note of truth. It's not quite that then.

You pause. And then.

You crack your eye open, "I think she likes me."

Viktor pauses now too, metal clinking quietly with the sudden stop of his work again. He knows that tone of your voice. His face pulls; distaste. Frustration.

(Jealousy.)

His speech is slow as he tries to parse through what to say, "Councilor Medarda is charming and—"

"She invited me to dinner." You say and now you're watching him carefully, "at her personal suite. Just us."

Viktor rounds on you, "you're going to get yourself into trouble."

You can't help but smile, slow and amused, "I feel like it's good for the art—fool around with a politician—"

"You know, I have always wondered if you would learn your lesson," Viktor continues over your monologuing about drama and passion and politics, "—maybe this time, you'll finally learn it."

He snatches the tool from your hands and throws it down on his desk.

"I love learning." You chirp innocently and he shakes his head, face flushed with passion.

He looks at you again when he can, shakes his head some more, some of the irritation fading from his features. He never stays mad at you for long; doesn't have it in him. Besides, he causes his own trouble. Doesn't learn his own lessons. And when the dust settles, the two of you are still here, beside each other. The artist and the scientist, making messes, breaking things—all for some higher purpose only the two of you have ever understood.

(You've loved him your whole life. Sometimes, you think you carry half of the other's ribs inside one another. He must have twelve of yours, and you must have twelve of his—)

You lift your foot, nudging his calf beneath the desk with it, then up to place it in his lap. An olive branch, of some kind. Your affection is unsurprising to him and he sighs. He drops his hand to your ankle. He squeezes.

"She's going to eat you alive." Viktor finally warns.

"One can only hope."

A laugh startles out of him, rough and raspy, before it dissolves into coughing.

You lurch up to give him water, sitting near you, and bring the glass to his lips on reflex, like you used to as children. And on reflex, he drinks—he doesn't try to take the glass from your hands right away or push you away. Instinctively, you care for him, and instinctively, he lets you.

(You think you're the only one he'd ever allow to do this, born out of years of pressed side to side in the same bed, listening to him weather the nights. Born out of years of your love and stubborn care for him.)

After a moment, he lifts his hand and slowly replaces yours.

You hover over him. He sets the glass down. The water is almost gone. You'll replace it for him before you leave the lab.

He settles back into his chair, eyes returning to the pieces in front of him; all the odd metal scattered like little silver stars in front of him against a vast, dark sky. He picks up one, and then another, and tries to fit them together.

Then another. And another.

You watch him twist and turn, put the puzzle together.

He says, "Lately, I feel as if—" his fingers are careful, almost shaking, as he tries to create something of the scattered, broken pieces, "everything is quite fragile. And it's all just going to—" he presses a little too hard, and the metal all splinters apart, clattering back to the desk, "break. At any given moment."

After a moment, he looks up at you, still hovering over him, "I fear you're heading towards a breaking point."

You hum a little.

"What is it you scientists say?" You ask, running your fingers through his dark hair, thick and tousled. You twirl a strand around your finger, let it fall;

"It has to break first, before you can discover anything."

***

You'd say Mel Medarda is a wolf in sheep's clothing, but she doesn't feign anything so harmless or lost as a sheep.

You do think she's—

A little like Jayce, where she hides her teeth. But where Jayce irritates you because he's certainly trying to seem better than he is, or more harmless than he can be, Mel does so with intention. Mel hides her teeth to lure you closer. She doesn't pretend she doesn't have them; she waits until you're in range before you catch a glimpse of them.

And by then, well. It's too late.

You realize this over dinner, as she laments about what art she'd like from you and she's adamant about not censoring you.

(You're known for you controversy; whether in your physical art, your poetry, or music. Once pulled to the light of the Upper City, you refused to let them defang you. Where Jayce pretends he doesn't have teeth, you bare yours proudly, and sometimes wish you could tear the tender parts of Piltover open.

You strive to do it with your art. And while applauded in some vague capacity, you are also kept on a tight leash. Your patrons are warily supportive of you. Your commissions are strict. You're treated the way you think a wild animal is; with utmost care and fear and awe.)

In fact, her only rule for you, is to not hold back.

Which, given the growing tension between the Upper and Lower Cities, you realize this cannot only be from the goodness of her heart or for the integrity of art but—

You tilt your head and consider her.

"Am I a political move, Mel?"

She smiles in that enigmatic way of hers, her teeth flash, "isn't all art?"

You narrow your eyes, "perhaps. I wonder of it's effectiveness when it's employed by the people it often critiques." You lift your chin and pretend to be hurt—or perhaps, mask your hurt within dramatics to make it seem ironic, "and here I thought you really liked me—"

"I do." Mel assures, "I've admired you a great deal from afar. And getting to know you, your mind, it's—" she considers her words, "it's been nothing short of mesmerizing. Astonishing."

She sounds sincere. But you wonder if she always sounds that way.

She can tell she hasn't convinced you because you've never been able to mask your emotions well, so she leans forward and says, "unfortunately, everything I do is a political move, whether I'd like it to be or not. Both can be true—" she says, "I can adore you. And I can also need you to make a public point, wield you like my own elegant weapon."

"Artists make for disobedient weapons, usually." You say.

She laughs a little at that and agrees, "True." And then she lowers her voice, looks at you through the fan of her dark lashes in such a way that seizes you—arrests you, holds you right there, caught, in her heady gaze;

"But I don't need you to be obedient."

"I can never tell if you're trying to seduce me or persuade me." You blurt out, the words running from your mouth like a rabbit from a wolf. Your desire bursts from you like frightened birds taking to flight, like most of what you feel does, all of it spilling out of you in a gush of rawness.

She stands gracefully and again, you think of how you'd draw her—how you'd capture her in a poem or a song. The sharp curve of her waist, the predatory grace she carries effortlessly. You think her song is a croon from the deep part of your chest. You think her poem looks like an hourglass on the page and she slips from your fingers as easy as time does, too.

She rounds the small table to your side.

You look up at her. Your heart kicks up into a quick dance.

She brings the back of her knuckle to your jaw and gently—with all the carefulness in the world, strokes you.

(She touches you the way one does a bird, as if they know it's fragile. Perhaps as if they know it might fly away.

Or maybe she touches you the way one does an animal they're not sure of; will you bite? Will you lean into the touch?)

"Both can be true." She finally answers.

When she kisses you, it's fiercer than you're expecting; a lightning strike, a blow to the heart.

Your teeth come up against hers.

She gasps when you drag her further down to you, greedier than she's ever known, meeting her fierceness with your own, like the clashing of blades, or the destruction of stars.

And you think, if you don't want obedience, then I'll show you.

I'll show you.

***

"What are you playing at?"

Jayce's voice is a vicious little hush in the caverns of the council chambers. Mel has just left you after peaking over your shoulder to view the preliminary sketches.

You lift your head and blink up at Jayce slowly, dragging yourself from your sketch; from your world of art.

(It sets his teeth to grinding because Viktor makes that same look, when he's so deep into his work and Jayce disturbs him. It's a face he finds endearing on both of you, unfortunately. He imagines your minds are in heaven and he's selfish enough to drag you both back down to earth.)

"What do you mean? For the art piece?" You ask, glancing down at your lap, at the series of gestures and lines that you've been lost in. Maybe you're feigning innocence a little. But you want him to say it, if he's going to pick this fight.

Jayce's eyes flash like the too-hot part of the flame.

You have to bite back a smile.

Come on, you think wildly, say it. Let's fight. Here in the chambers, where you try so hard to be their golden boy.

"What are you trying to get out of Mel?" He asks and it makes you laugh outright, because he's dancing around what he really wants to ask.

Your laugh echoes in the hall, bouncing off all this marble and gold. It's out of place here, too loud, too free.

"The better question is what she's trying to get out of me." You say, "do you think I have it in me to manipulate the Mel Medarda?"

He goes quiet at that.

"Are you doing this to get back at me?" He asks after a moment and it's so close to what he wants to ask, so close to what he really wants to talk about.

"She kissed me first." You answer. "Have you had this conversation with her?"

You can tell by the shadow of uncertainty that passes over his face that he hasn't. You stand, easily setting your sketches and pencils aside, and drift nearer to him.

"Oh," you hum, "you didn't know. She didn't mention some plan of seduction to you? Maybe she really does like me."

He rounds on you so sharply that you are genuinely surprised. You gasp when your back hits the wall and he's got you caged in, a snarl on his lips and you finally get to see those teeth of his—

"You just always have to push me, don't you? In all the years I've known you, you've only ever tried to get under my skin. I tried so hard, for so long, for Viktor's sake to get along with you." He says lowly and distantly, you think, does he cage in Mel like this? With his big arms and broad chest? Or does she have him on a tight leash, underneath her?

"This time, I didn't mean it. Surely, you understand—" you say slyly, "when she comes onto you like that, all honey-voiced and half-lidded. She's hard to resist, isn't she?"

The grip he has on your biceps tightens to a point of pain—he'll bruise you. You'll be tender there, where his big hands gripped you, and it only makes you smile.

"Stop it." He snaps.

But you can't help yourself now, because once you've got something between your teeth, you've never been able to let it go;

"I just want to know if she kisses me the same way she kisses you? Does she play nice with you? She's quite fierce with me—"

When Jayce kisses you, it's a crush of aggression.

You laugh into his mouth wildly as he shoves you harder against the wall, teeth mean in the tender part of your bottom lip so that your laughter melts into a groan of pain. Of pleasure.

You claw at his back and wonder if Mel does, too.

You fight and hiss and snarl, show him your teeth when he sinks his into the fluttering pulse at your throat. You try to draw blood. You think he tries to bruise.

And well, you always wanted to see his teeth—

Just never thought you'd end up with a ring of their mark on your neck.

***

You're not really sleeping—nights are long. Days are longer. You're in the studio too much. This art piece is strangling you, wrestling with you and you're losing. Your lovers are strange, demanding types. Jayce comes to you at his lowest, and Mel at her highest. She licks the wounds Jayce leaves on you, purrs about how good you're being for her, goads you into putting up more of a fight that she likes to quell. She asks, have I stolen your bite? Are you going soft on me? Until you try to wrestle with her, too.

Mel subdues you the way snakes do—constricts and tightens and puts all that pressure on you until you just burst.

Until you go slack in her grip.

Jayce takes his anger out on you and he's not so cunning or delicate as her. You think Jayce struggles with you the way he must with his hammers, with high heat and all his strength.

Your art is starting to look like pieces of them; brutal and brilliant and cunning and beautiful. Tricky to capture, even more difficult to mesh together.

You're covered in paint when Viktor comes to visit you, frustrated with the canvas in front of you, which you think you'll end up scrapping again.

(This is the fourth one. You've been trying to fit all the components and pieces together but none of it's working, all of it's a mess. Splintered apart on the canvas. It looks like a disaster on the page.)

"Have you eaten?" Viktor asks as he comes to stand behind you. He gazes at the canvas n front of you.

You sigh heavily. "Have you?" You return.

He snorts at that, "No. I'm coming from the lab and thought I'd check on you—Mel mentioned you were here."

He pauses and then, "that you'd been here. For awhile now."

You hear the layers in his voice; the worry, but then the—

Irritation? Disdain?

"Are you asking me to dinner?" You say instead, dashing the canvas with a sudden great, horrible X. It's your meager attempt at some sort of joke or flirting, but your voice is perhaps too thin for it. You stare at your canvas, now dripping with that great X, the paint slipping down and marring it further.

When you turn to look at Viktor, he regards you warily. He glances at the canvas you've just ruined, and then back to your face.

He takes in your appearance; your disheveled hair and the paint all over your clothes and skin. And then his eyes skip down to your throat, to your arms. All marked up and bruised, unhidden and worn proudly here, in the safety of your art studio.

"Should I be concerned?" Viktor asks instead and you've always loved his bluntness. His lack of tact is like coming home. It's a relief, when you're constantly with Mel and Jayce lately, who talk in riddles and niceties and flowered language that hides their intentions or feelings.

There is a bitterness in Viktor's voice that you know well, too.

"About?" You prod.

"I'm no fool." Viktor answers, "I know you're sleeping with Councilor Medarda."

"Is that all you know?" You return, tilting your head.

"Is there more to know?" Viktor asks, eyeing you.

"Jayce hasn't said anything?"

You watch a strange shadow pass over Viktor's face as he slowly comes to the natural conclusion that you've lead him to. He's right, he is no fool. And then you watch his eyes catch fire, catch jealousy.

"I warned you—" he starts, suddenly.

"And I told you, it's good for the art—" You joke.

"Obviously it isn't!" He snaps, gesturing to the canvas behind you, ruined and glaring at your back. And then he heaves out a rough, agitated breath, dragging a hand through his hair. "Do you ever think of consequences?" He demands.

"Sure," You say, "I'm exactly where I want to be."

"You know, they are my colleagues. What am I supposed to do if—?!"

You laugh at that, enough that it startles him out of his beginning tirade. He comes up short and his shoulders bunch with tension as he glares at you.

"Is something funny?" He hisses.

"Your colleagues?" You repeat, "that's all they are to you?"

"Well—yes, technically." He stumbles on his words here.

"Are you jealous, Viktor?" You ask. "You don't have to be."

"I'm not jealous—" He refutes, even as his cheeks grow ruddy. And for a moment, you could be twelve with him again, his face flush as he looks at you after you'd kissed him for the first time because he'd never kissed anyone before. Or twenty-two and drunk, kissing one night under the stars when you felt so lost and disorientated in the Upper City—just wanted to feel like yourself again.

Or now, at thirty-two, staring at the man you've loved your entire life and whatever mess you've made out of everything.

You reach out and touch his cheek, glowing with color, and at first he winces away, but when you persist, he relaxes. He presses his cheek to your open palm and looks at you; raw and frank and so Viktor that you can't help the faint smile that touches your lips. Even as he frowns at you.

"What are you meddling with?" Viktor murmurs, turning his face into your cupped hand. You feel the faint brush of his lips, a little dry, and soft. Warm.

"Apparently our political landscape." You respond and that at least gets a laugh from him. You feel it against you and some spark shimmers through you, shudders and opens itself to you.

(Your desire for Viktor is something always with you, ambient, perhaps dormant, that always resurfaces like the great fins of some horrible, huge monster in dark waters. Your desire for Viktor is a symptom of your love. You've never know what to call it except that, except his.)

"Have I upset you?" You ask now as his laughter fades, and with it his amusement.

He sighs deeply and you feel his breath against your skin. You draw nearer. He leans back onto his crutch only slightly, only for a moment, before he allows you further into his space.

"I don't—" He struggles for the words before admitting, "yes, somewhat. For some reason."

"Are you feeling neglected?" You ask and try very hard to keep your amusement out of your voice, lest you irritate him further. He's always had a jealous streak in him, even as kids. If you made another friend, he would pout until you draped yourself over him and showered him in your attention again.

Even your previous relationships had bred some sort of jealousy in him; he's never liked any of your partners.

(It's so endearing to you that you have to tuck your teeth into your own lip and hum a little.)

You lean towards him, ducking your head so that your nose dips to brush against the line of his jaw. You feel his body shudder more than you see it. His breath goes tight. Your eyes flicker, a flash in the sun-spun light of your art studio;

"Do you want me to kiss you the way Jayce kisses me?" You murmur, your lips hovering over his. You watch his face gutter, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. His breath goes shallow.

"Or would you prefer Mel?" You murmur, just before you close the distance and kiss him with a certain fierceness, a meanness that you don't usually have with him. He stumbles back a little with the force of it and your hand that had been holding his cheek, slips into the hair at the nape of his neck.

A groan startles out of him when you tighten your hand into a fist and pull.

You part from the kiss, panting a little, and he looks down at you, eyes molten gold and burning.

You're about to kiss him again, when he murmurs, "I want—" he swallows hard, "I want you to kiss me the way you do—I want—"

You press back into him instantly, suddenly overwhelmed with the thought, with the notion that his desire, his jealousy—

You kiss him like you always have, overeager and desperate and messy. You urge him backwards, towards your workbench, all cluttered with paints. His crutch clatters against the ground uselessly as you grab for each other. You knock over a jar of brushes half-haphazardly placed on the floor.

You're overwhelmed with the thought that his jealousy might've been for you, too.

When he braces his hand against your work bench, he knocks over a cup of paint. You laugh into his mouth as you paw at his stupid, perfectly buttoned vest. When he touches you again, he stains you blue—and later red and violet. Burnished gold and paint so silver it makes the stars look dull.

A mess, he tsks, impossibly fond, as he looks at you and himself and the work space.

At all that you'd done.

***

"You've been pulling strings," Mel says as you lay in her lap, letting her pet and stroke you. Her fingers dance over the ridge of your brow.

You blink up at her slowly, eyes fluttering. "Shouldn't that be my line?" You ask.

"I'm not naive to the way you've been pulling our strings." She muses, fingers tumbling into your hair. She's gentle here, careful as she cards her way through your hair, her fingers nimble.

"Pulling strings is a far too sophisticated thing to call it." You snort and lean into her touch like a cat, preening a little.

"What would you call it?" Mel asks and the smile she wears is less of a mystery to you now, and you can tell there's a fondness to it.

(She does really like you—she is really being sincere, you've learned.)

You think about this for a long moment; you toy with saying a fucking mess. Or digging my own grave. But neither feel quite so full—while true, in many ways, there leaves little room for—

Well, this.

The way she holds you. The cat's curl of her smile, pleased and mischievous. Her fingers, gentle and coaxing, urging you to unfurl and bloom.

Or Viktor's rasping laugh that you can pull out of him. The fondness you hold for him like a pearl held inside a clam, growing and glowing. The way you drape yourself all over him, and he accepts it as easy as the day accepts the sun, or the night accepts the moon into its skies.

And even Jayce and the strangled back-and-forth that the two of you dance; it's still yours. It's still his. And the way he cups your cheek admist the violence or how he let's no one speak ill of you in front of him.

(Or the way Jayce and Viktor's minds work together, or how tactical Jayce and Mel can be; sharpened like daggers and twice as pretty. Or the creativity you pull out of Mel, allowing her to see the world like a boundless piece of art. Or the way Viktor's science influences your art; how your art influences his science. The fierceness you bring out in Jayce—the passion he brings out in you.)

It doesn't quite account for all the parts that make you burn and grow and shake out your great, big wings to fly.

Finally, you say, "it feels like I'm trying to find the melodies and harmonies and how they mesh—or the composition of a painting, or the feeling of a poem, but some of the words are still missing. It feels like when I chase art and try to break it open, to reveal what it wants me to learn—or show me."

"Have you figured it out yet?" She asks and she's genuinely curious, almost quiet in her desire to know.

At that, the door creaks open and there are several hushed whispers before Jayce suddenly strides into the room with all the false confidence in the world. Viktor looks sheepish behind him.

You sit up sharply, trying to detangle yourself from Mel.

"I told you they were here—" Viktor hisses to him, "and we shouldn't—we shouldn't be here."

Jayce isn't listening, though, and he's clearly inflating himself to get out, "I've come on important business of the council."

Mel raises her brows and throws you a sideways glance. She then says, "then come in, Councilor, since it's so important that you've come to my personal quarters. Unannounced."

Jayce at least has the good sense to look a little sheepish now, too. You can't help the laugh that springs out of you.

He throws you a dark look before clearing his throat.

"Councilor Haskel and Salo are seeking to strike down the art deal." Jayce announces and your heart drops a little, sinks in your chest.

You look at Mel. She purposefully keeps her face a mask of coolness. She rolls her shoulder briefly, which is your only tell of irritation or concern.

"Come in, Jayce." Mel finally says, "and you, too, Viktor. Shut the door behind you."

Both wander into the space and it's such a surreal moment, all four of you, for once, in the same room, that you can't help but laugh again.

Mel sighs in a way as if to say, I suppose this would happen eventually.

Jayce and Viktor can't quite look anyone in the eye and they both take uneasy seats int he living room.

Again, you feel like laughing—you're not sure what all the trepidation is for. Each of them have you seen you naked; you have seen them naked.

"What's their angle?" Mel asks, ignoring both Jayce and Viktor's shyness.

Jayce clears his throat, "they don't think it's worthwhile to support an artist from the Undercity at this time."

You wince and Jayce adds, "their words, not mine."

"Well, that won't do." Mel tsks and she suddenly moves to stand, graceful as ever, her robes trailing in a wave of silk and the smell of lillies. She likes to pace when she's thinking, and she pads over the window, to look out at the city.

Eventually, she says, "we'll need a grander plan. Something they can't refuse."

"What are you thinking?" Jayce asks.

She turns and all around her, she's doused in gold light, glowing in the evening sun as if she was born to it. "Perhaps combining some science with it." Now she looks at Viktor, "something symbolic to the current advancements with Hextech, perhaps."

Viktor looks at you, then back at Mel, "I can do that."

"Jayce, I need you to talk to the other Councilors and be sure they're not swayed by Haskel or Salo." She then adds, "and I want more publicity around it—and around our artist and scientist."

Our artist.

Our scientist.

"Ah—" Viktor starts, "I don't want to be in the public eye."

Our, our, our.

"It'll put pressure on Haskel and Salo if the people are behind you both, too." Mel presses gently, though her gaze has softened on him; she's sympathetic to his desires.

To assure him, you chirp, "I can do all the talking."

"Not sure that's our best idea." Jayce remarks.

"I am certain I can name several worse ideas of ours." You quip without thinking, and then you toss one of Mel's throw pillows at him; the beautifully embroidered one that's likely far too expensive and made from the rarest threads.

It hits him with a dull thud. And for a moment, he's shocked. The room is silent.

Still, your heart sings our, our, our.

But then Viktor snorts, before breaking out into his low, soft chuckle. And then the twinkle of Mel's giggles, coupled with your own laughter that bursts from your chest like a bird taking to flight.

And Jayce watches a moment, all of you laugh and smile, and if you could paint him in this moment, you would—

A little awe-struck. Tender around the edges, burnished gold. Breath stolen from him.

(Oh, he does really like you, too. All of you.)

But then laughter rumbles from him, too. And the tension slips from all of you, drains from your bodies with each bubbling sound.

And all of them together—finally together—are the melody you've been looking for, the words you couldn't place. The color on the canvas that finally brings it all together.

It's all the broken pieces like a mosaic, finally put together to create something whole.

And it's all ours, you think, the sun a flare of light and beauty bursting through the room, bathing all of your favorite people in it's gold and glory;

It's all ours.

[enhard]

⋆˙⟡ monster | lee heeseung

: when two rivals in an entertainment company turned late-night lovers, no strings attached… or is it something else?

pairing: ceo!l.hs x fem!reader

CW: smut, enemies to fwb to lovers trope??, pwp (3 smut scenes omg), hate sex, age gap: heeseung is 29, reader is 24, usage of condoms, riding, oral sex (both receiving), cum eating, some pet names, insults?, lots of profanity lmk if i missed anything

notes: couldn’t stop thinking about this while listening to monster by gaga. crazycrazy

wc: 7.3k words (MDNI)

There was only one thing you hated more than useless things in your timetable. It was the asshole of the whole company, Lee Heeseung. The more conversations you heard his name in, the more you despised his existence.

His ego was so high it could hit a plane, the way he would talk about his compositions made you wanna throw up. He praised himself so much, and you started wondering if he was just a huge narcissist or if we were insecure of his writing skills. Luckily, you never saw him around often as you were really caught up in your own work. Having to compose songs all the time for singers was not an easy task. Your chairman was an even bigger asshole than Heeseung, always giving you all the work. You had to not only compose songs from start to finish, but you also had to edit and mix the voices, help the singers use the right tones and so much more stuff that wasn’t originally included in your job plan.

Usually, you would stay at the office overtime, your eyes darkened with tiredness. It was a miracle you haven’t fallen asleep all this time.

 You looked at the time,

 [01:54 AM]

“Great.” You sigh. Your shift ended at 12 AM. What the fuck are you still doing here? It’s quiet in the whole building, only clicking sounds can be heard from your keyboard. You’re all alone with a few bodyguards left in the company. You groan, your head pounding from the intense light of your pc. All you want now is to get back to your apartment just to greet your cat Juno.  He’s your only best friend in this cursed city of New York, he’s a soft and fluffy black and white cat, with heterochromia eyes, left eye blue and right eye brown. You talk to him all the time, even though he can’t hold conversations he’s the best listener you’ve ever encountered. Better than your ex-boyfriends, that’s for sure.

As the clock reads [02:29], you’re more than ready to go home. You gather all your things, wish a great night to all the security people there and finally get out of that stupid building. You get your car keys out of your bag, driving home in your black i8. When you get home you feed your cat, finally plopping in your bed and falling asleep instantly.

You woke up due to your phone ringing at around 10 am with the hugest headache you’ve had. You palm your forehead, grabbing your phone with your other hand. Your co-worker, Yena, is calling you. You pick up as fast as you can, moaning into the phone due to being exhausted out of your mind.

“Yeah… Yena hey….” You say with half a mouth.

“Hey girl, are you coming to work? Today’s the showcasing, have you forgotten?”

Oh, fucking hell. You totally forgot.

A showcasing happens when all composers need to show the work they did in a few months’ time. You need to turn in all the songs you’ve made in this time, whilst competing with your other co-workers to be the best one, getting the title of the best songwriter of the month. Your company likes making leaderboards, only adding onto your stress of being the best. Of course, last month’s songwriter was Heeseung, but you thought the judges were so biased over him… you knew you could take him down this month.

“Right… I’ll be there soon just let me get ready.” You say, already dreading the idea of getting out of bed.

She hangs up, letting you wash up quickly. You fix up your hair, put on your suit and do a bit of makeup. You get your badge with your name on it and out you are. By the time you arrive at the company you’re already late… the higherups there scolding you for it.

“Please try to make it on time, you know how important this is.”

You sigh. How could they expect you to be there early when you went home at almost 3 AM last night?

“Okay, okay I’m sorry. I’m here now.” You add.

After you come out of your office to get your suitcase that had your files, you bump into the last person you wanted to see there. He throws you a cheeky smile, not even apologizing for giving you a shoulder.

“Oh, if it isn’t the famous miss L/n! Ready to get your dreams crushed by my songs again?” you scoff at him, crossing your arms. “Yeah right, like I’d let a scumbag like you take my title. I don’t have anything to prove to you, stay in your lane.”

He raises his eyebrows at your response, as you would normally walk away if he told you anything. “Oh is it miss complaint now? Let me actually show you how this job is done, im your ceo for a reason.” he suddenly stops smiling to give you a glare.

“You don’t intimidate me Mr. Lee, right on the contrary, you make me want to laugh.” you say and turn around, not wanting to waste your time with such a man. His sleek smile creeps back onto his face as he walks into his own office.

A few minutes later, you get back to the front, everyone already waiting there with their work. You stand next to Yena, holding the tank of papers in hand tightly.

Yena could tell you’re nervous, so she extended one hand up to yours just to squeeze it, calming you down a bit. Your other co-workers were not a threat at all, but Heeseung was the one person you wanted to bring down. You wanted to wipe that stupid smile off his face. After much judging and testing, with recitals and rehearsals for the songs, the judges finally decided the points accorded to the candidates. The others already had way too little points to worry you, but you, Yena and Heeseung were left.

“Choi Yena, 127 points.” She sighed of relief. A sizeable number overall, but now it depends on what you and Heeseung did.

“Lee Heeseung, 140 points.” His eyes widen. There is a chance that you might win. You might take him over… You might take his place. No way, right?

After a good minute of silence, they finally list your points.

“L/n Y/n, 139 points.” You almost fall to your knees. Out of all chances, how could this happen to you?? You close your eyes and cover your ears before you go insane.

You let him win, again.

“Therefore, our winner this month will be Lee Heeseung, the winner of the last 3 months as well, Congratulations!” all you hear is buzzing in your ears. You grow sour of his name, of his voice, his face. You can’t stand his dumb mouth, dumb face, dumb voice. You can’t stand him at all, and you would do anything to see him fired or something. You know that won’t happen and it drives you crazy. Heeseung smiles, taking his prize in hand once again, his portrait remaining on the fame wall. He shakes hands with the judges before taking a good look at you.

You cannot look at him anymore, you just lower your gaze trying not to burst into tears. You worked so hard for this, yet he took away all your hope for a win. You storm out the room, sitting down at your desk to throw your head down on the wooden table.

One point. Seriously. This is ridiculous.

Well, you take a deep breath and continue with your shitty day. At some point in time, you get a knock on your office door. “Come in.” you say as you raise your eyes up to see who it is. “Oh Yena, hey.. sorry for not saying anything earlier…” you bite your lip.

“Don’t consume yourself over it, hey, that dude is a douche, okay? Do not let him get to you. You are better than him anyway.”

“Am I though? I mean… What if he is simply better than me. What if his songs are better than mine? What if his lyrics have more meaning than mine?”

“He is not better than you, and even if he will be proven to be, which I doubt, don’t ever let him know you think that.”

“I can’t be a narcissist just like him, Yena. If I am not as good as someone, I will take the responsibility on my shoulders and admit it.”

“See you’re already better than him, he would never” She laughs. You laugh back, although in your soul goes a fight between your ego and sincerity.

. . .

After the day ends, you finally go home early, not giving two fucks about what they might say or think, it is your right after all. Too bad that you get a message you dreamed of never getting, too bad it happened.

HELIX ENTERTAINMENT

“Good evening, members of the company. We are delighted to announce that tomorrow there will be a collaboration project between each other. The groups are arranged by the organisers, and they follow the lines of:

Now scrolling through all the pages, you search for your name. Oh, what are the chances.

Lee Heeseung & L/n Y/n”

Of course this had to happen, it would not have been you if it were not for your amazing luck.

“Oh, suck on it seriously.” You look at your phone in disbelief, while making yourself tea. “Juno can you believe this? This man is going to ruin my image and my life. I can’t stand him anymore I swear I might kill someone if this keeps happening.” Juno meows, probably because he wants a bit of peace, but you still took that as an agreement to what you said. “I know, I know. I guess it will be okay… hope he doesn’t ruin my career for life with this. I do not trust him.”

The next day, you shake your head while getting out of your car, glaring at the tall building with huge windows. You always glare while looking at it, but somehow this time was different. It wasn’t because you hated your job, it was because you had to see your partner. All the people who greeted you in the halls got a cold response, or no response at all. Might have been a shitty thing to do but honestly you weren’t in the mood for anything anymore. You just wanted this day to be over.

When you get into Heeseung’s office, seeing him rummaging through his papers, you just stood in the doorway… waiting for him to finish his work. He raises his head to look at you, his mood getting insignificantly worse when his eyes met yours. Before he gets to sigh, you cut him off.

“The feeling is mutual. I usually try to act nice, but I just cannot stand you no matter how hard I try.” You cross your arms while he goes back to his papers. “Then take a seat.” He responds in the coldest way, only making you furrow your eyebrows at his tone. “Okay damn…” you say under your breath while grabbing a chair to sit in front of his desk.

There are a few moments of silence, but you decide to ask him about the collaboration, same reason you’re here right now.

“Heese-” “It’s Mr. Lee for you.” You clear your throat annoyed. “Mr. Lee, I am only here to ask you about what we must do, can we focus on that?”

“Why would I make a project with someone as bad at writing as you?” he looks up at you again. You bite your cheek, barely being able to stand him anymore. You just look down to your thighs, grasping your palms together anxiously. Yuna told you to never be weak in front of him, but how could you not when he was so right?

“Please refrain from insulting my work and just take the organisations words, they put us together for this, so we need to do it.”

“If I let you work on this, you will just embarrass me in front of thousands of people. How about you just let me handle this? Go home, enjoy your days off. I’ll give you the credit.”

“You cannot just do everything alone; I do not care about days off I just want to work on this too. Please Mr. Lee.”

That is the first time he’s ever heard you say please to him. He hated your presence just as much as you hated his, why must you be at each other’s throats all the time? Simply because of rivalry or did other frustrations arise from both parties?

He licks his lips, finally giving in. “You can work on it with me Y/n. Just don’t disappoint me.”

“I promise I won’t. This matters so much to me.”

You follow him to his studio; he lets you get in first and that is when he locks the door behind you. You both sit down next to each other while you work on the song. He keeps acting weird throughout the recording and editing process, changing poses multiple times in a few minutes, sighing and fidgeting with his fingers. Halfway through the song you place your hand on his while looking at him. “Mr. Lee, are you feeling okay?”

That is when he sighs, snatching his hand away from yours and turning the pc off. He turns to you, keeping his eye contact consistent. “Y/n… i’ve just been feeling frustrated. Just forget it. Let’s focus on the song.”

Now you cannot say that you care about him, but you’re still curious to see what this is about. “Oh, is that so? Frustrated in what kind? Someone like you has feelings?”

He glares at you. “Not in the way you’d think, anyway.” You tilt your head. “But how? Tell me now, i’m curious.” “Maybe you should learn to keep your mouth shut, it’s none of your business.” “Just because you’re my superior does not mean you gotta talk to me like that, bastard.” He clenches his jaw. “Oh, that’s it.” He suddenly grabs onto your neck, pulling you closer. He’s still so gentle but it’s enough force to make you struggle to talk. “Is this what it’s about...? A... are you sexually frustrated…?” You tease. He releases the grasp on your neck and looks down at his hands. “I.. I’m sorry. It’s hard being alone when you’re pushing 30 you know.”

You had no idea what was happening right now, but you definitely enjoyed the attention you got. You were equally as touch starved as he was, and it was making you want more.

“You know, we could do this. But I really don’t like you dude.” You raise your eyebrow at him. He nods. “You don’t make yourself all that approachable either, would you really be down? I mean, just… fuck buddies… nothing else?”

“Mr. Lee, you know we both aren’t ones for relationships. But what’s in it for me?” “Oh, you want payment now?” “Well, you knew I wasn’t gonna give you myself for free, did you?” He laughs. “Fair, then how about I give you a raise?” “Mm… Anything else?” He rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay uhh. A raise and no more staying overtime, you get paid if you leave work early and… free coffee for life.” You ponder a bit. “Alright, I accept.” “Oh, not so quick, you need some rules to you too. For this to work you have to come help me anytime I need you.” “Libido that high, huh?” He shushes you and you giggle.

“Well okay, but if you’re really frustrated right now, shall we start today?” He looks back at you, visibly cringing from you being so direct with him, but he doesn’t mind. “I mean if you’re down.” “I am, but do you have any condoms?” That’s when you see him reaching for his wallet, taking out about 3 condoms out. Your eyes widen a bit, smacking your lips at his professionalism. “Oh, wow you’re ready.” “3 is a bit much…” “Who knows, i’ll end up using all of them and then end up going raw cause we are left with none.” “Yeah, don’t know about that.” “Im messing with you, dumbass.” He rolls his eyes, letting you get on top of his lap. Your lips finally make contact with his, getting to taste him in your mouth, the feeling lingering down to your stomach.

As you begin making out, your hand travels down to his forming bulge, squeezing and massaging it to the best of your abilities. As you’re doing that, he squeezes your ass with his palm, making you flinch from the sudden pressure. You playfully slap his face, pulling away from the kiss a bit. “You’re such a dick.” “I know, wanna feel mine already?” You give him one last kiss before pushing his head back on the chair to kiss his neck, insisting on his prominent adam’s apple. You suck on his sensitive skin, forming hickeys along his whole neck. “Fuck, Y/n, you’re not bad at this.” “I know, but you are.” “Oh shut up, I barely got to do anything.” You sigh, pulling away from his neck. “Let me ride you, m’kay?” “Do whatever you want to me.” He smiles coyly. “Could I kill you?” You pout your lips. “Not until you get your raise.” “Oh, fuck off.”

You start with unbuttoning his pants, not even taking them off before placing your hand on his boxers. You press his dick a bit, his groan appearing right after. “Mhm, that’s what I love hearing.” You nod to yourself. “Right from my mouth?” He teases too. “Oh, you know what I mean, I might need to stuff yours, so you shut up more often.” “Could you stuff it with your pussy?” That keeps you quiet for a bit, his response making you clench around nothing. “… I might, if tape doesn’t work.”

You don’t even take his pants off when you pull his boxers down with his half-hard dick springing out. You grab the base, stroking it a bit to get it as erect as you can. “You’re so big.” You point out. He just smirks, looking at you up and down. You leave his dick alone for a bit just to take your panties off, as you were already wearing a skirt, the embarrassing wet stains on them being visible for Heeseung to see as well. “You got this wet already? And you’re the one saying i’m horny.” “Shut it.” You throw your panties to the other side of the room, finally ripping one condom out the packaging, putting it well onto his dick. After you give him a few more strokes you position yourself on his dick, slowly lowering yourself on his length. It takes you a few good seconds to adjust, then you slowly move your hips back and forth on him. He already throws his head back, the feeling being so familiar yet so distant. Your walls clench around him every time you move on him, the feeling already getting unbearable. You change your routine a bit, starting to bounce instead of grinding, the sound of your thighs touching echoing through the room. You try leaving out as little moans as you can, but it’s still impossible for you, as it feels so good. You leave out small desperate noises as you bounce on him. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.” He smiles up at you. You glare again. “Fuck you.” While speeding up. “This.. doesn’t mean anything. I’m just.. helping.. you get rid of a boner.” You say out of breath. “And it’s working, keep going.”

You ride him as well as you can, his swollen tip getting so deep inside you it’s hitting your sweet g-spot. He needed to fuck with someone desperately, the fact that it was you was pure coincidence. Your mouth parts, leaving sounds that only his ears can hear. “Holy shit… I might cum soon… please” you cry, grabbing onto his shoulders with your nails bedded into his skin. He looks up at you, his hand resting against your ass, giving it a few squeezes here and there. “You’re gonna cum for me? Hm? Come on, cum all over me” He whisper shouts, helping you bounce on him faster and faster.

The knot in your stomach quickly snaps, your orgasm washing down over you with a few loud moans. You cum all over his dick, with each thrust forming a white ring at the base of it. “Your pussy so good, Y/n… I can’t take it any…more” he grunts, throwing his head back more with each bounce of yours. “Cum already, come on you’re... doing so well” you encourage him, and he immediately obeys, his semen spilling into his condom, making it fully white by the time you pull away from his lap. He pants and moans before you finally take the condom off his dick, the cum spilling back onto it. You stroke him a few more times, getting your hand messy but that finally makes him lay on the chair more relaxed, his high calming down.

“Damn it you’re good.” He says while smiling, his head thrown backwards. “I know, that’s why I agreed to help you.” You slightly grab onto his neck, giving it a few playful kisses. “Now should I send you back to your work? You’re finished here.” He teases. “Oh right, right. Maybe I should focus on my actual work, rather than this work.” You say, grabbing onto his dick one last time, leaving it alone after wrapping your hand around it.

He grabs your wrist, flicking it away now. He looks up at you while raising his eyebrow. “Get the fuck out of here.” You scoff at him, cleaning yourself up a bit and fixing your clothes back on before turning around to leave. “Suck my pussy.” You say annoyed while heading to the door.

As you open the door you hear a “Might do that too” and that’s when you get out the door, leaving him a middle finger before closing the door behind you.

Heeseung finishes the project for both of you, and you end up winning it together. Of course, he kept reproaching you that you won because of him, and you got into a heated argument that you just stopped talking for weeks. So first he says he’ll do it for you but when you do… he argues that he did all the work?

What an asshole.

After another day of no contact at all, you get passed a flyer at work, so you quickly read it.

“It gives us immense pleasure to invite you to a special gathering in honor of Lee Heeseung & L/n Y/n to celebrate their remarkable achievement of winning the collaboration project contest first place.

Date: [7th of December]

Time: [7 PM to 12 AM]

Venue: HELIX ENTERTAINMENT VENUE & BAR

Dress Code: [Semi-Formal]

We look forward to celebrating this special moment with you.

Warm regards,

HELIX ENTERTAINMENT”

After reading, you immediately put the flyer down on your desk, covering your face with your hands. “I don’t wanna see that man ever again.” You avoided him for a few weeks, how could you meet again now? You sigh to yourself, thinking that it’s just one day, it’ll be over, and you can continue ignoring him again.

On the day of the event, you buy yourself a nice and luxurious royal blue dress, it’s long and it hugs your body so well. It has a pretty big cleavage, but you know you looked attractive in it anyway. You get ready, grab your hand purse, and get to the venue. As you enter the big ballroom you notice Heeseung right away, talking to some higher ups while having one hand in his pocket, and the other in the air, moving it around while talking. He’s wearing a tight black suit on, with a deep v-neck that perfectly shows his collarbone. His hair a dark velvet and slightly gelled. You would be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive. He always wore that dark aura to him, and that pissed you off. It’s like he was pulling you in despite you trying to pull away. Even if you said you hated him, your palms got sweaty when you saw him, your heartbeat got faster and you eyes slightly widened whenever you saw him. It wasn’t because he was your boss, it wasn’t because he could fire you at any moment… there was something else. And he knew it.

You breathe in one last time before going up to them. As soon as Heeseung sees you he can’t stop looking at you. How perfect you look, you elegant you came here yet so sexy. The way your boobs sat in your dress and how they looked at Heeseung first, that’s what he claims anyway. You don’t say anything to each other, you barely dare to make eye contact. But at one point the others leave your conversation, saluting both of you for now... And when you expect it least, he pulls you aside.

“Are you trying to tempt me with those tits?” He whispers. “Excuse me?” You look at him, eyebrows furrowed in a mix of confusion and anger. “I mean, look at you. Who did you come here for? Where are you going after this? Is there anyone else with you?” He launches this set of questions so weirdly, making you cross your arms which makes your boobs squeeze even tighter against each other.

“I’m here alone, Heeseung. I just liked this dress and came here with it. What’s your problem, even if I dressed up for someone?” You look angrily at him. “Because nobody can see… all of this… except for me. You’re my fuck buddy remember?”

“So? I thought friends with benefits meant something else for you. Don’t care what you think about my outfits. Just stop staring weirdo.” You rest your arms alongside your body, before turning to leave. He grabs your wrist, pulling you close to him. “Look, I don’t want to be constantly ignoring you. Can we be just like we were before?” your lips part. “You mean…. hating each other?” he sighs. “You know what I mean. Hating each other but helping each other with things.” You click your tongue. “Oh yeah, speaking of that… you never gave me my raise… or my coffee.”

“What? you can take as much coffee as you want, and I want you to help me with something before I give you the extra money.”

“And what’s that? amaze me.”

“Could you act that you’re my fiancé for tonight?”

You freeze. “Huh?”

“I don’t want you around me, at all. But It’s so annoying when people keep asking why i’m not married at my age.”

“Did you tell them that you’re a bastard? and that’s why you’re single?” you look at him pissed.

“Oh fuck off, just tell me if you want to help me or not.” you contemplate. “Maybe. If I finally get my raise, and some good sex out of you.”

“It’s on then. Let’s go meet some people here, they’re old and rich perverts but they give hella good sponsors. You might wanna cover up. I don’t want them looking at you.” he grabs your waist. “What a coincidence, that sounds like a perfect description of you in a few years.” you roll your eyes, walking with him while struggling to put on your jacket.

“Hello, Mr. Lee, and who is this beautiful lady?” they start right off the bat looking at your body and all, despite covering yourself as well as you can. You feel so uncomfortable with them but Heeseung makes sure to cover you with his body instead. “This is Y/n, my dearest fiancé. She’s a bit shy, so please talk to me instead.” You throw a slight smile while looking at him, his gesture making you really happy.

After you were done with these men, you leave to a more reserved area. “I can’t believe i’m saying this but… thanks for having my back earlier.” “Don’t fret, I saw how uncomfortable you were. Hate you or not, I can’t see you with that expression on your stupid face.”

You take your jacket off while nodding your head. “Wow, what a compliment from you mr. Lee. I acted enough; now can I stop being your dog following you everywhere?”

“Of course, you can leave too if you’re busy.”

“Hey, what about my payment? remember?”

“You want your money now? What do you wanna buy? I’ll give you my card.” He says, pulling out his card to hand it to you. “My pin is 1510. Use however much you want.”

That just stunned you. “W-What no I don’t need to buy anything. Keep your card…” you push it back to him. “I meant… you know.”

“The good sex part?” he says softly.

“Yeah. That.” you say a bit embarrassed now. “Stop making it so awkward, you’re being too quiet for your own good.” you continue.

“Why do you think that? Is my mouth too big to keep quiet?” he smiles. “Obviously, you never seem to shut up but right now you’re eerily quiet.” “I’m just thinking whether I should just eat you out like you deserve or fuck you too on top of that.” His response already gets you hot and bothered, not caring about the people who might be there or might pass you two. You get even closer to him, sliding your hand down his v-neck to touch his pecs and collarbone. “What’s stopping you from doing both? Please Heeseung. It’s my turn to be needy is it not?”

“Of course, it can be your turn whenever. Surprised you’re craving my pleasure when you can’t stand me.” “You’re still fucking hot with this suit on, personality or not.” He smiles, pulling you into a heated kiss, the butterflies rummaging through your stomach. You grab onto his hair, pushing him a little while making out. You pull away after a bit, finally unbuttoning his shirt. You touch him all over his body, barely being able to stop.

“Did you always look this good?” you say, moving your hands on his abdomen. “Were you always this desperate for me?” he smiles, letting you do whatever you want, until he begins undressing you too, sliding that dress off you in a hurry. He slips your bra off taking one tit into his mouth while kneading the other. You let out desperate sounds, wishing he would just eat you out already. His breath hot against your nipple makes your whole body shiver, inevitably making you whine. “Heeseung just suck on my pussy like that please stop teasing me damn it.”

He laughs against your skin, giving your boob one last kiss before pulling away. “Okay, okay, sit down on this couch.” You do, and he gets on his knees to slide your panties off. He makes you spread your legs for him, keeping them apart with his hands. He starts off with small kisses around your core, taking his time enjoying his meal afterall. “This is the second time you’re dripping wet for me, is it a pattern now?” you grab onto his hair to keep him there. “Shut up and just help me get through this.” He listens, starting to eat you out to the best of his ability. Hollowing his cheeks, shaking his head to suck on your folds. He puckers up his lips to kiss you all over, giving it a few sweet licks all over the slit. Once he reaches your clit, he glues his mouth on it, sucking on it leaving the nastiest sounds known to man. While he’s focusing on your clit, he sneaks his fingers to your wet hole, sliding one finger in at first, pounding it into you at a steady rate. You cannot stop moaning loudly, the pleasure being too much for you. He inserts another finger in, curling them inside you, reaching your g-spot easily.

“Oh, right there, Hee. Don’t you dare stop or you’re so dead— oh my fucking god that’s so good.” His hand speeds up, he pulls his mouth away to flick his tongue on your bud faster and faster; matching the rhythm of his fingers. “Fuck!” you cry out. “Heeseung i’m gonna… cum please … keep going.” You lose your mind. He speeds up even more, destroying your pussy with his fingers, actually giving you hope that he’s gonna let you finish. Once you get as close as you’ve ever been, he pulls out and away completely, making your body shake. You groan suddenly opening your eyes in disbelief. “What the fuck..?” you say angrily. “You thought I was just gonna let you cum like that from something so simple?” You glare. “You’re so fucking annoying, I had such a good orgasm forming.”

He caresses your cheek. “Stop pouting, let me make you cum forreal now, okay?” you still look mad, but you grab onto the hem of his pants, pulling them down in one second; his boner is quite visible already. You pull his dick out, stroking it while he gets a condom out his wallet again (Somehow he’s always ready). You keep stroking him, squeezing his tip with your fingers until he leaks precum everywhere. You stop that to pull his boxers down further, letting him put his condom on. He strokes himself a few more times before positioning himself to penetrate you. He slowly pushes his cock in, making slow movements at first, slowly speeding up to fuck you good. “You’re taking it so well, and you feel so good..” You hum, slowly wrapping your legs around him. “That’s amazing… keep going..” you whine, letting him fuck you til you lose your mind.

He slightly moans at every thrust, managing to get deeper and deeper with every thrust. You feel him so deep inside, hitting your g-spot again with his swollen tip. The sudden zap makes you grab onto his biceps with your hands, digging your nails into his skin while moaning louder. “Mhm…. That’s the spot. Don’t stop please…” He finally listens to your pleads, pounding into your sweet spot over and over as you leave red scratches all over his arms. Your hands move up to his upper back, scratching him like a wild cat. He hisses multiple times at the pain, but he lets you react this way just to see all your reactions to him destroying you once again. You tighten around him as you’re about to cum.

“Hee...please let me cum... plea—oh that feels so good please…” you say as you start crying, small tears running down your cheeks shutting your eyes forcefully. “Who’s crying on my cock now? You love getting fucked like this don’t you slut?” he says while speeding up even more, making you squirt on him on the spot. His words buzz in your ear over and over while you lose your mind completely. Your legs shake on his lower back, getting his dick wet with your squirt. “You’re so messy when you cum.” He groans, getting close to his release too. “Oh fuck you… you know you like it… cum already…. come on.” A few more thrusts in and he pulls out to take his condom off his dick. He gives himself a few more strokes before releasing strings of cum all over your stomach. He holds onto your thigh with his other hand while continuing to stroke himself. You look down to your stomach just to see, biting your lip at the scenery. “That’s a new one… you look damn hot doing it.” He slightly smiles at you. “Figured we’d both get messy.” You both quickly clean up the best you can, trying not to get caught by anyone despite how loud you both were the entire time.

“Is this the good sex you were talking about?” he says in a sly manner. “Obviously, if that even means something to you. If there’s one good thing about you it might just be that dick.” You roll your eyes at him. “Oh my, should I feel honored?” he says sarcastically.

You both get out of there, having no intention of staying after what both just did. He gives you the rest of the evening off and gives you your very awaited raise. He was generous with his numbers, that good time really helped. might despise you, or that’s what you think, but he took that raise seriously and you couldn’t stop smiling at your bank balance.

A few days later, you get a text at work from none other than Heeseung. You never gave him your number, so it was a surprise.

“hey y/n”

“Who is this?”

“the guy you fucked 2 days ago”

“ugh what do u want”

“i’m your boss, don’t text me that way”

“whatever, why are u texting me and where did u get my number”

“yena, i just wanted to give you some extra work today”

[1 attachment]

The photo he sent shows his lower body sitting on a chair with his legs slightly manspreading, a thick bulge layering on his dark grey pants while his left hand is gripping the said bulge. Multiple veins are seen branching down from his hand to his arm.

The moment you saw the picture your eyes scattered throughout the pixels in your phone without being able to stop. The photo he took was so damn attractive to you for no specific reason but the way his hand looked, the way you just knew that bulge in his pants was throbbing, begging to get out the tight bottom wear. Still, you decided to be a little cold to him as you always were.

“oh why should i help u? i already got my raise”

“do u want this to be your only one?”

You leave him on seen for a minute or two.

“where r u”

“in my office, tell my bodyguard i called you in here”

“🖕”

You get up, fixing your makeup a little before leaving your office to get to his. After you close the door behind you, you both have a moment of intense eye contact, just to break it off by looking down. “You got here fast. Missed me that much?” you smack your lips. “It’s not like you threatened me or anything.” He laughs softly. “You know you missed me already. Did you touch yourself to the picture I sent, too?” He slowly walks towards you.

“What? No. You’re not all that Heeseung. Your mouth moves too much though.”

“Oh yeah? Then let's see what yours can do.”

He grabs your chin, pulling it up so you can only look into his eyes. There are a few seconds of silence where your heart skips a beat… then in his lowest tone you hear him say...

“Get on your knees.”

He releases the grasp on your chin, letting you lower yourself, finally making eye contact with his bulge. “Aren’t we gonna get caught here?” He shakes his head. “No one can enter without my permission. No one can leave either, like you here.” He smiles. You squeeze your legs together at his words while sliding his pants and boxers off in one move. His hardened cock springs out, bouncing off his navel. You start with small pecks to his red tip, slowly moving down to his entire length. He looks down at you, admiring your sweet moves to bring him pleasure. “You’re adorable like this, did you know?” he chuckles. “Eat a dick.” He slaps your cheek. “Too bad you’re eating mine right now.” You glare up at him before taking his tip in your mouth, stroking him with your hand. You have your other hand resting on his right knee, as you bop your head back and forth little by little. He smiles at you, grabbing your hair into a ponytail just to keep your head in place and to be able to fuck your mouth a bit.

You unwrap your hand from around him cock, letting him completely take control, going at his desired pace. He moans at the feeling, throwing his head back for a second. “Fuck yeah... I see this mouth is better at doing things other than complaining all the time.” His thrusts are making you slightly choke on his dick, getting harder and harder to breathe. You grab onto his thighs, trying to at least make him slow down, but to no avail. It feels too good for him to stop now, your mouth wrapped so tight around his dick; sending him waves of bliss with each thrust. After a good while he pulls away, letting you breathe again. “I fucking hate you.” You say, looking up at him. “Don’t talk to your superior that way, brat.” He grabs the base of his cock, slapping the tip onto your lips multiple times.

You take him in your mouth again, bopping your head up and down faster than before. You try using your tongue against as well, caressing the sensitive spot between his tip and length with the tip of your tongue.

“That feels so good. Don’t pull away.” He whispers. You leave little hums to confirm that you won’t, letting him get closer to his release with those emitted vibrations. After a few more sloppy bops, he moans like hell, grabbing onto the back of your head to push you deeper onto him. “Y/n i’m— gonna cum… hold on…” he moans out, his eyes closed shut. You keep going, wanting him to cum right in your mouth. “Mmm…hmm.” Is all you can let out, before he cums deep in your throat, automatically swallowing all of it. He leaves out a small groan, pulling out your mouth after he’s done. A string of saliva links his tip and your tongue as he pulls away further.

“Good girl. You swallowed all of it.” You give him a little smile, standing up while wiping your mouth. “Might’ve been the best i’ve ever had, come here.” He says, grabbing your waist with his arms. He leans in to give you a genuine kiss, not a lustful one, definitely not. He keeps you in that deep kiss for a while, pulling away only to pull you in again. “Where... is this … coming from?” you chuckle a little, asking between kisses. “I don’t think… I can stand… completely hating… you anymore…” your eyes widen a bit. “Was my mouth that good?” you say jokingly, and he shakes his head. “Not just that, not just sex. You have a crazy charm to you, I don’t know if you can feel it.”

“That’s crazy coming from you Lee Heeseung.”

“I want you in my life Y/n, you can be mad all you want but it doesn’t change things between us.”

“You’ve already been in mine way too long.” You smile.

“Exactly, I want you to be so sick of me, no medicine would be able to treat you.”

“I guess we can make it work… you’re crazy hot, still might need to tape that mouth though.”

“Is that a secret kink?” He laughs.

“Oh, shut up.” You push him slightly. You can’t lie, being his girlfriend now was tempting, no matter how much you tried to hate him, he attracted you more and more without even realising. Every time he was in your presence your subconscious was happy to see him. Your mind played tricks on you, and you hated how much you adored him.

Dating Lee Heeseung, your boss, was one of the best decisions of your life. Turns out he’s sweeter than it seems, he would give his life for you, and you would too. You didn’t need anyone else, only your soulmate and your cat. You ended up moving in together, always cooking dinner together, going on vacations together and just enjoying eachother’s presence. He was such a sweet guy, something you never expected to see from such a man. Yena definitely judged you when she first found out about your new relationship, but quickly came along with the idea. Thing is, Heeseung acted this way with others but he was so sweet with you. He only loved you. His sparkly bambi eyes always stare at you with such admiration when you walk in the room. He can’t stop admiring you all the time.

I guess he wasn’t that bad after all.

———————————————————————

a/n: thank you so much for reading this!! I spent a few days on it and it was definitely experimental. reblogging/liking would be very much appreciated < 3

[gremlinwithacause]

You should have known better. It’s not the first time you’ve been ditched, but it might be the last. Huh. 

You make good money on your work. You’re nothing noble or special. You’re just damn good at your job. Fighting and killing come second hand. You could blame it on your parents. Blame it on working at a slaughterhouse. Blame it on getting picked on and having to fight for yourself. Blame it on needing cash to live. The details don’t matter all that much. You’re a good fighter and a better killer. Someone told you that your need to survive made you different. You don’t think so and you’re tired of hearing it. 

It’s not just the shady folks that hire you. You get plenty of employers of good standing. The adventurers aren’t special. A set in a line of many that want extra hands or extra cannon fodder. You tend to be lucky enough to be the former. You’ve ended up in jail more than once for people like this. Your wealthier employers tend to bail you out. You were valuable enough for the extra investment. Worth more alive, and all that. So you’ve been around a few dozen times. 

Being ditched in the field isn’t new but being half dead is. 

You should have seen it on their faces. You should have known better. They didn’t want you there, but someone thought they needed you. It makes sense they ditched you once the boss went down. 

But damn. They didn’t even watch it happen. Straight for the loot, huh? On some level you respect it, on the other level you’re bleeding out and you can only watch them run away. Not even a one liner? A spit on your body? A single piece of gold thrown on your body and a good “there’s your payment, you filthy animal.” 

Huh. Maybe you deserve it. You never messed with theatrics. Why would you get any? 

Things are fading in and out. Blood loss is always a pain to deal with. It would be easier to let go, you think. You still put pressure on the wound in your stomach and side and breathe through the pain. It’d be insulting if you just let yourself keel over, right? No, you’re just scared. 

“Guess we’re both expendable, huh?” 

You don’t have it in you to startle. The boss that you were damn sure was dead is not that. Alive enough to banter with you. It’s more than you offered anyone. What a sweetheart. 

“Dunno,” you say. “Never really thought of it.”

It makes sense. You’re not a hero. What were the chances of you actually out-living adventurers like the ones that ditched you here? You’re worth more alive, but when is the investment no longer worth it?

“‘S funny,” the boss says. Chatty, you think. What can you do but humor them? “Didn’t think heroes would leave their own behind.” 

“I was hired,” you say. 

“Really?” 

They laugh. Then cough and choke on blood or their own spit. You wait for them to finish their cackling, and then continue to wait for the end. 

“They're always picky with their heroes, huh?” 

Oh boy, the pronoun game. 

“Don’t care,” you say. May whatever higher power there is forgive your temper as you’re dying. “It’s work.” 

“Ah. You’re one of those,” they say. Like they know you. Ugh. You want to finish the job. “I always liked those. Basic motivations are the best. Nothing to second guess.” 

You roll your eyes. You’ve heard it all before. What is it worth now? 

“I tried the whole leader thing,” they say. “Good worshippers are hard to find, you know?”

You don’t. You won’t. 

“Sounds more like a cult.” “Eh. Same thing,” they dismiss. 

“What were you even the god of?” you snap. You can’t help it. This guy wasn’t any more special than you--that is: not.

“Anything I could get my hands on,” they say. “I wasn’t picky. Got enough of something that I became this, though.”

A boss. A few tiers above the usual monsters that you can find, always locked up in some kind of home base. 

“So were you a god or not?”

“No, never got that far. Wouldn’t have lost to you if I did.”

“Sure. Lie to yourself.”

They laugh again, “I like that. Confidence like that is usually up on some pedestal. Good on you.” 

“Yeah. Did me a lot of good.” 

“Did you enough,” they say. “You’re not new at this, must have been going for a while.”

“It’s work,” you repeat. It’s always work. It’s to survive. 

“You want a new job?” they ask. 

You lift your head enough to look over at them. They’re flat on their back. Your spear is still in their chest. It’s what’s keeping them from bleeding out. You know better than to leave the weapon in, but you were distracted by the whole dying thing. 

It’s getting harder to keep the pressure on your wound. Your hands are getting weaker. You’re getting weaker. You’re surprised you’re still awake. And what is this guy talking about? …You’ll indulge it. What else are you going to do? 

“Contract?” you ask. 

“Sure,” they say. 

A silver contract appears in front of you, something you don’t see too often. The consequences on silvers are serious, most people just do physical ones or bronzes. 

You squint to make sense of the blurring letters. 

“Follower? Really? What, are you still trying to form that cult?” you snort. It hurts and you dig your fingers into your skin. You don’t even feel it. 

“Good clerics are hard to find,” they say.

“Hah, and your lucky cleric is about to kick the bucket,” you say. “Sucks to be you.”

“Read it.” 

“Sorry. It gets hard to read with blood in your eyes.” 

“You live. You worship me.” 

You grimace. Sounds like a hassle. But… the idea of continuing to live is like candy. What else is there to do? It’s work.

You sign. 

You’re a mercenary hired by adventurers to defeat the boss. After the battle, they loot the treasure and abandon you wounded. The defeated boss crawls over and says, “Guess we’re both expendable, huh?”