#been a while since I've written anything ^^'

[hivemuthur]

Hii! Thank you for replying. I've read five things and loved it so much I wanted to send another ask, and somehow managed to forget to send it, but never mind here it is now.

I was thinking a viktor×reader who were eachother's first everything (early academy days?) but than the reader had to move away for schooling/work, whatever, but now they're back (sometime after the beginning of hextech) and have to work with jayce and viktor. How would that dynamic look like? They didn't breakup over an argument or because they fell out of love but because that's the way life took them. I'm imagining them knowing eachother so well inside and out to the point people just assume they're dating. (Reader making viktors coffee even better than he can himself, viktor making something to fix a problem reader has but never had a solution for, anything really). And I don't know, maybe, possibly, somehow the tension gets to be too much for both of them and they're both more skilled now and whatnot... (I could live without that part tho, is you feel like it doesn't fit)

Sorry if the ask is too complicated, I've just been thinking about it for so long.

I know it's gonna be a while before you can write it but I can't wait to read all of the other requests in the meantime.❤️

~🍒

Dear sweet 🍒 Janna, hello again! Here's your fic!

Same As It Ever Was

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! a bit of everything - fluff, angst (light), smut

word count: 5,6K

author’s note: this is very freeform, an experiment, kinda? A story told in vignettes, little scenes between Viktor and Reader since the moment she came back to the Academy interwoven with their past, sex included. For this to work, I've written current events in Present Tense and the flashbacks in Past Tense.

artist on X (obsessed at this point)

—

You brace yourself with a deep breath—just as you did all those years ago. With lungs full of air, you cross the threshold, and memories come crashing back. Heimerdinger’s lectures, suspicious cafeteria food, noise complaints from your neighbours when Jayce laughed too loud in your dorm. Your dorm itself—its lumpy bed, not enough cabinet space for your books, scattered notes, and long night study sessions with Viktor.

As promised, he and Jayce are there, waiting to pick you up in the entrance hall. Jayce is as giddy as ever—stretching, chattering, busying himself with the announcement board, occasionally pointing at something to get Viktor’s attention. He looks almost the same.

Viktor, on the other hand—nearly still. He leans on a… crutch? It’s a crutch now, huh. You wince at not knowing sooner. An extra brace on his leg as well. His form is more hunched than you remember. He nods at Jayce’s remarks absently, craning his head toward the door, and his face—oh. It lights up when he sees you, just as it used to. Your heart travels all the way up to your throat.

You have to force yourself not to skip. Jayce reaches you first, nearly crashing into you with his embrace. He’s stronger than before, his shoulders broader. Either he’s gotten taller, or Viktor looks shorter. He pats your back and chuckles a mumbled hi—but your eyes are already on Viktor.

He opens his arms in an inviting gesture, and you slide right in. He still fits. He still smells the same, though there’s a lingering trace of oil on his collar. His hair is longer, and his clothes hang looser on his frame, but he feels the same. His neck is just as pretty, his hands just as strong. They go where they used to—one to your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck. You take one last inhale before he pulls back, a familiar spark playing in his eyes as he says, "Welcome back."

***

You stared at the schedule board, squinting as you tried to make sense of the messy list. You muttered under your breath, crossing out dates in frustration when the door behind you creaked open.

A voice spoke from behind, calm and precise. “Do you need assistance?”

You turned to see him—tall, neat, with a cane at his side. Pretty hair falling boyishly over his forehead, eyes the colour of liquid gold, two freckles decorating his upper lip and a spot under his eye. His voice was thickly accented, and you suddenly felt dumber than ever.

“What gave me away?” you huffed, managing a smile. “Groaning or furious scribbling?”

“Eh, a little bit of both,” he said, leaning in slightly to point at a part of the board. “Let me help?”

You handed him your notebook, and he made quick work of explaining the confusing schedule. “Looks like we’ll be seeing each other,” he hummed, studying your timetable.

Thank the gods, you thought. Feigning surprise instead of relief, you raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nodded, the faintest smile pulling at his lips. “I’m looking forward to having class with you. I’m Viktor.”

In response, you muttered your name in one breath.

Without another word, he pressed the notebook into your hand, making sure your hands brushed, then turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, momentarily dumbfounded.

***

You follow Jayce and Viktor through the lab, eyes wide as they show you around. The space is far more impressive than you remember—equipment gleams, wires stretch across the ceiling like intricate veins, and the hum of machinery fills the air. Jayce is practically bouncing with excitement, narrating every little detail with an energy that nearly has you dizzy, while Viktor stays quieter, his gaze focused, occasionally glancing at you as though checking for your reactions.

You’re still trying to wrap your mind around everything when the tour finally ends, and Viktor turns to you with a small smile. “Is there anything you need?” he asks, his voice as smooth and calm as ever.

You consider it for a moment, then sigh dramatically. “I would kill for a coffee.”

Jayce snorts a laugh, “Things don’t really change, do they? Do you want to make it yourself as usual?”

“Of course, as you mentioned—things don’t change, which means I still don’t trust any of you with your coffee-making skills, Jayce,” you reply with a smirk, stepping past him toward the kitchenette area. Viktor watches you closely, but you don’t pay him any mind as you start pulling out the necessary ingredients. “Do you want one?” you throw over your shoulder. And Viktor nods with a smile.

You fall into an easy rhythm, just like old times. Your hands work quickly, grinding the beans, adjusting the water temperature, adding the perfect amount of milk—exactly how you know he likes it. It’s almost like your body remembers, and you can’t help but feel a strange sort of nostalgia as the familiar process comes naturally.

The sound of Viktor clearing his throat breaks your focus, and when you turn, he’s standing a little closer than you expected. His eyes are fixed on the coffee mug in your hands, and the way he’s staring at it almost makes you laugh.

You hand him the cup with a raised brow. “Did I get it right?”

He takes a slow sip, his expression unreadable at first. Then, after a long pause, he sets the cup down carefully on the counter, still looking at you, and says quietly, “Perfect.”

The fact that you remember how to make it, that you remember him—how he likes it, what he’s used to—has him speechless. You watch him for a moment, unsure of what he’s thinking, and the quiet fills the space between you both.

“Just like before,” he says, as though to himself, and you can't help but smile.

***

“Okay, coffee or death,” you whined, pressing your forehead to the desk with exaggerated dramatics. It had been your fourth hour of studying, and the letters on the page began to blur.

“I guess it’s coffee then,” Viktor stretched his legs in the chair before scrambling up to the kettle. “I have no idea how I would explain a corpse in my room.”

“I do not care what motivates your actions, I’m just in dire need of something keeping me alive, or I will fail this class,” you mumbled, still buried in the notes resting under your face. A cup set firmly by your left cheek made your eyebrow quirk, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ah, sweet salvation,” you hummed, grabbing it and taking a sip. And then—

“Viktor. What is this?”

Viktor’s voice was light as he shrugged. “It’s a coffee strong enough to keep you awake until morning.”

You winced, shaking your head slightly. “It’s so strong, it could actually solve the dead body problem you’ve mentioned before.”

He chuckled at that, his gaze still on you. “I suppose that’s one way to describe it.”

You huffed in frustration. “Do I have to do everything myself?”

Viktor only grinned, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself out of your chair and crossing the room to the counter. “Alright, move aside.” You grabbed the ingredients with a practiced hand, preparing a new brew. “This is coffee, not the motor fluid you made.”

Viktor leaned back in his chair, watching you as you worked. “That’s very thoughtful. I suppose you can always become a barista if you fail the class.”

You turned, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Just wait, Viktor. You’ll see. If I fail, I’ll open my own shop. I’ll call it ‘Professor Coffee’—I’ll make sure the brew is strong enough to wake the dead.”

Viktor’s laugh was soft but genuine. “It seems you’ve got it all figured out.”

***

You reach out, barely muttering, “Could you pass me…” before the tool is already in your hand. You glance at Viktor, who hasn’t even looked up from his work.

“How did you know?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing in surprise.

He taps his temple, a small smile playing beneath his goggles. “I have a good memory.”

***

You frowned at your workbench, trying to put a name to the tool you needed, but your mind blanked.

“Can you pass me the…” you began, unsure, your voice trailing off. You made a small gesture with your hand, hoping Viktor would somehow understand what you meant. Without hesitation, he handed you a wrench.

“No, not this,” you said, waving it off. “The other one?” You gestured again.

Viktor stared at you, brows furrowed, before passing you a screwdriver.

“Not that one either!” you huffed, frustration creeping in—not with him, but because your mind had suddenly decided to fail.

The ritual continued, with Viktor visibly amused as your hand hovered over the various tools he’d passed you. Wrenches, pliers, a hammer, and a couple of screwdrivers littered the workbench. You glanced down at your notes, trying to remember.

Viktor hummed, looking from your desk to your notes. His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a knowing smile. “Ah. This one?”

Before you could respond, he was standing behind you, lowering the tool into your hand. His arms brushed the sides of your face, and you felt the press of his stomach against your back. For a moment, you froze, breath catching in your throat.

“A calliper,” you whispered.

“Well done, lásko,” Viktor muttered into your ear.

***

The clock announces an hour way past when you’ve expected to be home already. “Should we call it a night?” you ask Viktor, who sits opposite you, a soft smile curling on his lips.

“Some things have changed, then,” he says, tapping his crutch lightly against the floor. “You used to work until figurative death back in the day.”

“Well, I guess I’m getting older,” you reply with a grin, your tone light but laced with a touch of weariness. “What about you? Any big changes?”

He knocks on his brace playfully, lifting the crutch with a small gesture. “Besides the visible?” He chuckles softly. “Not much. Still working to the death.”

Your smile falters for a second, your gaze softening as you roll closer to him on your chair. You rest your hands gently on his knees, studying his face for any signs of deeper discomfort.

“Are you well, though?” you ask, your voice quiet, careful.

Viktor looks at your hands for a moment, then props the crutch on the desk beside him. He squeezes your palms, his grip firm but tender.

“I am now,” he replies, his voice low, almost like a confession. “Haven’t been for a while, but now I’m well. As well as I can be.” He pauses for a beat, then adds with a small smile, “And now that you’re back, I’m even better.”

You brush your fingers gently through his hair, feeling the familiar warmth of his presence, the intimacy of the gesture. Viktor hums softly, his eyes fluttering closed in response. So familiar, you think, a wave of nostalgia washing over you.

You swallow before speaking again, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’ve missed you.”

Viktor’s eyes remain closed, his expression softening, and when he speaks, his voice heavier now when he sighs. “I know.” He pauses, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ve missed you too.”

***

You and Viktor lay in bed together, tangled in the warmth of each other’s embrace. His arm was draped around you, and the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek was a steady comfort. The room was quiet, unbearably so, when you nuzzled into his neck, inhaling deeply. His scent—rich, familiar, like the warmth of him—filled your senses, and you clutched him tighter, as though trying to memorize the feeling of him.

"I'm going to miss you so much," you whispered, your voice muffled against his skin, your breath shaky with the weight of the thought.

Viktor hummed softly in response, his fingers tracing small circles on your back. "I know. I will miss you terribly too." His words were gentle, but there was a deep sadness in his voice that you could feel even without looking at him.

He nudged your face with his nose, his palm warm as it cupped your cheek. His touch felt like a promise, though you weren't sure what to expect. "If it's meant to be, we will meet again," he said, his voice low, the words wrapped in the quiet certainty.

A pang in your chest tugged at you, and without thinking, you leaned up, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft, but your heart ached with the knowledge that this might be the last time you felt him close. It tasted with bitter acceptance, as you poured every bit of feeling you had into it, hoping it would somehow last, somehow hold you both together despite the distance that would come.

When you pulled away, your heart felt heavy, like it was breaking in your chest.

***

You both sit on the couch in your apartment, papers and notes scattered around you, a quiet hum of frustration bounces between you. Viktor’s hair is dishevelled, falling into his eyes, and his shirt has found its way half-out of his pants, a few buttons undone. He stares at the pages in front of him, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and determination. You glance over at him, hoping for a breakthrough.

“Any ideas?” you ask, your voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

Viktor groans and rubs his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “You know what… I think I’m getting old too,” he mutters, dropping his hand to your lap. “Can we get back to it when I’ve had at least two hours of sleep?”

He looks at you, his hand settling on your knee absentmindedly, his fingers warm through the fabric of your clothes. You stare at his hand for a moment, before looking up at him. He seems so tired, but also so… beautiful. His rumpled clothes and tousled hair remind you of the boy you loved.

“Sure,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You look at him, really look at him. He’s always been handsome, but tonight you can finally see how much time has passed. The wrinkles carving his face deeper, jaw stronger, singular grey strands shining through the chestnut hair. Eyes the same. He doesn’t look like a boy anymore.

Wordlessly, you move closer to him and his gaze doesn’t falter. You cup his cheeks and brush your thumb over his lip. And then, your mouth comes close to his, into a soft brush, trembling and tentative. And Viktor responds with a hand sliding up your thigh and a tilt of his head. He cranes his neck and closes the little distance left between you with a sigh of relief.

His free hand slides up to your neck, pulling you in as his mouth parts and tongue joins to wrestle with yours. He gasps when you bite his lower lip and hums, as his palm slides behind to cup your ass. Fully in his grasp, he press yourself more onto him, fingers tangling into his hair, coaxing small sounds out of his throat. It’s wet and slow and when you peek through your eyelashes his brows are scrunched and a blush blooms down his neck to his chest.

He doesn’t kiss like a boy anymore, you think to yourself. It comes unbidden and warms your insides up.

The taste of him lingers on your lips as you pull away just a fraction, your breaths mingling. You barely have a moment to think before Viktor kisses you back, deeply, hoarse inhale taken straight from your lungs leaves you dizzy.

***

Viktor had walked you back to your dorm after a late-night study session at the library. His pace was slow, almost reluctant, as if he was trying to figure out what to say before you parted ways. You were too tired to wait for him to find the words, your mind still foggy from hours of studying.

“I guess this is goodn—” you started, but before you could finish the word, his lips were on yours. The kiss came out of nowhere, abrupt and clumsy, pressing you back into the door behind you. For a moment, you froze, your tired mind scrambling to catch up with what was happening.

Then, the realization sank in, and the sound that left your lips transformed from startled surprise to a soft moan. You responded without thinking, hands sliding up Viktor's sides, feeling the warmth of his body as you kissed him back.

He dropped his cane, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. His touch was urgent, hands cradling your back and drawing you in as you ran your fingers through his hair. Feeling your response, he grew bolder, shut his eyes and concentrated on drawing deep breaths through his nose to not have to part from you.

Hands everywhere, as if he couldn’t decide what to do. You nearly laughed when she squeezed your butt quickly, only to go back to your waist, slide into your ribs and then to the small of your back. So feverish.

When the oxygen run out, he broke the kiss but still kept you close. “I wanted to do this for the longest time,” he chuckled into your mouth.

***

He gives himself a good-willed push off the couch’s armrest but ends up trapping your hip beneath his. His face scrunches in worry when you hiss, but the sound quickly transforms into a laugh. When your stomach shakes beneath him, Viktor feels a strange swelling in his chest. This is so familiar.

He looks at you longingly, sliding his fingers into your hair. Your laughter dies into a moan when his groin presses between your legs. His tongue grows more eager now, as if he remembers just how much he used to want you. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he breathes against your lips, and you respond by fisting his shirt, nearly tearing it. You try to say you’ve missed him too—fuck, how much you’ve missed him every day—but you can’t, because your mouth is full.

You brace yourself on your elbows, meeting him halfway. You’re not sure you can bear to part long enough for him to take your clothes off, so instead, you take his hands and press them to your ass. He accepts, of course, kneading your flesh in rhythm with his breath.

When you finally straddle him, your fingers move to undo the rest of his shirt. That’s when he stills. His palms come up to wrap around yours, and a quiet plea escapes him. “Wait,” he says weakly, his cock already hard—you’re sure this costs him a lot.

“Whatever for?” you ask, nosing at his face before pressing kisses to his cheeks, his closed eyelids. You untangle your fingers from his and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I should show you something first,” he murmurs, and begins to undo his shirt. You lean back to give him space to sit up, but your hips never leave his, and your eyes never look away from his face. You give him the room he needs, and feel unbearably not close enough.

***

You fought with the doorknob to your bedroom for a hot minute. Viktor, being very distracting, had completely derailed your brain from this simple dexterity task with continuous neck-licking and ear-kissing. He kept smirking against your skin, all cocky and pleased with himself, ever since the moment you’d asked, “Do you want to come in?”

You stumbled into the room together, and his fingers immediately shot to your vest. You hadn’t even blinked properly before it was undone, his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt, his cane hooked over his forearm.

Laughing and snorting at his clumsiness, you’d steadied him by the waist and let him walk you backward toward the bed.

Your hands fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, but they were small and stubborn, and you were too impatient. With a frustrated huff, you abandoned the effort and slid your hands over his shoulders instead. “Arms up,” you ordered, and Viktor chuckled as he complied.

He lifted his arms obediently, but as you dragged his shirt over his head, it caught for a moment, tangling around his face. He let out a muffled laugh, flailing slightly as you tugged it free, and the moment he was loose, he lost his balance. He tumbled backward onto the bed with an oof, propping himself up on his elbows as he grinned up at you.

You stepped between his legs, watching as his expression softened, turning almost reverent. His hands found your waist, fingers brushing deliberately over the fabric of your skirt before he slid it down, letting it pool at your feet. His lips followed the motion, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach before he rested his chin there, gazing up at you.

He cradled your hips, thumbs stroking lazily over your skin. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his voice quiet, careful.

You nodded, eager, and leaned down to kiss him, pouring every answer he could ever need into the press of your lips.

***

“There is both more and less to me than there used to be,” Viktor says, rubbing slow, thoughtful circles up and down your thighs. His expression is pensive, and an apology lingers somewhere in his voice. You hate that he feels the need to apologise in the first place.

Your touch slides across his chest, down—down the leather ridges of a brace you’ve never seen before. It screams Jayce Talis with every bolt, every stitch, and your heart aches at the thought that you weren’t here when this was happening.

Your eyes dart between his chest and his lips before you finally nestle deeper against his pelvis, wrap your arms back around his neck, and crush your mouth to his in a kiss that weeps remorse. “You beautiful, beautiful man,” you whisper, pressing your face into his. “How are you so brave?”

You cup his cheeks, and he only smiles, covering your palm with his.

“I’m not brave. I just… survived,” Viktor says with a small shrug. Then, after a pause: “Would you like to help me take them off?”

You nod, eager, and lean down to kiss him, pouring all the fragmented pieces of yes into the press of your lips.

***

Viktor rolled with you across the sheets, his hands skimmed up your sides, warm and eager, fingers pressing into your skin like he was trying to memorise the feel of you. Your mouths met again, lips parting, tongues teasing—lazy and deep, now that you had each other finally.

He pulled you closer, your thighs bracketing his hips, and when you reached down, fingers curling into the waistband of his trousers, he let out a shaky breath. You grinned against his mouth, tugging them lower inch by inch, letting your nails drag over his skin just to hear the quiet little sounds he made in response. Finally, with one last playful yank, you pulled them off entirely, giggling when they got caught at his ankles for a moment before slipping free.

And then you saw it—his brace.

Viktor stiffened immediately. His hands twitched at his sides, and he turned his head slightly, as if he wanted to look anywhere but at you. "It’s nothing," he muttered, voice quieter than before. "You don’t have to—"

You reached out, your palm settling gently on his leg. "Viktor," you said softly, your touch firm but tender. His gaze flicked back to yours, guarded, unsure. "You are so beautiful."

He gasped, a sound so quiet you might not have caught it if you weren’t so close. His lips parted slightly, eyes searching yours like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right.

You didn’t give him time to argue. Instead, you leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his thigh, just above the brace. He shivered beneath you. Carefully, you undid the clasps, your fingers working with quiet reverence, peeling away the brace as if unveiling something sacred.

It left behind faint indentations in his skin—lines and ridges pressed deep from the whole day of wear. You kissed each one, your lips trailing over the marks with the same care you’d give any other part of him. Viktor’s breath hitched, his fingers threading into the sheets, gripping tight.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, barely above a whisper, he breathed, "You undo me."

***

You set the last metal part of Viktor aside, and now, finally—after years of longing—you see him. His legs are parted, eternal bruises marking his thigh and knee, the toes of one foot cramped closer together than the other. His ribs bear pearly little scars where the chest brace has caught against his skin.

His cock rests idly in the crease of his thigh, beautiful as ever—pink at the tip, his navel scattered with curly hair that meets in a neat line just below his belly button. His hips are sharp angles, his belly rising and falling with each breath. You take in this adult man’s body and compare it to the boy you fell in love with. And you are sure now—there is only more to him than there used to be.

You step between his legs, and his arms reach out, fingers tracing a scar on your lower abdomen. He hums, “This is new.”

“You should see the other guy,” you murmur playfully. “A machine malfunctioned at the lab. One of the energy conductors went unstable, and before I could shut it down, a piece of metal sliced me open.” You pause, watching his face tense. “I got lucky.”

Viktor brushes his thumb over the scar tissue before lowering his lips, pressing a kiss to it—slow, reverent. “My brave girl,” he mutters against your skin. Your head lulls back on your shoulders, fingers threading into his hair and you let out a sigh.

You shudder when he presses a delicate touch between your legs. His hand, more calloused than you remember, gathers the curve of your inner thigh—but oh, his fingers still feel the same. The same timid swipe across your core, the same quiet hum of approval at the wetness you've gathered for him. Then, his free arm comes to wrap around your hips, pulling you closer as he presses his ear to your belly and slides two fingers inside you.

More skill, you notice. A pang of jealousy coils in your chest—ugly, unnecessary—but you don’t let him see. He kisses your stomach, and his eyelashes tickle your skin as he moves his hand up and down and his fingers hit the spot that has you moaning out his name. “As tight as I remember,” he hums, and it lances through you how infinitely hotter he has become.

You tug at his hair to make him look at you. Two gold gems drill right through you when you say, “Viktor.” A sigh, then, “I think I really need to fuck you now.”

He smiles sweetly and kisses your stomach again. “Then it seems we are on the same page.”

***

After a lot of fumbling, adjusting, and whispered curses, you finally found what worked. Viktor propped his knee up with a pillow, his other leg hooked under yours, grounding you together. His weight pressed you into the mattress—not crushing, just enough to make you feel him everywhere, warm and steady.

He rolled his hips into you, slow and measured, his arm caging you in as he kissed you through it. The heat of his breath spilled over your mouth, his lips parting just enough to let out the quietest of moans. And even in the haze of pleasure, you could see it—the determination tightening his brow, the concentrated press of his mouth against yours. He was on a mission, and that mission was you.

One arm wound snugly around your neck, cradling you into him, while his other hand worked between your legs, fingers slick and diligent. He timed each stroke with the snap of his hips, coaxing you closer, closer—

“Oh—Viktor—”

The sound of your voice shattered something in him. His rhythm stuttered, his forehead dropped to yours, but his fingers didn’t stop, circling, pressing, working you toward your peak. You dug your nails into his back, rocking up to meet him, and then—

It rushed over you like a cresting wave. Your thighs tensed around his waist, your breath caught, and the pleasure crested so high it stole all thought. He moaned softly, watching, feeling every pulse of your release around him.

His movements became less controlled, needier, a touch more frantic. He groaned against your shoulder, muttered something in a language you barely caught, and then followed you over the edge. His body trembled against yours, hips stuttering, breath shaky as he spilled into you, his lips still parted against your skin.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds in the room were your slowing breaths, the faint creak of the mattress, and the heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Then, Viktor finally lifted his head, flushed, sweat-dampened curls clinging to his forehead. He swallowed hard, his expression abashed but glowing with something warm and dazed.

“I hope that at this point, it is merely a formality,” he said, still breathless. “But… may I be so bold as to call you my girlfriend from now on?”

***

Your hips slot back together as if no time has passed. He fills you the same way, stretches you perfectly, and the expression he makes as he sinks in—God, it’s the same. Crushingly fucking gorgeous. Relief and bliss war on his face, his lips parting around a shaky groan as his hands seize your ass, pulling you down fully with a sharp slap of skin against skin.

He nuzzles into your neck, breath heavy and warm, licks up the column of your throat before sinking his teeth into your tendon. You gasp, moan, and pull at his hair, and the low, satisfied hum he gives in response shoots straight through you. His grip on your hips tightens, thumbs pressing into your skin as he guides you into motion, dragging you up before urging you back down. A faint roll of his own hips meets yours with every descent, his restraint slipping as the pleasure builds.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice—he’s changed. There’s more confidence in the way he moves, the way he takes from you, the way he talks to you. His voice is deeper, richer, words curling into your skin like smoke.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, dark and approving. He drags a hand up your spine, settles it at your nape, tilting your head so you do look—so you watch the way he devours you with his eyes. “You take me so well, lásko.”

Heat spreads down to your toes. You try to bite back a whimper, but he sees it, hears it, and smirks. Smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Oh, he’s so much bolder now. And you’re falling apart because of it.

It starts with the way he tilts his hips just right, the way his grip on you tightens like he knows exactly where you need him. His free hand glides down your spine, tracing sweat-slick skin before slipping between your bodies. Two fingers find your clit, and your breath stutters. He circles once, twice—slow and deliberate—before pressing down, firm and unrelenting.

“Come for me,” he murmurs, voice like silk, like sin. He rewards you with a deep thrust, dragging a broken moan from your throat. “Let me feel you.”

You do—oh, God, you do. Pleasure overtakes you, crashing through your body in waves, pulling you under. Your thighs shake around him, your hands fly to his shoulders, nails sinking into muscle as you arch and shudder and keen his name. He groans, eyes dark and reverent as he watches you unravel in his lap.

Yet still, there are things that haven’t changed. The way his breath hitches when you clench around him. The way his moans turn desperate when you lean forward and suck at his throat. The way he starts to chase the pleasure once he gets close, gripping you tighter, rutting up into you with a fervour that makes your head spin.

And the way he comes—the same shudder, the same deep, gasping moan, the same way his arms crush you against his chest as if he could pull you inside him. His release spills deep, his body trembling beneath yours, and you realise it then, as you always have.

He is grateful for this. For you.

Your noses brush as he catches his breath, and his hands smooth over your back, grounding himself in the feel of you.

“Still with me?” you murmur, running your fingers through his damp curls.

Viktor exhales a breathless laugh, lids heavy, lips parted in something like awe. He nods, shifting just enough to press a lingering kiss to your collarbone. “Always.”

[archangeldyke-all]

Hi Angel!! I first wanted to say that I love all your Sevika stories, they never fail to make my days better!

So, I've recently been thinking about little fucker and the twins a lot ((bc I found out I'm gonna be an aunt for twins :DD and it made me wonder how did Sev and Reader react to the news, like.. "what. WERE HAVING TWINS??? HOW." something like this lmao.

Not sure if you've already written something like this, but I've practically read all of your masterlists lmao. If you did feel free to skip cuz I have really bad short term memory ;))

oh my god that's so exciting!!! congrats auntie!!! i think i wrote a few little sentences about this in one of the first twins posts, but lets make it a full fledged story heheeh <3

(also as always with these stories, don't think too much about how the pregnancy happened. reader is trans, or has a magical strap, or it's just yuri magic. you choose hehe)

men and minors dni

for the first few days after sevika's pregnancy test coming back positive, you're both living in denial.

"how am i pregnant? i thought this was menopause! i thought i was done with all this shit!" sevika whines.

you giggle a little hysterically, then pull her into your arms. "i have no fuckin' idea." you say, blinking in shock. "holy shit. i actually knocked you up."

sevika giggles just as crazily in your hold. "congrats."

"i've been trying to get revenge on you for little fucker since you first knocked me up with her!" you laugh. sevika snorts and smacks your shoulder.

"don't say revenge. oh fuck, this is gonna miserable, isn't it?" sevika whines. you kiss her sweetly.

"it's the most amazing thing that's ever happened!"

"you're such a shit. you're just happy it isn't you this time around."

"damn right i am!" you laugh. sevika smiles at you, and then her face falls. you coo and wrap her up in another hug. "it's gonna be alright sevi-bear. i'm gonna be with you every step of the way."

"no, it's not that." sevika whimpers as she nuzzles against your shoulder. "i'm just-- i'm so happy. we're gonna have another one, baby, holy shit."

you grin and pull sevika in for a kiss.

her reaction isn't quite as happy when you get to your doctor's office, though.

"o-oh!" the ultrasound tech gasps.

"good 'oh?'" sevika worries, sitting up a bit from her spot on the paper covered exam table.

"you're having twins, mommies! congratulations!" the tech gasps, grinning up at you and sevika.

you blink.

the tech giggles with glee and turns back to her monitor, clearly handling the news better than you are. you blink again, then look down at sevika.

she's glaring at you like she's going to murder you.

it's only now that the tech's words hit you. and for some reason, you burst into laughter.

"t-twins?!" you cackle. "like, two of 'em?! how-- how the hell did we do that!?" you ask.

the tech blinks up at you in surprise, opens her mouth to speak, but you don't hear her answer. you're too busy grinning down at your wife.

"i'm gonna kill you." sevika finally whispers. you burst into another round of laughs.

"alright. just wait 'til after the pregnancy, think you might want me around these next few months, mama." you tease.

sevika's glare is deadly, but you can't find it in you to stop laughing. holy shit. two more little babies running around your house. if they're anything like their sister, they'll look exactly like sevika. tears well up in your eyes as you gaze lovingly down at your angry wife, imagining two pairs of grumpy baby eyes glaring up at you while you try to change their diapers.

"are you crying?!" sevika squawks. "why the hell are you crying, i should be the one crying!"

"you can cry too, baby!" you giggle, a surge of love taking over your body. before you know what's happening, you're smacking the tech's hand away from your wife's belly and straddling her waist, peppering her face with an endless barrage of kisses. "oh, holy shit, baby, we're gettin' two more of 'em!"

sevika's glare lessens a bit, a small smile ticking up at the corner of her mouth. you can see her softening to the idea; two more babies for you to love; but before a full smile can take over her face she forces herself back into a frown. "we can barely afford the kid we've got." she huffs.

you snort. "that's the beauty of hand-me-downs, sev. plus, silco gave you a big raise when we had the little fucker, what makes you think he'll hold back now that it's your turn?"

"we live in a two bedroom home!"

"we can move!"

"while i'm pregnant with twins?!"

"i'll start looking for a new place the second we get home."

sevika finally smiles, rolling her eyes and giggles a bit. "i can't believe you." she whispers. you grin.

"you're the love of my fucking life. i can't believe you."

the door clicks shut, and you both look up from your embrace to find that the tech has snuck out to give you some privacy.

and, finally, sevika bursts into laughter along with you.

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@nanajustnana-a @helaenabugmom

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

For @bucktommyfluffebruary day 14: valentines day

A/N: Yes this is super late and I know it's not February anymore, but my mind wasn't cooperating much in Feb and I do have partially written, waiting to be finished fics/ficlets for all of the days, so this year we're *extending* February. How long for though - nobody knows.

---

Secret Valentine (AO3)

Probie!Buck x 118!Tommy

---

You think you're invisible but you're not. I see you and I think you're wonderful. Love, your valentine.

Tommy looked around, trying to make sense of it all.

"Did you do this?" he asked Sal, holding up the card.

"Do what?"

"This!" he shoved the card in Sal's face.

He pulled a face as he read the message and looked at the puppy holding a rose and "be my valentine" in the front.

"Why would I send you a valentines day card?"

"I don't know, to fuck with me? Make me think there's someone out there who wants to date me and then laugh at me when I fall for it?"

"That's a good one actually. I should remember that for next year." Sal said, flicking the card back at Tommy and closing his locker. "But it wasn't me."

"Who was it then?"

"How should I know? Maybe it was Howie? Or one of the girls? Maybe someone from B-shift? Maybe a member of the public dropped it off for you?"

"Then how did it end up in my locker?"

Sal shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess someone could have put it in there for them?"

"Without telling me?"

"You'd find it eventually, wouldn't you?" Sal shrugged again. "Hey probie, do you know anything about the card in Tommy's locker?" he asked Buck who had just walked into the locker room too to change at the end of their shift.

"What card?"

"That's a no then."

Tommy held up the card.

"This was in my locker. Did you see anyone put it in?"

Buck shook his head.

"I've been busy all day. I haven't been in here since the start of shift."

Tommy sighed and looked at the card again.

"It's kind of cute. With the puppy." Buck commented, nodding at the card. "Or don't you like dogs?"

"Uh no I do... I like dogs just fine. I just don't like pranks like this."

"Maybe it's not a prank? Maybe someone actually likes you and they're too shy to say it."

Tommy snorted.

"Yeah right."

"The kid is a romantic, Tom, not a cynical asshole like you." Sal joked and swung his duffel over his shoulder. "I am going to spend my 48 off with my wife. It's our last valentines day before the baby arrives and we're going to make the most of it. And I'm not going to think about any of you until the minute our next shift begins." he gave Tommy a mock salute as he walked past him out of the locker room.

"It's him. I know it's him." Tommy told Buck. "Maybe he got Gina to do it... But I know he's playing a prank on me."

"Why are you so convinced it's a prank? I think someone out there actually really likes you."

"Those things only happen in movies probie." Tommy said, shoving the card into his bag and closing his locker. "Real life doesn't work that way."

He walked out of the station to his car, mostly annoyed at Sal for not owning up to his prank.

It wasn't like they hadn't played pranks on each other before, and Sal was his best friend, he could take a fake valentine's card from him.

If only he'd just admit it.

He debated calling Gina to see if she knew about Sal's prank (and get her on his side and pressure Sal into coming clean. She was six months pregnant, Sal wouldn't dare argue with her) but when he got to his truck there was some kind of paper stuck under the windshield wiper.

For a moment he thought it was a ticket and he tried to figure out what possible laws he could have broken while parked outside a fire station, but upon closer inspection it turned out to be an envelope. One with his name on it at that.

He opened the envelope and inside was another card.

It was a simple card with a teddy bear holding a love heart saying happy valentine's day on the front.

Drive safe, the roads can be dangerous and I like you in one piece. Love, your valentine.

It was cute but he was also getting more annoyed with Sal. One card in his locker was enough.

He looked at the message in the card again. He had to admit it didn't look anything like Sal's handwriting. Or Gina's.

Maybe they got someone else to write it for them. And unsuspecting neighbour maybe.

He put the card in his bag with the other one, and drove home, planning on ignoring both the cards and the upcoming holiday.

His 48 off might as well have been a full shift with how busy he'd been catching up on chores around the house, as well as drinks with his brother and his team to celebrate his divorce going through.

And yeah maybe he'd had a few too many and was still recovering when he clocked into work at the start of his next shift.

Though he was nothing if not a professional so he forced some breakfast down and got on with his work.

Thankfully the 911 gods were on his side and no calls had come in all morning, and by midday he had finished most of his jobs around the station and figured he deserved a nap.

The alarm would wake him if any calls came in.

He dragged himself to the bunk room and crashed onto his bunk without looking or even bothering to take his boots off.

He tried to get comfortable but there was something under his pillow bothering him.

He shoved a hand underneath to get rid of whatever it was, whatever the guys had put under there, but frowned when he felt something plastic. It crinkled and it felt like a bag of sorts.

He sat up and pulled it out. In his hand was a small gift bag with a tiny card hanging from the ribbon tying it shut.

Here are some sweet hearts for a sweetheart. Love, your valentine.

"What the fuck Deluca..." Tommy muttered under his breath. He turned the bag over in his hands. It seemed like a regular gift bag just about every store sold around this time of year, and didn't look like it had been tampered with.

He opened the bag and shook the candy hearts out into his hand. They looked like every candy heart he'd ever seen. Just plain pastel coloured hard candy hearts with "Be Mine" on them.

He popped one in his mouth and hoped not even Sal was cruel enough to give him candy with laxatives in them.

After what felt like only five minutes the station alarm woke Tommy up and he rushed down to the truck bay on auto pilot. He stepped into his turnout pants and boots on muscle memory and yanked on the coat while all but throwing himself into the truck.

He was the last one in but hardly late.

"Nice of you to join us, Thomas." Sal joked.

Tommy rolled his eyes and put his headset on.

"Fuck you Deluca." He shot back and Sal laughed. "Just drive this thing and tell me where we're going."

"Structure fire on the east side of town. The abandoned warehouses."

He got assigned to work with the probie when they arrived on scene, which suited him just fine. The kid had good instincts.

The whole crew worked together to clear the warehouse that turned out not to be so abandoned after all.

A group of homeless people had set up camp in the place and it was filled with blankets, cardboard, and all kinds of trash. The whole thing was about as far from fire safe as it could get.

Thankfully there were no casualties and only a few people with minor smoke inhalation.

They were doing a final sweep of the building to make sure they hadn't missed anything and all fires were definitely out.

"This is probably what started the fire." Buck commented, putting out a small fire in the makeshift kitchen with the foam extinguisher he'd brought along.

"Yeah the whole place is a death trap." Tommy agreed. "It's a miracle everyone made it out alive." he looked around, satisfied there didn't seem to be any spot fires or anything smouldering. "I think we're done here, let's go." he turned around and took a step and the second he put his foot down, he knew he was in trouble. The floorboards gave out and he felt himself fall. Only the expected crash onto the floor below never came.

"I've got you, I've got you." Buck groaned while trying to drag Tommy out of the hole in the floor. "Almost there."

When Tommy's brain registered what was going on, he did his best to help Buck pull him up.

With one last big effort, Buck hauled him onto solid ground and the two of them collapsed into each other.

"You ok? Are you hurt?" Buck panted.

"I don't think so. Thanks to you." Tommy pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Nice reflexes." he patted Buck's shoulder.

"T-thanks." the other man stammered. "I didn't think... I just... did."

"I'm glad. It would've been a long way down if you hadn't." Tommy said and gave Buck's shoulder a squeeze before letting go.

Buck blushed slightly and ducked his head and Tommy couldn't help but think he looked absolutely adorable.

He was as out and proud as he could be at work, and he wasn't blind. He'd always thought Buck, Evan he reminded himself, was a good looking guy, but he wasn't going to make a move on a coworker, especially not one he wasn't sure was actually into men.

He'd resigned himself to just admiring the guy from afar.

They made it back to the truck without any more trouble and the ride back to the station was quiet. Everyone was tired, and when Tommy checked his watch he realised they'd been working the call for most of the afternoon.

"Well done everyone. I'm taking us offline for an hour." Bobby announced over the comms. "So we have some time to clean up and power up for the next call."

A murmur of appreciation came through the comms as reply.

As soon as Sal had parked the truck, the crew piled out. They kicked their gear off in the bay, ready to step back into for the next call.

"I need a shower." Tommy announced to nobody in particular.

"Do you want me to wash your back, dear?" Sal teased.

"Not today sweetcheeks, I have a headache." Tommy replied with a grin and headed to his locker to grab his shampoo and a clean towel.

There was nobody else in the showers so he enjoyed the fact that he didn't have to share the water pressure with the rest of the crew and scrubbed the soot off his skin.

He cleaned himself up wrapping a towel around his waist when he was done and making his way back to the lockers to get dressed.

Only when he walked in there, he almost ran right into Buck.

"Oh... s-sorry." he stammered. "Di-did you have a nice shower?"

"Sure. Had the whole thing to myself." Tommy replied. He felt the other man's eyes trail over his body and for a second he wondered if he'd missed the signs and Evan Buckley was into men after all.

"T-that's nice. I uh... was looking for laundry. Do you uh want me to take your towel?" he held out his hand.

"Give me a minute to get dressed." Tommy grinned. "I wouldn't want to flash you. Not at work anyway."

"Oh. Oh. Right. Yes. Of course. Sorry. I'll uh... I can turn around."

"It's alright. It's only been used once. I'll just hang it up to dry."

"Oh yeah. Ok. Sure. Sure thing. Yes. I'll... I'll just... go... and let you get dressed."

Tommy smiled as Buck ducked out the locker room.

Maybe he'd ask him out some time. Take him to a club and see if he could make him blush on the dance floor too.

He grabbed the bag with his toiletries to put his stuff away and frowned when he saw a note that definitely hadn't been in there before.

It was just a simple page from a department issued notebook, torn out and folded in half.

I know valentine's day is all about secretly admiring someone and anonymously telling them how you feel, but I want you to know who I am. Just for that tiny chance that you might actually feel the same. That you see me too. That you like me too.

I made reservations at Micelis under your name for this Friday at 8. I hope I'll see you there.

I'll be the one with a red rose.

Love, your valentine

"Jesus Deluca." Tommy muttered. "That's a lot of effort for a prank."

That Friday, he arrived at the restaurant almost 15 minutes late. He'd talked himself in and out of going more than once, but in the end decided a free (because there was no way in hell he was paying to get pranked) dinner with his best friend wasn't a bad way to spend an evening. And maybe he'd go to a bar or a club afterwards. Maybe Sal would want to come along. He could be an asshole sometimes, but he was a good wingman and could usually help him get rid of idiots and get with the guy he did like.

They had a routine that had worked for them since the academy, back when Sal was the only one who knew Tommy was gay, and they only went to gay bars in other cities so they wouldn't risk running into any familiar faces.

"Hi, reservation for Kinard. I don't think my friend is here yet." he told the waitress when he walked in as he looked around for Sal.

"Oh you're here!" she said happily. "We were starting to think he'd been stood up. He's been here since 7.30"

Tommy frowned, wondering why Sal would be there that early when he'd said the reservation was at 8.

He followed the waitress to a table and audibly gasped when he saw not Sal but Evan Buckley sitting at the table, fidgeting with a red plastic rose.

He stood up and smiled when he saw Tommy.

"Hey, you came."

"Just fashionably late." the waitress joked and put two menus on the table. "I'll be back in a minute when you've made your choice, can I get you a drink in the meantime?"

"Uhm just water for me, thanks." Buck told her.

She nodded and gave Tommy an expectant look.

"Oh uh... Just a beer. Whatever is on tap."

"Coming right up." she said happily and all but skipped back to the kitchen.

"You... you left the card in my locker?" Tommy asked as he sat down at the table.

"Y-yeah... uh ... surprise..." Buck said and blushed. "I uh... didn't know how else to get your attention."

"You... wanted my... attention?"

"Yeah... I... I... I like you. Everything I wrote in those cards is true. I just... I didn't know if you were interested and... I uh... was kind of... afraid of asking you out. But then... I thought we had a... uhm... a moment... On that call a few days ago."

"When you saved me in the warehouse."

"Y-yeah... so I just... kind of... stole a notepad from Bobby's office and wrote you that note while you were in the shower. And hoped you'd show up tonight."

"I thought it was Sal playing a prank on me."

Buck bit his lip.

"No. It was me. And it's not a prank."

"I didn't know you were into guys." Tommy said, still trying to process the information.

"It's... new... I guess. I didn't know either. Or... realise. I thought I was checking you out in the gym because of your work out routine... But then I talked to my roommate and he uh... made me think about some things. Like that most straight guys don't check out another guy's ass. " Buck confessed and he was bright red.

"You've been checking me out?"

"Sorry. I'm making it weird. I always do that. I'm sorry. Just... forget I said anything."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Wha-what?"

"I didn't expect to see you here... But I'm not complaining."

"Y-you're not?"

"Evan look at yourself. You're hot, you're adorable... for some reason you like me... If I'd known you liked men I would have asked you out ages ago."

"Really?"

"Well... I don't know if I would have had the nerve to ask you out... but... maybe I would have pushed myself to be brave for a change.

"Y-yeah?"

"Yeah." Tommy confirmed and smiled when Buck put his hand on the table, clearly hoping Tommy would reach out and take it, which he did and rubbed his thumb over the knuckles.

"I was so scared you would turn me down... Since... since we work together and I'm still in my probie year and..." Buck trailed off, not knowing what he was going to say.

"The LAFD doesn't have to know everything." Tommy said after a beat. "We can just... keep this between us for now can't we? Just... enjoy each other's company and see where things go."

Buck smiled.

"Yeah... Yeah ok. That... that sounds nice." he licked his lips and took a deep breath to say something, just when the waitress came back with their drinks.

"Have you come to a decision yet?" she asked in the same happy tone of voice as before.

"Yeah." Tommy said and got up and he saw the brief flicker of panic spread over Evan's face and he realised the other man thought he was leaving. He stepped round the table, leaned down, put two fingers under Evan's chin and gently tilted his face up so he could kiss him. "Was that ok?" he asked after and Evan could only smile and nod. "Good. Because I'd like to do that again."

"I... I would like that." Evan stammered.

"God you're adorable." Tommy murmured and leaned down for another kiss

[deluforlulu]

Soon You'll Get Better

Summary: Luigi comforts you during a hospital visit to have an iron infusion

Word count: 2,206 words

Pure fluff and perhaps the sappiest fic I've ever written.

It had been a few weeks now since your anemia diagnosis. The signs were all there and your boyfriend, Luigi, had been the first to show any notice. Your fair skin was paler than normal and mysterious bruises started to appear on your body. When the two of you went to the gym to work out, you had to cut your exercises short due to you feeling short of breath and as if your heart was going to pound out of your chest. Every activity in general though seemed to take a lot out of you. Not even caffeine helped. You just wanted to sleep. 

After much encouragement from Luigi, you gave in and decided to go to your doctor for some blood tests. To your shock, it turned out that you only had a ferritin of five! Your doctor had even commented that he didn’t know how you were leading a normal life with such a low ferritin level. Almost immediately after the anemia diagnosis, your doctor had put in an order for you to get an iron infusion. Iron pills weren’t an option at this point. It would take several months for your levels to go up if you were to go that route. The doctor wanted immediate results and so did you.

It was a Sunday when Luigi drove you up to the hospital for the infusion. He had the heater on to keep the car toasty enough for your comfort and some music softly playing on the radio. You could feel him sneaking some concerned glances at you as you gazed out the window, observing the people and buildings that you passed by on the drive there. “You okay baby?” he asked, bringing you out of your thoughts. You turned and tried to give him the best smile that you could to reassure him. “Yeah, Lu. Why?” you asked. “I don’t know. You’ve been quiet most of the ride here. So, I just wanted to check.” he replied before taking your hand, wrapping his fingers around it gently.

 A genuine smile came onto your face this time as you felt his fingers delicately caressing your palm. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just don’t know what to expect I guess” you replied as you intertwined your fingers with his. “It’ll be okay. You’re in good hands, you know? The doctors won’t let anything happen to you and neither will I.” he responded before looking right at you, giving you that usual ethereal smile of his. 

Your heart warmed at just the sight and you remembered again just how much you loved this man. “I love you” you told him softly. You hoped he knew it too. Guilt had washed over you lately as you had worried that he thought you were taking him for granted. You had a tendency to push others away when you were going through something as trying as this and you had found yourself doing it with Luigi. He never seemed phased by it though and only pushed his way in to be there for you. He had taught you what it was like to be truly loved. “I love you too, y/n” he replied, kissing the top of your hand while you were at a stop light.

A heavy exhale slipped from your mouth after he had parked the car in the hospital parking lot. The medical anxiety that you have had for over a month washed over you while you viewed the large, gray building. “Lu, I don’t wanna do this. I-I can’t.” you declared, your voice cracking. You made the mistake of going online a few days before the infusion, discovering that it was possible to have an allergic reaction. Even anaphylaxis. You wished you never did as the possibility had been sitting in the back of your mind ever since then. Luigi turned to face you in the car, putting his strong hand on your cheek to get you to focus into the void of his honey brown eyes. “Y/n, yes you can. I know you can. Look how much you’ve been through already. This is just 45 minutes of your day then we can go. Also…” he drifted off. 

Your eyes followed his movements as you watched him reach over the driver’s seat, grabbing a bag. “I brought this for you. I put a coloring book in here and some colored pencils. I also brought a blanket and sweater in here in case you get cold. See? You’ll have a distraction now.” he explained. Your eyes widened in surprise at the sweet gesture, not knowing what to say at first. “When did you do this?” you asked him. “When you were in the shower before we left” he replied, giving you another charming smile. You giggled, leaning him to kiss his lips. “This is so cute babe” you said, looking down to see his UPenn sweater sitting at the top of the bag. He leaned in this time and captured your lips in another kiss, savoring the moment for a while. “You got this y/n. I know it. Now let’s go.” he told you.

After making it up to the 5th floor of the hospital, Luigi and you were escorted from the waiting room and into a small, white room with a curtain. He sat right beside you in a nearby chair while the nurses moved swiftly to check your vitals and insert the IV into your arm. Although you tried your hardest to remain composed, your vitals showed quite the opposite with a raised heart rate and blood pressure. The nurses were also struggling to place an IV as you appeared so nervous that your veins kept spasming.They left temporarily after removing the previous IV to get some new equipment, leaving you with Luigi. He has his fingers wrapped around your arm that you had laid out on the arm of the chair, tracing random patterns along it. 

The action soothed you, but you were starting to feel a little nauseous just now. It was no wonder though. You had not had anything to eat since you woke up. Just then, a nurse had opened the curtain, prepared to try another IV on the opposite arm with the new equipment that she had required. To your luck, this one managed to be successful. Finally, the two of you were in silence, minus the faint hums of the infusion monitor. Your arm felt stiff from all of the tape wound around to secure the needle inside it. Luigi leaned forward, resting his toned arms on his knees as he reached out, caressing your leg. “How are you feeling baby? Anything I can do?” he asked. 

You groaned softly. “Nauseous” you replied, looking down with your eyes closed as you tried to center yourself. Your boyfriend’s broad shoulders stiffened as he straightened his stance. “From the infusion?’ he asked you. “I don’t think so. I just..I didn’t eat anything before we left for the hospital” you confess. Luigi’s thick eyebrows furrowed as he carefully cupped your chin and tilted your head up, looking at you with worry. “Y/n, you need to eat. Your body needs the fuel” he spoke. “Yeah, I know. I just felt stressed for the infusion and was not very hungry.” You sheepishly responded even though you knew he was not actually scolding you. He playfully made a tsking noise and reached into the bag he prepared, bringing out a snack pack of peanut butter and crackers. “And this is exactly why I brought these. I know you well, don’t I?” he smirked, causing your cheeks to become a tint of pink as you smiled. “Yeah yeah” you replied, feigning annoyance with your tone.

Luigi walked over to the chair he was in and moved it so that he was sitting in front of you now, taking a cracker out of the plastic baggie to feed you. You slightly leaned forward, taking a bite out of the cracker he was holding. You giggled after a moment from how endearing the act of Luigi feeding you was. “Lulu, you don’t have to feed me. I have hands” you teased him. You reached to take the cracker from him and froze when the infusion monitor made a loud beeping noise. 

A nurse came in shortly after the beeping started and pushed a few buttons on the monitor to halt the beeping. “All better now. The monitor can be a little sensitive to movement. So, just be careful” she politely told you before leaving the room. Luigi turned back to you, giving you a satisfied look. “Looks like I got my wish. I’m gonna have to feed you.” he stated. You jokingly rolled your eyes, but complied and sat there comfortably while he fed you the peanut butter and crackers. 

Once you felt satiated enough, Luigi tucked away the plastic bag.”Need anything else baby? Water? Are you warm enough?” he asked. You smiled with your eyes half lidded shut from exhaustion, heart fluttering.You looked at him admiringly, running a hand through his thick, dark curls. “You’re such a golden retriever” you teased him. He tilted his head to the side and grinned. “Golden retriever?.. What?..” he asked you, perplexed. “Yeah, you know. Golden retriever energy. Loyal, attentive, positive. It’s a good thing” you assured him and leaned in, tenderly kissing him. He returned the kiss, smiling against your lips. “Mm, you know me. I just like taking care of you” he explained between kisses. 

After the infusion was over, you felt silly for being so worried. Overall, you felt fine minus an ache in both of your legs. According to the hospital staff though, that was to be expected. Once you arrived at the apartment Luigi and you shared, that was when the true fatigue had consumed you. Your legs felt like jelly while you changed out of your day clothes and switched into a silky tank top and matching pair of shorts you wear to bed. A soft moan escaped your lips once you closed your eyes and felt the blankets of the bed consume you like a cloud.

Your eyes flitted open after about an hour of sleep and you looked up, seeing Luigi walking into the room. He smiled as soon as he saw that you were awake. He was in a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt that he frequently wore to bed. You could tell that he must have gotten out of the shower from how his wet hair was clinging to his neck in heavy, glistening strands. “Hey princess” he greeted as he towered over you. "Mm, come to bed baby” you responded with a hand around his wrist, eyes barely open.

A lazy smile spread across your face when you felt the weight of the bed shift as he got into bed with you, scooping you up into his side. You fit into him perfectly like a missing piece. His skin was still warm from the shower and he smelled like the familiar zest of his cologne. His heartbeat steadily thumped beneath you as he landed a kiss to your forehead. “Mm..Can we stay like this forever?” you muffled against his chest. A genuine laugh reverberated off his chest at your question. “Sounds good to me..and do what?” he asked, amused. You shrugged as another smile teased at your laps. “I don’t care. Whatever. As long as it’s me and you and we don’t leave this bed” you declared, earning another laugh from him. “I could get used to that real fast” he purred.

You lifted your head and saw that he was starting to fall asleep. He looked so peaceful with his eyes closed and lips pursed together. His long lashes fanned out finely against his cheeks. “Lu?” you whispered. “Hmm?” he asked, opening one eye to look at you. “I just wanted to say thank you.. Like not just for today, but everything. You take care of me better than anyone else ever has” you answered, pressing a kiss into the nape of his neck. He smiled down at you, running a hand through your hair. “What brought this on?” he asked. “I don’t know. I worry you think I take it for granted cause I can push you away when I’m stressed out. I hope you know that I don’t and that I’m always here for you too.” you emphasized. He cradled the back of your head and leaned in, kissing you deeply. 

“Y/n, I know. You’re silly. Don’t worry. I don’t ask for anything in return either. I just want you to be happy and to know that I love you. That’s all I care about.” he assured you. “I love you too” you returned, giving him another passionate kiss. With those words, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. The world outside faded out as you drifted into a deep slumber with Luigi, his arm snaked around your waist and holding you against him. Life could be hard and throw some of its toughest battles at you. As long as you had each other though, nothing could truly break you.

[winchesterwild78]

Peanut Butter and Chocolate

Master List

Characters: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: None just a fluffy birthday piece

A/N: In honor of Jensen’s 47th Birthday I wanted to write a quick story about him.

Written and edited fast. Please overlook any errors

The hum of the generator on the "Countdown" set was a familiar lullaby by now. I'd spent enough stolen moments lurking around the edges, watching Jensen work his magic, to recognize every creak and whir. Today, though, the hum was a nervous tremor in my ears. It was Jensen's birthday, a fact he’d tried to downplay, but I wasn't about to let it slide.

We'd been dating, secretly, for six months. Six glorious, complicated, exhilarating months since his divorce. The weight of keeping our relationship hidden was sometimes suffocating, but the stolen kisses and whispered "I miss you" texts made it worthwhile. Especially when "worthwhile" looked like Jensen, all broad shoulders and focused intensity, currently filming a tense interrogation scene.

My plan was simple: a surprise birthday cake, delivered under the guise of an "anonymous fan." I’d baked it myself, a decadent chocolate fudge with his favorite peanut butter frosting. A simple, personal touch.

I'd enlisted the help of Clif, Jensen’s bodyguard, who was sworn to secrecy. He’d agreed to deliver the cake, along with a card signed "Your Secret Admirer," during Jensen’s lunch break.

The scene wrapped, and Jensen, looking a little weary but still impossibly handsome, headed towards his trailer. My heart pounded against my ribs as I watched Clif approach him, a large, suspiciously cake-shaped box in his hands.

Jensen's eyebrows shot up as Clif presented the box. He glanced around, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.

"Someone sent you a cake, Jensen," Clif said, his voice loud enough for a few crew members to hear. "Anonymous. Said it was a big fan."

Jensen opened the box, his expression softening as he saw the cake. He ran a finger through the frosting, then tasted it. His eyes widened slightly.

"Peanut butter," he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. He picked up the card, his gaze scanning the handwritten message.

"Who sent this?" he asked, his voice low.

"Wouldn't say," Clif replied, winking. "Just said they know you have good taste."

Jensen chuckled, shaking his head. He looked genuinely touched. I watched from my hidden vantage point behind a lighting rig, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling inside me.

The rest of the day crawled by. I stayed away, not wanting to risk anything. As the sun began to set, the crew started to wrap. I waited until Jensen's trailer door closed, then slipped inside, using the spare key he’d given me.

He was sitting on the couch, the cake box open on the coffee table, a single slice missing. He looked up as I entered, his eyes searching mine.

"You," he said, his voice a low rumble. "It was you, wasn't it?"

I nodded, a nervous smile spreading across my face.

He stood up, crossing the small space between us in two long strides. He pulled me into a tight embrace, burying his face in my hair.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "This… this means so much."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "I know we have to keep this quiet," he said, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. "But sometimes… sometimes it’s so hard."

I nodded, understanding the weight of his words.

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking my cheeks.

"You know," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "I've been wanting to say this for a while now."

He paused, his eyes locking with mine.

"I love you," he said, his voice filled with a raw honesty that made my heart soar.

The words hung in the air, a declaration that felt both long overdue and utterly perfect. I leaned into him, my own heart overflowing with love.

"I love you too, Jensen," I whispered, finally free to say the words aloud. “Happy Birthday.”

He pulled me close again, wrapping his arms around me as if he never wanted to let go. And in that moment, in the quiet solitude of his trailer, surrounded by the echoes of the day's work, it felt like the whole world had stopped spinning. We were just two people, in love, finally allowed a moment of peace and sharing a slice of birthday cake.

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[hoiststowline]

trailbreaker x reader

[a/n: this is entirely based off my lovely friend @drabbletron ‘s post !! this post has been in my head since I read it, the evidence is so so good. it’s canon to me! I’ve never written for trailbreaker before, so apologies in advance if this is ooc.]

A purple pen moves between your fingers, spinning in sloppy circles before raising to tap it against pursed lips. It was taking a while to think of a fitting answer to an increasingly difficult crossword puzzle, unsure. A hum of thought escapes you, then in frustration you uncross your legs and then recross them, fighting the pins and needles alerting that you've been sitting here for far too long.

It was rapidly approaching the point where the exasperation overpowered the boredom, too many blanks unable to assist in continuing. Just as you were gearing up to toss the puzzle aside and find something else to do, the door slides open in one fluid motion.

“There you are.” Trailbreaker mumbles, stepping across the threshold so the panel will close back over, secluding the two of you to his room. He attempting to be nonchalant but failing, as if he hadn't been looking for you for the better part of the past twenty minutes.

He supposes he should have considered here first, but assumed you had wandered elsewhere when he didn't return right away. Quickly, he made a mental note that more often than not, you always gravitated toward hanging out here, and he had no issues with it. If anything, he highly appreciated it, fond of your company any hour of the day.

Immediately, your attention moves from the paper to him, a familiar smile adorning your face. “Welcome back.”

Trailbreaker waves in greeting but traverses the room, moving to stand beside you at the desk, now looking over your shoulder. “What have you been up to?”

"I've been staring at this crossword puzzle for an hour," Fingers hold the paper upward slightly so as to allow him a better view, he takes advantage of your offer by placing a hand just beside you on the desk to lean forward. You tilt your head rearward as to catch his expression, as he observes your puzzle whilst hovering just behind you. "It was a little more tough than I anticipated."

"You have most of it filled out, no?" He hopes that his presence isn't too overbearing, though you haven't shied away just yet. If anything, you've moved back towards him since showing what you’ve decided to do with your free time. "It looks almost done."

"Almost. Wanna help?" Tipping your head back even more, you now peer up his way upside down, as he meets your gaze easily.

"I can try." Trailbreaker muses, a lopsided smile glued to his face-plate.

There's a few moments where a shuffle ensues, he tugs the desk chair free and drops down into it, yourself moving from up against the wall to scrabble closer. Now, your legs gently kick off the edge of the desk, as you hold the paper in your hands. After you both get comfortable, you begin reading clues, purple pen tucked behind your ear.

You work out a few together, some that just needed to be talked through aloud to uproot the answer. He would ask how many spaces and begin counting words audibly, trying to find the right one as small victories achieved effortlessly with his assistance. You enjoyed Trailbreaker's company and hoped he returned the sentiment, though you hardly noticed how he brings himself closer to you with each passing minute.

"This one I thought I had," You mumbled, pen bouncing against the edge of the sheet. "'Steinbeck, John' is the clue. I thought it was The Grapes of Wrath, but it doesn't fit."

"Well, that's because it starts with an E," He uses his knuckle to gesture to the previously filled in answer. "It's East of Eden,"

When you don't respond immediately, his gaze languidly moves off of the sheet to find you are staring up at him with vastly dumbfounded yet galvanized expression.

“I don’t get it,” He laughs as you remain stumped, mostly in awe. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“It’s not- I’m not surprised.” You insist, trying to convey such, as it was entirely the truth. You were’t surprised, not at all. If anyone on this ship were to know that answer, it’d more than likely be him, but it still left you in a state of admiration. “I’m impressed. But I guess I should have known better,"

Trailbreaker watches as you scribble in the answer, small fingers moving carefully across the page. Impressed? That impressed you? He’d have to read a lot more American Literature if that’s all it took, even though you had shown other signs of adoration well before this instance. Every time previously, he’d been blind to it, not believing you were extending beyond simple politeness the first few rounds of meeting.

"Known better?" He counters, not quite certain as to what you mean.

"You like to read." You reply simply, not even meeting his gaze as a rosy flush overtakes your cheeks, knowing full-well he's silently analyzing your mannerisms. "I catch you all the time doing it."

In turn, he laughs, palms placidly knocking against the desktop in amusement. ""M not being sneaky about it, you don't have to say you 'catch' me."

"You do it when I'm asleep." Eventually, you move to meet his gaze, somewhat reserved. "Or when you think that I am,"

"Now I'll have to triple check." Trailbreaker teases, but can't help himself as you softly laugh in reply, not wanting the conversation to end. “But yeah, I do. It keeps me focused.”

“It’s a good hobby. I’ll have to find some good recommendations for you,” You smile, fingers occupied once more as you fidget with the pen, a little more timid than before. “If you’d like?”

Immediately, he nods, enthusiastic. “Hell yeah. I’d love that,”

[vsimp]

he catches you writing smut (18+)

pairing: Kamisato Ayato x F!Reader

genre: smut

wc: 2.6k

kink warning: a line or two about panty sniffing lol

There was a pretty popular erotic novel currently published by the Yae Publishing House. Hundreds of copies so far have been sold in Inazuma. It was released by an anonymous author, a story telling the tale between a CEO and his secretary. Although the people weren’t too familiar with the concept of a corporation, people really did enjoy the little power dynamic between a dominant CEO and his submissive secretary. Smut had recently grown popular in Teyvat, and this erotic novel was the current driving force of it all.

Little did they know that you were the author, the current lady of the Kamisato Clan, and the Yashiro Commissioner's wife. You had based the male lead off of your own husband. Surely if you revealed your identity, the whole of Inazuma would be in uproar and you would soil the Kamisato Clan’s name. That was why it was your own dirty little secret, the fact that you were writing erotic fiction based on you and your husband, a little secret that only you and Yae Miko know.

What you didn’t expect was for the novel to reach the insides of the Estate. Housekeepers were gushing about it during their breaks, retainers were talking about how their partners wanted to try these different positions from the novel… You couldn’t help but be mortified, yet flattered, that so many people enjoyed your dirty novel.

It wasn’t until the news had reached your husband’s ears did you really, really get in trouble.

Kamisato Ayato called his wife to his study after a long day of duties for the both of them. Usually, he would invite her to tea if they had the time to talk about what they had for plans during the week.

You took a sip of your tea, relishing in the nice silence after a bustling day and the warmth that the tea brought.

“There’s this novel that has been the talk of the town lately,” Ayato said and you did everything you could not to choke on your tea.

“Ah, I heard the staff speaking about it this week. My, I wonder what had caught their attention like so…” You replied as casually as you could.

“Mm.” He replied briefly and took something out of his jacket. You tried not to tense up as you recognized the familiar pink book cover, of course graced with the illustration of the main couple that suspiciously had the same hair color as you and Ayato. “Ah, yes, let me read the title out loud. ‘The Nightly Trysts of Hayato and his Lover.’ Hm, a strange title indeed. This ‘Hayato’ character has a similar name and appearance to mine.”

You wanted to cringe at the entire name. Guuji Yae was the one who suggested such an embarrassing title. She said it would attract a more mature audience who enjoyed that sort of fantasy. Ayato maintained his relaxed smile despite reading all of that, and you didn’t like it one bit. It meant he was currently hiding something he knew, and you were too scared to delve into what exactly that was.

“Ah…” You had to keep your calm, even though you wanted to scream into your own pillow right now. If you showed any sort of discomfort or anxiety, your husband would recognize it right away. After all, nothing came past your husband with that sharp mind of his. “Perhaps it’s just a coincidence?”

“Hm, maybe so. Shall I read the summary?”

No. Please, archons, no.

He continued anyway, despite your inner thoughts pleading him not to. He read off the summary on the back of the book with his same laxed voice, detailing a CEO who was currently smitten by his secretary, who starts to avoid him at all costs once she sees him half naked on a business trip. The CEO, frustrated, chased after the secretary and had an erotic time with her in his office.

“It sounds interesting,” you forced a smile on your face.

“Doesn’t it? I started to skim through it whenever I had time off during the day.”

“Oh?” You wanted to cry at this point, a wide smile plastered on your face. He’s noticed. He’s definitely noticed. “Do you like it so far…?”

“It’s surely an interesting read. This male lead named Hayato… The way the author describes him, with light blue hair and light blue eyes and a small mole on his left lower lip…” Ayato’s smile remained the same, although the corner of his eyes crinkle a bit, indicating a more mischievous look. “He sure does sound like me.”

“Haha…” You let out a forced laugh. “Maybe someone is a fan of your appearance.”

“It appears so.” He flipped through the pages casually. “Such a detailed little novel. This author sure does have a penchant for writing erotic scenes.”

“They must be passionate about their work.” You felt like your smile could break your face at this point.

“Mm… The female lead sounds quite familiar as well. Her name is similar to yours.”

“I-is it?”

“Indeed. The same eye and hair color too.”

“Wow. What a huge coincidence!”

He chuckles softly. “My dear, there’s no need to play dumb anymore.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Your voice wavered a bit, but you were committed to it.

“You’re going to keep playing this game? Very well then.” He stood up and took your hand.

“A-Ayato?”

With one fellow swoop, he helped you to stand up. Before you knew it, he led you over to your bedroom, locking the door behind him and guided you to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Let me read out an excerpt I found interesting,” Ayato stated as he looked at the book, although he made small glances at you too while reading. “He pins her down to the bed and kisses her passionately. His blue and white sheets were softer than anything she’s ever felt, but that thought was soon taken away by the force of his lips upon her.” His usually relaxed smile soon morphed into a smirk. “My, I didn’t realize you were such a big fan of our blue and white sheets.”

Without a doubt, the bedsheets in the room you shared had always been blue and white for the last few years. Suddenly, he pinned you down against the sheet, his hand pushing your shoulder gently so you rested back against the bed, just as he had read from the book. And then he simply leaned down to kiss you, his soft lips meshing with yours as you felt yourself melt in his embrace. Your lips came together gently, although there was a playful bounce to his kisses that you did not expect, and soon, his tongue ended up pushing against yours.

He chuckled after he parted away from you, leaving you panting and breathless from the makeout session. “Cat got your tongue, my dear? Or will you finally admit the truth?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Your cheeks grew hotter as he tried to corner you into admitting that you were the author.

“Mm… Sure, you don’t.” His lips made their way to kiss your neck, his tongue hot as he bit and sucked on the skin there. “Did you really feel that lonely that you had to write erotica off of our experiences? Have I not shown you enough attention lately?”

“D-Don’t say that…!” Your voice grew weaker as he teased you, your resolve slowly crumbling the more he kissed you. “You know that’s not the case…!”

“Hehe,” he let out another small chuckle. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered. Tell me, y/n, do you just like our experiences so much that you put it into a novel?”

You gasped as his hands went under your robe, undoing your clothes and caressing your breast through your undergarments. His fingers tease your nipples through your bra, pinching the sensitive bud and flicking it around. You let out small whimpers from the teasing.

“Shall I reenact one of the scenes I was particularly fond of?”

“Please no…” you begged. 

“Why not?”

“I-it’s embarrassing.”

“I think it’s endearing that my lovely wife has such vivid fantasies.” He smiled down at you and then started to strip you naked of your clothes. “I could drown in the beauty of your body, my love.” He repeated a line from the novel as he kissed down your neck to your chest.

You let out soft pants as he unraveled your body, his eyes raking every inch as if he hadn’t memorized it all already. He gave your breasts another squeeze, pinching the bare nipple before he slowly dragged it down your rib cage to your lower abdomen before resting right in front of your aching core. It just sat there, his palm digging into your mound as your hips buckled, wanting more and more stimulation.

“Patience, love…” Ayato gave you a calculating smirk as he picked up the book once again and flipped to a bookmarked page. He read off another excerpt. “He buried his face into her pussy, panties on, sniffing and tasting her neediness that drenched through the soft fabric.” Ayato took a finger and ran it gently along your slit, and you did everything you could not to beg him for more despite your legs trembling slightly from anticipation. “My, I didn’t realize my wife had such fantasies about her panties like this. Such a pervert, wanting me to sniff her precious flower like a deranged animal .”

“Mm… n-no, t-that’s not true…” you tried to deny, but your flushed body and face were saying otherwise. 

“Such a lewd expression,” he chuckled and crawled down, taking a sniff of your core straight through your underwear. “You smell delightful,” his voice deepened, almost guttural, as his tongue dipped to languidly lick at your clit. 

You let out a soft cry, which was like music to his ears. Ayato wanted to laugh in amusement, his own mind twisting into pure sadistic pleasure. Who would’ve known that his own wife would be such a naughty little thing? He savored her taste, enjoying the way she writhed beneath him. With one fluid motion, he pulled her underwear off and sucked at her wet core, kissing and slurping all of her love juices. 

Your mind was all fuzzy as pleasure filled your lower region. Your legs wrapped around his head, hips buckling as he ate you out, dipping his tongue into your pussy as deep as he could before taking it out to swirl around your clit. It reminded you of the scene you wrote in the book, and you wonder how committed he was going to be to the scene.

Nevertheless, it seemed like he was going to tease you nonstop until you finally admit that you were the author.

He then pushed a finger into you, stretching out your walls and he admired the way your walls tensed around his digit, how your moans grew louder and louder. One, and then two, he started to pump his fingers, curling them to hit the spot you liked the most whilst his tongue continued flicking against your clit. Your hands made its way to his soft blue hair, and it wasn’t long before you came all over his fingers and lips. 

You panted as he took himself out of you, your eyes watching as he licked your juices off his fingers before he positioned his waist in between your legs.

“Are you ready, princess?” His hands undid his pants, taking out his cock as he rubbed the length against your sensitive slit. You just came, after all, so he was getting well lubricated with your juices.

You whined a bit as you needily stuck your arms out, and Ayato chuckled as he bent down to meet your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer. He kissed you deeply and a bit more rough this time as you felt his cock grinding against your wet, warm pussy. He wanted you so bad, but he also wanted to stay committed to his teasing.

“Mm… Ayato, put it in already…” You scolded him as he continued to grind against you, occasionally slapping the tip of his rock hard cock gently against your clit. 

“I don’t think so…” He said after pulling away from your tongue, smirking down at you. He hissed a bit as he continued to rub his length up and down, his other hand making its way to squeeze your breast. “Not until you admit it.”

“Are you seriously still on that?!” You moaned in frustration, wiggling your hips in hopes that he’d just put it inside and fuck you relentlessly to dull the growing ache in your lower abdomen.

“Well, we are following the scene in the novel to the tea. I just want to confirm that you are truly one of the main characters.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were so horny for anything that you didn’t care at this point.

“Fine! Fine, yes, I admit it. I wrote the book. Now hurry up!”

Your husband leaned forward, placing a hand beside your head to hold himself up as his other hand started to push his cock in just a bit.

“Hehe, so demanding.” You gasped as he pushed his entire length in you. “And yet, you’re such a good girl.”

His hips slammed into yours, his lips kissing and sucking the skin of your neck. You could only grip him tightly as he fucked you deeply and thoroughly with the only goal to draw out your sweet moans that he loved hearing so much. He grunted as he felt you squeeze around him, taking you over and over until you were crying out his name.

His lips slammed back onto yours, exploring your mouth as his cock pushed in and out. He wanted to leave you as a sputtering mess, until you can’t think of anything else but him and his long, aching hard member.

“You’re such a dirty girl, writing those lewd scenes about us.” He muttered in your ear, hissing as he felt you tightening every time he uttered some dirty words. “Is that your fantasy? Me fucking you hard in my office with my employees outside?” He chuckled as you were too caught up in pleasure to respond. “Hm? Or do you just like the idea of me fucking you wildly out in the open?”

He pushed your legs as far up as he could and he continued to slam down into you.

“Shit…” He cursed, so unlike his normally composed self. You were the only person in this world who could unravel him completely. You, and you alone. “You feel so good, princess…”

The sound of his skin slapping yours filled the room, coupled with your moans and his quiet grunts. He slid in and out of you with ease at this point, stretching you whole. He watched your breasts bounce to his movements and he didn't hesitate to squeeze and play with them as he wished.

He fucked you in different positions, bending you over the bed, on your side with your foot high up in the air and leg over his shoulder. He couldn’t get enough of you, making you cum over and over again before sputtering his own seed deep into your walls, enjoying how you clench and convulse from his cock alone.

“Mm…” He hummed as he kissed your shoulder tenderly, his cock still deep inside you as he finished cumming, drawing out small thrusts as he got the final load out. He could drown in the sound of your moans, and suddenly, he understood the appeal of your erotic novel.

Ayato took himself out of you before collapsing next to you, holding you closely in his arms. He kissed your forehead as you both panted from the heavy exertion before he looked at you with that mischievous smile.

“So was that enough for you to write a sequel?”

[yittiko]

Will Mikey and Leo develop a special bond in your AU?

I don't wanna say a whole lot because I haven't gotten a lot solidified yet.

I want them each to have their own little arc to bond with Leo, but I am planning on Mikey being the one to give Leo his name!

[kabra-malvada]

💙❄️Cold Shots❄️💙

Simon Pretikov x reader (gender neutral) oneshot.

For context: this takes some months after the first season of fionna and cake so Simon is chipper and healing now, still holding onto some habits but hey, baby steps.

     The sound of the old jukebox seems to drown out in the background like white noise fueling the already overwhelming atmosphere of the candy bar. The floor creaks as people walk on and about, washing over the invisible walls you’ve been putting on all evening. Not that anyone usually even talks to you but today you’re somehow even more apprehensive about it all.

     The same old rhythm, you could be painted in the wall for all the world cares, you don’t even bother speaking up to order another round, just tapping on the counter and waiting for the root beer guy to fill it up to your heart’s contempt. 

     Your usual spot in the far corner is taken as the place is unusually crowded tonight much to your dismay. You’re not tipsy, but you’re not that sober either, the familiar weakness in your legs starting to settle. 

     The world seems to lose color for a moment as your mind wanders off, staring at your glass as if it held all the answers to your problems but refuses to speak to you. Mocking you for the ever growing need of relief to your boiling but quiet mind. Is as if your own thoughts are slowly being ripped from your body only to come back stronger.

- Hello?- A small strained voice pulls you back, as if suddenly you had remembered to breathe.

     The old gentleman before you is rocking quite the scholarly look, very…vintage. He waves his hand as if to make sure you’re actually looking at him. His expression is stoic, a little annoyed if anything. He adjusts his glasses before speaking up again.

- I uh, just wondered if the seat was taken…- He glances around momentarily, making sure that indeed, the seat beside you at the barstool is the only one available.

- Um… yeah, sure. Go ahead.

      He hesitates for a moment but ultimately takes the seat, you didn’t mind that much really but you’d be lying if you were to say getting your train of thought, or absence of, stopped so abruptly miffed you just the slightest bit.

     The man is greeted by the bartender as Simon, seemingly being a regular. At that moment, the situation seems vaguely familiar, although you can’t say for sure since you usually don’t pay much attention to your surroundings while drunk… his name rings a distant bell.

     He orders some whiskey on the rocks… with onions?

     “Odd.” is the only thought that comes to you at his choice of drink. Ah… you’re running dry too, when? Who knows, who cares… not you.

     You tap your glass again and almost immediately the bartender refills it, his muddy rootbeer head swaying a little as he slides by and almost immediately walks away to attend the now full bar. As much as you don’t like crowded places you gotta admit that the place looks… more lively than usual, a sentiment the man beside you seems to share.

- Kinda crowded here huh…?-

- … Yeah. It’s packed… not my kind of thing really.-

     The man, Simon shrugs, not that bothered by the situation apparently. He gives his drink a little swirl, the onions mixing in with the dark drink. Your curiosity gets the better of you as your mind attempts to settle.

- Why onions…? If you don’t mind me asking that is…-

- Well, heh, I like the sweetness of it mixed with the whiskey. Gives it a nice aftertaste.- He smiles a little then takes a swig.

- …Okay…-

     The answer leaves you a little dumbfounded but you decide not to question it. After all it’s not as if your own tastes weren’t a little weird. The two of you settle in a little comfortable silence for a couple of minutes. You don’t space out this time tho, your mind a little busy at the “extravagance” of your companion beside you.

- …Say, what are you having tonight?-

- … I… um…- you sigh, gathering your thoughts momentarily.- Bloodshade Moonshine… it’s from the Nightosphere.-

- Really now? Sounds kinda strong..-

     You chuckle, because indeed. It is very strong. A thought comes to mind, a mischievous little thought. You down the remaining watered down drink then order two raw shots.

- Wanna try?- You smirk not really expecting him to accept but-

- S-Sure. Why not, It’s been a while since I tried something new…-

     You cock an eyebrow, genuinely surprised as he doesn’t appear like the type to drink heavily. This only furthers the interest you’ve been gaining towards him. Just who is this old fart and why is he seemingly so nonchalant about it all? 

- Are you sure? You look awfully confident man…-

- Simon. It’s Simon, and don’t worry about me, I can hold my weight.- He appears a little too confident for his own good, nevertheless your drinks are served.

- Okay, be my guest Simon, bottoms up.- You raise your shot at him, silently daring him to follow along.

     He returns the gesture, determination pouring from his eyes. The two of you down the shots at the same time, in a bold sync of sorts. The familiar cold burn in your throat spreads like wildfire, forcing you to take a silent deep breath so as to not choke.

     Simon on the other hand seems to struggle the most, his face contorting in discomfort but his determination to show you off doesn’t falter in the slightest. He gasps a little, taking a moment to adjust at the deep burn in his throat.

- J-Jesus- He can’t help but coff a little, the intensity of it all more than he expected it to be but his resolve is complete as he regains his composure.

- You good man?- A chuckle escapes you, not in a mocking way, more so amused at his failed stubbornness to seem unaffected.

- Y-Yeah, I-I’m fine… It was a little more than I expected tho.- The sheepishness in his voice is apparent as it cracks slightly.

- It’s good tho right?-

- Y-Yeah, it is, it has a metallic aftertaste, a little sweet too. How you drink this regularly is lost on me tho, you don’t even look tipsy?-

- Hey now, I don’t drink it raw like this every day, I water it down with ice or soda, usually ice tho this thing is sweet as is.- You give him a thin but sincere smile.

     He nods and asks for two rounds of his own preferred drink. He looks… kinda cute when blushed like this… even if he is kinda old and maybe a tad gruff. But cute.

     You can’t help but notice how his glasses seem to fog due to the sudden heat in his face and without thinking too hard into it you reach for a handkerchief you keep in your pant’s pocket.

- Here let me take care of those for you…-

- A-Ah… thanks…- He shyly takes off his glasses and hands them to you, a few of his silver strands getting caught on the hinges as he pulls them from his face.- Oww, hate when his happens.-

     You huff a laugh at the face he makes, finding his little out loud thoughts endearing. His face now more visible to you without his glasses on, the wrinkles in his face defined in an oddly elegant way, however old he is… he’s aged well. Attempting to regain focus you start to clean off the fog, making sure they are good enough for use before handing them back to him.

     He mutters a soft “thanks” then puts them back on, being careful of not getting his hair caught on the hinges of them again.

- Better?-

- Mhmm, better, thank you…- He sighs, the smell of alcohol hitting you all of the sudden.- Okay, your turn now.-

- W-What?-

- I tried your drink so now you try mine. It’s only fair don’t you think?- He offers you the second glass the bartender brought, smirking at you a bit.

- Damn, got me there… onions and all?-

- Yeah, onions and all, unless you’re scared?- Maybe it’s the alcohol speaking but you swear he sounds a bit more smug than before.

- A-Alright, alright. You’re on, old man-

     He scoffs at the small jab, not really offended but more so amused at your antics. You seemed so closed off at the beginning of your interaction that this must be a little jarring to him, or so you assume as he is still pretty much a stranger sharing a drink and small games with you.

- For the record I’m not that old, only a thousand and sixty eight years old.- 

- HUH?- You almost choke in your spit as he states so, finding no glimpses of irony or sarcasm in his tone.

- Long story. But the thousand years don’t really count so only sixty eight.-

- …Of course, this is Ooo we’re talking about… Usually mages look different tho so you can’t really blame me for-

- I’m not a mage, well… not anymore.- His expression sombers a little as he states that, so you opt to not push him.

- I see, well sixty eight it is then, and looking good hehe- You attempt to lighten the mood, and before he can answer you interject again.- Okay, onion whiskey it’s you and me, let’s dance.-

     He chuckles, his face flushed from the alcohol, mayhaps something else too. He raises his own glass to you and grins. You return the gesture and clank the glasses together with a “cheers” from the both of you. Your movements mirror each other’s.

      Just like expected, the taste is very… unconventional to say the least. Not bad, just really different from what you had imagined, bitter but not overwhelmingly so, the taste of the onions adding a surprisingly nice aftertaste to it.

- Oh… that was good actually… you were right heh-

- I always am so you better get used to it alright?- He raises an eyebrow, cheeky as ever.

- I wouldn’t mind getting used to this to be honest, you have good taste- the unspoken proposal now up in the air like the lights hanging from the ceiling.

- …Hmmm, sure, why not? As long as we don’t overdo it, having a drinking buddy sounds nice actually…- His tone is sincere, although he is already slurring his speech a bit.

- Okay, Okay then. Wouldn’t want to take you to the Princess Doctor’s ward due to alcohol poisoning, heh…-

- Oh certainly, I’d never hear the end of it if that happened again- I mean… dammit.-

- Oh? Pray to tell?- The half joke is lost in your tone as you speak.

N-nothing too serious, just… I overestimated myself during my daughter’s engagement party, that’s all.- 

     He blushes furthermore at the last bit, clearly embarrassed at the memory. You on the other hand find it absolutely amusing, now even more excited than ever to get to know him further.

[justapoet]

a key on the chain (take it with you and run)

“Annabeth Chase,” the man repeated, as if it meant something more than just a random name. “Isn’t that why you chose this house?” “Why, on Earth, would I pick a house based on whether or not this Annabeth Chase was my neighbour?” Percy asked. “To catch the cat!” the man explained, and Percy sincerely laughed. “What cat?” Percy asked, now wondering if he had drunk something that tasted bad or a bit out of the ordinary. He must have been sleeping, having those weird dreams some people claim have meanings but, in the end, were just a bunch of thoughts squeezed together in a juice jar. “The one with the key." OR, Percy wants a new beginning back where he came from. He moves to New Rome, a quaint neighbourhood in New York, where every single man seems to make a life out of chasing a yellow cat with a key around its neck. Whoever catches it, apparently, won't be denied the prize they all seek: Annabeth Chase's — the most beautiful woman around — hand in marriage. Percy doesn't get it, and much less wants to engage with such activities or with the mysterious woman. But it's a bit harder when she lives just next doors, and the yellow cat becomes a faithful companion of his.

Read it on Ao3

It was ironic, honestly, that he was standing at the door of his new house in New Rome, a quaint neighborhood in New York, New York, after he had decided to sell his house and get the hell out of the simple neighborhood he lived in Rome, Italy, for so many years. Ironic, to say the least, because Percy hadn’t even registered how the place was called before he had set foot back in the United States, his life all packed up in a bunch of luggage and Ms. O’Leary, his loyal companion, by his side.

And he should have registered it, probably, because it would be a responsible thing to do. But in the hurry he found himself in, and the crisis that was the catalyst for the sudden, brutal change of life and routine and choices, Percy didn’t think of much before buying the house and getting on a plane to sign the papers and get his keys.

Now, there he stood — in front of a small, dainty house, with brick walls and a wooden front double door and a large windowsill that gave it all a sweet, home-like air. It was the perfect definition of cozy, the front lawn mowed, and some flower bushes making it look even more graceful than he had first thought it’d be. The place seemed to come from a picture, those beautiful illustrations on books about fairies and magic and hope, and Percy wondered it that would be enough to settle his unsteady heart and calm his troubled mind.

Because the place was beautiful, and yet he couldn’t see or feel the hope of new beginnings that so many people had told him it would bring; he was standing in front of what now was his house, the boxes and furniture already inside for him to organize and distribute as he would like, and Percy could only feel tired. Not from his travels, not from having to put everything to a place — but he was tired, overall, and the weight of his choices and the paths he’d walked seemed to rest over his shoulder.

He was back in New York, and there was nothing really there for him. Not anymore, because he had decided to travel the world so many years before and, at some point, he had stopped keeping in touch with everyone he left behind. His mother, father, stepfather, stepmother, half-siblings and friends — he hadn’t talked to them in years. Long, long years that seemed to now taint his past and shadow his face and cloud his memories of what it was like to be with them, to be there.

And maybe being back should be inspiring. Perhaps being again in north American territory should give him the hopes and the energy to reach out and try to find them as soon as possible; but all he felt was dread. Dread, and dreadful fear that he had lost that part of his life — the one that made him who he was — forever, and because of his terrible choices and the terrible feelings that had settled in his chest so long before.

He was staring at his house, and Percy wondered how long it could take for him to feel at home.

Because it once was home to be in New York, and he had forgotten how it felt. It once was home to never belong anywhere, traveling around and meeting new people and meeting new cultures and faces and languages, until the moment there was nothing but emptiness and the everlasting feeling of missing someone, something, somewhere.

His family, and everything they meant. He feared their anger, despite knowing that was what he deserved, after all. After so long, after so much pain he was sure he had caused them through the years he never even gave a sign of life.

New beginnings should be scary, yes, and ultimately exciting.

Percy was simply terrified.

Ms. O’Leary, on the other hand, seemed thrilled about having new places to discover. Her tail hadn’t stopped moving from the moment they got out of the taxi — who charged him an absurd amount of money upon seeing the dog, but that was quite alright at that point — and Percy had opened the gate that matched the fence circling the property. She had barked and set off to run around, and Percy couldn’t help but chuckle.

At least one of them was excited enough for both.

Percy sighed, taking the key to his front door so he could finally come in and see the mess he’d have to face and make more of soon enough until he could properly relax and rethink every single step of his life. Ms. O’Leary had already made her way to the backyard, somehow, and he could hear her barking at something — probably nothing at all —, chuckling a bit more at his best friend’s happiness on stretching her legs.

He shook his head, rolling his eyes fondly at the mental image of Ms. O’Leary simply running in circles around the area he was yet to see. Then, he looked up again at the doors, and inhaled deeply.

And his dramatic entrance to an empty house as a metaphor for his empty life was rudely interrupted before he could even fit the key in the door.

“So, you’re the lucky one?” someone spoke behind him, and Percy snapped his head in the voice’s direction, turning his body around as well, key still in hand. A man stood behind his fence, a heavy terracotta coat hanging from his shoulders, a suit underneath it and a black Panama hat tucked to his head a bit too much. His face wasn’t sympathetic, and instead he stared at Percy as if he was a bug the man desperately wanted to step on.

Weird. To say the very least.

“Uh— Hello?” Percy greeted, unsure of what to make of the situation. “I beg your pardon; ‘the lucky one’?” he frowned, and the man seemed to snap out of whatever it was that crossed his mind.

“My apologies. Welcome to New Rome,” the man spoke again, now taking a few steps to walk past the open gate and offer his hand in greeting. When he was close enough, Percy, still incredibly confused, shook the man’s hand.

“Percy Jackson,” he offered. “Thank you.”

For the welcome. Not for whatever it was that had happened before.

“Luke Castellan,” the man replied in earnest, his handshake firm before Percy let go of it. “First time in New York?” he asked, and Percy couldn’t quite pin down what it was that seemed so off about the sympathy in his tone.

“In a couple of years, yes,” Percy limited himself to say. Then, his curiosity got the best of him. “What did you say about me being ‘the lucky one’, may I ask?”

Luke’s smile seemed to tighten. Percy decided that it was best to be careful.

“The house,” Luke said. Percy frowned.

“Why? Is it better than the others?” he asked, looking back at the house behind him. When he looked at Luke again, the guy had an eyebrow raised.

“It’s beside Annabeth Chase’s house,” he spoke again, his tone implying that the fact was somehow obvious. Percy was sincerely beginning to think the conversation couldn’t possibly get weirder.

Rookie mistake.

“Who?” Percy could only ask, tilting his head to the side.

Luke frowned, then. Now, he seemed genuinely confused. Percy wanted to say that he had no right to — what, on Earth, was that man talking about?

“Annabeth Chase,” Luke repeated, as if it meant something more than just a random name.  “Isn’t that why you chose this house?”

Percy’s face was probably odd to look at, now that he was sure it was completely contorted with his bewilderment. His mouth was slight open and twisted, and he couldn’t narrow his eyes more before completely closing them.

“I chose the house my realtor offered me,” Percy said. “Why, on Earth, would I pick a house based on whether or not this Annabeth Chase was my neighbor?”

“To catch the cat!” Luke explained, and Percy sincerely laughed.

“What cat?” Percy asked, now wondering if he had drunk something that tasted bad or a bit out of the ordinary. He must have been sleeping, having those weird dreams some people claim have meanings but, in the end, were just a bunch of thoughts squeezed together in a juice jar.

“The one with the key,” Luke spoke again, and Percy could really wake up right then. He moved his arms and hands in exasperation, completely lost, and shook his head, eyes wide as he tried to understand what the man could possibly be talking about.

“Do you seriously not know?” Luke asked, and he seemed truly surprised. Percy would need an analgesic for the building headache on his temples.

Percy shook his head in disbelief yet again.

“Man, I just got back from another continent. I do not have the most single idea of who the hell Annabeth Chase is, what a cat and a key mean or how the house I now own has to do with it.”

Luke stared at Percy, who just stared right back as he tried to get his point across. After the better part of a minute, the brunette man seemed to have accepted that the newcomer really didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, and his gaze turned apologetic.

“Okay, then. I’m sorry, man,” Luke spoke, putting his hands in the pockets of his coat. “It’s just an ongoing competition for Annabeth’s cat and their key.”

Percy frowned again.

“Competition?” he asked. Luke nodded.

“It’s a thing we have around here,” he began, and Percy tilted his head. “The house beside yours belongs to Annabeth Chase, the most beautiful woman in the neighborhood. Dare I say, and any other person, the most beautiful woman in New York,” he explained, and something in his tone, again, seemed to put Percy on edge. Luke looked at the house he was talking about, the glint in his eyes with something much more distorted than what someone might mistake for affection. “Every single young man in the neighborhood had offered her their hand in marriage, and desperately wanted to wed her,” he told him, and Percy visibly winced. Luke didn’t notice.

Marrying someone for looks? Asking for their hand in marriage because they look pretty?

The discontentment was clear over Percy’s face. He was definitely going insane.

“She refused one by one, and yet they came back to ask her again. Expensive gifts, poems, songs; they tried to convince her with everything, anything they could buy and hand her,” the man continued, and Percy felt a pang of sympathy for whoever the woman was. What a tragic thing, to be seen as one more object those men could be handed and pay for. “One day, though, Miss Chase grew tired of all men knocking on her door and proposing ridiculous things. So, she made a challenge — whoever caught her cat and the key on the cat’s neck, would not be denied her hand in marriage. Since then, there’s been a whole thing trying to catch the animal: cages, traps, the most unhinged plans seen. No one could ever catch it.”

A wave of satisfaction rolled in his ears, and Percy made his very best not to let it trespass to his expression. He sympathized with the woman, and somehow was intrigued by her presence and the plan she had made — it was odd how she knew that the cat wouldn’t be caught, and yet a high risk to take if she didn’t want any of those men by her side.

Something, Percy thought, that no one could possibly blame her for. One needs to be pathetically vain to try and win someone’s heart as a prize, and not ever think about treasuring it as it should happen. And agreeing to go after a cat instead of just, perhaps, asking this Annabeth out and trying their luck by being normal people? Percy didn’t think that he would like a single soul in the neighborhood.

“They stopped coming to her house,” Luke carried on, taking Percy back from his thoughts and judgements. “And, to this day, everyone tries to catch the yellow cat with a hanging key and earn her love,” he concluded, and looked at Percy again, who was trying his best not to roll his eyes in front of his new neighbor. Those men could be trying to earn anything, but not her love. “We were all curious, then, as for who had taken the house closest to hers.”

Percy blinked, shaking his head.

“I have nothing to do with chasing cats and hanging keys, man, I can tell you that much,” he said. “I just got the house.”

“We all see it,” he said.

“And I would much rather the accusation stopped, Mr. Castellan, for I have no intention to add ‘trapping a cat’ to my routine,” Percy spoke, a little more serious. “I have nothing to do with this odd contest of yours, and I intend to keep it that way,” he explained.

Luke seemed a bit convinced. And a bit too smug for Percy’s liking.

“You’re a first, then,” the man said, and Percy arched an eyebrow. Luke sighed. “My apologies for the accusations, Mr. Jackson. The subject just tends to get on our nerves.”

“I figured,” Percy said. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Castellan; I’ve had a long day.”

The man nodded.

“Of course. Have a good afternoon,” he complied to Percy’s farewell, touching his hat and then turning around to leave the property. Percy watched him go for a few seconds, and then decided that it was too much to process standing at his doorstep.

He was intrigued, to say the least, about the whole scenario he had just been presented to. A woman with whom he couldn’t help but sympathize, being chased and wanted like some sort of prize for someone’s ego and pride. A cat that seemed to outsmart a whole neighborhood — though, after the whole story, Percy couldn’t believe it was that hard to do it —, and a bunch of grown adults who didn’t have anything better to do but to watch every person’s moves and doubt their smallest intentions.

Amazing. And he thought he’d find some peace by being back at his childhood town.

Read the rest on Ao3!

[guppygiggles]

Working on a little one-shot for a friend of mine, hehehe~ 💙

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

august 16, 2021 11:00 p.m. grandma ong's house

there’s a strangeness to a quiet enclave in a bustling metropolis, unexpected in the same manner as grant and henry’s long, unbroken brotherhood. nothing about the baseline rustle of neighbors carrying in paper grocery sacks and kids kicking a soccer ball resembles the eternal merry-go-round of life–max-capacity subway cars, clueless and loud tourists, and locals who drift through their day–just down the road. and yet above this neighborhood–and the entire sprawling city–hangs a common thread, a bluish hazy night sky.

“that was wild,” henry says, suppressed laughter bursting forth from deep in his chest, “all day everyone’s defaulted to speaking english because, well, look at you, and you even had me fooled. i actually forgot you kind of speak basic korean."

“the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.”

henry rolls his eyes dramatically but in the same split second, throws an arm around grant’s shoulders.

“i was afraid that soup was going to fly out of your mouth.” grant returns the gesture, though it requires him to lean down so as to not smother henry’s face instead. “too close for comfort.”

“well, in my defense, i was not expecting you to reply to my grandma asking me, “daehyun, i haven’t seen your friend since your wedding. how did you meet again?”

grant shrugs. “we met on a playground twenty-four years ago.”

“on my very first weekend as a resident of the semi-good ol’ US of A. in the opposite situation. i remember being so pissed that my parents made me go out to ‘make friends’ that weekend. not moving, mind you, but making friends. i guess they were psychics, though, because apparently, it didn’t bother you that i didn’t speak your language for at least a couple weeks.”

“people say i could talk to a wall.”

henry laughs again. “you could. you’re very chatty.”

“did it bother you that i wrote you some really, really, really shitty letters in korean in the early days based on online translations i found?”

“no, that was sweet.” no question about it–the joy in henry’s eyes is determined. “they were definitely horrendous, but it’s the thought that counted. you could do better now. oh, and i think i still have all those letters. i should. i did box them up when i moved out of my parents’ house.”

they were, all things considered, never very much alike, beyond the fact they both liked cats but weren’t allowed to have any. henry’s mom was allergic, but grant’s parents despised pets. otherwise, they were polar opposites. grant always liked math and science, wanted to work with airplanes, and preferred to spend his free time with others playing tabletop RPGs and computer games; henry always liked art and history, wanted to be a photographer, and preferred to be left alone to his vintage film camera and pottery. grant’s parents raged when he selected aviation over medicine; henry’s parents and grandparents, all artists, were delighted by his dreams of photography. moreover, grant selectively speaks his mind, while henry rarely minces words.

and still–

the shrill honk of a car off in the distance disturbs grant’s thoughts.

“you really could talk to a wall, but hey, why did you approach me on the swing set that day? you were already busy hanging out with your sisters. and your cousins. why me?”

and still, the two have fused into one. the world turned upside down; grant paints these days, henry has long been a willing dungeons and dragons player, and separation from one another is like losing half your body. if henry walked away now–ended this messy half-hug early–grant would turn to ash.

“well,” grant begins, drawing out the suspense with an exaggerated sigh, “first of all...”

[diaryofarecoveringshrew]

A Eulogy for My Writer's Spirit

[brettsey-two-tts]

Sylvie Brett was no stranger to surprises. The last twelve years of her life were all about surprises: her sudden move to Chicago, meeting her birth mom and Scott, meeting her half-sister, Amelia, falling in love with Matt Casey, watching him move two thousand miles away, and then breaking up with potentially the love of her life.

She would’ve never guessed she would be adopting a blue-eyed blonde baby from Amber, a woman who was in a similar situation to her birth mom.

She also would’ve never guessed that Matt Casey would stop by, drop down on one knee, and ask her to marry him with a ring he bought a year and a half ago.

She froze in place from the suddenness but her heart kicked into overdrive the moment he bent his knee and revealed the most beautiful diamond ring. Matt’s softened blue eyes, glistening with love, adoration, and hope, never faltered and never left hers.

She wondered how she looked because a second ago she was practically crossing things off her list as she fought the dust bunnies in her apartment and then marked all of the spots that needed more baby-proofing. Her hair must’ve been a mess and there might’ve even been a little dust on her cheek.

She mentally grimaced when she remembered that she quickly threw on a plain white t-shirt and a pair of overalls when she got up. She was definitely not dressed for the occasion.

While her self-conscious and overly panicking thoughts clashed in her head, she saw Matt’s hopeful smile start to fade. Oh crap - she didn’t even answer him yet.

The small frown that formed on his face made her panic more.

“No– Matt–”

Oh for the love of – that wasn’t the right thing to say either. He definitely took it the wrong way because he immediately lowered his hands that encased the velvety box.

“No, not that. I mean, this is– Matt, you’re–”

She began to laugh at how nervous she sounded and how every word that came out of her mouth was another disaster after another.

The beaming grin on her face must’ve given him some resemblance of good news because his lips soon half curled into a smile.

He shook his head slightly and replied, “I’m sorry, Sylvie. I know this is really sudden–” He stopped when she began to kneel in front of him.

His heart felt full and so incredibly warm as he saw her lips form a small endearing smile. While she was glancing over the diamond ring in his hands, he was watching her, entranced by her effortless beauty, her overall goodness, and her obvious adoring excitement for the baby girl she was about to adopt. He couldn’t get the image out of his head when she told them that Amber was taking custody: her overly beaming grin and tear-filled eyes.

“You bought this a year and a half ago?” she asked, her gaze meeting his.

He blushed a little when he remembered he confessed as much. “Yes,” he replied shyly. “Ever since you visited me in Portland. I wanted to do it sooner but with Severide and Stella’s wedding, I… I could never find the right time.”

She frowned a little when she remembered their foreboding conversation as they slow-danced. 

“But, right now - right this second.” He dipped forward to emphasize how he was always able to read her thoughts and feelings. “This is the perfect time.” Her lips parted as he continued, “My time in Portland is coming to an end. Griffin is off doing his own thing and Ben is only a couple of months away from that.” He paused to take a moment to think about his next words. He’s recited it in his head before but he never thought he’d say it to her in person. “I never stopped loving you, Sylvie Brett. Even when we broke up and had to put some distance between us, I never stopped thinking about you. You were always on my mind and always will be. I was always positive that we’d get married, have a couple of kids, and buy an old and worn-out house so we could fix it up together. Maybe get a dog or a cat. Or both.” She let out a small laugh at the last part. He could see the tears welling at the corners of her eyes and it made him start to tear up as well. “I want to be there for you and Julia, just like you were there for me, Ben, and Griffin.”

A tear fell down her cheek as her lips curled into the widest and brightest smile. With her hands in her lap and her gaze lovingly holding onto his, she began, “Matt–”

Before she could give him her answer, she was cut off by the unmistakable sound of her phone vibrating in her pocket.

She almost looked embarrassed but then she realized Matt’s phone was vibrating in his pocket as well. Both of them looked concerned as such a coincidence was almost never a good thing. Matt must’ve had the same thought as her because he soon pulled out his phone to check who it was.

“Who is it?” Sylvie asked as she started to pull out her own.

“Herrmann,” Matt replied. His brows knitted together with concern. “You?”

She felt her stomach drop as she replied, “Violet.”

.

.

.

Matt quickly drove them to the hospital after a short call with both Herrmann and Violet. All of Firehouse 51 was in the waiting room when they arrived and only a few of them were sitting.

Sylvie quickly hugged Violet and then Herrmann. “Is Mouch okay? Have you guys heard anything yet?”

Violet solemnly shook her head. “No, not yet.”

Herrmann looked on anxiously as he grounded out, “I haven’t heard anything since they rushed Mouch into surgery.”

Sylvie frowned as she watched Herrmann cross his arms and start to pace. She felt Matt bump her shoulder.

“I’ll check with a nurse to see if I can a hold of Maggie.”

Sylvie nodded and watched Matt walk off toward the receptionist’s desk.

Waiting was the hardest and most grueling part. It felt like no time was passing.

Maggie eventually came out to greet them but even she said that she would have to check in with the surgeons since Mouch was still in there.

Matt sat down next to Sylvie after Maggie left. Ever since they heard about Mouch at her apartment, he could tell she was trying to keep it together and not think about the worst-case scenario. “How are you holding up?” he asked.

She shook her head and let out a long sigh. “This is the worst part. Not knowing if he’s okay and just waiting for an answer.”

“Hey. Mouch is tough. He’s been through hell and back multiple times. He’ll pull through.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “I know he will.”

His positivity and optimism, and the fact that he always had the ability to cheer her up - it was like no time had passed at all. She truly missed him - every single part of him.

She checked the clock on the wall and worriedly asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be on an airplane in an hour?”

“Yeah, but I can’t just leave while Mouch is in there. It wouldn’t feel right.” He and Sylvie shared a sweet smile but it only reminded him of what happened between them earlier. Did he jump the gun too soon? Should he have waited until he moved back to Chicago? No. No, no, no. His gut told him it was the perfect time. And it was. He was certain of it. “About before… I… I want you to know, Sylvie… You don’t have to give me an answer right away. I just want you to know that whatever happens, I’m here. If you need help taking care of her or feeding her or… anything - anything at all - I’m here. Always.”

Sylvie couldn’t contain her grin, both at Matt’s kind and encouraging words, and at the remembrance of his proposal.

“I know what my answer is, Matt, and I think I’ve known for a long time now.”

His eyebrows raised a little at her admittance but she didn’t say anything further. Her wide, toothy, and joyful grin was all he saw thereafter. His confusion started to dissolve as a pinkish hue dusted across her cheeks. But, as soon as she nodded ever so slightly, Maggie came back out through the double doors.

The entire firehouse turned their heads at the noise and immediately got up out of their seats. Maggie gave them the great news: Mouch was out of surgery and heading to the ICU for observation. There were no complications and he was expected to make a full recovery.

While everyone shared their relief through hugs and smiles, they heard the voice of an older lady behind them trying to get their attention. All heads turned and they saw a sweet old lady holding a light gray velvety box in her hands.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt. I didn’t want someone to leave with it. Did one of you drop this?”

It must’ve fallen out of Matt’s pocket in his jacket when he got up out of his seat to see Maggie. He must’ve been too caught up in the good news because he didn’t hesitate to claim it and then profusely thank her for finding it, nor did he notice the deafening silence as everyone stared at him with wide eyes and shocked expressions.

As soon as he turned around and caught everyone’s gaze, his mouth parted in a panicked realization. He looked to Sylvie for some guidance (and maybe even some help) but when he saw her beam brightly at him, he knew it was inevitable. There was no use keeping secrets from their Firehouse family.

Matt and Sylvie continued to endearingly smile at each other, even as their Firehouse family bombarded them with a hundred and one questions.

They were meant to be.

[strawbeaniie]

late night with percy?

here are the list of prompts if anyone is interested in sending me a prompt or rebloging it onto their own blog :3

Bellamie struggled to keep his eyes open. Despite desperately wanting to give in to sleep, he refused to leave Percy alone at this late hour. He shifted in his seat, reorganizing his tasks for the upcoming day for what felt like the 100th time.

Yes he could be using this time to finish his own tasks, but he knows if he finishes them now he wont have anything to do later. The idea of just sitting around while he should be working fills him to the core with dread.

Bellamie is aware Percy is more then capable of handling herself. He'd always been in awe of how levelheaded, quick thinking, and eager to find solutions she was. Percy had a strong sense of justice and despite not being the best with people, she had a heart of gold.

Realistically, he knows nothing is going to happen to Percy. The gnawing feeling in his chest tells him otherwise. It tells him to try to distance himself, but he knows he's hopelessly attached at this point. She wormed her way in as oblivious to the emotional barriers he'd put up.

The fondness he has for Percy, he's only had twice before.

Lucia.

...and Ramsey Murdoch of all people.

Bellamie figures it'll be a matter of time before he looses Percy too. Lucia had gotten presumably kidnapped and who knows if she was still out there or even okay! And Ramsey... well he's pretty sure he scared the guy off with his mountains of issues.

So yeah he maybe doesn't have the best of luck romantically. Or maybe its confessing that was the problem? They did seem to leave when he was hyping himself up to confess.

Though, as long as Percy can be in his life, he's happy to continue ignoring his feelings a little longer. He's just staying late because he's going to help Percy lock up.

"Bellamie?" Percy breaks him out of his thoughts, her voice laced with concern.

"While your diligence is appreciated, don't let that get in the way of taking care of yourself," She says furrowing her eyebrows together.

"Thanks for looking out for me Perc," Bellamie sheepishly thanks her, "But if I recall, you didn't eat anything because you were engulfed in your tasks," He teases gently.

Percy looks away from him for a moment, making Bellamie snort a little. She always did this when she was embarrassed taking a moment to compose herself as if he couldn't notice it.

"Well then, perhaps we could grab a bite as they say, together?" Percy offers.

"Sounds like a plan."

[capillaryspice]

What is it about people that makes them, after learning you're writing, incapable of not saying "oh, you should put ME in your book!"

No writer wants to hear this, somehow despite this I've heard it too many damn times, and if you ever think this is a good idea to say in a conversation with a writer: please do not