#but I think there is always going to be a part of me that regrets it. a part of me that desperately wants to

[ylangelegy]

like a python 🧊 jihoon x reader.

jihoon doesn’t know how many years of pining he has left in him.

★ rockstar!jihoon x reader. ★ word count: 2.5k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: non-idol. jihoon-centric, childhood friends, yearning... so much yearning, young k makes a cameo, jihoon is a bit lame (affectionately), cussing/swearing. mentions of alcohol, food. ★ footnotes: got7 dropped winter heptagon and it's all i can think about. wrote this in one sitting as a show of gratitude to @chugging-antiseptic-dye for introducing me to these boys. haven't done a song fic in a hot minute, but for lee jihoon and got7? anything. shoutout to igot7_MarKP on twitter for the english translation of the lyrics.

🎧 now playing: python by got7 — i know i'm an icon, watch me with the lights on; but she got a hold on me like a python.

▸ MUSIC IS HOW I'VE BEEN VENTING NOW... OVERSEAS, I'M SELLING OUT.

It’s pretty surreal to Jihoon, being in a room with some of the biggest names in rock.

In the past hour alone, he’s met Alex Turner, Dave Grohl, and— holy shit, is that Hayley Williams? Jihoon is getting dizzy, and it’s not only because of all the secondhand smoke he’s inhaled since he got to the Rolling Stones afterparty. 

The best of the best. That’s what the invitation had boasted. It was the scene’s most coveted event, and Jihoon somehow made it to the guest list. 

Unbidden, your voice nags from somewhere in the back of his mind. You’re the best, Jihoon-ah. 

He shakes his head, like he’s physically trying to get away from the thought of you. This had been happening a lot more as of late. Fleeting moments wherein he’d imagine how you would react, what you’d say. 

But Jihoon always catches himself. He snaps himself out of it and goes back to recording, goes back to performing. 

God, he needs to get it together. He’s starting to regret saying ‘no’ to the cigarette Ely Buendia was offering him earlier. 

(In Jihoon’s defense, he didn’t smoke often. He didn’t want to fuck up his vocal chords. He had a one-cigarette-a-year rule, and he wasn’t about to use it now. It was only January; who knew what else the year would throw him?) 

Jihoon is contemplating some other vice— maybe he can go grab another beer— when he feels a tap on his shoulder. At the sight of who came up to him, Jihoon immediately folds into a bow. 

“There’s no need for that,” Younghyun says, equal parts amused and embarrassed. “We’re all the same here, yeah?” 

Jihoon pulls himself to his full height. “Not… really,” he says lamely, and then he immediately launches into mumbled apologies when he realizes how he might have sounded. 

It wasn’t that Jihoon thought he was better than his peers. Hell, he knew that he was the least important person in the room. That’s what he meant; they were not all the same, because Jihoon still had a long ways to go. 

Especially when compared to rock icon Young K, who is— gracefully— taking Jihoon’s awkwardness in stride. 

“You’re holding up a lot better than me,” Younghyun muses. “At my first afterparty, I threw up on Rupam Islam.” 

“No.” 

“Yes, unfortunately. He was very nice about it, though.” 

Jihoon lets out a stutter of a laugh. He’s never been a fan of small talk, but he clings to it now like a lifeline. “Does it get easier?” he asks. 

Younghyun’s eyebrows raise. “Throwing up on rockstars?” 

“No, no–”

“I was kidding,” Younghyun says in between chuckles. His expression is a little more pensive when he goes on, “I can’t say for sure that it gets easier, but you learn to deal with it.” 

You learn to deal with it. Jihoon can almost laugh at just how accurate that is. It seems applicable to every aspect of his life— including missing you. 

Jihoon winces. Younghyun notices. 

The older man doesn’t comment on it, probably thinks it’s something else entirely. Younghyun doesn’t flinch away, either, when Jihoon nervously says, “Can I ask you another question?” 

“Ask away,” says Younghyun. “I’ve got nothing better to do.” 

What is Jihoon doing? He doesn’t know either, but it’s either this or fight off the urge to run through a pack of Marlboros. “How do you cope,” he starts slowly, “with… feelings?” 

A beat. Crap. Jihoon realizes he definitely could have phrased that better, because Younghyun is now looking at him with an expression of mild confusion. 

Jihoon backtracks. “You— we— go through a lot in this field of work. Like, a lot. And you— fuck, fine, I’m— grateful for it, really, I swear. But there’s just… so much other things, too, aside from the gratitude. How do you cope with those?”

Jihoon knows he probably looks and sounds like a trainwreck in his bid to be deliberately vague. By some miracle, Younghyun at least seems to understand what Jihoon is trying to say.

Younghyun’s lip quirks to one side as he thinks of his response. The silence stretches uncomfortably long, but then he gives an answer that’s the last thing Jihoon could have expected. 

“I write,” Younghyun says. 

Jihoon blinks once. Then twice. 

“You write,” he repeats, and the former nods. 

“It’s all in my discography. The anger, the heartbreak, the love.” Younghyun raises his shoulders in a shrug. “I’ve written nearly 200 songs, and all of them are just— that. Questions. Answers to questions. Feelings and stories.” 

It’s so simple, so obvious. It’s like a glaring traffic sign, like something that every musician should know and do.

Put it in a song. Perform it for thousands and leave the muse none the wiser. Profit. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

Jihoon had done it a fair amount of times, but never had he considered putting you to pen and paper. The prospect of it makes something in his chest thrum. 

“I—” He clears his throat. “I think I have to go, sunbaenim. It was nice seeing you.” 

A hint of humor glints in Younghyun’s eye, like he’s somewhat aware of the fact he’s witnessing something unravel. “‘Younghyun’ is fine,” he chirps. “And it was nice seeing you, too, Jihoon. Take care of yourself.” 

The words— take care of yourself— are supposed to be a platitude. To Jihoon, it feels like a tall ask. 

▸ I'M TOURING THE WORLD BUT I'M MISSING THE ONE WHO HELD IT DOWN.

Jihoon is exhausted. 

As much as he wants to say that he’s never been this tired in his life, it’d probably be a lie. He’d make the claim, hit the road, then end up crashing out saying the same damn thing. He’s seen this film before; he knows how it ends. 

He falls back on his hotel bed after his shower. A low groan escapes him, and he sends up a silent prayer to all the higher powers there are. Thank you for sheets with a 300-500 thread count. Thank you for air-conditioning. Thank you for warm showers and Listerine. 

Despite his fatigue, Jihoon can’t just go to sleep. Post-show adrenaline always took a couple of hours to wear off.

He briefly contemplates his options. Write a lyric or two? Watch a shitty Netflix movie? Stare out the hotel window until his eyes can’t stay open anymore? 

None of the above, it seems, as he reaches for his phone. 

Jihoon has never been active on SNS; he just couldn’t bring himself to care about things like TikTok trends or Twitter ‘beef’. It’s a constant thorn in his PR team’s side. There is one thing that he bothers to check, though, and God forbid he deny himself the simple pleasure of some good ol’ fashioned pining. 

He’s been on your Instagram page enough times that it’s the first thing that shows when he goes to the search bar. It’s the only thing that shows, really, which gives some pretty good sense of where his head is at. 

Your profile loads. There’s no new post, no recent story. Jihoon is both disappointed and relieved.

No news is good news, he thinks to himself as he leisurely scrolls through the photos he’s already seen a dozen times before. You, feeding sidewalk cats. You, sipping tea at a cafe. You, in all the places that were once Jihoon’s, too. The beaches, the hiking trails, the restaurant in your shared neighborhood. 

Jihoon opens that particular post. Even though he’s watched your life in squares for the better half of the past three years, this is the one photo that always has him feeling a pang of… something. 

Because Jihoon can imagine it— being at that restaurant with you. The two of you had discovered it together, had pooled your measly school allowances to afford the bokguk and ganjang gejang. 

He imagines being there with this older version of you, being the one snapping the picture that’d find a spot on your feed. He can see it so clearly in his mind’s eye that if he really, really tries, it begins to look more like a memory than a daydream.

But he’s not in Busan, not even in Korea. He’s in the United States instead, where he has ten stops before heading to Canada and Europe. 

Sold-out stadiums. Thousands upon thousands of adoring fans. 

All the food that he could possibly want, and yet it’s pufferfish soup and soy sauce crabs that he’s looking for. 

Every person that he could possibly have, and yet. And yet. 

Jihoon huffs out a frustrated exhale. He’s tired, which he swears makes him delusional. 

He casts his phone aside, blissfully ignorant to the way his finger double taps his screen as he does. 

Halfway across the world, your phone pings

woozi_universefactory ✓ liked your post. 

▸ I'VE BEEN RUNNING BACKWARDS, RUNNING BACKWARDS LIKE A MARATHON.

The push notification glaring up at Jihoon looks a lot like a bomb that’s about to explode.

Jihoon feels like it’s a bomb, because he refuses to believe that after over a year of absolutely nothing, you’ve messaged first. You’ve messaged first. 

He double, triple checks his calendar. It’s neither of your birthdays. It’s not a holiday, either. Is it Chuseok? No— that doesn’t make sense. 

“For fuck’s sake,” he chides himself under his breath. It’s a text. Nothing more, nothing less.

Jihoon opens the notification. 

And then his heart just. 

Stops. 

You’d sent two messages— the first, being the post that had him spiraling last night. It’s the proceeding message that has Jihoon hoping the ground will swallow him whole. 

Stalking me, Jihoon-ah? 

Holy shit.

Jihoon types out at least three different messages, from Are you a fly on my wall to Is there a new Instagram feature I don’t know about to What happened to “hello, how are you”? 

In the end, he only sends back a single question mark. When he opens the offending post, he immediately sees his transgression. 

Jihoon hadn’t liked the photo before last night. He didn’t like much posts to begin with. How— When— 

His phone pings. He’s never been so thankful that he mostly opts to get room service for breakfast, because the squeak that he lets out is definitely not very rockstar-like. Jihoon fumbles, and he ends up opening your DM before he can psych himself up for it. 

LOL. Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, you say. 

Damn you and your ability to render him speechless. Jihoon wonders if he can get away with not responding, with getting back to you a couple of days later and blaming his work. 

Except. 

Jihoon’s fingers slowly move across his screen. 

It was a good post, he says. 

It was a post from a year ago, you answer. 

So? He throws in an emoji of a man shrugging for good measure. Jihoon never uses emojis, but he can make some exceptions. 

Your respond, So, stalking. You were stalking me. 

Jihoon knows he’s digging a hole for himself, knows he’s going to stay up several nights thinking of just how stupid he is. If he were a stronger man, he’d pull the plug on this conversation and that’d be it. You wouldn’t bug him. He would maybe write a song about this moment. The world would go on. 

But he can hear you. 

In the messages, in the words on his screen. He can hear your voice, the way you’d smile or laugh or tease. How you’d say his name in that sing-song tone he once pretended to hate. 

He hears you in your messages, and he’ll live with the secondhand shame if it means that he gets to keep on listening. 

Not stalking, he shoots back. Just checking in. 

Ah, you say. Because you missed me?~

Despite himself, he scoffs. You’ve always been so shameless. It didn’t matter to you that he was WOOZI the rockstar; to you, he would always be Jihoon who lived three houses down. 

As if, he says to your teasing.

You don’t respond anymore. You don’t even read the message, because Jihoon doesn’t see the little ‘Seen’ under his last message.

He waits for it for a minute. Then five minutes. Then seven minutes. He stops checking at the thirteen-minute mark, because he likes to believe he’s no longer a high schooler with a raging crush on the girl next door. 

He’s a grown man. He’s WOOZI, for Christ’s sake. 

He can’t keep coming back to you.

▸ I GAVE YOU MY TIME WHEN I DIDN'T HAVE MUCH; ALL OF MY FEELINGS, SWEPT UNDER THE RUG.

Except he does. 

WOOZI may not want to. WOOZI may be the bassist writing songs about the past in hopes of leaving things in the past, but Jihoon is a different story. 

Jihoon texts you the moment he lands in Gimhae International Airport. Jihoon stands outside your front door— definitely jetlagged, probably in need of a shower— with his luggage in one hand and his phone in the other. 

Jihoon acts like it’s the world’s biggest inconvenience when he tells you, “Come on, then.” 

The two of you get the crabs and soup. He refuses to talk about his time away; he contents himself with listening, like he always does, and you fill the silence with babble. Your desk job, your parents’ nagging, your hobbies and side hustles. 

“Probably not as interesting as your life,” you joke after a particularly long-winded anecdote about a delivery rider who got your address wrong. 

Jihoon neither confirms nor denies the statement. He only raises one eyebrow and gives you a wordless gesture with his hand. Go on anyway, he’s saying, and you take the cue. 

The meal ends. Jihoon invites you for coffee. Then ice cream. Then a walk. 

“This is very suspicious.” 

Jihoon can’t help it; a snort of laughter escapes him at your words. “Can’t a guy take a friend out to lunch?” he asks humorlessly. 

“And dinner,” you note. 

“And dinner, yes.” 

“And dessert.” 

“And dessert.” 

The two of you are taking the long way home. There’s something to be said about how Jihoon drags his feet, about how you walk like you’re not on borrowed time. Even your conversation moves like you’re beating around the bush.

There is an elephant in the room and Jihoon is done pretending that it’s not there. That it hasn’t been there since the day you two met in primary school, since the first time he held your hand as a teenager, since he became a musician and every song he performed became about you.

Jihoon doesn’t know how many years of pining he has left in him. 

“Are you dying?” 

Your blasé question draws a bark of laughter from him. “Jesus, no,” he says. “Do I have to be dying to want to see you?” 

You don’t answer right away. Jihoon once again has that feeling that he’s said something wrong, something loaded, but you save him from overthinking when you respond with, “You wanted to see me?” 

There it is. That teasing tone, that hint of a smile. 

You bump your shoulder against his. “You missed me, Jihoon-ah. Admit it.” 

And Jihoon is done, Jihoon is tired, Jihoon is still yours after all this time.

“Yeah,” he finally, finally says. “I missed you.” 

[luveline]

jadey, could I request some hurt/comfort with hangman (or Steve or Eddie if you’d prefer) where he asks reader out and they’re like “are you sure this isn’t a joke? or a prank? or a bad decision you’ll regret tomorrow?”? and he’s really sweet and kind about it? cause ngl with how shitty my dating life’s been so far, any man that approaches me with romantic intent is gonna have to do so with the same gentleness and tact as someone who rescues and rehabilitates neglected dogs.

“Look out,” Liv says, nodding toward the front of the arcade and then quickly turning away, “Harrington’s back.”

Why she says it like a chore you’ve no idea. You hurry to clip your mirror compact closed and shove it under the desk into a bucket of Chinese finger traps and pencil toppers. You look ridiculous in your polo with your Palace nametag taking up a solid two inches of your chest, but Steve Harrington used to wear a little sailor’s uniform with tiny teeny shorts, so perhaps he doesn’t hold it against you. You really hope he doesn’t. 

Steve looks less smiley than usual —he isn’t surrounded by his usual troupe of friends, the younger kids Nancy Wheeler’s brother and the gaggle of dorks that keeps getting bigger. He pretends they piss him off, and sometimes they really do, but when Max needs to go stand outside for a minute he always goes with her, and when Dustin flinches at a seriously loud noise, he clasps the boy by the shoulder and tells him it’s alright. He clearly doesn’t mind that he’s inherited a brood of younger siblings.

But today he’s frowning, nearly, something steeled about him as he stops at the desk. You smile carefully and he smiles back, but it quickly fades as he opens his mouth, you assume to talk. For a second, nothing comes out. 

“Hi,” he says finally. 

“Hi, Steve.” 

“How are you?” 

“I’m good, yeah. Thank you.” You raise your eyebrows. “How are you?” 

“Nervous.” He scratches the back of his neck, peeking quickly down at his hand and then wiping it roughly into his thigh. “Shit. Listen, I think you’re so pretty, and I practised this part in my head but it’s not– I got another look at you as I was coming in and I forgot what I was gonna say.” 

You don’t mean to ask, but, “You think I’m pretty?” 

“It’s dire,” he says seriously, hair flopping into his eyes and half-heartedly batted away. “You’re beautiful.” 

He says it so simply, it doesn’t compute. 

“Oh. Well, thank you,” you say softly. 

“Shit.” Steve shoots a look at the door. You follow his gaze, wondering what the hell he’s looking at. Did he bring somebody with him? You’d thought he was alone, but maybe he’s not. 

“Steve, are you okay?” 

“That’s why. This is why I’m– I’m fucking up monumentally. I didn’t think I’d be nervous. Like, sure, I felt like I was gonna throw up all morning but I’m usually better at the asking part.” Steve straightens up. A light beige polo is neatly buttoned at his neck, and his hair looks nicer than usual, super shiny under the overhead. When he turns to you, the red light coming off of Dig-Dug paints him with a pink hue, emphasising the dash of blush filling the tops of his ears. “You wouldn’t want to hang out some time, would you? Or– shit. I don’t want to hang out. I do, but– Do you want to go on a date?” 

“With you?” 

He winces. “With me, yeah.” 

You’re quiet for so long it makes you both uncomfortable. Slowly, Steve’s face starts to lose the squirmy nervousness he’d brought in with him, and a familiar softness fills his eyes, his brows pinching at their starts, lips pursed. 

“You look upset,” he says. 

In the tens of times you’ve seen Steve Harrington come in here, and the fewer times he’s come up to the desk to talk, you can’t confess to thinking he’d ever ask you that. You’d imagined it once, how he’d lean against the display of teddy bears and smile at you just so, like you already knew what he wanted. 

“No,” you say, watching his expression for some sign that this is a trick. It doesn’t seem like it is. You can’t say you think he’d be that cruel, but you can’t not ask, either. “I’m wondering if this is a joke.” 

“A joke? No.” Steve frowns. “Did someone do that before?” 

“Just doesn’t make any sense.”

Steve is a nice guy. He’s asked you so many questions about yourself you can’t remember what he knows and what he doesn’t, but you aren’t eager to tell him why you think what you’re thinking now. 

You shy away from him, letting your eyes fall to the pencil erasers. 

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching across the desk without touching you, “hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m not kidding around, I’ve wanted to ask you out for ages, but I– guess I thought this would go better if I waited. You don’t have to say yes.” 

“You really want to go on a date with me?”

“Yeah, I do.” 

“You swear?” 

“I swear. I mean, duh. Who wouldn’t want to go on a date with you? I sort of wake up thinking about you.”

Your eyes fly to his face. “What?” 

“Not in like, a loser way. In a cool way.” 

You still don’t really believe Steve wants to take you on a date until he’s knocking on your door, 7PM sharp, handing you a bouquet of twelve red roses and a hopeful smile. “Told you,” he says, grinning as you step down onto the path with him, something you recognise as nervousness in his smile, but elation, too, “Jesus, I knew you’d look pretty, but this is just something else. Who wouldn’t want to take you out?” 

You hit him very gently with the flowers. “Stop.” 

He grins. “No. Don’t think I will, babe.” 

[elyxir1zz]

★ — Between the lines - part 3

CW : meanie sevika, artist reader, hockey player vi and sevika, modern au, highschool shenanigans, cheating, sex, dark themes, love triangle

A/N : i love readers mom. i know some of you were upset about reader leaving vi but reader will get justice i promise

previous part

“Your gonna drive home?” the low voice startles you. You look over to see sevika standing there. Shes making a weird face at you that makes your eyes dart to avoid her gaze

“No! I was gonna sleep the weed off in my car!” you shake your head. Obviously you werent gonna drive- well you had the thought- but youd always back out of something like that

“In the dark? With drunks around? Come on let me give you a ride on my bike” sevika looked back at her motorcycle. Of course, something that made her even more hotter 

You raise an eyebrow at her “go home on your whore bike?” you sigh 

Sevika blinked at you for a moment, then let out a low, amused chuckle. “Whore bike? That’s what we’re calling it now?” she asked, leaning against her motorcycle, arms crossed. Her smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, teasing but not unkind.

You crossed your arms, giving her a pointed look. “Well, isn’t it? Bet you have a long list of people who’ve taken a ride.”

Her laugh deepened, low and gravelly. “You really think I’m that busy, huh?” she said, shaking her head. “Hate to disappoint, but not everyone gets a ride.”

“Right,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’m sure it’s just some exclusive club.”

Sevika stepped closer, her gaze leveling with yours, her smirk softening slightly. “You’re not wrong about it being exclusive,” she said, her voice dipping just slightly lower, sending an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “But tonight? It’s just a ride. No strings, no ulterior motives. Got it?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away, suddenly regretting opening your mouth. “Fine,” you muttered. “But only because I don’t want to deal with any drunks tonight.”

“Uh-huh,” Sevika said, turning back to her bike. “Its cold. Here take my jacket” she said taking her coat 

You glared at her, snapping, “im fine” as she tossed you her jacket. Reluctantly you slide it on. 

She didn’t even glance back as she climbed onto the bike, her movements smooth and practiced. “Hop on,” she said, patting the seat behind her.

You hesitated for a second, staring at the bike like it was some kind of wild animal. Finally, with a resigned sigh, you climbed on behind her, gripping the seat tightly.

“Hold on,” Sevika said, glancing back at you over her shoulder.

You awkwardly placed your hands on her sides, trying not to think about how warm she felt. “This is fine, right?”

“Not unless you want to fall off,” she said with a smirk. “Wrap your arms around me.”

You froze for a moment, then reluctantly did as she said, looping your arms around her waist. You could feel her body shake slightly as she laughed at your hesitance.

“Relax,” she said, revving the engine. “I don’t bite… unless you ask.”

Your face burned, but before you could retort, the bike roared to life, and she took off down the road.

The wind whipped against your face as you held on tighter, your heart racing—not just from the speed but from the adrenaline coursing through you. The streets blurred past, and for a moment, it felt like you were flying.

Sevika slowed down as the bike approached your neighborhood. She pulled up in front of your house, cutting the engine. You slid off the bike, legs slightly shaky as you handed her the helmet.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, not meeting her gaze.

“Anytime,” Sevika said, smirking. “You’re not too bad at holding on. Might make a decent passenger.”

You rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched into a small smile. “Goodnight, Sevika.”

“Goodnight,” she said, her tone softer this time.

—

You walk up the stairs, stopping halfway when you realized you were still wearing Sevika’s jacket. “Oh, shit,” you muttered, glancing back at the front door as if you could run after her and return it. But she was long gone. With a sigh, you adjusted the jacket and continued up to your room.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you shuffled down the hall and pushed open the door to your darkened room, fumbling along the wall until you found the light switch.

“Well, howdy, stranger!” your mom’s cheery voice nearly made you jump out of your skin. She was sitting on your bed, a glass of wine in hand, grinning at you like she’d just caught you sneaking cookies before dinner.

You screamed, stumbling back into the doorframe. “Mom! Were you just sitting here in the dark?!”

“Don’t yell at me! You’re the one who snuck out,” she retorted, giving you a pointed look over the rim of her glass.

Your stomach sank. “Oh, please, I know you’re not actually mad,” you said, recovering quickly.

Your relationship with your mom had always been… unconventional. Less parent and child, more frenemies who occasionally tolerated each other.

She scooted over, patting the bed beside her. With a sigh, you walked over and flopped down next to her.

“You’re right,” she admitted with a smirk. “I’m not mad. Honestly, I’m impressed. Never thought you’d be the type to sneak out. So? Where’d you go?”

“A party,” you mumbled, leaning into her shoulder and nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? A party? Did you drink?” she asked, her tone curious rather than accusatory.

You hesitated, glancing up at her. “A little… is that okay?”

She sighed, rubbing your arm gently. “Yeah… yeah, it’s fine. Did you like it?”

You shook your head, a sheepish grin tugging at your lips. “Nah. I’m stoned, though.”

Her eyes widened briefly before she chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, great. My kid’s a stoner now. Wonderful.”

“It’s not a regular thing,” you said defensively, though the way she was smiling made it hard to feel truly scolded.

“Well,” she said, taking another sip of her wine, “at least you’re honest. And hey, next time, maybe don’t leave me sitting here wondering if I need to call the cops, alright?”

You laughed softly, settling more comfortably against her. “Deal. But for the record, you scared me more than anything else tonight.”

“Good,” she said, ruffling your hair affectionately. “Keeps you on your toes.”

—

You woke to the sound of your name being called, loud and insistent. “Someone’s here to see you,” your mom said, standing in your doorway, one hand on the knob and a figure behind her.

“Sevika?!” you blurted out, sitting up in bed so quickly it made your head spin. Your eyes widened, already anticipating the awkwardness of Sevika showing up to reclaim her jacket. The last thing you wanted was for her to think you'd stolen it on purpose.

But the figure stepped into the light, and it wasn’t Sevika.

“Violet,” Vi said, introducing herself with her usual calm yet serious tone. Her eyes locked onto yours, searching your face with an intensity that made your heart skip.

Your mom glanced between you and Vi, clearly amused. “I’m just gonna leave you two to whatever western showdown this is,” she teased with a smile, stepping back and leaving the door open as she disappeared down the hallway.

“Hey, listen—I’m sorry about last night,” you said quickly, throwing the sheets off yourself and standing. “I got stoned, and I wasn’t in the right headspace.”

“Don’t be. I understand,” Vi said, her smile soft as she stepped closer. Her hands rested lightly on your shoulders, urging you to sit back down on the edge of your bed. “But I wanted to talk to you.”

Your stomach twisted into a knot at her words. It wasn’t the lingering haze of the weed making you nervous this time—it was her. “Okay…” you replied hesitantly, offering a nervous smile as she sat down beside you.

Vi kept her gaze steady, though her fingers fidgeted with each other in her lap. “I really like you... but I’ve been getting mixed signals,” she admitted softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

You opened your mouth to respond but stopped yourself, sensing she wasn’t done.

“Do you like Sevika?” she asked, her words blunt and direct, though concern flickered behind them.

“No!” you replied instantly, far too quickly for it to sound casual. Your hands instinctively reached out, interlinking with Vi’s. “I don’t like her like that. I mean, she’s... I just—” You stopped yourself before rambling further, squeezing her hands as if the action alone could convey the truth.

Vi raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of your quick reaction, but her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “You sure? I’m not trying to be possessive or anything, but... it feels like there’s something there.”

“There isn’t,” you assured her firmly. “I promise. It’s just you. Always you.”

Vi studied you for a moment longer, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice quiet but steady. “I just needed to hear it from you.”

You nodded, relief washing over you. “Thanks for telling me how you feel,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean to make things confusing.”

“Just... don’t keep me guessing, alright?” Vi smiled faintly, her fingers still tangled with yours. “I don’t want to lose you over some misunderstanding.”

“You won’t,” you said, squeezing her hand again. “I promise.”

“What does this mean… for us?” Vi asked, her voice soft but steady as her eyes searched your face, looking for any trace of doubt or hesitation.

You avoided her gaze for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked down. “I like you, Vi. I really do,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Her hand came up to cup your cheek, her touch gentle. “I want you to be my girlfriend,” she said, her tone filled with both vulnerability and hope.

“…Yes,” you nodded quickly, unable to stop the warmth spreading through you. Your eyes flickered to her lips as you leaned into her hand, nuzzling against her touch.

Concern briefly clouded her expression. “Are you sure? I don’t want to push—”

You didn’t let her finish, cutting her off as you pressed your lips against hers. Her words melted into the kiss as her hand instinctively found its place on your waist, pulling you closer. Vi leaned into you, her presence grounding and electric all at once.

When you pulled back, your gaze locked with hers. “You needed to shut up,” you said softly, a playful giggle escaping your lips.

“Sorry…” Vi smiled, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. Her fingers ran through your hair, her touch lingering as she glanced at your alarm clock and let out a sigh. “I have work.”

You watched her stand, already missing her closeness. “I’ll talk to you later, girlfriend,” you teased, the word sounding strange but perfect coming out of your mouth.

She smirked, stepping toward the door. “Bye, girlfriend,” she teased back, throwing a playful glance over her shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.

You flopped back onto your bed, a goofy, uncontrollable smile plastered across your face as you replayed the moment in your head.

—

You stood in front of your locker, trying to ignore the whispers and glances from people passing by. Over the weekend, your mom had accidentally spilled the news about you dating at her wine club, and it didn’t take long for that tidbit to spread like wildfire. By Monday morning, the entire school was buzzing—not just about you dating Vi, but also about how you left the party on Sevika’s motorcycle only to show up the next day with Vi on your arm while also wearing sevikas jacket, because you were dumb and left the house without a jacket and the only one in the car was sevikas

“Hey…you okay?” Vi’s familiar voice broke through your thoughts as she leaned casually against the locker next to yours, her signature soft smile easing your nerves.

You glanced up, your anxiety softening slightly at the sight of her. “Yeah…” you mumbled, though your tone wasn’t entirely convincing.

Vi tilted her head, her smile turning sympathetic. “I know this isn’t exactly your favorite thing—being the center of attention.” Her hand moved to rub gentle circles on your back, grounding you.

You groaned quietly, shoulders slumping. “It’s not like they’re saying anything bad, I know that. It’s just… the attention. It makes me so nervous.” You wrestled with your algebra textbook, trying to fit it into your already overstuffed bag.

“I get it, babe, and I’m sorry.” Vi’s voice was soothing, her tone filled with genuine empathy.

You shook your head, exhaling as you finally managed to calm yourself enough to fit the book into your bag. “It’s not your fault,” you reassured her, straightening up and giving her a small, grateful smile.

Vi checked her phone, her expression shifting slightly. “Class starts in ten,” she said softly, her voice apologetic. She reached out, squeezing your arm gently before leaning in to kiss your cheek. “I’ll see you after, okay?”

You nod with a smile watching her walk down the hallway

"Nice jacket."

The voice catches you off guard, and your eyes widen as you turn to see Sevika standing nearby. "Sevika!" you exclaim, startled. Your gaze drops to the jacket you're wearing—her jacket—and a flush of embarrassment rises to your face. "Uh… sorry, I accidentally took it on Friday night."

She raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable but enough to make your face heat up even more.

"It was cold," you mumble quickly, flashing her a nervous smile. You shrug it off, fumbling to hand it back to her.

She chuckles, the deep sound making your stomach flip. Instead of taking it, she pushes it back toward you. "Keep it. It looks good on you."

Your cheeks burn even hotter as you slide the jacket back on, catching a glimpse of the smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

You close your locker, looking up at her briefly before glancing at your phone. "I have class..." you mutter, shifting awkwardly on your feet.

Sevika’s gaze flickers to the side before she speaks again. "You free during lunch?" completely ignoring you

Her question makes you pause, caught off guard. You stand there for a moment, processing. 

"Uh… yes," you finally answer, your voice betraying a mix of nerves and excitement.

"Meet me at the café down the road," she says, her tone firm yet slightly tense, as though she's bracing herself.

You hesitate, glancing at her before nodding. “...sure” you smile softly

Sevika’s smirk deepens, and with a nod, she turns and walks away, leaving you rooted in place.

You stare after her, maybe for a little too long, before the sharp ring of the bell snaps you out of your thoughts. Your eyes widen as you glance at the time—had ten minutes already passed?

— 

You stand outside the café, leaning against the wall and fidgeting with your phone. Was this a good idea? You couldn't tell. This wasn’t a date—at least, you didn’t think it was. Sevika wouldn’t pull something like that... right? Letting out a heavy sigh, you try to push the thought away.

“You’re early,” Sevika’s voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts.

You glance up, noticing her approaching. She’s got that same calm confidence as always, but her eyes give you a once-over.

“You’re late,” you quip back, smirking as you push off the wall and slide your phone into your pocket.

Sevika steps past you, grabbing the door handle and pulling it open. She waits off to the side, gesturing for you to go in first.

“Thanks,” you mutter with a small smile, catching sight of a “Help Wanted” sign taped to the window as you walk inside.

She follows close behind, and the two of you make your way to the counter.

“A black coffee,” Sevika orders, her voice steady.

You glance up at the menu, considering your options. “Can I get a cinnamon latte, please?” you say, reaching for your wallet.

Before you can pull out your card, Sevika leans over and taps hers against the reader. The beep confirms the transaction before you even register what happened.

“Did you just pay for me?” you ask, stunned, staring at her like she’s just done something unimaginable.

Sevika shrugs, her expression unreadable.

At the pick-up counter, the silence between you both feels heavy. You shift awkwardly, tapping your fingers against the edge of your cup as you wait.

Finally, you break the quiet. “So… why did you want to talk to me?”

As the barista sets your drinks on the counter, Sevika grabs hers without a word, and the two of you settle into a nearby table.

She takes a sip of her coffee, glancing at you over the rim of the cup. “About… Vi.”

You almost choke on your latte, setting it down hastily to avoid spilling it. “Yeah?” you mutter, wiping your mouth with your sleeve.

“You’re too good for her,” Sevika says bluntly, her fingers tightening around her cup.

“Oh.” Your voice comes out flat as you avoid her gaze, your eyes darting around the café. “What—what do you mean?”

Sevika leans back slightly, her gaze steady. “I knew her in freshman year,” she starts, resting her head on her hand.

“Oh, so we’re doing this now,” you snap, your tone sharper than you intended. You’re appalled that she’d bring this up right when things were finally starting to go well for you and Vi.

Sevika doesn’t flinch. “She’s a bad person.”

“Sevika.” You lean forward, your tone low and defensive. “Why are you even doing this?”

She lets out a sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Because she has everything,” she says, her words clipped.

“What?” Your annoyance gives way to curiosity, though you don’t bother hiding the edge in your voice.

“She has everything,” Sevika repeats, leaning forward. “She grew up in a huge house. Had filling meals every night.” Her voice drops to a whisper.

You can’t help but focus on her, your eyes scanning her features as she continues.

“She’s got money, a future…” Sevika’s gaze locks onto yours, her tone growing softer. “And now, she has you.”

For a moment, you’re silent, guilt creeping into your chest. “Why are you telling me this?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

Sevika glances away, her jaw tightening. “…Because I don’t.” Her voice is barely audible as she adds, “She has you.”

The weight of her words presses down on you. Blinking, you push back your chair and stand abruptly. “I have to go,” you mutter, grabbing your things before she can stop you.

“Wait—” Sevika calls out your name, her voice laced with something you can’t quite place. But you’re already walking out the door, the sound of the bell overhead echoing as you step into the cool air outside.

Taglist:

@vyvvycg

next part

[slaytheday12]

you being a famous actress and walker gets caught saving edits of you

Caught in 4K

Being a famous actress at 16 was equal parts thrilling and exhausting. You loved acting, loved the magic of bringing stories to life, but the constant attention that came with it? That was something you were still getting used to. The interviews, the photoshoots, the premieres it was all a whirlwind.

But what you hadn’t expected was for Walker Scobell yes, the star of the Percy Jackson series and everyone’s favorite funny guy to get caught in the chaos of your fame.

It started innocently enough. You’d met Walker briefly at a comic-con event a few months ago. You were there promoting your latest film, and he was there hyping up his role as Percy. You were both part of a panel featuring young Hollywood stars, and you hit it off almost immediately. Walker’s goofy humor paired with his genuine kindness made him easy to talk to, and by the end of the day, you’d exchanged numbers.

Since then, you’d kept in casual contact—mostly lighthearted texts and the occasional comment on each other’s Instagram posts. You liked him. Maybe more than you were willing to admit. But with both of your schedules, it was hard to imagine anything more than a friendship.

That was, until one fateful Saturday afternoon when Walker decided to go live on Instagram.

You weren’t watching at first. You were curled up on your couch, scrolling through TikTok and eating a bowl of cereal. But then your phone buzzed with notifications. And kept buzzing.

The texts from your friends were frantic:

Erick: OMG ARE YOU SEEING THIS? Lydia: HAHAHAHAHA THIS IS ICONIC. CHECK TWITTER.

Confused, you opened Twitter and immediately saw your name trending. Clicking the hashtag, you were greeted with a flood of screenshots and screen recordings. Apparently, during Walker’s livestream, he’d been scrolling through his tabs, trying to show his fans a funny meme. But instead of a meme, he’d accidentally revealed his camera roll.

And there, for all the world to see, were saved edits of you. The internet had exploded.

“WALKER SCOBELL SAVING Y/N EDITS??? I’M SCREAMING.” “Not him being just like us 🥹😭.” “We lost him.”

You couldn’t stop laughing as you scrolled through the memes and reactions. It was embarrassing for him, sure, but also kind of… sweet? He’d always been one of your biggest supporters, hyping you up in interviews and talking about how talented you were. But saving edits? That was next-level fan behavior.

Your phone buzzed again. A text from Walker.

Walker: So… uh… about my camera roll. You: Oh, you mean the part where the entire internet found out you’re my biggest fan? Yeah, I saw it. 😂 Walker: In my defense, those edits were really well-done. You: Sure, sure. It had nothing to do with me being in them, right? 😉 Walker: …Okay, fine. Maybe I think you’re cool. And talented. And pretty.

Your heart skipped a beat. You tried to play it cool, though.

You: Walker Scobell, are you flirting with me? Walker: Is it working? You: …Maybe.

The conversation continued, playful and teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something real beneath the banter.

Later that night, Walker posted a follow-up story on Instagram, addressing the incident.

“So, yeah, I got caught saving edits of Y/N. And, honestly? I regret nothing. She’s awesome, okay? If you were me, wouldn’t you save those edits too?”

The fans went wild. The comments were full of people shipping you two, demanding you date, and creating even more edits.

What the fans didn’t know was that Walker had texted you again after his post.

Walker: So… dinner sometime? You: Only if you promise to make your own edits of me next time. Walker: Deal.

What started as an embarrassing moment turned into something far more exciting. Maybe the internet had caught Walker in 4K, but for once, you were glad they did.

A/N: HI

Tags: @izzystylinson, @sophand4n4, @kaiwrites092

[neerons]

Some of Yves Kloss’ best quotes

"He caaaaaaaaame! " (—Yves screaming about Clavis)

"You're the most common commoner I've ever seen. You have no redeeming features to speak of. Why should I accept someone like that?"

"Choosing me shows how sophisticated you are. You won't regret it." (—Yves' changing route quote)

"Y-You call that a CAKE...?" (—Yves reacting to Clavis' gift)

"If this shameless behavior goes on any longer, you’ll find out what happens if you test my patience. I suggest that you don’t." (—Yves defending Emma in front of a noblewoman that bullied her)

"ExCUSE me? What on earth are you doing hiding in my closet?!"

"Excuse me? And why not?! I’m going to tell everyone, so we can figure out how best to punish her for what she did to you! (…) Huh?! Hey, no, you’ve got it all wrong! This isn’t kindness! I just know I’d end up with the worst stomachache if something happened to you because of me!" (—Yves defending Emma)

"Why should you have to be the one to carry such a heavy burden? This is a problem between two nations. It’s not the sort of thing a simple, kind-hearted woman like yourself needs to get involved in."

"…Emma really is amazing. I could never do anything like that. I always wanted to be a bridge that could bring Obsidian and Rhodolite together… But I was despised just for being half-Obsidianite, and I accepted it all, like it was completely normal. I never did a single thing to actually improve the relationship between our countries. I didn’t even think I could. It takes courage and resolve to approach someone when you’re completely at odds with them. It’s not easy, not in the slightest. I bet it’s left Emma in tears countless times. But even so, she’s still here now, holding her head high and taking that first step towards peace. She really is… amazing. (…) She’s so beautiful it’s dazzling. (…) I’ve spent my whole life with my head down, seeing nothing but the ground at my feet. I really need to change—I need to learn from her example." (—Yves talking about Emma to Leon)

"Fhwhwh...?! Oh my god. How is my little brother this adorable?!" (—Yves talking about Licht)

"Know this: Yves Kloss loves you, and he's always thinking about you. There's not a day you're not in his thoughts."

"You do realize you're pretty, no matter what?"

"For the record? Each time you make me happy, I swear I'll make you even happier."

"H-Hey... Have you really not noticed that I, Yves Kloss, am waiting for the right moment to talk with you?"

"U-Um, Emma... Don't tell me you're... with both of them...?" (—Yves talking about Emma holding Gilbert's and Clavis' hands)

"Just the thought of being tossed into a den full of women sends a shiver up my spine..."

"Did you just say... LOVE?!" (—Yves to Licht and Leon)

"I guess you captivated me. You were always striving to be perfect, and... that's the Emma I fell in love with."

"Y-You think you can just be all cute and get away with it, huh?"

"Please don't cry, Emma. When you cry... my heart aches so badly I don't know what to do."

"I'm not a prince to be pitied. It doesn't matter if no one accepts me. The only one I need acceptance from is me. (...) It doesn't matter what other people say. What's the point, if you can't trust yourself, and believe in your own worth? Even if they trample you under their filthy, worn boots—so long as you hold your head high and believe in yourself, it'll only make you stronger."

"Okay, which of you gave Licht wine?! How many times have I told you not to?!"

"There are so many people in the world who hate me. But... I hate me more than any of them."

"Aww, Licht, don't be so down. Failure is an unavoidable part of cooking!" (—Yves reassuring a sulking Licht)

"I'm never making dessert for any of you ever again!! You're all horrible and you can eat dirt for all I care!"

"I am NOT a cat!!!"

"...I know that kindness of yours is probably a virtue, but I can't help worrying that you're going to kindness yourself to death one day."

"What? No! I didn't meow. Why on earth would I meow?!"

"You're my goddess of happiness. I... thank you for coming, Emma."

"He's such a brazen fool! Not a principled bone in his body, and he's incorrigible to boot!" (—Yves talking about Nokto)

"Listen, you didn't hear this from me, but... Licht made almost five hundred attempts before he baked an edible batch of cookies. (...) That boy really loves you a lot. So much that it gives me heartburn just thinking about it."

"I often get told that I don't have luck. But when I talk to you, I feel like my life isn't all that bad."

"I hope she comes soo... WAHH! W-Warn me when you come!"

[leftoverghosts]

✩ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ · won't forget my name, not today (part one)

will you cast me to the wayside? · · ─── · boyfriend!pat x girlfriend!user x pining!art

Art has been secretly in love with you since last summer, and Patrick decides now’s the time to fix that. He drags you to Art’s guest room, revealing Art’s obsession with you through a Polaroid photo. What starts as a playful moment quickly escalates when Patrick challenges you to push your boundaries, leaving you questioning how far you’re willing to go to keep him happy.

i lose control when you're not next to me · · ─── · divorced!art x f!theonewhogotaway!user

A chance reunion with Art in your hometown grocery store sparks a new connection, leading you both to question what might have been. After years apart, tentative smiles and an old promise resurface, as you and Art realize the possibility of more than just friendship. With the weight of past regrets and the pull of unfinished business, you wonder if fate has brought you back together for a second chance at love. (you are going to have to tell art your hometown, i left that open.)

my dream maker, heartbreaker · · ─── · atlanta!art x exgirlfriend!user

You supported Tashi and Art through many key moments, but missed the shift in their relationship when your best friend got hurt. Years later, you learn that Art and Tashi are engaged. When you cross paths, Art’s regret is clear, but his bitterness surfaces when he sees her with Patrick over your shoulder. (i needed angst!!)

breakin' my heart, you make a mess of me · · ─── · nepohobo!patrick x babymama!user

You're successful and proud of your life as a mother and a self-made woman, but Patrick, your ex, still clings to his unfulfilled tennis dreams. As the reality of your past choices hits, you can’t help but feel frustrated by the only failure on your record—letting him into your life at all.

moon river, wider than a mile, crossin' in style · · ─── · rookietennisplayer!pat x gn!succubus!user

Patrick Zweig accidentally summons a succubus while playing with a Ouija board, hoping for a laugh. To his shock, the demon appears, offering him a taste of the extraordinary and a night full of temptation and danger. Pat’s disbelief quickly turns to intrigue as he faces the unexpected consequences of his curiosity. (succubus bot, but pat's version!)

cradle me so i can see if i'm doomed · · ─── · stanfordtennisplayer!rafe x f!tennisplayer!user

Rafe is captivated by strength, precision, and confidence in women, qualities he sees in you. He becomes deeply protective, drawn to your drive and the way you embody his ideals. His love for you grows all-consuming, his thoughts constantly on how to shield you from harm, wanting nothing more than to be the one who keeps you safe and close. (heavily inspired by season one, episode two of euphoria, as i tweaked the speech about nate to fit tennis!rafe.)

i lost my mind, i don't mind · · ─── · stanfordtennisplayer!rafe x f!tennisplayer!user

You hadn't wanted to come to the frat party, but like most things Rafe wants, he gets. Caught up in the heat of the moment, you find yourselves dancing in the middle of the crowd. With his jealousy bubbling to the surface, Rafe warns you about the men staring, claiming they want you. Eventually, he pulls you away to the bathroom, the tension between you both growing with each step.

i hit 200 followers on c.ai, so here's another bot drop! this is part one and mostly canon-esque in story. as always, let me know what you think. xoxo. alternate universe bots will be posted tomorrow, along with the second part of obsessed!crownprince art.🍀💚

[asgardianechoes]

Cramps Be Gone

Loki X Reader Fluff

Summary: You’re on your period, you’re frustrated, and Loki’s there to help you.

A/n: I got this idea on day one of my period, so… here we are.

The day could’ve been much more cheerful. You and Loki originally planned to go out today. Instead, you were curled up in your bed, groaning every other minute. Why? Because a very unwanted guest showed up at your door this morning. Guess who? None other than your monthly bleed-out session, aka period.

You were lying in your bed with the unhappy knowledge that this will not end anytime soon. Waves upon waves of stab-like pains shot through your lower abdomen, making you groan and press down on that spot. You were tired. So damn tired of it. You were looking forward to this date, but now it’s ruined. You were originally thinking about taking painkillers, but Loki absolutely disagreed.

‘Painkillers,’ he said strictly, ‘are merely something Midgardians came up with to gain more money. They do not help conquer it; it only allows them to forget about it. If you use such things, y/n, believe me, you will behave carelessly and only worsen it and wish me to get you more. Therefore, no, you will not be using such trashy Midgardian medicine. It isn’t even medicine, in my eyes.’ He added, pulling a face.

Loki was there for you, of course. He was always there to help you with your needs, he even let you have breakfast in bed (something he doesn’t usually allow. ‘You’ll dirty everything,’ he used to say in a tone of finality). But he wasn’t there for the most part. He has work to do, you know this, but you still wished he could give it all up and just stay with you. Flipping over under your blankets, you resumed cursing your life.

I’m lonely, you thought sadly, your head under your blankets. You wished your period showed up just one day later. You and Loki have been dating for nearly a month now, it was clear to you that your time of the month was going to hit anytime. But why on this day? On the one day you don’t want it?

You were, not gonna lie, very frustrated. And angry. In need of something (or someone) to rage to, you started blaming your boyfriend for your pain. What was possibly so important that he had to leave you? Couldn’t he leave it till your bleeding days were over? Why? That word seemed to exist in every single thought you had flowing in your head. Why?

On day three it was going terrifying. It was hurting so much you couldn’t even bring yourself to sit upright in your bed. You prayed it would be over, but apparently your prayers were ignored. Oh, how you’d like this shit to finally just end. Loki had to feed you breakfast, it was so painful. He even teased you. Like, is this guy for real? (‘I mean, I could make it go away for nine months…’ he had said while smirking. You slapped his hand, scrunching up your face.) But after that he just pressed a kiss to your forehead and walked out. Sometimes you regret dating this guy.

It was nearly noon when he came back. Your aches soothed a little, but were almost just the same as before. He sat down at the edge of your bed, brushing a strand of your hair out of your face.

‘Oh, now you decide to show up,’ you groaned, ‘now that I’m literally dying in my bed. How was work?’ you put emphasis on the word ‘work’ as you knew he must feel at least slightly guilty about leaving you hanging. He opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and said: ‘Well, about that…’ He looked at you with a pleading look, as if wishing for you not to get angry for what he was going to say. You narrowed your eyes, staring back with a suspicious look.

‘What?’ you asked, your breathing kind of shallow due to the pain throbbing in your lower abdomen. ‘What wonderful surprise have you prepared for me?’ Loki sighed, as if preparing himself for a scolding, and said: ‘I have not been working. Or at least, I wasn’t doing Avengers’ work.’

You bolted upright, causing a stab of pain to shoot through your body. His hand instinctively rose to hold your back and lead you back down. ‘What?! So you’re telling me that you weren’t even doing important shit while I was mentally and physically dying?! What-‘ he put a finger to your lips to shush you. ‘Let me finish,’ he said gently. You reluctantly laid back down, staring at him with accusatory eyes.

‘I have been working, darling. For the past few days I have been digging through my books to find a safe and healthy painkiller for you. You see, Asgardians value health over money, and we have much safer medicines than those on Midgard.’ He says, brushing his hand over your hurting part over your blanket. Heavens, he looked hot when he looked at you with these loving eyes.

Even after listening to his explanation, you still wanted to blame him. Keeping that annoyed look on your face, you whined at him: ‘Well… that’s very… nice of you. But- you should’ve told me beforehand! I thought you were being careless and didn’t give a shit about me! I was so upset.’ Loki looked at you knowingly before answering: ‘Honey, if I told you, you would’ve distracted me with your rushes and caused me to slow down my pace.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘After you’ve recovered, darling.’ He replied, smirking. You rolled your eyes, your cheeks reddening. This man knows exactly how to get to you, you can give him that.

With a swift move, he slipped your blanket off. You shivered slightly at the sudden chill, but Loki reassured you that it wasn’t going to take long. Softly, he brushed his hand over your abdomen, and you felt a warmth surge through where he touched. Soon, you could feel the pain leaving you, finally giving you peace. You sighed, relieved that it was all finally over. You laid back down, closing your eyes and drinking in the fact that Loki was your lover.

‘Be careful,’ he warned as you beamed at him, ‘you may stain easier, now that you don’t feel it.’ You didn’t even wait for him to finish before half-singing: ‘Yeah, yeah, I know-‘ you were suddenly so happy that your period said bye-bye, you thought Loki might’ve given you a cheer-up spell or something.

Eager, you tried to get out of bed, but only got shoved back in. You pouted up at him, staring into his blue eyes. ‘Just because you don’t feel it does not mean it is no longer there. Stay in bed.’ He said.

You hmphed at him, burrowing back into the sheets to sulk. Loki smiles. What a girl he had found.

HELLO! Hope you enjoyed it :D My posting is still kinda limited, thank you for your patience

Taglist: @simplyholl @mischiefmaker615 @vbecker10 @kathren1sky-blog

Tell me if you want to be in my taglist!!

Feel free to comment lol

[bellamoooon]

Shitty draft <333

I love my queen tashi but I need her to be a villain for this teehee

Arts grandma loved his long blonde curls, and would point it out every time they talked.

“Have you cut your hair short Artie? You know how much I love those curls of yours”

And if he was completely honest, he actually didn’t hate his long hair, in fact, most girls he would talk to would always say how much they loved his hair.

Especially you, he loved that you adored his hair; how you’d runs your fingers through his thick blonde curls or how occasionally you would braid some strands when cuddling and talking.

But that all took a turn, when he got with Tashi —who by the way did not like his long hair— he immediately chopped it down to a short length but not too short.

She always said his hair would get sweaty, making it annoying during matches, plus she said he look like a little kid with his curls, leading to the decision.

So now in the present, Art and Tashi were in the middle of a divorce, but he still had to attend the foundation’s events, so imagine his surprise as he sat next to you uncomfortably in silence.

”you cut your hair….” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth as you recognized him then going silent.

“Yeah— it was annoying to wash after the matches so…” he spoke with a bit of hesitation as the question popped into his head, what did you think about it? He couldn’t quite read your expression.

“It’s— it looks…nice” you say looking down at your hands, swallowing thickly not really knowing what else to say, not that you didn’t like it, but, he looked so different— sure it had been a good ten years since you last saw him, and you could see him age slightly but his face didn’t change.

He was the same Art, your Art.

“Tashi made me cut it” he blurted out after a couple of minutes of awkward silence, “she said it made me look like a kid” he had no idea why he was telling all that, it’s not like she cared anymore, or did she?

You let out a laugh, a hand covering your mouth as you tried to muffle the noise, Art furrowed his brows as he turned to look at you. “I’m sorry— it’s just that I couldn’t have imagined a single person who hated your long hair” you spoke almost unable to believe that Tashi did not like his curls.

“Yeah well— I kinda regret cutting it, I think I’ll let it grow back, y’know retirement and…the divorce” he slowed his pace as he mentioned the divorce, it really sucked to be him right now, he thought.

“That’s good, you always did look better with your long hair, I didn’t want to be a bitch in case it was your choice” you said as you pointed at his hair with a playful grin.

Right there. There it was.

Art wanted to die on the spot, how the hell did he manage to ever get with you, AND leave you for his teenage fantasy with Tashi.

Deep down he knew things between the two of you would never be like it was before, but a small part of him wanted to convince himself just for the night, that maybe, just maybe, the two of you could actually start over.

“Art, they need you for pictures” Tashi’s voice brought him back, he nodded softly muttering “be right there” as she turned away not even caring, you looked at Tashi walking away to then turn to Art, who had the expression of a kicked puppy with his tail between its legs.

“I’d hate to be you” you joked with a hint of tenderness you always carried when talking to him, “I’ll see you…around, hopefully.”

His heart dropped at the words, you had a longing look as you waved goodbye while walking away, he definitely hated being him right now.

I kinda hate this 😩💀

[midnightfict]

Back in Our Days. Pt. 2

— 𓆩𓆪 —

𓆩 Lee Byung-Hun x F!reader 𓆪

Summary — When two, now estranged friends get caught in an unexpected encounter which triggers a feeling one thought was lost.

A/N — when I made pt. 1, I didn't think anyone would want a continuation, but here you go lol. @audiiix @sylviavf @foulbreadpaenut

read pt. 1 here

— 𓆩𓆪 —

You ran down the narrow streets, your breath visible in the cool air, clutching your coat tightly against the rain. The faint neon lights of the arcade flickered behind you as you sped towards the crosswalk, the same place where you had seen him days ago. The drizzle had picked up, soaking through your hair and clothes, but you didn’t care.

As you reached the crosswalk, you came to a halt, glancing at your watch. It was almost the same time as before. The thought struck you—what were the chances? Why would he even be here again? You didn’t know if this was a route he walked regularly or just a coincidence that day.

"Stupid," you muttered under your breath, shivering. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. A small part of you, fragile but stubborn, clung to hope.

The rain grew heavier, each drop pounding against the pavement, and soon you were drenched. As you stood there, tears blurred your vision, mixing with the rain. “Please,” you whispered into the storm. “If I find him again, I swear… I won’t leave him. I won’t break any promises. I’ll always stay by his side.”

The words came out in fragments, carried by sobs you couldn’t suppress. You had been so young back then, too naive to understand what love really was. Even while you were abroad, it hadn’t clicked that the empty ache in your chest was because you loved him. You thought that maybe you were just homesick or missing a close friend. But now, with all the distance, silence, and regret, you knew. You had always loved him.

The minutes dragged into hours. Your fingers were numb, your body trembling from the cold. Maybe this was pointless. Maybe you’d missed your chance for good. Defeated, you turned to leave, your soaked shoes splashing through puddles as you stepped onto the crosswalk.

And then, suddenly, the rain stopped hitting you.

You froze, feeling a shadow cast over you. Slowly, you turned your head, and there he was. Byung-hun. Standing beside you, holding an umbrella over your head, his face a mixture of sadness and something unreadable. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to speak but hesitated. His eyes, those familiar expressive eyes were glistening, as though tears threatened to spill.

“You’ll get sick,” he finally said, quiet but firm. “C’mon, I'll take you home.”

For a moment, you couldn’t move, too stunned by the sight of him. But then, you nodded, allowing him to guide you away from the crosswalk.

The two of you walked silently for several minutes, rain muffled by the umbrella above. You clung to your coat, your mind a storm of emotions. But when you glanced at him, his expression was enough to shatter your composure.

“Byung-hun,” you said, your voice trembling.

He turned to you, confused, but before he could ask what was wrong, you broke down. Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to form the words.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve told you I was leaving. I should’ve thought about how you felt, but I didn’t. I thought that if I told you last minute, you wouldn’t have time to get mad at me, but… I was selfish. I was wrong.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself, but the words kept pouring out. “You must hate me now, and I don’t blame you. I’d hate me too.”

For a moment, he said nothing, and the silence was deafening. You braced yourself for his anger, his disappointment—anything but the warmth you felt when he suddenly wrapped his arms around you.

“I could never hate you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Not even one little bit.”

Byung-hun pulled back slightly, his arms holding you close as he looked deeply into your eyes. His gaze softened, and with a tenderness that made your heart ache, he raised a hand to gently caress your face. His thumb brushed away a stray tear from your cheek, his touch warm against your cold skin.

You let out a small chuckle, though it came out shaky, your tears betraying the happiness behind it. But despite everything, you were smiling. A smile so bright and full of life, the same one you used to give him years ago. The one he thought he’d never see again.

And then he smiled back. A real, unguarded smile that felt like it carried the weight of all the time you’d spent apart. Your joy spread, melting the distance that had once separated you both.

“I’m sorry too,” he said softly, his voice laced with regret. “For overreacting when you left. I… I was hurt, but I should’ve listened to you instead of shutting you out. For years, I’ve thought about that moment, wishing I could go back and undo it all. Wishing I could’ve been better for you.”

His words made your chest tighten, but it wasn’t pain this time. It was something deeper, something more hopeful.

Byung-hun’s eyes flickered down to your lips, lingering for a brief moment before darting back to meet yours. You saw the hesitation, the vulnerability in his expression, and it made your heart race.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid of breaking the moment.

Your breath hitched, and the question caught you off guard. Your cheeks burned, and you instinctively averted your gaze, too embarrassed to meet his. But after a second, you gave a small nod—so slight it might have gone unnoticed if he wasn’t paying attention.

But he was.

His hand cupped your cheek as he leaned in slowly, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the remaining distance between you, letting the world blur around you.

His lips met yours, soft and warm against the cold rain-soaked air. It was hesitant at first as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have this moment. But as you melted into him, his grip on you tightened ever so slightly, the kiss deepening into something more certain, more real.

It was everything unspoken. Years of longing, regret, and love poured into a single moment. The rain still fell around you, the umbrella slightly tilting as neither seemed to care. All that mattered was him, you, and the connection that had always been there, waiting for this very moment.

When the kiss ended, you both lingered close, foreheads gently touching as you tried to catch your breath. Byung-hun let out a small laugh, low and disbelieving, he couldn’t believe this was real.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his voice warm and affectionate, though there was still concern in his eyes.

You laughed softly, your lips still tingling from the kiss. “Guess that’s what I get for standing in the rain waiting for you.”

He smiled again, shaking his head slightly. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re late,” you teased, earning another laugh from him.

Byung-hun stepped back just enough to adjust the umbrella over both of you, his hand slipping into yours as he pulled you closer. “Let’s get you home,” he said, his tone gentle but firm.

This time, as you walked together, the silence wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was filled with warmth, with everything you didn’t need to say because the connection between you had already spoken for itself.

[morningsharksworld]

Just confess already!!!

Hazard x Hopeless Romantic! Reader

A/N: This was going to be an oc x cannon fic but tbh I know some people feel like this for others and went WHY NOT

Summary: JUST TELL HIM ALREADY

You were nursing a cup of coffee at the dimly lit bar the Phreaks called their second home. The music was low, a rare lull in the usual chaos that followed the gang. Across the room, Hazard was playing darts, his sharp eyes focused on the target. Every so often, he’d crack a joke or smirk at something Boomslang said, his laugh echoing in the space.

You couldn’t stop staring, your heart doing that stupid fluttering thing it always did when he was near. But no matter how much you felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?”

The sudden voice beside you made you jump, nearly spilling your coffee. You turned to see Boomslang leaning against the bar, her ever-present smirk firmly in place.

“Excuse me?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t play dumb” she said, gesturing toward Hazard with his drink. “You’ve been making goo-goo eyes at him for months. Hell, maybe even years. When are you gonna grow a spine and tell him?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Not you too.”

“Oh, definitely me” she said, sliding into the stool next to you. “And you’re lucky, ‘cause I’m the nicest one in this group. If Susie were here, she’d—”

“If Susie were here, she’d what?”

You flinched as Susie appeared out of nowhere, her boots clunking against the floor as she crossed her arms and gave you a pointed look. “Don’t stop on my account, Boom. Go ahead, finish the thought.”

Boomslang grinned. “She’d give you hell, obviously. Right, Susie?”

You felt Susie rolled her nonexistent eyes and turned her attention to you. “Look, we’re not trying to be jerks. But seriously, what’s stopping you? Hazard isn’t a mind reader.”

“He doesn’t need to be” you muttered, staring into your coffee. “It’s obvious he’s not interested.”

Susie snorted. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how many times he’s asked me if you’re okay when you’re not around? Or how often he gets distracted during missions ‘cause he’s worried about you?”

Boomslang chimed in, “Not to mention the fact that he’s actually tolerable when you’re around. That’s a miracle all on its own.”

You frowned, your heart pounding. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?” Susie leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a serious tone. “Listen, I’ve been around enough people to know when someone’s holding back. Hazard’s got his issues, sure, but he cares about you. Probably more than he even realizes. You just have to give him a reason to admit it.”

You shook your head, your stomach twisting. “It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing worth having ever is” Boomslang said, clinking her glass against yours. “But you’re running out of time, sweetheart. Guys like Hazard don’t stick around forever.”

Susie nodded, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “I’m not saying he’s gonna disappear tomorrow, but life happens fast in our world. If you wait too long, you might lose your chance. And trust me, regret’s a bitch.”

You glanced back at Hazard. He was laughing now, leaning against the dartboard as another member of the crew tried (and failed) to beat his score. He looked so carefree in that moment, so alive.

“I don’t even know how I��d do it” you admitted quietly.

Boomslang grinned. “That’s the easy part. You walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, Hazard, I’m into you.’ Boom. Done.”

Susie smacked her arm. “Ignore her. Just… be honest. Tell him how you feel, no games, no excuses. If he feels the same, great. If he doesn’t… well, at least you’ll know, right?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of their words settling over you. They were right—you’d been holding back out of fear, but that fear wasn’t going to disappear on its own. If you didn’t take the risk, you’d never know what could have been.

“I’ll think about it” you said, your voice shaky but determined.

Boomslang raised her glass in a mock toast. “That’s all we’re asking for. Just don’t take too long, yeah?”

Susie hummed. “And if you chicken out, don’t worry—we’ll happily push you in his direction.”

You groaned, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks… I think.”

As they walked away, you took a deep breath, your eyes drifting back to Hazard. The fear was still there, but so was something else—hope.

Maybe, just maybe, it was time to take the leap.

The noise from the bar faded as you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air wrapping around you like a welcome reprieve. You sighed, leaning on the railing, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. This was the only quiet spot, far from the crowd—perfect for what you were about to do.

You pulled your jacket tighter around you, gathering the courage once more. You couldn’t keep pushing it aside—tonight had to be the night. You were tired of hiding your feelings, of pretending you didn’t care. Hazard deserved to know, no matter what came next.

Just as you were about to speak, the door creaked open behind you. You turned to see Hazard stepping out onto the balcony, his eyes scanning the space for a moment before settling on you.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked, his tone casual but curious.

You shrugged, playing with the hem of your sleeve. “Needed some air. A lot of things have been… on my mind.”

Hazard’s brow furrowed slightly as he approached, his usual cool expression softening. “Ye a’right?”

You hesitated for a second, then let out a nervous laugh. “No, actually. I’ve been kinda of a mess.”

Hazard stepped closer, now standing beside you, his presence quiet but steady. “A mess? What’s got you in such a state?”

You sighed, turning to face him fully. “Look, I didn’t come out here to waste time. I needed to say something.”

Hazard’s sharp gaze sharpened. “Aye? What’s on your mind, then?”

You took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of courage you had left. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a while. And I can’t keep pretending anymore… I like you, Hazard. I like you more than I should...”

His lips twitched into a subtle smirk, and you could tell he wasn’t surprised—but it still made your nerves tangle. “Oh?” he murmured, his voice soft but with that familiar teasing edge.

“Yes” you continued, feeling more confident now that the words were out. “And… I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t mean anything anymore. I care about you, more than I should.”

Hazard’s smirk grew, but it wasn’t mocking—more like… intrigued. “You’ve been carryin’ this for a while, haven’t you?”

You nodded, unable to hide the blush rising in your cheeks. “Yes. And I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I—”

Before you could say more, Hazard took a step forward, closing the small distance between you. His expression softened, his gaze steady. “You should’ve told me sooner, then.”

Your breath hitched. “I was scared. What if I messed things up? or worse, what if you didn’t like me at all?”

Hazard chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re braver than most I’ve met, Ach, I've seen ye punch guys twice yer size Luv. But ye don’t need to worry ‘bout that.”

You frowned slightly, confused. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before locking eyes with you again. “I’ve known for a while now… I’ve been feelin’ the same.”

Your heart skipped, the weight of his words settling in. “What?”

Hazard gave you a small, amused smirk. “Aye, I’ve been feelin’ the same way ‘bout ye.”

For a moment, you were speechless. Your mind couldn’t process it.

“…You like me?” you whispered, disbelief washing over you.

“Aye” Hazard replied, his expression serious now, but with that familiar quiet confidence. “Just didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

You blinked, your mind reeling. You couldn’t believe it—he’d felt the same for so long, and yet, he’d never said a word. And now, here you were, finally hearing it from him, your face completely flushed.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in disbelief. “Do you have any idea the amount of nights I’ve stayed up thinking about you!? I mean I must look like a damn dog waiting for y—”

But before you could finish, Hazard stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. He leaned in, cutting you off mid-rant with a soft, kiss on the lips—firm but tender, grounding and real.

Your eyes widened in surprise, but your breath caught in your throat, melting into the kiss. It was unlike anything you’d imagined—something more, something you hadn’t realized you needed.

He pulled back just slightly, his Scottish accent thick and warm as he murmured, “Now, does that feel like ruinin’ anythin’ to ye?”

You blinked, your heart fluttering wildly. No—this felt right. More than right. And you couldn’t help but smile, your hands gripping the edge of his jacket slightly.

“No… it doesn’t” you whispered, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest.

Hazard smirked again, leaning in just enough so his breath brushed against your ear. “Good. ‘Cause you’ve got me now, and I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

You felt a rush of relief—of certainty—that this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. This was real.

And finally, you let yourself believe it.

[kultklassickiller]

Prada You Chapter 17

Summary:

In the summer of 1998, sparks fly between Nyeya and Jey.

Nyeya is an 18-year-old around the way girl. Jey is older, paid, and fine. He is also the leader of the infamous Prada Bois alongside his twin brother Jimmy.  The two have chemistry. However, Nyeya has plans outside of her attraction. With a birthday around the corner and dreams of living a good life, Nyeya sets her sights on enjoying the perks of Jey's money and hood celebrity.

But baby girl has no clue what it takes to really be down. Nyeya is about to learn some hard life lessons at the expense of her 'Prada' priced dreams.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya (Nye) Green (OC)

Author’s Note: This story is happening in an alternative universe. It features the current and original Bloodline members along with other WWE stars. So, the characters are themselves, but some things are switched around for the stories sake. This was originally written with all original characters, but I think it could work better this way. Hope you guys enjoy it and I actually finish it...

Warning: Please be advised that this chapter contains underage drinking, age gap relationships.

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Chapter 17: Heavy

The room felt smaller, as if the argument had sucked all the air out of it. I leaned against the wall, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, while Jey paced the floor like a caged animal. His breaths were heavy, his movements restless.

“I’m sorry, Nyeya,” he said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was quieter now, no longer edged with anger but laced with something deeper—regret perhaps. “I didn’t mean for it to go like that. I just… I can’t stand the thought of someone trying to come between us. You know how I feel about you. You know how deep this shit is.”

I stayed silent, my heart still pounding from the intensity of it all. My thoughts raced, caught between wanting to believe him and knowing this wasn’t the first time he’d apologized like this. “Jey, you can’t keep doing this. It’s too much. I don’t… I don’t know how long I can keep dealing with you popping off on me.”

He stopped pacing, turning to face me. The hardness in his expression softened, and he closed the distance between us. “I know I messed up,” he admitted, his voice raw. “But you’re everything to me, Nye. I swear I’ll do better. Just… don’t walk away from me. Not tonight.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken promises. I wanted to push back, to tell him words weren’t enough anymore, but the look in his eyes stopped me. Vulnerability wasn’t something Jey wore often, and seeing it now made it harder to hold onto my anger.

“You always say that. You always do this,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

“And I mean it this time,” he said quickly, his hand brushing against mine. His touch was light, hesitant, as if he was afraid I’d pull away. “Stay with me tonight. We’ll figure it out in the morning. Please, baby.”

I hesitated, the logical part of me screaming to leave, to go home and put space between us. But the vulnerability in his voice and the way he looked at me pulled at something deeper. Against my better judgment, I nodded. “Alright. I’ll stay.”

---

As we left the room, the heavy tension started to lift, though it didn’t disappear completely. My eyes scanned the crowded living room, spotting Kiyah near the kitchen with Jacob still close by her side. Natasha was laughing with Tama and Tonga, while Nataya and Jimmy were tucked into a quiet corner, her hand resting on his knee as they whispered to each other.

I hesitated, but Jey gave me a reassuring nod before stepping away to talk to Sami near the backyard.

Kiyah was the first to notice me approaching, her eyes narrowing with concern. “You okay, Nye? You look…” she paused, glancing behind me as if searching for Jey. “What happened?”

I shrugged, not trusting my voice to sound steady. “I’m fine. We just needed to talk some things out. It’s all good now.”

Natasha joined us, her brow furrowed. “Talk about what? We saw how he dragged you outta here. What’s going on, Nye? He trippin’ again?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, forcing a small smile. “Everything’s fine now. Really. I’m… I’m gonna stay with him tonight."

Kiyah’s expression turned skeptical. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Nataya, who had finally made her way over, looked between me and Jey from afar. “Girl, we’ll cover for you if your mama asks, but you need to make sure you’re good. I mean, really good. If you’re not sure, come home with us.”

I appreciated their concern, but I could feel Jey’s eyes on me from across the room, his posture relaxed yet watchful. “I’m sure,” I said, louder this time. “He’s… he’s trying, y’all. I just need to give him a chance. We’ll work things out.”

Kiyah’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. “Alright. But you call us if anything goes left. Promise me, Nye.”

“Promise,” I said, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt.

Satisfied, the girls let it go, but the worry in their eyes stayed with me as I walked back to Jey. He stood near the back door, leaning against the frame with his hands in his pockets. His gaze softened when I approached.

“Everything good?” he asked, his tone low and calm.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Let’s go.”

---

The ride to Jey’s house was quiet, the city streets bathed in the glow of streetlights. I stared out the window, my thoughts tangled. Jey’s hand rested on the gear shift, his fingers tapping rhythmically, a small but noticeable sign of his lingering tension.

“I’ll get you home early,” he said, breaking the silence. “Before anyone notices you missing. You said mama don’t trip right if she think you with Kiyah.”

I nodded, my gaze still fixed on the passing buildings. The lies he had me telling sat uncomfortably in my chest, but I didn’t argue.

---

Morning light spilled through the blinds of Jey’s bedroom, casting soft shadows across the walls. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the distant hum of traffic outside. I woke to the weight of his arm draped over my waist, his body warm against mine. For a moment, I lay there, replaying the events of the night before. The fight. The apology. The lingering doubt that refused to leave.

Jey stirred beside me, his grip tightening slightly before he opened his eyes. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” I replied, shifting to sit up.

He propped himself up on one elbow, watching me. “About last night… I meant what I said. I’m sorry. I know I need to do better. I don’t want to lose you.”

I looked down at my hands, tracing invisible patterns on the blanket. “Jey, you can’t keep saying that and then doing the same thing over and over. I… I need things to change.”

“And they will,” he said firmly, sitting up fully now. “Tonight, at the park if you come, it’s just gonna be good vibes. No drama. No fights. Just us having a good time. I promise, Nye. Let me make it up to you.”

I wanted to believe him. The sincerity in his voice made it hard to hold onto my doubts. “Alright,” I said finally, my voice barely audible. “I’ll come.”

His face softened into a smile, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “That’s my girl.”

---

By the time Jey dropped me off at home, the morning was quiet, the street bathed in soft sunlight. He pulled the car to a stop in front of my house and turned to face me.

“I’ll see you around four. I got some business to handle before I get there,” he said, his tone lighter now. “Wear something cute for me. You know how I like it.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto my face. “Cool. I’ll see you later.”

He leaned in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was soft but lingering, his hand lightly brushing my cheek. When he pulled back, his grin was back in place. “Later, baby.”

I stepped out of the car, closing the door behind me. As he drove off, I stood there for a moment, the smile fading from my face. The warmth of his kiss lingered, but so did the knot in my stomach. Was I making the right choice? I shook my head, pushing the thought aside as I headed inside. For now, I’d let myself hope that today would be different.

---

The midday sun beamed down as I stepped out of the house, my swimsuit covered by a loose, sheer wrap. Natasha and Nataya were already waiting by the car, chattering excitedly about the park party. Kiyah walked up behind me, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "You good?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Yeah, I’m good," I replied, though my stomach twisted with unease.

We piled into the car Jimmy let Nataya borrow, the twins up front with Natasha driving. She was the best driver out of us. The ride to the park was filled with chatter and laughter, the excitement contagious despite my own lingering doubts. I stared out the window, trying to convince myself this would be a good day.

---

The park was alive with activity. Music blared from speakers set up near the pool, the beats vibrating through the warm summer air. Groups of people danced on the grass; their movements carefree. Others gathered around picnic tables piled high with food—burgers, hot dogs, aluminum pans of baked beans and mac and cheese. The pool glistened, a handful of kids splashing while some adults lounged on inflatable floats, their drinks held high above the water.

“Okay, let’s party,” Natasha said, clapping her hands together as she stepped out of the car. The twins wasted no time joining the festivities, leaving Kiyah and me standing by the lot.

Kiyah turned to me, her expression shifting from excitement to concern. “Alright, Nye, real talk. Are you okay? Like, really okay?"

I hesitated, caught off guard by her directness. “I… Yeah. I’m cool. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kiyah crossed her arms, giving me a look that said she wasn’t buying it. “You’ve been off lately. Last night wasn’t nothing. And I know how Jey can be especially with you.”

“He’s not that bad,” I said quickly, the words tumbling out before I could think them through. “He’s just… going through some stuff. You know how life gets. It’ll work out.”

“Uh-huh,” Kiyah said, unimpressed. “Listen, I get it. He’s got that whole charm thing going on, but nothing—and I mean nothing—is worth losing yourself over. Not even a Prada Boi.”

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I forced a small smile, hoping to ease her concern. “I’m not losing myself, Kiyah. I’m good. I promise.”

She studied me for a moment before sighing. “Alright. Just… don’t let him drag you down, Nye. You’re better than that. And he not all that anyway.”

“I won’t,” I assured her, though the pit in my stomach said otherwise.

Satisfied, Kiyah grinned and bumped my shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date with Jacob. I think I can play step-mama for the right price.” She turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

---

I made my way to the pool, slipping off my wrap and sitting at the edge with my feet dangling in the water. The coolness was a welcome relief from the summer heat, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. I glanced around, my heart skipping when I saw him.

Damian stood on the far side of the pool, leaning casually against a fence with a drink in his hand. His eyes were fixed on me, his gaze heavy and unrelenting. My breath hitched, and I felt suddenly exposed, the swimsuit clinging to my skin like a second layer.

I looked away quickly, my heart pounding. Why was he here? Why now?

The rumble of an engine broke through my thoughts, and I turned to see Jey’s car pulling into the parking lot. He stepped out, his walk slightly unsteady, a bottle of liquor dangling from one hand. He was shirtless, his tattoos on full display, the ink stretching across his chest and arms, a bold statement of who he was. His eyes were glassy, his grin lazy, and his shorts hung low on his hips, completing the effortless look. He looked good as hell.

I pushed myself up from the pool and walked toward him, meeting him halfway. “You’re late,” I said, trying to keep my tone light but unable to hide the edge of annoyance in my voice.

“I’m right on time, baby,” he replied, his arm slipping around my waist and pulling me closer. The smell of alcohol clung to him, sharp and undeniable, but his touch was steady, almost comforting. “You miss me?”

I hesitated for a moment, studying his glassy eyes and the way his grin tilted slightly to the side. “Maybe. Did you miss me?”

“More than you know,” he said, his voice dropping low. He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine in a featherlight tease before pulling back. “You been behaving without me?”

I hesitated before nodding. “Of course.”

His grin widened, and he held the bottle out to me. “Here,” he said, holding the bottle between us. “Take a sip. Loosen up. It’s a celebration, right?”

I took the bottle hesitantly, the liquor burning as it slid down my throat. Jey’s fingers danced on my hip, the touch intimate, almost claiming. He leaned in as I swallowed, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth. "That’s my girl," he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. I glanced toward the pool and caught Damian watching us, his expression unreadable. The intensity of his gaze made my skin prickle, and a surge of defiance rose in me.

Turning back to Jey, I slipped an arm around his neck, pulling him flush against me. "You’re in a real good mood today," I murmured, my lips brushing the edge of his jaw before trailing lightly to his ear. "What’s got you so happy?"

“Because I got you, mama,” he murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “When you’re with me, it’s like everything’s right. Last night’s behind us, right?”

I nodded, even as my heart pounded. “Right.”

Jey’s grin widened before he kissed me again, this time deeper, his lips firm and insistent, as if he was staking a claim. The heat of the moment sent a rush through me, and I clung to him, my fingers running through his hair. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“Let’s go join the party," he said, his voice low and full of promise. "Show everyone how good we look together."

---

The festivities were in full swing. Music blasted from the speakers, and the air was filled with the sound of laughter and splashing water. Jey stayed close, his arm never straying far from my waist.

Natasha and Tonga were dancing near the grill, their movements loose and carefree. Nataya and Jimmy were sitting together at a table, sharing a plate of food and laughing like they had no cares in the world. Kiyah and Jacob were by the pool, their heads close as they talked, their laughter carrying over the noise.

I tried to focus on the party, to lose myself in the energy around me. But every so often, I felt Damian’s gaze slicing through the crowd, his eyes heavy and unyielding. It was like he was reading every move I made, dissecting every touch Jey placed on me. No matter how much I laughed, danced, or clung to Jey, Damian’s presence was a reminder that nothing about today was simple—and nothing about this life ever would be.

---

The park party was electric, the kind of energy that could only come from summer heat and a crowd that seemed to double by the minute. The bass from the speakers thumped so hard it vibrated in my chest, mixing with the smell of charcoal, chlorine, and the tangy sweetness of someone’s perfume. Everywhere I turned, there was movement: people dancing on the grass, kids cannonballing into the pool, and adults balancing plates stacked with food.

Jey had me perched on his lap by one of the folding tables, his arm snug around my waist as I fed him bites of cake. His lips brushed against the fork with every bite, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” I teased, wiping a smudge of frosting from the corner of his lips.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he shot back, his voice low and full of that easy confidence. “You’re spoiling me. You’re not gonna stop now, are you?”

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth in his gaze made my cheeks heat. “Don’t get used to it,” I warned, though the playful lilt in my voice made it clear I didn’t mean it.

Jey chuckled, leaning in to kiss my temple. His grip tightened slightly; a subtle reminder of the claim he had on me. “I will. You treat me like a king, baby. And I treat you like a queen.”

---

As the afternoon stretched into early evening, the crowd seemed to thicken. Natasha and Sami had drifted toward the grill, where Sami’s booming laughter carried over the music. Nataya and Jimmy were sitting under a tree, their hands intertwined, looking like they were in their own world. Kiyah had switched gears, chatting up Solo now, her easy laugh and quick wit drawing him in.

I let my eyes wander, hoping to absorb the carefree atmosphere. But then I saw him.

Damian was sitting against the fence near the pool, a beer bottle dangling loosely in his hand. A woman was perched on his lap, her legs draped over his as she toyed with the gold chain around his neck. She was gorgeous, with dark curls framing her face and a smile that lit up the space around her. Damian’s hand rested on her thigh, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns that made my stomach twist.

I tore my gaze away, the sight leaving a sour taste in my mouth. Why do you care? I scolded myself, but the question felt hollow. I tried to focus on Jey, who was cracking jokes with Jacob, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Damian.

---

Later, I stood and stretched. “I’m gonna put my stuff in your car,” I told Jey, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “Be right back.”

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” he asked, his tone teasing but laced with a protective edge.

I smiled. “I’ll be fine. Hold my spot.”

The parking lot was quieter, the distant hum of the party muted by the trees surrounding it. I opened the trunk of Jey’s car, placing my bag inside and closing it with a satisfying click.

“Leaving already?” a voice said behind me. I turned to see Damian standing by a car, his beer still in hand. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes lingered on mine for a moment too long.

“What do you want, Damian?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.

“To talk,” he said simply, stepping closer. “You seemed… off earlier. I just want to make sure you’re okay, mami.”

“I’m fine,” I replied sharply. “You don’t need to worry about me. That’s Jey’s job.”

His jaw tightened, and he exhaled through his nose. “Is it bad that I care about you, Nyeya? More than you realize. More than I realized.”

His words threw me off balance, but I masked it with anger. “You have a funny way of showing it,” I snapped, glancing back toward the party. “Is that why you had some girl draped over you like a cheap coat? You worried about her, too?”

Damian’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Jealous?”

I scoffed. “Hardly.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but I see it, Nye. You’re not happy. Not with him. But I told you that, mami. How long before you admit it?”

My chest tightened. “You don’t know anything about me or what I feel.”

“I know more than you think,” he said, his gaze holding mine. “And I know you deserve better.”

The silence between us was heavy, charged with unspoken things I wasn’t ready to confront. Finally, I shook my head and turned back toward the party. “I don’t have time for this, Damian.”

“Not much time left,” he called after me. “Think about it before it gets worse.”

---

Back at the party, Jey pulled me into his lap again, his arm wrapping securely around me as the card game at the table kicked off. His laughter was loud and easy, his confidence radiating as he placed his bets. I tried to focus on him, on the way his hand rested on my thigh, but I couldn’t shake the tension lingering from my conversation with Damian.

“Yo, Damian!” Jey called out, nodding toward an empty seat. “Get over here, uce. We need one more.”

Damian hesitated for a fraction of a second before approaching, his face carefully neutral. He took the seat without a word, his eyes flicking to me briefly before settling on his cards. The tension at the table was palpable, though no one else seemed to notice.

By the end of the game, I’d had enough. Leaning into Jey, I murmured, “I’m ready to go.”

He glanced at me, his expression softening. “Yeah? Alright, baby. Let’s get outta here.”

He helped me up, throwing an arm over my shoulders as we headed toward the parking lot. I felt Damian’s eyes on me as we walked away, but I didn’t look back. The weight of his gaze followed me long after we left.

---

Back at Jey’s house, the atmosphere shifted into something quieter, softer. The hum of the air conditioner filled the silence, blending with the occasional rustle of leaves outside the window. Jey dropped his keys on the counter and turned to me, his expression uncharacteristically gentle.

“You straight?” he asked, stepping closer, his hands sliding around my waist. His touch was familiar, steady, but his eyes searched mine like he was trying to read the thoughts I wasn’t saying. “You know you mean everything to me, right?”

I nodded, letting out a small breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Yeah. I’m good. And I know, babe.”

His thumb traced slow circles on my hip, and he leaned in, his forehead resting lightly against mine. “Thanks for sticking with me tonight,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I know I can mess up, Nye. I just… I can’t picture this life without you in it.”

“You think?” I teased, brushing my fingers along the faint stubble on his jaw. “You make it sound like I’m doing you a favor just being here.” My voice softened, my gaze meeting his. “But you know it’s because I care, right? You just gotta let yourself believe you’re worth it.”

He smirked, his lips brushing against my temple. “You keep me steady,” he murmured, his voice raw in a way that made my chest ache. “It’s not just needing you, Nye. You’re the only one who gets me. The only one I trust to really see me, all of me.”

The weight of his words hung between us, and for once, there wasn’t any tension behind them. It felt honest, raw in a way that made my chest tighten. I leaned up, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that started slow but deepened quickly. His hands slid up my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

“I’m glad you stayed down with me,” he murmured, his lips grazing mine. “I don’t say it enough, but I love you, Nyeya. You’ve got my heart, baby.”

His words hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, I just stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “I love you too, Jey,” I whispered, my voice trembling but sure. And as his arms tightened around me, I let myself believe it. For now, it was enough to drown out the noise of everything else.

---

Want to read from the beginning? Click Here

If you wanna join the taglist for this story, just let me know! Taglist: @theusotwinzcom @nbanenefrmdao @queeny23

[ode-to-fury]

Wah I'm just thinking (writing) about the companions having to go in and get Rook from the regret prison and specifically Lucanis because oh my god. Oh my god. Like obviously the game can't have every single Rook be different but in the context of my Rook I'm thinking about Lucanis going in and seeing all of the terrible things she thinks about herself and all these regrets she has buried so deeply she doesn't have to think about them and he gets to where she's stuck and he remembers seeing her when it was his prison and his mind and she's crying even worse because she didn't want anyone to see what she thinks are the worst parts of her there's a reason she locks them up in the first place and Lucanis just being like "why would you ever think I'd turn away from any part of you" and it finally clicks for both of them that this is it. I've seen the worst of you you've seen the worst of me and I'm still here. In fact I'll always be here to pull you out of your prison because I love you. I was scared to say that before but now I realise that's stupid because you needed to hear it and I'm sorry and I love you. All of you. Even the parts you don't like about yourself

[ssa-danhotchner]

please i need a least angstier version of happier maybe reader has to go to a mision like s7 aaron in pakistan a he sees how much he really misses her

What we left behind | Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

note: I tried my best, I hope you like it!

english isn't my first language so please be kind

cw: BAU reader, beth is in here, angst, regret, past relationship struggles, unspoken feelings

wc: 1.5k maybe?

It wasn’t like you hated Beth.

She was kind, warm, and approachable—the kind of woman people gravitated toward without hesitation. She seemed good for Aaron, too. For all his years of shielding himself, she brought out something softer in him. When you saw them together, he smiled more. He laughed in a way that had felt rare, almost forgotten.

But watching them together hurt in a way you hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t jealousy exactly. It was grief.

Grief for what you and Aaron had been, for what you thought you might have been.

He was the one who ended it, after all.

You remembered the night so clearly it still stung, like a bruise you kept accidentally pressing. He’d invited you over, his voice softer than usual on the phone. At first, you thought nothing of it. But when you arrived, the heaviness in the air made your stomach twist.

Aaron wasn’t one to stumble over his words, but that night he did. “You mean the world to me,” he’d said, his voice breaking slightly. “But I can’t give you the life you deserve.”

You’d stared at him, stunned. “What are you talking about? We’re fine.”

“No, we’re not,” he said quietly, looking at you like it physically pained him. “You deserve someone who can be there for you, who isn’t constantly distracted by the job, who can give you all the things I can’t. And I... I can’t keep holding you back.”

His words shattered something in you. “I didn’t ask for perfect, Aaron. I asked for you.”

He closed his eyes, his jaw tight, and shook his head. “You’ll see, one day, that this is what’s best.”

You didn’t fight him after that. You couldn’t. And maybe some part of you even believed he was right. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

--

For months, you carried that pain with you like a shadow. You buried yourself in work, throwing yourself into cases until you were so exhausted you couldn’t think about anything else.

It helped, a little.

But then Beth showed up.

The team was supportive of Aaron’s new relationship, of course. They were profilers—they could see how happy Beth made him, and they teased him lightly about it. Even Rossi, who had a knack for keeping things professional, cracked a joke now and then about Aaron’s “smiling problem.”

You played along, smiling and laughing at the right moments, even as it chipped away at you.

“You okay?” Emily asked one day, catching you lingering at the coffee machine longer than usual.

“Yeah, fine” you replied quickly, avoiding her eyes.

Emily didn’t press, but the look she gave you made it clear she didn’t buy it.

---

When the opportunity to work with the State Department in Pakistan came up, you jumped at it. The mission would take you halfway across the world for months, giving you the distance you desperately needed from Aaron, Beth, and the suffocating reminders of what you’d lost.

“It’s a great opportunity” you told the team, forcing a smile as you shared the news during a team meeting.

Morgan gave you a skeptical look. “You sure about this, kid? Seems... sudden.”

“I’m sure,” you said firmly.

Rossi, always perceptive, gave you a knowing look but said nothing.

Aaron, however, was harder to read. He’d been quiet during the meeting, his dark eyes flicking to you now and then, but he didn’t say a word.

Later, as the team dispersed, he stopped you outside the conference room.

“You’re really going?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

“I am,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “You didn’t mention you were thinking about this.”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

Aaron flinched slightly, his jaw tightening. “Of course it matters.”

You sighed, softening your tone. “Look, this is a good opportunity for me. I need... a change.”

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded. “Be careful,” he said quietly.

---

Pakistan was everything you expected and more. The work was intense, the days long, and the challenges endless. But it was exactly what you needed. The distance, the change in pace, the focus on something new—it all helped you start to piece yourself back together.

And yet, there were nights when the loneliness crept in, catching you off guard. You missed the team. You missed Garcia’s bright enthusiasm, Morgan’s playful teasing, JJ’s steady calm.

You missed Aaron.

You told yourself you didn’t have the right to miss him, not after everything. But you couldn’t help it. You missed the way he grounded you, the quiet strength he carried even in the hardest moments.

---

Back in Quantico, Aaron found himself drifting. The bullpen felt emptier without you, and he hated how often he caught himself looking at your desk, expecting to see you there.

He tried to focus on work, on Jack, on his relationship with Beth. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the nagging emptiness you’d left behind.

Beth noticed, of course. She was too perceptive not to.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” she said one evening as they sat on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand.

“I’ve just been busy,” he replied, though they both knew it wasn’t the whole truth.

Beth studied him for a moment before setting her glass down. “It’s because she’s gone, isn’t it?”

He froze, his heart skipping a beat.

Beth sighed, setting her wine glass down. “I’ve always felt like I was competing with someone who wasn’t even here.”

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said quietly, his throat tightening.

“I know you care about me, Aaron,” Beth said gently. “But it’s not enough, is it?”

He looked at her, guilt and regret twisting in his chest. “You deserve better than this. Better than me.”

Beth nodded, her eyes sad but understanding. “And so does she.”

---

When you returned to Quantico, the familiarity was both comforting and suffocating. The bullpen buzzed with the usual energy—Garcia’s colorful office lights glowed from the corner, Morgan leaned casually against Spence's desk, and Rossi greeted you with his characteristic warmth. But despite the smiles and hugs, there was a lingering sense of unease.

You tried to shake it off. You were home now, and that was what mattered.

But then you saw Aaron.

He stood at the far end of the bullpen, just outside his office, his dark eyes locked on you. The usual stoicism in his expression faltered as you met his gaze, something softer, almost hesitant, bleeding through.

Your breath caught in your chest. It had been months since you last saw him, and yet it felt like no time had passed at all. He looked the same—polished suit, perfect posture, the slight furrow of his brow that you’d memorized years ago.

He started walking toward you, his steps slow and deliberate. You tried to prepare yourself for the moment, but when he finally stopped in front of you, the carefully constructed walls around your heart wavered.

“Welcome back,” he said softly, his voice carrying a gravity that made your pulse race.

“Thanks,” you replied, forcing a small smile, though your throat felt tight.

There was a beat of silence. The bullpen buzzed with life around you, but all you could focus on was him—the way his eyes lingered on your face, the way he seemed like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

“Can we talk?” he asked finally, his voice low enough that no one else could hear.

You hesitated. Part of you wanted to say no, to protect yourself from whatever this conversation might bring. But the way he looked at you—vulnerable and intent—made it impossible to refuse.

“Yeah,” you said quietly.

He led you to his office, holding the door open for you before closing it behind him. The sound of the latch clicking seemed to echo, amplifying the tension in the room.

You stood awkwardly near the desk while he lingered by the door, as if trying to keep some distance between you.

“How was it?” he asked, gesturing vaguely. “Pakistan, I mean.”

“It was... intense” you admitted. “Challenging, but good. It gave me a lot to think about.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening as he seemed to weigh his next words. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Thanks” you said again, the word feeling hollow on your tongue. You couldn’t take the tension anymore. “Aaron, what did you want to talk about?”

His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, and when he finally looked at you, his eyes were heavy with regret.

“I owe you an apology” he said, his voice low and rough.

You blinked, startled. “An apology? For what?”

“For walking away” he said, stepping closer. His gaze held yours, steady but full of something you couldn’t quite name. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought letting you go would... would give you the chance to find someone better, someone who could give you what I couldn’t.”

Your heart clenched painfully at his words, but before you could respond, he continued.

“But I was wrong” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt both of us. And every day you were gone, I felt it—I felt how wrong I was.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “Aaron, I—”

“I missed you” he interrupted, taking another step closer. “Every day you were gone, I missed you. And I realized that I’d rather spend my life trying to be enough for you than spend another day without you.”

Tears blurred your vision, but you blinked them away, trying to process his words.

“You ended it” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You told me I deserved better.”

“I thought I was doing the selfless thing,” he admitted, his expression pained. “But all I did was rob us of the chance to fight for what we had. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The rawness in his voice cracked something open inside you.

“Aaron, I...” You trailed off, shaking your head as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I don’t even know what to say.”

He stepped closer again, closing the remaining distance between you. “You don’t have to say anything. Just... tell me if there’s still a chance. If there’s even a small part of you that still feels the same way.”

His vulnerability was overwhelming. This was Aaron Hotchner—the man who never wavered, never let his guard down. And yet here he was, standing before you, baring his heart.

“I missed you too” you admitted finally, your voice breaking. “But I don’t know if I can do this again. I don’t know if I can survive losing you a second time.”

“You won’t” he said firmly, his hand twitching at his side like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I swear to you, I won’t let you down again. I’ll fight for this—for us. Every day, if I have to.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way his dark eyes held yours, left you breathless.

And in that moment, you realized something: you still loved him. You always had.

Slowly, you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. His breath hitched at the contact, but he didn’t pull away.

“Okay” you said softly, your voice trembling but sure. “Let’s try again.”

Aaron’s shoulders sagged with relief, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled—a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes.

And as he squeezed your hand, you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

---

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

Boyfriends to Have Boyfriends Headcanons, pt 4

I cannot stress enough how these are FLYING from my brain into a post. A brief thanks to everyone who’s said something sweet about this so far, I deeply appreciate you and your interest in what has to be my mental illness at this point.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

—-

It’s maybe one of the few times in your life you wished you were deployed. Leave is a siren song for fools, you thought. No one was meant to have this much time sitting in their dumb flat thinking about how they were fucking their Captain AND fellow sergeant. You were going to get discharged for sure. Dishonorable with a capital D. They were going to be mad at you for fucking your way through the team. Johnny would literally explode. But Price said that he KNEW—

A buzz. A text. Thinking too loud yet again.

Gaz: You doing anything today? Running errands near your part of town. Wanna come with?

In for a penny, right?

—-

You let him talk you into a wash day. A small luxury you two were able to afford yourselves as the two BIPOC members of the team. He even managed to talk you into going back to his (stupid face he makes where he tilts his head and smiles at you, can barely look at it, the bastard) Now you were sitting at his beautiful kitchen table, watching awful tv on low, with him on the floor between your legs as you rubbed scalp oil into his. You’d buy a timeshare in the 8th circle of hell if he sold it to you at this point.

“Call it nostalgia, I guess. My sisters used to do this for me back in the day. I miss it.”

“Those helmets aren’t doing any favors for anyone. Have you seen John and Simon’s crown lately? And how they both insist—“

“It isn’t thinning?” You both say in unison, laughter tearing through you both. His hand sneaks around to caress your calf, while your nails lightly scratch his scalp as you catch your respective breath.

“Hey. I, uh, wanted to—“

“Up, it’s your turn.”

“Wait, I wan—

Gaz pops up and takes you gently in his hands, leading you to the ground as he sits in the chair, hands already oiled and ready. You sat in a huff. He couldn’t say he regretted seeing you pout. The unease and frustration already settled in your stomach now had a new player enter the fold: Gaz’s fingers gently massaging your scalp. A short but hard fought battle internally, he felt your pulse slow, your body relax between his legs. That makes one of us, he thought passively.

“I know we didn’t make this easy for you. And I’m sorry. I don’t want to speak on behalf of John too much, but we’re not the most. Subtle men. You could say.”

You let out a small sound of agreement. “How long, uh. I guess how long has this been happening?”

“Couple years after I joined the force. Around the same time Simon and Johnny started I reckon.”

“Man, I should have been drafted sooner, I’d have a boss all to myself to fuck too—“

You felt his fingers tighten gently, just enough to pull your head back and give you a stern look. You gave him a meek smile as an apology, before he returned to his ministrations.

“As I was saying. We’re a team. Always have been. We could have made it a big deal, or we could continue to be great at what we do, work together. Price was just… everything I needed. Made me who I am today. Let me become the man I needed to be. No judgement.”

You nodded in his hands. You let your eyes close as he talked, letting his fingers lull you into a state. Aware but relaxed. Malleable, he’d call it. Right where he wanted you.

“But then someone had to come along and ruin it all.” He said with a laugh. “John and I share a lot of traits, and being territorial is one of em. You were so fucking sweet, and talented. Talked about you when we were together. And I just wanted to sink my fucking teeth into you.” He said, an edge in his voice now, nails scraping across your scalp a touch.

A new warmth ran through you as you felt hands pick you up from your seated position. Kyle carried you bridal style to the couch, laying you down in front of his windows in his flat overlooking the city. Your hair, big and wild from his hands, fell around your head like a halo. Fucking so perfect for him all the time. “You almost have her, don’t fuck this up.” He said to himself.

“We want you to be ours. No rank, no file. Just us.” He said, leaning over you, thumb running across your cheek.

Keys in the door started to jingle. A swish of bags and boots hit the floor as they come across the entrance and footsteps approach. “Hey love.”

Your heart stopped. You’re sure of it. Your eyes peeked open as the power of the sun was 5 feet from your face. Two of the hottest guys you’ve ever met standing above you as they ask you to be… a part of them. A piece to complete the puzzle. To make them feel a little more complete.

Your eyes become a little less lovedrunk, a little more sober and panic shoots through both of them for a moment. Your eyebrows scrunched, a sign they’ve come to learn means that you were unsure of the outcome. The thunder before the storm of “what if’s” cloud your mind. John reached down to pull you in a seated position, pressing his forehead against yours. “You could put a bullet in my head and I’d thank you for it. You couldn’t fuck this up if you tried.” He pulled back a touch to let Kyle in.

“Let us love you, sweetheart. We’ll spend the rest of our lives making sure you feel like you’re enough, yeah?” Kyle asked.

A small smile graced your lips, as you brought a hand to both their faces. “Yeah. We’re a team.”

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 9.

viktorxfemale!OFC explicit!

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,6K

tag: #what was that

author’s note: My dear people, who actually read this, I salute to your patience. Without much spoilers, @rennethen, who is my lovely beta reader and at this point a lovely friend as well, has co-written a crucial part of this chapter, which must be one of my favourite love scenes. Enjoy!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“So,” Jayce began, leaning against a nearby table with a raised eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me what happened after the party, or do I have to pry it out of you?”

Viktor didn’t look up from his work. “There is nothing to tell,” he said evenly, though the faintest twitch of his jaw betrayed him.

“Really? Because from what I saw, Renly looked ready to melt into you by the time you left,” Jayce said, not bothering to hide his grin. “And don’t even try denying it. I saw the two of you. Did you walk her home?”

Viktor exhaled sharply, setting his pen down. “No, she didn’t want me to. I don’t think I exactly met her expectations that night,” he added wearily.

Jayce frowned, his grin fading as he studied Viktor's expression. “Her expectations? Viktor, what are you talking about? I am worked up from the tension between you two, and from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s tired of the games.”

Viktor's lips tightened into a thin line as he rubbed his temple. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “But it is not so simple. I cannot—” He cut himself off, searching for the right words. “Renly… deserves someone whole. Someone who can give her what she needs, without limitations or complications.”

Jayce groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Oh, for the love of Gods, Viktor, not this again. You’re doing that thing where you convince yourself that you’re the problem before anyone else has even said a word about it. Do you honestly think Renly cares about your so-called ‘limitations’?”

Viktor’s gaze hardened. “It is not a matter of what she cares about now, Jayce. It is a matter of what she will care about, eventually. People always say such things at the beginning. They make promises they cannot keep because they do not yet understand the full reality.”

Jayce crossed his arms and stared at Viktor incredulously. “You really think Renly’s like that? That she’s just going to up and decide one day that you’re not enough for her? Have you even given her the chance to prove you wrong?”

Viktor’s jaw clenched. “I am giving her the chance, Jayce. By not allowing this… whatever it is to escalate into something we both regret.”

Jayce shook his head, letting out a low chuckle that was equal parts frustration and disbelief. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You’re so damn smart, but when it comes to feelings, you’re a complete idiot. News flash, Viktor: the world isn’t going to wait for you to feel ready. And neither is Renly.”

Viktor didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the blueprints before him, though his focus was clearly elsewhere. The weight of Jayce’s words hung in the air, pressing down on him like a tangible force.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but no less resolute. “I am not like you, Jayce. I cannot afford to be careless with matters of the heart. Not when there is so much at stake. If this were to fail…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It would break me.”

Jayce softened, his frustration giving way to something more understanding. He stepped closer, placing a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Look, I get it. You’re scared. But don’t you think that’s kind of the point? If it wasn’t terrifying, it wouldn’t be worth it. You don’t have to have everything figured out right now, but you do have to try. Otherwise, you’re just going to push her away—and I promise you, Viktor, that’s going to hurt a hell of a lot more than taking the risk.”

Viktor finally looked up, meeting Jayce’s gaze. There was conflict in his eyes, a battle between the walls he had spent years building and the growing crack Renly had managed to carve into them.

“I will consider your words,” he said after a long pause, his tone measured but tinged with something vulnerable. “But I make no promises.”

Jayce smiled faintly, patting Viktor on the shoulder before stepping back. “That’s all I’m asking. Just… don’t overthink it, okay? Not everything in life needs a blueprint.”

As Jayce walked away, Viktor returned to his work, though the words of his friend lingered. For all his logic and reason, he couldn’t deny the truth in what Jayce had said. And yet, the fear remained, an ever-present shadow that refused to let go.

Because Viktor knew one thing for certain: the closer he allowed himself to get to Renly, the greater the risk of losing everything he had fought so hard to protect.

***

Renly trudged up the steps to the lab, her feet dragging with a heaviness she couldn’t shake. She checked the time on her pocket watch for the third time that morning—or rather, the early afternoon—and winced. Nearly four hours late.

She’d debated whether she should come in at all, entertaining the idea of calling out sick, but even the thought of leaving Viktor alone to stew with his thoughts made her restless. It wasn’t as though she could escape him, anyway. His voice was in her head, his touch still lingering in the ghostly way that made her chest ache.

She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, despite the warmth of the late morning sun. The sky above Piltover was clear, but inside, her thoughts were anything but.

Renly stepped into the lab building, keeping her head low and her pace brisk. The familiar hum of machinery greeted her, but for once, it didn’t calm her nerves. Every step toward the lab’s main floor felt heavier, as if her body were actively protesting her decision to face the day.

She didn’t bother peeking in to see if Jayce or Viktor were there. If she did, there was a chance one of them might spot her, and she wasn’t ready for either of their voices—Jayce’s friendly concern or Viktor’s infuriating calmness.

Slipping past the main work area, Renly made a beeline for the tiny side room she sometimes used when she needed privacy—or an escape. The room was little more than a glorified closet with a workbench and a stool, but it was quiet, and, more importantly, it had a lock.

She shut the door behind her softly, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Setting her bag down on the bench, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

She wasn’t ready for this. Not for Viktor, not for Jayce, not for anything.

Despite the promise of a weekend to recharge, she’d spent most of it replaying Friday night in her head. The way Viktor’s voice had softened when he said, “I don’t have an answer, Renly.” The way her heart had dropped at his hesitation. And, worst of all, the way she’d turned away from him, leaving them both in that miserable, unspoken limbo.

She rubbed her temples, trying to push the memory aside, but it clung stubbornly.

“I should’ve just stayed home,” she muttered to herself, kicking off her boots and curling up on the stool. The bench in front of her was scattered with leftover components from her last experiment—a half-finished mess she didn’t have the energy to clean up.

She stared at it for a moment, willing herself to start something, anything to keep her mind off Viktor. But her hands stayed still, too heavy to lift.

Her mind raced as she picked apart the weekend in her head. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so direct. Maybe she shouldn’t have cornered him. Maybe… maybe he was right, and this wasn’t something she should push.

But another part of her, the part that refused to let go of the way Viktor’s heartbeat had sounded beneath her cheek, wasn’t ready to give up.

The sound of muffled voices outside the room made her stiffen. She recognized Jayce’s booming laugh first, then Viktor’s measured reply. She couldn’t make out the words, but the low timbre of Viktor’s voice sent a fresh wave of frustration rolling through her. She decided to bury herself in work once again.

She had no idea how much time had passed. She also didn’t really know what she was doing, aside from aimlessly fiddling with the properties of the formula. That was, until something went wrong and one of her vials exploded without warning.

She snapped. Letting out a frustrated snarl, she shouted, “I fucking hate viscosity!”—forgetting entirely that she’d meant to stay quiet.

The sound echoed sharply in the confined room, and before the realization of what she’d just done could sink in, she heard a soft knock at the door.

“Ugh… come in,” she groaned, her voice heavy with resignation as the door opened with a faint creak.

“Renly.”

Her movements froze mid-motion, halfway through wiping the mess off her desk. She didn’t turn around. “What is it, Viktor?”

Her voice was flat, her tone clipped. The sharpness of it stung more than he cared to admit, but he pressed on, leaning heavily on his cane as he entered the room.

“Did you mean to be distant?” His voice was quiet but weary, laced with an edge of vulnerability. He hadn’t heard her come in earlier. And he definitely hadn’t expected her—of all people—to hide.

She let out a sharp, humourless laugh, finally turning to face him. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

He flinched at her words but held his ground. “I deserve that,” he admitted, his throat tightening. “But I…” He paused, struggling to find the right words. “I want to talk.”

Her arms folded across her chest, a defensive shield he longed to break through. “About what? How things are better if they’re left unchanged? I don’t think I have the strength for that today. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“That is not—” He stopped himself, frustration flaring in his chest. Exhaling slowly, he gripped his cane tighter. “That is not what I think.”

“Really?” she shot back, her gaze sharp and unrelenting. “Because you were pretty blunt about it last time.”

His knuckles whitened on the cane. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I spoke with Jayce,” he added wearily, searching her face for any cracks in her guarded expression.

“Did he tell you what an idiot you are, so I don’t have to?” she muttered, turning away to sweep shards of glass from the workbench.

Viktor stepped forward, calculating whether he should touch her hand, guide her to face him. Instead, he walked up to the desk and stood beside her, placing his palm close to hers.

He hesitated, his breath catching. “I am weak around you,” he said, his voice small, barely a whisper.

Renly froze, though she didn’t move away. Their shoulders brushed lightly. Viktor gathered his courage and ghosted his fingers over hers, the faintest touch. “From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me. And I have projected that disgust onto others—onto you.”

Her brow furrowed, her lips parting in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve spent my life fighting to overcome my limitations,” he said, his voice low but steady. “My body has been nothing but a reminder of fragility, of failure. I hate it. And I... I feared you might one day hate it too.” He looked at her then, his amber eyes raw with vulnerability. “So I pushed you away. I thought it was mercy.”

Renly’s arms fell to her sides, her expression softening as the weight of his confession settled between them. “Mercy?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Viktor, this is torture. It’s inhumane. It’s… it’s—”

His lips twitched into a faint, rueful smile. “Yes,” he said. “I am aware.”

She took a shaky breath, a laugh escaping despite herself. “You wasted so much time. So much pain—for nothing.”

“Not nothing,” he said softly. “For you.”

Her chest tightened, and she turned to him, her hands trembling. “Viktor,” she began, her voice barely audible. “You’re wrong. About your body, about what you think I see.”

He blinked, his breath hitching as she closed the distance between them.

“I don’t see failure,” she said, her words firm even as her voice quivered. “I see someone who fights every day, who inspires, who... who has my heart, whether he wants it or not.”

His cane clattered to the floor as his hand reached for her face, his fingers brushing her cheek as though he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “Renly,” he murmured, her name a prayer on his lips. “You undo me. Entirely. Completely,” he whispered, his hands already wrapping around her. “I am at my limit. I surrender to you—if you will have me.”

His lips brushed against hers as he spoke. Hers remained still, tentative, as though she hadn’t yet caught up to the reality of what was unfolding.

Without waiting for her reply, Viktor’s hand slid beneath her shirt, his touch seeking the warmth of her skin. His other hand rested gently on the side of her neck, keeping her face close, their noses brushing in an intimate collision. He kissed her deeply, longingly, wrapping all of himself around her, as if to shield her from the world.

Renly’s fingers finally tangled in his hair, her touch hesitant yet possessive, grounding herself in the moment. His hands moved with quiet confidence, slipping around her waist and pulling her firmly against him. The intensity of his hold sent a shiver racing through her, a wordless plea not to let go. Their kiss became a delicate dance—a push and pull, her lips pressing forward, his retreating, both testing the fragile boundary between longing and surrender.

The taste of him was unexpected—warm, intoxicating, layered with a quiet intensity that mirrored the man himself. The faint scent of parchment and oil clung to him, grounding her even as the rest of the world blurred around them. His fingers pressed into her back, firm yet gentle, a reminder that here, in this moment, she was his focus, his anchor, his everything.

When they finally broke apart, it was only by the smallest fraction, breathing each other in. Renly’s chest heaved, as if she had surfaced from deep water, her lips tingling from the lingering warmth of his. Viktor’s gaze burned with molten intensity, his pupils wide as he studied her face, as though committing every detail to memory. His voice, when he spoke, was soft and reverent. “I waited for this… far too long.”

They stayed like that, holding each other in the quiet, the lab around them forgotten. For the first time, they were not scientists, not colleagues—just two people who, after so much fear and hesitation, had finally found their way to each other.

“Viktor,” Renly broke the silence hesitantly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her nerves. “I don’t mean to be blunt or pushy, but…” Her cheeks burned impossibly hotter, and she forced herself to continue. “I might… implode sometime soon if you don’t—” Her words caught in her throat. Fuck me.

Viktor laughed, the sound catching her off guard. She blinked, startled, realizing with a jolt that this might have been the first time she’d seen him smile like this—teeth and all. “Here?” he asked, his disbelief tinged with amusement.

Renly dropped her head in embarrassment, but Viktor gently caught her chin, tilting her face back up to meet his gaze. “No,” he murmured, his voice soft but sure. “I want to do this…” His lips brushed her cheek in a feather-light kiss. “…Properly.”

His next words were a whisper against her mouth, just before another delicate kiss. “Your place, or mine?” he asked, his hands cradling her neck, long fingers meeting at the base of her skull in a way that made her shiver.

“Mine… no. Yours,” Renly corrected herself quickly, her face flushing anew as the image of her cluttered apartment flashed through her mind.

Viktor chuckled again, the sound warm and disarming. “Are you worried I will, trip over something at yours?”

“Something like that…” she replied, attempting to match his teasing tone. But beneath her words, she dreaded the possibility of Viktor being confronted with the chaos she had let her apartment fall into over the past two days.

They walked together in silence, hand in hand, their steps slow and deliberate. Thankfully, their apartments were close, nestled within the academy’s nearby residential area.

Renly’s pulse thundered in her fingertips, and it didn’t take long for Viktor to notice.

“Are you nervous? Or… excited?” he teased, his tone low but playful.

“Um… both?” she admitted, though the truth was far less composed. She was scared out of her mind. And for the life of her, she couldn’t fathom Viktor’s calm, steady demeanour. It was as though, once he’d decided, nothing could shake his resolve.

She glanced up at him, studying his profile in the dim light. For a fleeting moment, she saw him as he must have been once—a fearless boy from the Undercity, driven and unshakable.

“Ladies first.” Viktor gave a slight bow, his hand gesturing toward the open door of his apartment.

Renly stepped inside, her eyes flickering over the space as she fought to steady her nerves. His apartment was modest, neatly kept, but with a distinct personality. Books were stacked in uneven towers, some with notes and diagrams spilling from their pages like secrets waiting to be discovered.

She opened her mouth, ready to tease him about being more of a hoarder than she’d expected, but before the words could form, Viktor’s arms were around her. In a swift, fluid motion, he twisted her toward him, claiming her lips with a greediness that sent her heart racing.

She barely registered the feel of the wall against her back as his hands roamed her body, their touch unhurried yet decisive. One hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers curling against her skin in a way that made her shiver. He was entirely in control, and for once, she let herself surrender to it.

“You have bewitched me,” he murmured softly, his voice quiet and thick with the accent. “You have pursued me longer than anyone else would.” His lips ghosted her cheeks, her eyelids, her neck, and she felt parts of herself clenching on nothing but air. Her neck still in his grasp, he guided her to look up and meet his gaze.

He could feel her hesitation, like a delicate tension in the air between them. It was familiar, yet it thrilled him all the same. He was not in a rush, though—he knew exactly how to navigate the moment, how to make her aware of the weight of his presence without overwhelming her. There was power in control, and for once, Viktor knew he would wield it with precision, just as he had in every aspect of his life. But this wasn’t about conquest—it was about trust, something she would give him only when she was ready.

“You have been pushing my buttons for months now.” Viktor stopped momentarily to study her face. She looked at him dazed, her eyelids hooded, her gaze pensive. “It’s about time you tell me…,” he whispered into hear ear and she could feel the curve of his confident smirk on her earlobe. “…Which buttons would you like me to push for you.”

Her pulse raced, but it was a strange, quiet excitement. She had never quite felt this way before, this drawn in by a person, this willing to be vulnerable. She wanted to trust him, she wanted to lean into the pull, but there was something inside her that hesitated. It wasn’t fear—it was uncertainty. She wanted to know what it would feel like to give in. Her heart seemed to beat faster with each breath, her body betraying her, melting under Viktor’s touch. She always thought him a shy lover. The realisation of how wrong she was almost made her chuckle.

As Renly collected herself enough to answer, Viktor hugged the curve of her ass with both of his hands and grazed his still clothed, half-hard cock through the spot where her thighs met, earning himself a full volume moan falling from her lips.

The last walls she had built came crumbling down. Her body felt lighter, as if the tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding had dissipated, another building up in its place. She wasn’t controlling this moment, but that felt right. Viktor’s presence was a steadying force, grounding her, guiding her through the vulnerability she’d never allowed herself to embrace before. It was terrifying and thrilling at once—this feeling of surrender.

He could feel the shift in her—how she had gone from uncertainty to openness. That realization brought him a quiet sense of satisfaction. She was trusting him with more than just her body now; she was trusting him with her mind, her heart. There was something in the way she responded to him now, the way she let herself go, that was pure. Viktor felt as if he had been granted access to something so delicate, so personal. And he knew that, with her, he could never betray that trust. His heart, usually so guarded, opened just a crack, and he let her in—just enough to feel her as she truly was: beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly his in that moment.

Viktor leaned close, his voice low but deliberate, his breath warm against her ear. “Tell me, Reynard Huxley of Zaun… what do you want from me?” The question was spoken with an unshakable calm, a kind of authority that left no room for doubt, only for her to answer truthfully.

Renly swallowed hard, her pulse hammering as she searched for the right words. There was so much she could have said—so much she wanted, but every thought tangled into a mess in her mind. Finally, she breathed, “Your voice.”

His brow arched in faint amusement as he tilted his head, waiting for her to explain.

“Your voice,” she repeated, this time a bit steadier, though the heat in her cheeks betrayed her nerves. “I love it—your accent, the way you talk. It… it gets under my skin, in a good way,” she added quickly, her fingers gripping his sleeve. “So, keep talking. I want to hear you.”

The corners of Viktor’s mouth lifted into the barest of smiles, a glint of mischief flickering in his golden eyes. “Ah,” he said softly, drawing out the sound as if savouring her admission. “So, you will leave me to do all the work tonight, then?”

She let out a nervous laugh, her head falling forward slightly until he tilted her chin up with a single finger. “No,” she murmured, though her voice faltered under his gaze. “I just… I want to hear you. All of you.”

Viktor chuckled lightly, his thumb brushing over her jaw. “All of me?” he repeated, the words deliberate, his tone playful yet commanding. “You will have to keep up, then. I am not known for being gentle when I am… inspired.”

Her heart stuttered, but she found herself nodding, her voice barely a whisper—“I’ll try.”

“No,” he said simply, his voice lowering an octave as he leaned in closer. “You will do more than try. You will let me guide you. Trust me… and listen.”

The words sent a shiver through her, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. There was no teasing in his tone anymore—only a quiet assurance, a certainty that somehow melted away her fears and left her entirely at his mercy.

He took her hand in his and guided her silently toward the bedroom. The room was small, slightly more cluttered compared to the rest of his quiet space. Various trinkets, tools, and souvenirs were scattered across the shelves.

Before she could ask about any of them, Renly saw Viktor propping his cane against the bed frame.

“Come here,” he said softly, beckoning her closer.

Seeing her expression remain neutral as she approached, he added, “You will tell me if anything is not to your liking, yes?”

Renly nodded, momentarily taken aback by his authority.

“I would like you to undress me,” he said firmly, steadying himself on her shoulders. “And I will do the same for you.”

This. This was Viktor was doing his magic. She knew exactly where this came from—the brace. This was his way of reforging a memory of shame into one of intimacy and pleasure.

With shaky fingers she decided the obvious place to start was the cravat. She pulled it gently through his button-down band, revealing the pool where his collar bones met. The density of his freckles increasing under the material.

She was so focused on her task that she didn’t realize her shirt was already unbuttoned until Viktor’s fingers grazed her skin—his handiwork, as always, precise and swift. She stole a glance at his face and saw it filled with awe; his eyes transfixed on her chest. “You are… astonishing.” He smiled at her, the words bringing back the memory of a compliment that had earned him mockery not long ago.

She managed to catch up, and a few moments later, she hesitated. Should the brace stay or go? Viktor caught the question on her face and answered before she could ask—“This thing too,” he murmured reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I won’t fall apart.”

They stood opposite each other, their torsos bare. At last, Renly got to trace an invisible line with her fingers, connecting all of Viktor’s freckles and beauty marks, leading down to his hip bone. She stared at him, her brows pinched together and her mouth slightly agape—he was so beautiful. Scars scattered across his ribs, where the brace had scratched his flesh, forming opalescent, delicate brush strokes of pearly white.

He pulled her closer, leaning forward to press his face against her breasts, inhaling deeply. “To think I was willing to leave this world one day without ever experiencing this,” he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin.

“Is there a poet hidden within you that I wasn’t aware of, Viktor?” she teased, desperately trying to break the tension that had overtaken her. She leaned into the joke, though the truth was, she felt overwhelmed by his reverence. It was ironic, really—their roles reversed, with her now the one under his microscope in this moment.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable. But…” He lifted himself gently from her chest to meet her gaze. “I certainly hope you’re not. I could study you endlessly.” His voice carried a quiet confidence, and he looked on, clearly satisfied, as a blush crept up her neck.

“Can I...?” Renly asked, glancing down at his leg.

“Oh, yes, you may,” Viktor replied. “But for that, I need to sit down. So, allow me to go first.” Not entirely sure what he meant by ‘go first,’ she let herself be guided toward the edge of the bed. Viktor sat down and then gently settled her between his legs. He placed a kiss on her belly before starting to undo the buttons on the back of her skirt. Oh. She was going to be very naked soon.

When her last piece of serious clothing formed a pool around her feet, Viktor started playing tentatively with the band of her underwear. She observed him from above, as he allowed himself a touch through the material, discovering her wetness—the effect of his thorough courtship.

“All this… for me,” he gasped, his tone breathy. Seeing her like this – flushed, aroused, all because of him, sparked an idea inside him. A new plan started to formulate. He pulled her into his lap. If she could, she would have hesitated, but Viktor’s grip was firmer than it seemed. Leaning into her ear, he whispered, “I would like you to take a seat,” pointing to his lips. “Here.”

Renly’s eyes widened, a quiet protest flickering within them. Her breath hitched as she remembered Viktor’s words—how he had expected her to speak up if anything felt wrong. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded instead.

“I will tap your thigh if I need to take a breath,” he murmured into her ear in a low, steady voice, balancing on the verge of the tone he used when explaining something in the lab. “And, most importantly,” a gentle squeeze of her thigh followed, “you will not abandon your seat until you come into my mouth, understood?” he finally commanded, more than asked. All she could manage was a quiet ‘yes.’

Viktor lay down on his back and guided Renly to hover above his face, her hands grasping the headboard behind him. A smirk curved his lips, when he instructed her to lower her hips, but she felt unsure about pressing all her weight onto him. Seeing her hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her thighs in a strong grip, his hands kneading the flesh of her hips, as he yanked her down to press her core to his face. His eyes flickered to hers from beyond the curve of her cunt, as he reassured her in a husky voice, “I promise I won’t break.”

He stroked the line of her with a long teasing lick, gently parting her with his tongue. Viktor could feel Renly shiver above him at the teasing sensation spreading itself through her body. She spotted his whisky eyes watching her hungrily, as his nose brushed itself gently against her clit, dragging a half-gasp half-moan, a weak attempt at mumbling out his name.  

“Did you like that?” His chuckle reverberated within her core and seeing no response coming, Viktor teased her again and again, until she granted him with a shaky ‘yes.’ He smiled against her skin and placed his tongue where his nose hovered a second ago, switching between small kitten licks and splaying his tongue flat against her in long drags, searching for what made her body tremble the most.

Feeling her slick drip down his chin, his ears filled with the sounds of her imminent release, he placed his mouth back at her entrance and ground his face against her clit, his own groans making her body jerk and twist.

He was eating her like a man starved. Feeling her walls clench around his tongue, he searched for a spot that made her toes curl, causing her hand to fall from the headboard into his locks as she pulled his face closer, her body bowed in pleasure over him.

He picked up his pace, fuelled by his name falling from her lips like a mantra, when her walls broke, her pleasure crashing over her. Viktor tightened his grip over her thighs, his arms holding her close as she rode her orgasm on the vibrations of her own name coming from his throat in muffled moans.

When he felt her body cooling, he slid her down to straddle his lap, lifted himself up, and kissed her longingly, stroking her back. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Viktor, I…,” she tried to formulate a sentence but could only rest her forehead against his. “I don’t think I’ve ever… I… I…,” she stuttered, causing Viktor to genuinely laugh for the first time she could recall.

“Have I achieved the impossible? Are you at a loss for words, my dear scholar?” he asked, a smile still painted on his face.

“You have no idea,” she replied, leaving a dozen feather-light kisses on his face. “Can we take your trousers off now?” she asked, having recollected herself from the post-climax haze.

“Certainly. But wasn’t it your task tonight?” She caught him smirking again. Soon, they were both equally naked. Renly kissed the scares on his knee as she removed his leg brace. He winced slightly but decided to let her do it, since she let him probe through all of her defences tonight. Viktor finally got to trace the line of her tattoo with his fingers, sending shivers down her spine.

He shifted on the bed, bringing her from kneeling at his legs back to straddling his lap. His fingers ghosted over the plane of her face, briefly cradling it with his hand before moving down her neck and her chest. Gently cupping her breast with one hand, he brought the other to do the same. His palms gave them a gentle squeeze before Viktor leaned forward and latched his mouth onto one of her nipples, the other not forgotten as he delicately stroked it with his thumb.

Renly gasped at the sudden attention, her hands finding purchase in his hair to steady herself against him. He switched between her breasts, to give each the same amount of his careful attention, taking note in how she reacted and continuing the same gestures that caused her to writhe against him.

He gave her sensitive skin a gentle nip, causing Renly to moan in pleasure, before one of his hands travelled down her torso to reach her cunt. The free palm went to cup her face again, bringing her into a heated, passionate kiss. His tongue played against her mouth, coaxing her to open and she met him in the middle of a tug war game between their lips.

Viktor’s fingers spread her cunt gently to reveal all the slick she gathered for him, his thumb giving her clit a slow, experimental rub. Renly gasped against his lips at the sudden touch, and he repeated the motion in response. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, pressing a lingering kiss there, as he explored the pressure and speed she desired. It wasn’t long before he had her panting and grinding herself on his hand, a hot pressure building up in her lower belly.

As she was edging toward another release, Viktor cupped her cunt and pushed one finger inside, releasing a whine from her lips at the change of touch. She was a panting, flushed mess on his lap, Viktor’s finger fucking her slowly. He kept adding one when he felt her loosen, flexing her walls by scissoring his fingers apart and grinding the heel of his palm against her clit. He retreated his hand once he was happy with his ministrations and licked his fingers clean, making sure her eyes were fixed on him. “You are simply divine,” he whispered as Renly pulled him into a sloppy kiss, tasting herself in his mouth.

Her palms drifted down his abdomen, trailing along the freckles spattered on his skin. She slid her palm flat down his lower belly to grasp his cock and give him a long, languid stroke. her forehead resting against his. Viktor shuddered at the attention to his length—he was long with a gentle curve to it, something he was rather insecure about previously, but now found himself adoring the way her hands explored him.

She gently rubbed her thumb on the tip, spreading the leak of pre-cum to add some slide to her strokes. She studied which movements made him gasp, watched him as his composure began to faulter and his head fell back against the bed. “Fuck,” he mouthed a voiceless curse, making her lips curl into a smile. Finally, she brought him carefully to her entrance, coating him in her slick. His hands found her hips as he steadily guided her down onto him, pausing to let her adjust. By the time she had him hilted they both gasped tentatively at the sensation, as if it were too much.

Viktor pulled her torso flush against his, holding her tenderly as he rolled his hips in the first experimental thrust, gauging on how she was taking him. His mouth fell open against hers, their breaths mingling together with a sound full of yearning. Renly ground her pelvis against his until they found a rhythm that was inching them both toward completion.

“Fuck, Renly,” Viktor’s voice strained as he was chasing his pleasure, fucking her with everything he had. Each thrust deep, earning him small gasps falling from her lips. For Viktor, it was a quiet kind of undoing, a descent into something both utterly foreign and achingly familiar. Every touch, every breath, felt like it stripped away the layers of armour he’d spent a lifetime constructing. His world, so often dominated by calculations and control, was suddenly governed by sensation—her warmth, her quiet moans, the way her hands clung to him like she feared the moment would slip through her fingers.

It was humbling, almost terrifying, to be so seen. And yet, it wasn’t the frailty of his body or the imperfections he had so long despised that held her gaze. It was him. The way she looked at him—as if he were something precious, something more than the sum of his flaws—shook him to his core.

Her trust was staggering, her surrender an offering he scarcely felt he deserved. But the way she responded to him, the way her body moved with his, left no room for doubt or hesitation. Here, there was no weakness, no failure—only a shared rhythm, a harmony he hadn’t known was possible.

And in that moment, as he let himself drown in her, Viktor felt something unexpected: not power, but peace. A rare and fleeting quiet in the chaos of his mind, a fragile stillness born of connection rather than control. She had given it to him freely, and in return, he gave her everything he had left to offer.

[gothicbeastgirl]

Ok, here we go again...

My theory is simple. What if...

Goldie is the bad guy?

I know it sounds strange, but now we know the keys were humans time ago, why couldn't he be the Old Man?

This idea came to me when I saw this post from @nevernovember

Punko has the skills to connect the dots, that's what a writer does: she can show you something at the start and it would be relevant for the story and you won't notice until she shows it to you again. She can tell you things with colors, bubbles, expressions, symbolysms and you will notice it, but something as simple as a cane...

The cane. It's hidden at simple sight, maybe you didn't noticed it bc it's obvious but we know key's names are related with metals/colors as @jthealien said.

Returning to the cane, it is gold. I know it could be a symbolysm about the Old man being rich, greedy or somethin like that, Punko always make things knowing why she's doing, so why the cane is not just a wood cane?

Buddy was human and turned into a key (I don't know if Violet, Silver, etc were humans too, bc Silver seems to forget she was human but Buddy knlws he was human in the past), and I think the number on his clothes is related with this.

1. Hero. 2. Villain. 3. Heroine. 4. Villainess. Etc.

He is number 2 bc of the role the Old man gave him: the villain.

I'm sure that, if my theory turns to be true, Buddy's nightmare is a memory. A memory before being a key. He's wearing a broken necklace as if he tried to escape, but he saw Chase so it's a recent dream about something from the past.

If this is true, and I know it isn't and this theory is ridiculous (hope you laugh about it), I get to 2 theories:

1. The old man turned himself and others into keys with his wish, maybe he wanted to be the hero once, but he regrets and now is using the golden trio to get another wish and become human again.

2. He can morph into whatever he wants and he kept Goldie prissoner and is pretending to be him (he's the hero, a bit silly and a good guy, every one trust the hero) just to get the keys again and a new wish.

Notice this is part of an insane person, a brain which isn't working since the end of the season and someone who needs lore during the hiatus.

Sorry.

Don't eat me alive.

Just read it as a joke.