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modedelagauze · 2 months ago

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Lying is The Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

pairing: Ellie Williams x f!reader summary: Ellie finds out you do burlesque and fucks you in costume after the show. cw: nsfw, dom!Ellie, thigh riding, praise kink, cursing, strap, fingering (4.2k) Read the extended version on AO3 HERE

an: I've got serious p!atd brain rot right now so stream Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off to get the full vision~

unedited btw!

“Five minutes!” shouted a voice over many, somewhat distorted by the echo of clicking heels rapidly shuffling between the narrow corridors of the dressing rooms and storage closets sandwiched among one another downstairs. You took a moment to reapply a thick layer of the blood colored bullet in your fingers and puckering to place a kiss on the surface of a half boa covered mirror as a way of wishing good luck to yourself before the show. You were one of the only cabaret girls who actually sang at the club and the only girl to have ever sang for Ellie Williams personally. At the beginning of the semester you’d often spend late afternoons alone and enclosed within the padded walls of the black box theater, on campus, practicing. You were blissfully unaware of the fact that there was someone else who was also using the space on occasion, probably for the better. It only was two weeks into the term that you’d stayed later than usual singing–ten minutes at most–and been disturbed by the nervous brunette carrying a guitar. To avoid drawing attention, Ellie had always entered the theater through its reliably unlocked back doors only to be gifted with the sound of your voice. Entranced by the melody, she decided to wait behind the curtains, standing just far enough for a view of your form without being noticed. It was only when you turned to take a swig of water that you became aware of the girl watching you. After that encounter she suggested that the two of you spend some time singing together, that you could learn a thing or two from each other. You ended up learning how magical her fingers could feel buried deep within that aching cunt of yours. With time, of course, she’d gone and destroyed what the two of you had built by indecisively bouncing back and forth between you and some girl back home. So, here you were ignoring her third call of the week and at the same time hoping to see her in passing just for one moment of spite.

On the stairs down from the dressing room, you practiced breathing exercises in preparation for the upcoming vocal stress. Girls called out wishes of support as you made your way down the long hall until their voices faded into the hushed whispers of patrons and the sharp clanging of glasses upon their wooden tables. It felt as though time had sped up tenfold how a wire was so quickly slid behind your ears and down your costume; a small flesh colored earpiece rushed into your right palm to be placed comfortably at your own will. Right at center stage was the band’s pianist, side facing the curtains, whilst the rest of the group were all tucked along the left side of the stage facing the audience. He passed along a supportive nod in your direction as you rushed into position; that being sat atop the far right side of his piano with an arched back and one thigh flush against the wood while the other was kicked up and bent.

“Thirty seconds till curtains rise,” ushered one of the techies and thus began the pianist, a playful and upbeat tempo before joined by the bass then guitars. The crowd cheered, queueing everyone behind the curtains that the two dancers upon the stage beyond had begun dancing along to the music. Slowly the velvet draping began to reveal light, decorating everyone behind the curtains too in ribbons of dancing radiance.

In synchronization with the drums having now kicked in and the curtains fully raised, you began in a teasing tone, “Is it still me that makes you sweat?” Your hands navigated down your hair and to your breasts, stopping to cup them ever so slightly before tauntingly sliding a single bra strap down between the lines, “am I who you think about in bed when the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you’re sliding off her dress?” An o-shaped expression of faux-embarrassment graced your face for a moment before gliding off of the piano and maneuvering around it to wrap your arms around the pianist in an attempt to imitate the look of a neck kiss. The next line was one of mockery, “Think of what you did and how I hope to god she was worth it.” As the final words of the phrase escaped your lips, your eyes landed on Ellie sandwiched within the crowd along the center stage, earning a stutter only recognized by the pianist as his eyes quickly darted to you and back to his instrument of choice. “When the lights are dim–And your heart is racing as your fingers touch her skin.” The line was rushed in order to catch up with your stutter, though the pianist threw in an additional key to make up for it, smiling as he played. In one fluid motion the two dancers along stage, darted to your figure and tugged on either side at both arms. You sang with pure confidence, borderline arrogance “I’ve got more wit” as one dancer dropped your arm the other spun you into hers and ran a hand along your face, thumbing at your flush bottom lip “a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck than any girl you’d ever meet.” Your song choice for the night had been a very carefully curated one though you weren't expecting to see Ellie any time soon–especially at your place of work out of all locations–it felt so good to sing your emotions out and leave them on the stage, but seeing her just now had felt like the greatest fuck you that the universe could offer. Had she even known that you’d be here or was it all by pure coincidence? Regardless, you'd come to the conclusion that now was no better a time than ever to remind her of the mistake she’d made. The other dancer’s hands found their way to your waist, unraveling you from the original’s hold and into her own. Both of your hands landed in your hair, teasingly pulling at it leading her to imitate the ghost of an open-mouthed moan, “Sweetie you had me.”

The routine required you to pick a random guest in the audience to sing to and Ellie had just so managed to pick one of the best seats in the house. Navigation was really quite effortless as you made sure to spend a lingering moment here and there singing into the face of occasional patrons. Each strum of the bass was a stride forward before unabashedly ending up at Ellie's table. You managed to dance around the other people sitting there and right into her face without wasting a beat. You asked and received and here she was in all her glory, a bewildered look upon her face as if she hadn't expected for you to make such a commotion about her appearance. You knew under that carefree attitude that she loved to portray there was still that same nervous girl tucked away within. It was as if she’d planned to show up in order to provoke you and realized that now was too late to back out. Usually she had no issue confronting any issue at hand but the problem was that she hated the attention confrontation brought her. She wanted your attention after having not seen you in so long and was desperate enough to risk embarrassment for it, which said more than enough.

Her gaze brought out a degree of seduction in you that had been fighting to finally be on the prowl again, tantalizing and enough for the girl in front of you to practically taste you with her eyes. You could see her fingernails hopelessly digging into the arm rests of her chair, respecting the club rules that patrons weren’t allowed to touch any of the performers unless they placed the hands of patrons upon their bodies themself.

A wicked smile was unavoidable as your hands grew to extend themselves past your own body and onto hers, delicately tiptoeing down her shoulder blades, scuffling the tips of your freshly manicured nails down the sides of her biceps. How you knew she loved the scratches; the way you would often leave her skin tinged red the following morning after a scandalous night. Maintaining eye contact was the name of the game for the entire duration of your little escapade. Naturally you already had the girl by an inch or two, but with the added height of heels you were a steel tower of carnality that she wished to rip apart. If anything she liked that you were taller because It made watching you sink down onto her strap all the more enjoyable. Seemingly the length of your legs created an illusion of prolonged time settling down upon her crude nature and she could watch you ride all night long.

You were sure to drag your claws along her jeans, pressing just hard enough for her to feel it through the fabric as your hands retracted down to her knees and you dropped to a close legged crouch looking up at her, running your hands across your own skin and through your hair, suspending it all in the air long enough for her to get a good glance at the exposed skin of your neck and hickeys from someone who wasn’t her. Slowly you stood again, rocking your hips back and forth as and circled her seat. She hadn't taken much of a sip from her drink and so from behind you snatched the floating cherry stem from its alcohol soaked entrapment. When you could see her eyes again, you reached to wrap your left hand around her jaw, forcing it open as you allowed the cherry to hover over your outstretched tongue then flicking it inside of her mouth. Of course she caught on and separated the cherry from its stem and you dropped what was left of it back into the drink. “Oh no, you know it will always just be me.”

From there you made your way back to the stage and concluded the set. Exiting the stage, you caught the view of a faint glow upon Ellie's face as was seemingly typing away furiously upon that screen. When you finally got to the dressing room your phone had lit up with a flurry of messages from the distressed brunette. The first about how beautiful you were, next demanding you keep your costume on, followed by how much she wanted to ruin your pretty makeup and finally concluding it all by asking if you could just come outside for a moment. And of course she got the better of you. Frankly you were turned on by how desperate she looked and sounded. Maybe you’d punished her for long enough? Washington got cold fast and by early November snowfall was impending so you grabbed your fleece and made for the back door where-to nobody’s surprise-Ellie was parked almost directly in front of the door whilst leaning against the passenger door waiting for you.

“It’s good to see you.” She spoke as she moved to open the door for you to get in.

With only inches between your lungs, you crossed your arms stopping dead in your tracks. “That’s not what you said to me Ellie. You asked me for a moment, not a damn joyride.”

The brunette rolled her eyes, now dropping her crossed arms to motion at the enormous building behind you. “Can you just listen to me for five minutes (†)?” she sighed loudly before continuing on in an almost pleading tone. “You just gave me a fucking amazing show and the place is obviously about to close. The least I can do is congratulate you on all this, because I haven't heard a lick from you in the last two weeks and suddenly you've become a damn good showgirl.”

Avoiding the situation, you sniffled at the bitter cold before gliding inside of her leather interior. “I’m freezing.”

She was quick to slam the door shut, mumbling something about you irritating her as she made her way back around to the driver’s side. Humming quietly, the speakers inside said what she refused to say aloud, “Why don't you show me a little bit of spine you’ve been saving for his mattress. I only want your sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me.” And of course you would've done just that, but it was only fair that you made the process difficult. Too many times had you easily given into her apologies within hours. Truthfully you missed her and the way she fucked you, but don’t get it twisted, it wasn’t that Abby hadn’t been easily laying you to rest when you couldn't see Ellie and vice versa, but why have only one pretty girl in your life when you could have two of them? It was pure and utter unapologetic greed.

As she had previously requested, you kept the same lingerie from earlier on; a pair of fishnet tights, low rising short shorts decorated by black sequins with a matching bustier so low cut that she was surprised it had not warranted one nip slip throughout the entire show. A plethora of golden cuffs spanned either of your biceps while a frilled garter belt adorned your left thigh and your hair, she couldn't even begin to speak on those perfect ringlets and how they framed your face, cascading down your shoulders into ink blotted waterfalls. The charm decorated braids placed sporadically around your head were always the cherry on top of it all because she loved how she could always hear you coming before she actually saw you; waiting like a dog with perked ears for a treat.

After her door was closed and locked you turned to face the girl, now ready to lay bare whatever needed to be said and done. “Well?” You taunted, sliding your feet from their heeled prisons and bringing your legs up to your chest to sit comfortably.

Ellie adjusted the gear before she moved to reach behind the head of your seat , reversing out of the parking lot. Her eyes darted over to you then back on the road, laughing dryly as she responded. “Please don’t play stupid with me (†). We both know why you’re in my car.”

You opened your mouth to speak then decided against it, staring out of the window with crossed arms when you responded. “How did you even find out where I work at Ellie?”

She laughed before placing a hand on your thigh, playfulling squeezing the tender tissue. “I knew that I only had to look for the most glamorous place around. Besides, Jessie really doesn’t like conflict.”

“And who the fuck are you, going around asking my friends about me Ellie?”

“He’s my friend too. I don’t understand why you have to be so damn difficult when you’re sitting barefoot in my car. I can’t think of any other reason you’d be undressing yourself already.” You’d been so busy pretending to be mad at her that you hadn’t realized that the car had just come to a stop in an empty parking lot, with only the faint illumination of a nearby lamppost to reveal the silhouette of her face in a warm wash of light.

Finally you decided to face her, “Maybe I’ve decided to change things up. I like hearing you whine, Ellie.” her gaze softened, eyebrows raised as a smirk played at the corner of her mouth fighting to reveal itself.

Ellie reoriented herself to lean on the center console, partially to close the space between the two of you and also to allow her eyes finally a better view, mentally undressing your figure in the process. “You’re so demanding (†).”

You leaned in, whispering a final retort before closing the gap. “I get off to being worshiped by you, Ellie.”

You could feel the girl smiling into the kiss as her fingers entrenched your curls, holding them tightly in a delicate cluster. After the two of you finally pulled apart a string of saliva had remained connecting you both until you’d moved far enough to break the thin bond. Her eyes were darker now, thinking of the ways she could mold you into whatever she wanted in this car. “Get in the backseat,” she demanded breathlessly. The girl then increased the volume of her music before she joined you back there, the next track being ‘Is It Really You’ from Loathe.

The two of you fought like swordsmen to control the encounter, Ellie forcing you into the cold glass of the window when she was the one kissing you and then switching to Ellie restrained with her head to the leather when you were the one kissing her. You sat straddling her lap, one leg folded up along her hip and the other fallen between the leg space separating the front and back seats. Your fingers threaded through her hair as an arm moved to gently squeeze your throat, locking you in place as the other reached around, palming your ass for a couple seconds before she snuck a finger around the ribbon holding your bustier together, tugging at the material. “So fuckin pretty,” she gasped between the dancing of your tongues. “Put your arms up.” You did as told with a careless disregard for the long process of getting that thing back on after all of this was over. You just wanted her all over you now.

Ellie was a mess as she watched the reveal of your breast falling free from the bustier, instantly taking a taunt bud into her mouth and tweaking the other in her fingers. You moaned at the shockwaves it sent echoing down your body straight to your pussy, but there were no breaks to this ride.

You didn’t even realize her fingers had already peeled back the crotch of your shorts when the sound of your fishnets ripping under her grasp brought you back down to reality. The air was cold against your clothed, sticky cunt as it begged for room to breathe. Her fingers began massaging small circles onto the inflamed pearl, already wet enough for it to stick to your panties. “All this dancing around the fuckin’ questions I ask you,” she laughed over your hushed moans before stopping to slap your desperate pussy. “Tryna pretend you didn't want this, but you’re so fucking wet already (†).”

You’d forgotten who you were under her hold. Somehow it had become so embarrassing to be as bratty as you were, deliberately pissing her off in order to earn a good fucking, sitting there with your eyes screwed up and a hand over your mouth, silencing the pornographic noises attempting to escape your throat over mere dry humping. “Come back to me baby; You don't get to run away.” she teased, resulting in an aggressive hickey pressed into the skin above your nipple. Another electrifying shock when she bit down and in that same moment sneaking her digits into your panties to now perform an inhumane assault on your pink parts. “I wanna hear you.” The vulgar brunette hummed.

“How many times did she make you cum?”

Your eyes threatened to shut closed again, nearing the verge of pleasure filled tears sliding down your perfectly powdered cheeks, “What baby?”

“Abby.” At this point she was starting to sound annoyed, picking up the pace.

Out squealed a voice that you hadn't known could even come from within, “I don't know.”

“Then we should start counting how many I can put you through.”

Just as you could see the horizon of your orgasm approaching she retracted her fingers from the sopping canal, earning an exasperated whine on your end. She took your jaw into her left hand, turning your face away from her as she drug her tongue down your skin, biting at it rougher than she normally was-like there was something to be proven. “You want me to fuck you real bad huh?” She gloated, hooking a finger around the seat of your undies and running her digits along your slit, collecting more than enough slick for it to run down her fingers and onto her palm “Yeah?” She continued, pushing two fingers into your hole without warning.

“Please,” was all that you could muster, grinding your hips onto her fingers for any sort of additional pressure. Almost there. Like clockwork she caught onto what you were attempting and stopped you dead in your tracks with her fingers having gone limp and the other hand holding your hips in place.

“Now, you know better than that.” She spoke imitating faux-empathy, “especially when we’re like this with each other.” Because normally after arguing the two of you fucked it out and at some point during the transaction someone apologized resulting in an orgasm for the other but for now this was world’s nastiest game of chicken. In passing moments, she began again, fingers curving directly into that spot that made you see stars in the night, a hand placed on your hips rocking them back and forth. “C’mon baby, fuck yourself for me.” And you damn sure rode her like it was nothing, eyebrows knit together as you focused your entire being on getting off. It didn't even take a whole minute for you to get there, and Ellie grinned at her handy work, but this was only the beginning. “One. That’s a good girl.” Your legs shook in reaction to her aggression and you attempted to stop her fingers from continuing on, wrapping your own around her steady wrist.

“Move your hands (†).” She ordered as your eyes began to water from the overstimulation.

“I can’t.” You pleaded in broken whimpers.

All she could do was laugh at you again, offering encouragement as if this was nothing to her. “You will. I need to hear that shit real loud on my dick.” Those words alone were enough to send you through another fiery orgasm. You swore your moans were loud enough to be heard beyond the entrapment of this car and Ellie liked pushing herself to see just how loud she could get you. “Two. It was that easy.”

Stiff fabric was good for hiding things just as she had until now, exposing the strap on that you had assumed to have been her phone in her pocket earlier. Ellie took you into her arms, rearranging the two of you where she was now the one on top and your head resting against the door’s storage compartment. “You ready baby?” she enquired, taking a minute to kiss your cheeks. You nodded, cunt throbbing for more as she watched it produce more of that thick hot arousal.

“You got the prettiest pussy in the world, (†).” She began, taking the plastic dick into her hand and tracing your slit, bewitched by the beautiful glass shine of your cum dripping down onto the leather seat as if an antiquated romantic painting. In that moment the guilt came flowing down her conscious for everything. Just wanted to make up for it by making you feel good. “Fuck, I can’t wait,” the girl whined, slowly pushing herself into you, feeling her own wetness completely entrenching her boxers and making its way for her thighs. The way your hair laid along the car interior, fanning out around you like a headdress made her melt, stopping to kiss you again before she began stroking slowly, making sure to allow you time to adjust to the feeling of fullness.

“More,” You pleaded, beginning the process of catching her rhythm in your hips.

“Yeah?” She answered, taking your thighs into her hands and sliding them over her shoulders, thrusting deeper for a couple of moments. “Feel good?” You struggled to formulate a coherent response and decided on simply nodding between moans. Ellie took this as a sign to make up for lost time, fucking into you with such force you were sure she could feel it on her own end, getting closer to finally cumming.

“Like that! Just like that!” ripped a scream from your lungs, satisfied with her rhythm having at last caught onto matching with her. She thought you were too fucking gorgeous of a girl that just looking at you had her loosing it, just seeing your expressions and the way your tits bounced so beautifully, revealing the stretch marks on their underside that she so loved to trace when the two of you laid in bed together; a live erotic portrait unable to be topped by even the masters themselves. Your arms locked around Ellie’s neck, taking her hostage in your grasp and moaning feverishly into the girl’s ears. Before one could get past your lips another would come, choking you on your own pleasure. “So fuckin good El’s.” If she was doing everything right then you wouldn’t have been able to speak, so she slipped an arm between your stomach and hers, pressing your abdomen down while the other arm kept you locked in place for her to use and abuse. You yelped, surprised by the added pressure, now feeling her deeper than before. Your hands loosed around her neck, digging into her back possibly even drawing blood.

“Take it, pretty girl.” she cooed, wanting everyone on the street to know her name and how good she made you feel. Didn’t matter how late into the night it was. It wasn't long until you came unraveled under her, your thighs clenching in anticipation for the coming waves of your climax. “Atta girl, I got you,” she whispered, continuing her dangerous pounding. A banshee would’ve been disturbed by the sound of you two. Of course Ellie always had to get the last laugh. “Three,” she sighed, wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed on her clammy forehead, bits of her fringe stuck adhered to the skin. "Forgive me?"

Would you guys be interesting in full length fic? I had lot of fun writing this. :p

Original Release: 11/7/24 Edit: 11/8/24

#the last of us #tlou #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #x reader #poc reader #black reader #ellie williams smut #with plot #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader

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merbear25 · 1 month ago

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Glad to see requests are open again 😃

May I please request headcanons for Sanji, Mihawk, and Shanks reacting to their girlfriend being afraid to express herself sexually due to being judged and shamed by previous exes?

Heyy! I was sick today but felt a smidge better to write. Thank you for sending in a request. I hope you like it 💜💜

CW: SFW, mentions of shame, fem!reader in mind, fluff, established relationship, headcanons

Helping you feel comfortable in your own skin (Sanji, Mihawk, Shanks)

Sanji

He had always been the type to lift those closest to him up. Knowing that you were dealing with these issues…well, it was heartbreaking to say the least.

He cursed those who’d put these insecurities in your head but never did so in front of you, because he thought it would be better not to remind you of your time with them.

All he wanted to do was shower you with the warmth and affection that you deserved.

There wasn’t anything you had to say, everything was understood from just a look. Whatever it was that you needed, he gave it to you without a second thought.

Baby steps were more than okay with him, since the ultimate goal was breaking down those pesky barriers.

Nights when you fell asleep holding each other, just talking about anything that popped into your heads were among his favorites.

Never pushy, he wanted you to decide when you felt comfortable moving to different stages. Each step in your relationship was met with enthusiasm, after all he was crazy about you. However, it was normal to take two steps forward and one step back, to which his patience never ran dry.

Mihawk

He could never understand how someone like you ended up with scum like them. Holding you closely, he made sure you felt every ounce of emotion harbored in his otherwise stoic demeanor.

Though he was not the type to freely express himself emotionally, that did not mean he didn’t feel just as deeply as everyone else.

When you poured your heart out to him, he’d simply listen. Adding only subtle nods and soft touches of reassurance when necessary.

There was no denying how attractive he found you, but with that being said, he knew how to exercise his patience.

Having you feel comfortable and confident would give him more satisfaction than any sexual encounter you’d have together.

His touches were warm but wouldn’t cross any of your personal boundaries. They didn’t linger for too long, even though sometimes you wish they did.

Silent with his words but loud with action, he let you know exactly what he was thinking with a simple caress of your hand.

Shanks

A tender look was all he gave when you shared your insecurities with him.

There were so many thoughts swimming in his head, ones which were polarizing: wanting to give you everything that you felt like you might have lost and wanting to curse those who took that confidence from you.

He was soft with you, letting you feel every ounce of love and adoration that you’d missed out on with your past relationships.

The compliments he gave you were never-ending. Even if you might roll your eyes from his cheesy flattery, each one stuck with you.

He was very vocal about how gorgeous he found you, hoping that some of his words would sink in and overcome at least one of those insecure thoughts of yours.

He was physically affectionate but didn’t test your limits. The respect he had towards you was worth more than selfishly putting his needs above yours.

That puppy-like love he had for you worked its charm, eventually giving you an added confidence boost when being with him.

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amuyyi · 4 months ago

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she wants me (to be loved) .

synopsis; you have always loved huh yunjin, but not in the way she loved you.

trope; huh yunjin x f!reader, angst, unrequited (?) love, bittersweet ending

wc; 4.6k

cw; idk like one cuss word LMAO

a/n; i swear im still in forever writers block but THIS FIC IS INSPIRED BY THE SHE WANTS ME TO BE LOVED WARRIOR CATS AMV ON YOUTUBE ITS ABOUT BLUEFUR AND THRUSHPELT PLEEEEK WATCH IT AND/OR LISTEN TO THE SONG WHILE READING IM JUST SO ARRGGHHH also its almost 4 am i am half asleep i just realllyy wanted to finish this. also i used to be a theatre kid so.

You have always loved Huh Yunjin. But not in the way she loved you.

You recall very vividly the first day you met her.

It was the middle of freshman year of high school, and you had just moved into New York from out of state. Your father had just gotten a new job opportunity, and practically wasted no time packing all of your things to move in the middle of the school year. Perfect. New place, new faces, and definitely no friends. Everything an emotional teenage girl needed in a cruical stage of her development. All of the other students in your classes were nice enough, but everyone already had their established friend groups by now, and you simply didn't fit what they were looking for.

Despite the different environment, there was one thing that this school provided that provided some sort of familiarity.

Theater.

Back in middle school and for the brief semester you had in your old high school, you had always been a fan of the big stage. The music, the dramatics, the acting… It was all so whimsical and alluring to you. How could you not get involved?

(Okay, honestly.. You had gotten really into musical theater in middle school once you found a Hamilton animatic and it became your sole personality trait for a good two years or so–)

Unfortunately, you were too much of a coward to truly put yourself out there like the actors around you. High school insecurities and poor self esteem truly did take its toll on you back then. So instead, you settled for being part of the stage crew.

You thought that getting involved with a club would make it easier for you to socialize and make friends. You could join a community. Yet somehow, it made everything all the more difficult.

Everybody seemed to already know each other and have their own established friends. On top of that, everyone also seemed to know who they hated as well. You would always overhear what other actors and techies would say about one another and it only just put you off from making friends even more. The whole environment was incredible… cliquey.

Still, you had nothing else better to do, so you stayed. It was… Fine. You still had no real friends, but you did enjoy doing various tasks around the stage. Working with stage lights, helping prepare costumes, painting backdrops. It keeps you busy. It was routine.

It wasn’t an uncommon sight to walk in on actors practicing their lines or their songs backstage. Back home, you knew everyone involved within the production– including the actors. You would always compliment them and occasionally even provide help whenever you didn’t have your own techy jobs to fulfill. The main problem? This isn't home. Nobody here was your friend.

But when you found a pretty girl practicing for this semester's production of Phantom of The Opera in an empty hallway, you couldn't help but stop in your tracks and stare. You’ve never seen her before. Well, it's not like you bothered to pay much attention to the people around you anymore— but you feel like you wouldn't miss a face like hers.

She had the prettiest brown hair with highlights and the cutest beauty mark near the corner of her mouth. She was pacing around the hall, script in hand as she did various vocal exercises. The sound of her voice echoes off the walls, and it was just as angelic as she looked.

“Prima Donna, your song shall live again…!” She sings out, her voice at a steady yet powerful vibrato throughout her verse. Her Bel Canto was skilled and practiced, and you can't help but wonder how long she’s been doing this for. Surely she’s overqualified for a simple high school production? You needed to hear more…

She moves her hands in elegant and dramatic forms as she immerses herself into the self-centered character of Carlotta. She played the roke perfectly, considering how most definitely had your attention now.

“You took a snub, but theres a public who needs you, think of the cr—“

A loud thud rings throughout the hallway, startling the mystery opera singer as well as yourself. Shit. You look down and see the culprit. Well, it was you. you caused the interruption— but more specifically, it was a freshly decapitated mannequin head with a wig you were going to more securely attach to the top. It was a bit of a horrific sight, in all honesty.

Now that you think about it, this prop might actually be for her. Though you didn't have much time to ponder that thought considering the mysterious brown haired beauty has now caught you eavesdropping on her singing.

The head rolls across the tile floor and lands at her feet. You feel your face warm to what was most likely a bright tomato red as she picks it up by its shortened neck, the wig threatening to fall off as it dangles limply off of the top of its head.

“I'm assuming this is yours?” She smiles kindly at you, though a bit wary. Understandable, really. You would be wary of yourself too if you were in her shoes.

“Y-Yeah, sorry…” you nervously laugh, taking the head from her hands as you try to pat the wig back into place.

“You sounded good, by the way!” You quickly stammer out, absentmindedly hugging the head to your chest, “Like… really good. Seriously.”

The mystery girl laughs at your flustered words, and she waves her hand dismissively. Her cheeks warm bashfully as she shakes her head.

“Thanks but… I have a lot to work on. My tones off, and I still need to memorize these lines by tomorrow…” she trails off, moving to press her back against the wall, sliding and sitting down on the floor.

Fiddling a bit with the mannequin head, you don't allow yourself to think too hard before you suddenly blurt out.

“I-I can help!”

You watch as her pretty brown eyes widen slightly, and

“Really? You sure you arent too busy?

You were actually quite busy, but she didnt have to know that.

“Of course not,” you lie confidently, sticking a hand out, “I’m y/n.”

She eyes your hand curiously, but ultimately shakes it, “Yunjin. Jennifer, if you’d like.”

From then on, you would spend every other day after school with Yunjin, helping her recite her lines, fitting her for costume changes, and even finishing that mannequin head prop for her.

Soon after, your after school hangouts turned into out of school hangouts and then eventual sleepovers every weekend. You learned everything possible about Yunjin. Like how she had always dreamed of being a performer, how she wanted to make it big in the Kpop industry, how she loves snakes…

Since then, you knew you loved her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

On one seemingly normal spring afternoon, you were abruptly torn away from your sunkissed siesta with the sound of your door being kicked open.

With the growing bond between you and Yunjin, you made the mistake of giving the girl a spare key to your own home. (Oddly enough, your parents werent against the idea. They considered Yunjin like a second daughter.)

You whine out as she grasps at your half asleep form, shaking you aggressively.

“I got accepted into a company, y/n!! I'm gonna be a trainee!”

Eyes shooting open, you try to sit up through the aggressive grip Yunjin had on you.

“No kidding?” You croak out, looking at her with disbelief.

“I'm not!” She cheers, bouncing happily through your bedroom. Trying to match her energy through the grogginess, you slip out of bed, stumbling a bit as you tumble into her arms. Yunjin laughs at your state, wrapping her arms around your waist to keep you steady as she jumps excitedly.

“I’m going to move back to Korea next month— this is so exciting!!” She squeals out, and your smile falters ever so slightly. Move? To Korea?

Still, you bite back the sickly feeling developing in your stomach as you squeal alongside her.

You were happy for her, and did nothing but support her all throughout her time in Korea. Called her every night after training, sent her pictures of school life without her, even voting for her in that odd survival show she participated in. You did anything and everything you could to be the best friend you could be.

Yunjin always had the stars in her eyes. But in yours? There was only ever her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The day that everything truly changed is still fresh in your mind.

After spending years chasing after Yunjin, it feels like you have finally caught up to her. She's back in the states after her time in Korea, and she's planning on staying. She looked a little different than before, but it was the same old Jennifer you knew and loved— even when missing a few moles and deeper eyebags.

Upon her arrival back home, it was like no time had passed. Once again attached at the hip, as it should be. You practically made it your job to crawl into her skin at any given moment and to pamper her with all of her favorite things.

You would treat her to meals, spontaneous shopping sprees, and simple girls nights out. All of the good stuff to make up for lost time. Unfortunately, your attempts to keep your best friend happy came with their own obstacles. you would occasionally find advertisements or clips of idols that would show up during your time together, and for just a brief moment, you would see that usual spark within Yunjin’s eyes falter. It was a stark reminder of what she could have had.

It hurt you to see her get reminded of her time as a trainee. It truly was everything she wanted and more. But it was okay, you were here now, and you weren't planning on letting her go this time.

You’d drop any and everything for Yunjin. You allowed her to vent whenever she needed, to come over whenever she wanted, and to indulge in spontaneous late night meals whenever you two felt like it.

Needless to say, your wallet was crying by the time summer was nearing its end, but you didn’t mind at all. Yunjin was back. She was happy. You were happy. Things were finally returning to normal.

The two of you decide on a college to attend together in Boston, both pursuing a major in business. It's neither of your first choices in majors, but it's a good enough money maker in the long run.

The pair of you sat in Yunjins bedroom, with you comfortably propped up against her bedframe on the floor whilst the brunette lay comfortably on the mattress. You hugged the djungelskog plushie you had gifted Yunjin some birthday ago close to your chest as you atared at your phone, with Yunjin crunching away on cheez-its as the entire La La Land soundtrack softly plays from the record player in the corner of the room.

Its nearly less than a month until move in day at Boston University, and you feel beyond giddy. Actual independence? And spending it with your best friend slash secret crush? Your dreams were coming true. Looking through your college dorms on the website, the pair of you converse about the future.

“What kind of theme do you think we should go for our dorm?” you ask, leaning your head against the bed to look up at Yunjin, who was still crunching away contentedly at her snacks.

“I'm not sure… But I do know I want to cover my wall with all of my posters…”

“Ooh! Yeah!! I can add fake flowers on the walls…”

“ Of course, we need a bit of girlish charm— oh! we need to make room for a record player and my guitar.”

“Google maps says there's a 7-eleven near the campus…” you murmur, your short attention prompting you to immediately shift to another topic.

“ Should we go got late night snack runs?”

“Duh.”

“Or maybe if we get tired of the dorm food, we can get equally as crappy convenience store food for instead–”

Suddenly, the music from Yunjin’s phone gets cut off, being replaced with her ringtone (it was Come Inside Of My Heart by IV of Spades ) as she huffs.

“ sorry, hold that thought..” She murmurs, answering the call.

You didn't know any Korean, the only bits you’re familiar with are the phrases Yunjin taught you to talk with her parents (which you also butchered) so you naturally begin to tune out whatever she begins to say on her end. Despite this though, you easily pick up on the shift in tone as she speaks. Professionalism, skepticism, to Shock. That was all you could read off of Yunjin as you looked up from your phone, curiously glancing at her. Her eyes were boggling out of her skull, and she placed a hand over her mouth before ending the call.

The brunette remains frozen in place, hand still over her mouth as a silence passes over the room.

“So….?” You ask, crawling up onto the bed to sit next to her.

Yunjin’s voice is shaky, yet laced with a twinge of excitement and disbelief as she speaks, “I just got a call from Hybe. I… I have the chance to debut.”

You don’t know what came over you at that moment. It felt like the world came collapsing down on you. Right now, you should be happy. Jumping for joy, focusing all on Yunjin and her chance for success. She's been given a real chance to make her dreams come true, even after it seemed impossible, even after all the years of rejection and work. This was all she wanted in life and more— you should be happy? Right?

But you’ve always been a selfish person. Or maybe you convinced yourself you were ever since that day. You don’t know. Maybe in that moment, you realized you could lose everything you’ve been waiting for. You’d lose the girl you've chased after for so many years now. If you didn't do something now, you wouldn’t have the chance to do it ever again. You were a greedy person, so you confess.

“Yunjin, I love you. I always have.”

The words feel like a slap to the face, and it shows. It shows in the way her eyes widen and smile falls. This was a bad idea, but you can't back out now. Your eyes begin to water as your voice cracks.

“I… I don’t want you to go— to leave me…” you choke out, “What about uni? Our dorm? What am I going to do without you?”

You knew you were being manipulative, you knew you were being selfish. But you didn’t care. You wanted her to know how you truly felt. You didn’t want her to leave you, not again. Your heart couldn’t handle it.

Through tears threatening to spill out, you can see her cheeks slowly dust a faint shade of pink as she processes your words. She seems… hesitant. Over what? You weren’t too sure. You weren’t too sure if you even wanted to know.

The silence that washes over the two of you is beyond suffocating. You feel like you’re drowning, digging your nails into your palms as you look away. If you looked at her, you were scared you’d break, and the tears would begin to flow. After a few moments that feel like hours, she finally responds.

“I believe you have feelings for me…” she begins, voice soft yet strained. For some reason, those words leave a bad feeling in your gut. You muster up enough courage to meet her gaze. She looked just as hurt and conflicted as you felt. Yunjins grip on her phone tightens as she takes a deep breath, continuing, “...but I can’t give this up, y/n. It's my dream.”

That was the moment you knew you truly lost her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

In another life, you and Yunjin would be at Boston University together, pursuing that business degree that neither of you want.

It's a dream that used to occasionally return to you when Yunjin was overseas. Every now and then, you’d wake up in a cold sweat, and you’d check Yunjins location. She’d still be in Seoul. It was okay though, because you knew she’d always come back. She always came back. Now it haunts you every other night.

The dream is always so incredibly vivid and real. You would wake up to Yunjins many alarms that she somehow manages to sleep through every single time, and you’d peel your eyes opened to your shared dorm room. Though you didn’t have much time to admire the beauty of it all through the sound of an alarm continuously dragging you out of your slumber. She’s always been a heavy sleeper. you’d have to jump on Yunjins sleeping form to even stir her into some form of consciousness.

Yunjin groaned in protest, but you knew her. She wasn’t truly bothered, not when it came to you. Instead of entertaining your futile attempts to wake her up, she would wrap her arm around your waist, dragging you down with her as you squeal out.

She's warm. Her brown bobbed hair has grown out by now, black roots peeking through the top of her head as you join the mess that is her bed (and hair.) She smells like vanilla and wood, and you can't help but laugh into her embrace. You’ll be late to the dining hall for breakfast, but it doesn't really matter. There was a 7-eleven nearby that could provide breakfast while the two of you rushed to your classes– in which you had meticulously planned to have almost every single class together.

After a long day of school, you would return back to your dorm both collapsing on your respective beds as exhaustion settles in. It was decorated just the way you two liked it. With both boy and girl band posters littering the walls alongside some fake vines, flowers, and a multitude of polaroids you two have accumulated over the years.

Once the two of you move out of the dorms and graduate, you’d find an apartment to share. Dual income and no children, that was the way to live. Alongside a cat and a dog, of course. You’d have a black cat named Binx, and a golden retriever named Dug, something you two had discussed many times before.

It’s beyond perfect. You lay on the couch, comfortably in Yunjins arms as a blanket is lazily draped over your forms. Binx is settled upon your lap as Dug takes up the space on the rug. The tv is playing Coraline— a staple movie for you two, and you'd smile. Yunjin would lovingly return the grin, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

And then you’d wake up, the grim reality of your situation compared to your dream sending tears flowing down your cheeks. You’re constantly reminded how Yunjin wasn't yours. Not in this lifetime. And it hurt more than anything else.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You’ve always been there for Yunjin, both before and after she became famous.

In High school, you of course supported her throughout your brief time in the drama club. But you also provided a shoulder to cry on, a free source of math homework answers, a friend.

When she moved back to Korea to become a trainee, you helped her through the rough patches. Hours of dance training, rigorous workouts, and unhealthy dieting took a toll on her. But you were always there through the phone, no matter the time.

Even after her debut, you remained loyally by her side. Yunjin grew busier and more distant over the years, and it was understandable. You were busy too. With college, internships, and general “adulting,” it was a challenge to remain in contact. Still, when you two did find time to talk, Yunjin would tell you stories of her members, of the rumors and scandals that would plague the group. It hurt to see her hurting, especially knowing you couldn't be there for her like before. But you were glad to see her achieving all she wanted and more.

You hop into one of Yunjins late night livestreams (even if it was the morning for you.) It wasn’t like you couldn’t just call her whenever you wanted, but it was just another one of the little things you would do to continuously support your friend. Yunjin never made a scene whenever you popped in, but always made sure to look for your comments and read them out every single time.

“Sing something from Phantom or you’re lame?” She reads out, a soft laugh slipping past her lips as she does so.

The idol gives the camera a knowing look, one that only could be read by you, and you smile as she clears her throat. Phantom of the Opera is what brought you two together, after all. She spends a few minutes doing short vocal exercises to warm up her voice, and the sight is oddly nostalgic. Yunjin then sits up straight as she begins to sing, and you feel your heart twinge slightly at her song choice.

“Think of me,

Think of me fondly,

When we've said goodbye.

Remember me,

Once in a while,

Please promise me you'll try.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Now here you were, in a completely foreign country, placed in more than accommodating seats within the VIP section of this unfamiliar venue you’ve never even heard of before. There were hordes of men around you, all cheering in a deep voiced mass for the girls on stage. You stuck out like a sore thumb. Yet, there was Yunjin. You watch her, shining brightly on stage whilst donning a fresh head of bright orange hair. It suited her. Her fiery passion, her fierce determination that got her here in the first place, her glowing smile. It was all only a physical expression of who she was on the inside.

Yunjin had insisted on getting you these tickets– even going out of her way to even cover part of your plane ticket here despite you having a very stable and office job now. You tried to tell her you were happy enough to see her from the nosebleed seats in the back, especially since it was all you could afford on such short notice. But she refused, pulling some strings to give you the best seats possible. She wanted you here. More than anyone else.

You’ve seen Yunjin perform before. How could you not? You could vividly recall the way she would sing out and capture the entire crowd’s attention from the stage of your high school’s auditorium. How she would perform with such confidence and precision, how she performed like she was made for this.

Things have changed a lot since then. There was no business college in your future together anymore. No planned dorms together. No more late night talks. No 7-eleven snack runs. Yet oddly enough, despite the changes, this was seemingly no different than before. Every person in the crowd was entranced, immediately allured by her natural charm and her passionate voice. You included. Just like those many years before, she still managed to have you bewitched on the sidelines while she chases after the spotlight.

So you cheer. Joining the roaring crowd as you call out Yunjins name, a bright smile playing on your lips as you do so. You’ve always been her biggest fan, after all. You swear you saw her make eye contact with you, seemingly providing her an energy boost as she sings out to the audience. She was beautiful, and she knew it.

Once the show is over, you find your way to the backstage area. You tried your best to explain to the security how you were friends with one of the members, and how she invited you back there. Unfortunately, your Korean was less than conversational, and you pretty much looked like an embarrassingly desperate and obsessive fan until Chaewon came and saved the day.

“y/n-nnie! Come, Come!! I saw you in the crowd!!” She chirps out sweetly, abruptly pushing past the guard and dragging you backstage, leaving the security both confused and a bit exhausted. This might not have been the first time the girls have tried to meet with their friends after performances.

There were people everywhere. Stage hands, stylists, makeup artists, and more, all rushing around you two and occasionally praising Chaewon. You felt beyond out of place, and probably looked the part too. Despite having Yunjin as a friend, you’ve never once felt like you were friends with a celebrity. She was simply your Jennifer, and that was more than enough. Being here though, you could truly see the extent of the impact she had on people. How so many people respected her and admired her.

Lost within your thoughts and observations of the crowd, you barely notice when Chaewon lets go of your arm, leaving you to fall victim to a bright orange mass stampeding your way. Without warning, you’re tackled into a hug by none other than Yunjin herself. You swear you see stars as the air gets forced out of your lungs.

“y/n!! You made it!!” She beams, giving you a firm squeeze pulling away to fully take in the sight of you. Her arms are still firmly wrapped around your form as her eyes almost sparkled with pure affection for you. Your cheeks warm at the contact, and you can't help but shyly avoid her gaze. Even after all of this time, she still has the same effect on you. After letting out a soft breath, she quietly murmurs, “I was singing for you, y’know.”

And your heart aches. Aches for what you two could have had. Aches for feelings she chooses not to reciprocate. You want to be angry with her. Despise her for leaving you behind and living this luxurious celebrity life.

Yet your heart also swells. Swells with pure affection for the girl you love. The way she holds you, how she insists on having you attend, how sweetly she says your name. All of it makes you crumble all too easily. She truly cares for you, and never let the fame change that. You truly were lucky to have her.

“Really, now? You sure you weren't singing for the sea of men you forced me to sit with?” You laugh out, gently shoving her, “I swear I heard a guy say he ditched a family dinner to be there.”

Yunjin loudly laughs at your comment as she shakes her head, “How about you come over to our dorms to celebrate tonight, yeah? We’ll even let you pick a movie – or I’ll make them watch whatever you choose… Please?”

You were a bit hesitant. These were Yunjin’s friends. You didn’t want to intrude, especially after a crazy night like this. Yet, despite your reluctance, Yunjin stares down at you with those damn puppy eyes, and somehow manages to get Eunchae and Chaewon to join in…

“... Okay, fine,” you groan out, feigning disappointment as you see Yunjins eyes light up. “but we’re watching Coraline.”

The girls all cheer and pull you into a tight hug, with Yunjin holding onto you just a bit tighter than the others.

Huh Yunjin loves you. But not in the way you want. Yunjin wants you to be loved.

And loved you are, even if it means she can't be yours.

#kpop fanfic #gg fanfic #kpop #kpop x female reader #gxg #kpop gg #kpop x fem reader #huh yunjin x reader #yunjin x reader #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim x fem reader #wlw #gxg imagine #yunjin x female reader #Spotify

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liveontelevision · 5 months ago

Text

Suffer Epilogue | Lucifer x Reader

Thanks for the patience friends, been a busy bee :') but here she is in all her glory, a happy ending for everyone!

SMUTSMUTSMUTSMUTSMUT MINORS DNI 18+

♡♡♡

The feeling of royal silks and golden embroidery under your fingertips are soothing in their own sense. But what lies beneath is what truly interests you. With his own assistance, his beautifully constructed suit vest is removed. You needed no help when it came to swiftly unbuttoning the entirety of his blouse. What's revealed is a heaving chest, a rosy blush tainting its snow-white complexion.

You want to taint it more.

You dip your head down, running your hands down the length of his sweet skin, until your palms rest comfortably on either side of his waist. Tracing your thumbs across that nerve that continuously forces a subtle jerk, you leave a trail of kisses and nips across his chest. The additional discoloration of your delicate bruising only paints a prettier picture below you.

Leading your hands back up to his chest, you brush your fingers across his skin delicately. An action much less intimate than anything that's just occurred seems to force a vocal response. A whimper, muffled into the back of his ash-colored hand, contrasts the blush on the apple of his cheeks quite nicely.

You look at him, like an artist enjoying their latest creation, beaming at him with pride.

Back to work.

Pressing feather-light kisses up the column of his neck, you take a gentle hold of his wrist to pull his hand away from his lips, wanting to leverage the sweet whines that spill out. You continue on until you barely kiss the corner of his mouth, refusing to give him what he wants.

But only for a moment.

Once he's nearly begging for a kiss, you let your lips meet his tenderly. A passionate exchange of pants and occasional nipping at his lower lip, Lucifer manages to let out something other than a breathy whine -

"Darling, I.. I love y-"

Your hand is immediately clamped over his mouth. You stare at each other with wide eyes, at the sudden action. After a breathless moment had passed, you quickly pull your hand to your chest and sit up.

"S-Sorry! I just.. sorry! Did.. that hurt..?" You ask with a hint of hesitation to your voice, as if you weren't exactly sure you wanted the response.

Lucifer sits up from lying on his back to resting on his elbows, still quite comfortable with you straddling his topless form. He lets out a nervous chuckle, his eyes glowing up at you.

"Well..! Not physically." He says, a tinge of frustration in his words. "Is there.. something we need to discuss, dear?"

Shit.

You suck in your lower lip and quickly shake your head.

"N-No! I don't think so! Nothing important!" You stammer out. Your nervous smile is only met with a stern expression of disbelief, then a sigh that sounds like an admission of defeat. Lucifer brings his hand up to caress your cheek.

"I won't force anything out of you, but I.. am getting a little worried." You can't control the involuntarily flinch at his touch, and it only seems to dishearten him more. Before he can pull away, you take a grasp of his hand and bring it back to cup your cheek.

"I know. I'm sorry." Your response is almost a whisper. The sound of vibration against a nearby nightstand brings both of your attention to your phone. You carefully unmount him, after receiving a quick kiss on the forehead, and glance at the reminder sent by the one and only princess of Hell; Exercise on the importance of communication is in 10!

Feeling a gentle hand encase your shoulder, you catch Lucifer sneaking a peak at your screen - "Hm. That one should be good for you, my dear." - only to antagonize you. You groan and shrug him off before standing.

He's.. not wrong, though.

The hotel wasn't exactly bustling with residents, but since the mini-battle with that damned radio demon, there were definitely some new faces. Charlie couldn't be happier, especially with the news of her friend Sir Pentious making it safely to Heaven. The hotel was working. And it was finally peaceful.

But, there's always a quiet before the storm.

Charlie was now aware of your relationship with her father, even if it wasn't by your own admission. And after Lucifer requested a one-on-one with Vaggie, something that occurred more often after her angelic strength was restored, you had the hotel manager cheering you on as well.

It didn't take long for Angel or Husk to find out, but that was mainly a precursor to Niffty interrupting some private time you were trying to have with Lucifer. And Alastor.. he hadn't shown his face since the fight. On occasion though, you'd catch his scowling shadow. As if the shadow met your eyes, its smile curls upwards.. and it waves.

You wave back.

It was nice for everyone to know, actually. You thought you weren't one to enjoy PDAs of any kind, but having Lucifer sitting near you at all times, his fingers interlaced with yours, or even his thigh gently touching yours, felt like a well-earned reward. Best of all, him placing his hand on the small of your back while greeting new residents, you got to his expression. A grin of pride adorned his face each time. Damned, if that didn't make you feel amazing.

That being said, things must be perfect between you and the king, right? For the first time, there's nothing threatening your relationship. It's out in the open, even. You're being supported by the one demon who matters most, Charlie, and you've never felt more.. loved...

Love.

You told Lucifer you loved him. In the heat of battle, when Charlie was mere seconds from tearing Alastor apart, you told him you loved him.

It feels foolish. How could you bring something like that up in a moment of such severity? Then again, Maybe that was it. Maybe you just said it to get it out of your system at your most vulnerable.

Maybe you didn't even mean it.

You shake that thought from your head every time it comes up. And unfortunately, it comes up often. On the other end, Lucifer was always there to calm your nerves. With every little kiss, every embrace, every bite, he would suffocate any retched thought that you dared to come up with.

An unfortunately common occurrence, your battery had simply run out today. You have to find Lucifer.

"Luci?" You call out, peeking into his office. He's hunched over his desk, groaning and waving you over to him in response. You happily trot along, setting a tray of teacups beside him on his desk.. well you tried to at least. Stacks of papers were covering most of the tabletop, and any little movement would surely cause something to tumble. You opt to set the trey aside and hand him his cup directly. With an exaggerated groan, he leans back in his chair, his head lulling back.

"I believe I'm dying my love." He mutters out. You roll your eyes in response and lean your back against the edge of his desk.

"I highly doubt that." You respond with a smirk. You watch him rake his fingers through his hair, before finally taking a sip of the tea. His eyes almost immediately soften. With a sigh from his lips, he sets the cup aside and starts rubbing his neck.

"I'm proud of Charlie, and I'm more than happy to help- I'd even prefer to do all the communication with Heaven, but.. this?" He gestures weakly to the forest of paperwork shrouding his desk. "This is literal Hell."

You shrug, "Well, You're not wrong." You sit up, chuckling when he shoots you a glare. You stand behind him, gently placing your hands on his shoulders. "If it's stressing you out so much, why don't you take a quick break? My treat~" You bend at the hips to whisper in his ear, his shudder in response only raising your ego more.

"I-I don't know, I'm.. I still have a lot to do, and some of this needs to be.. sent over... tomorrow..." As he hesitates over your offer, you're already working his shoulders with gentle hands. Pressing your thumbs into where it feels the most tense, you have to work hard to untangle the knots in his muscles. Your hands slide from neck to shoulder, then move farther up each time, eventually toying with the hairs on the back of his neck, earning you a delectable shudder.

“D-Darling, I really should get some more done.." He groans out, as you brush his hair away from his face and rake your nails down his scalp.

After seeing his eyes flutter shut, his head having fallen backward onto the chair, you press a quick kiss to his forehead.

"You're doing great, Luci. I'll be here to help in any way I can." You say sweetly. He looks up to you with half-lidded eyes and tucks the hair that dangles in front of you behind your ear. You hum, quite content with his motion to pull you into an upside-down kiss.

The next thing you know, you're perched on his desk, most of the papers scattered around you. Lucifer keeps a tight grip on either side of your legs, pulling you completely flush to him in one fell swoop. With a little yelp, your playful giggles are snuffed by a deep kiss. His hands explore your sides, tracing over every curve he can get his hands on. With one swipe, his claws barely graze your skin, having snuck under your top without you truly noticing.

You respond with a gasp, wide eyes only met with shut, concentrated ones. His hand moves quickly, completely encompassing your chest with one hand, caressing and toying with your breasts. You try to let out a moan in response, but he's refusing to break the passionate wrestling of your tongues for even a second.

You arch your back, forcing your bodies even closer together. a feat you thought impossible, until you feel him leaning closer, creating friction against your heat you weren't expecting.

You tighten your legs around his waist, involuntarily bringing his hips closer to yours. You let out another muffled whine, gripping desperately at his hair at the nape of his neck.

While this is fun and all.. you want to see his face.

You want to see his desperation and frustration as you pull yourself away and force him to return to work, only for you to tease him in other facets.

You place both your hands on his chest and gently push away, your body leaning closer to the desk. And you get exactly what you want. A panting, desperate mess, looking ready to beg for you to continue on. But he doesn't beg. Instead,

".. I love you." He says weakly.

Your body is brought to a complete halt, your legs and arms tightening around him with the sudden tension of your muscles. You look at him with wide eyes, and he only realizes the source of the disruption once he's fully regained his composure.

You've never seen him this way. Frustrated. Disappointed. Fuck, it's the worst. He paces back and forth in front of you, still a mess sitting on his desk.

"I-I just don't understand, I love you-" He emphasizes his words and you bite your lip and force your eyes down.

"-and I know you love me back. You said it first." He was right. He looks at you with his hands on his hips, tapping his foot as if he were impatiently waiting for a response.

"I did- I do..! I just- I'm worried about.. something happening, or someone-" You stammer a completely unreasonable response out and it only forces a worried look onto him.

Damn, that one's even worse.

"Look, I'm trying to figure out why I can't say- .. but, I feel it, Lucifer, I promise." You say weakly, clutching at your chest, unsure if it was meant to imply how your heart is brimming with thoughts of him, or if it's due to your own nerves. Your eyes are drawn from your lap to Lucifer's soft expression when his hand gently cradles your chin. Your eyes are glossy, almost ready to tear apart.

"I know, darling. I just hate to see you in this much distraught over something like this. I'll always be here, and my feelings will never change.. so I'm more than willing to wait for you to be ready for this to go on any further." Again, his words always calm down. "but... this is affecting me as well. If I can help you-"

"Lucifer, I can handle myself-"

"-can handle yourself,” He interrupts in tandem. “I know. I know you can." He lets out a sigh, his smile dropping bringing a pain to your chest. "I'll be here for you, my love. For anything." He plants a quick kiss to your cheek. "I should.. get some work done. And uh.. clean up this mess." His gesture to the piles of papers, now on the floor, brings a small smile to your lips.

"I'm sorry, Lucifer."

"I know."

No one frustrates you more than yourself. Are you questioning his feelings? Your feelings? What if you don't trust him? After all this time, all the hurdles you've had to jump, and how he's stuck with those?

Cursing yourself, you're pacing the balcony to your hotel room, a pleasant addition after the reconstruction. Yet, all it's been good for is getting fresh air from the suffocating thoughts in your head. It wasn't voices exactly, you just always felt as if your mind was vibrating at this weird frequency. As if there was a static-

"What do you think you're doing? Trying to cause more trouble? You shouldn't be here." Leaning against the railing, you call out to the familiar sensation.

"I'm on thin ice already, darling, I hope you don't think I'm idiotic enough to cause more trouble so soon." Just as you thought, Alastor stands upright from his shadowy figure, leaning against his microphone by your side.

This was the first time he's emerged since he got his ass thoroughly kicked by Charlie. And even after all that's gone on, you allow him to stand by your side, staring down at the city.

"Did you ever love me? That whole time?" Your question seems to startle him, you see his hand flinch against his cane at your voice.

"Love? That isn't exactly.. Something I do." He responds. You scoff at his tacky words,

"So, what, you've never loved anyone before? How do you-"

"I'll say it, if it will stop you from asking me ridiculous questions." You hold your hand up dismissively.

"Don't." He swoons in your direction, a hand over his heart following a dreamy sigh.

"Oh my sweet apple pie, I love y-"

"Stop it." You snap. He retreats, bending at the hips to lean against the railing.

"Speaking of.. apple pie-"

"He's not here. We're uh.. taking some time to yourselves." You admit quickly, looking away and nervously fidgeting with your fingers.

"Ah, and you were looking for a little rebound?" You groan at his words,

"No! Stop it you freak!" You push him away, despite the fact he made no real advance. He only retaliates with a hearty chuckle.

"Come now, You know I just enjoy your misfortune."

You let out a calm huff, your tension melting at the cool breeze that fills the silence between you.

"I'm scared. There's always something that's torn us apart. And usually, it's been my fault. What if I screw it up again, Al?" Your sudden openness brings a curious eye over to you. Still, Alastor stops to think before he speaks.

"What was the cause of your first uncoupling?" You cock your head in confusion, but he ushers you on.

"Well.. I kissed him while he was married.. In Charlie's nursery. While she was sleeping." You mumble your words, an embarrassing look back to what started this all. Alastor's holding back a laugh.

"And he refused you?"

You shake your head in response.

"No, actually, Lillith caught me."

He hums, before continuing his questioning.

"And the other time.. was my doing, correct?" His words hold no static, a human voice greeting you for the first time.

"Uh.. Yeah." You confirm softly, a bit of shock coming through your own voice.

"Well, it seems like the constant here is your little apple pie." His says. You quickly clarify,

"I don't call him that, just so you know."

"Well. He's quite the thorn in my side. So he must be an even sharper one in yours. He's surely not going anywhere without a fight." His words are laced with irritation and honesty. "Do you doubt that?"

"Well.. no. I don't. I believe in him." You say.

"Then that seems to matter more than anything, my dear." You ruminate for a moment. It can't be that easy..

"But what if-"

"Listen close." Alastor takes a firm grasp on your jaw and moves to face you entirely. He brings you to a sharp stance, your eyes wide at the sight of his towering form. "Despite my intentions, I did learn quite a lot about you during our time together, my dear. Your head is always full of static, you overthink every damn thing. Quite a nasty habit, I must say."

Seeing your breath pick up, he scowls and tosses his hand away with a sigh.

"Do you love him?"

Soothing your jaw, you look at him with a hint of disdain, but his question throws you off.

"I.. I think so..?"

"Then trust that. Trust the quiet. There isn't always a storm to follow, you know." You look away from him, thinking on his words. Leaning back against the railing, a final cool breeze blowing through your hair, you realize you can't deny him.

"Thanks, Alastor. You know I'm sure you could come back and-"

You look over to Alastor only to find yourself standing alone on the balcony.

You'll refuse to give Alastor credit until the day you drop dead - so never - but you were suddenly feeling very.. peckish.

With a determined huff, you approach Lucifer’s bedroom door. And with an even more determined knock, the door cracks open. Without a true greeting, you almost hesitate. Maybe he’s upset with you..? Maybe he isn’t ready to see you after-

There isn’t always a storm to follow.

You take a deep breath.

“Can I come in?” You peek inside, just your head entering the room. It feels strange announcing your entrance.. You’ve slept beside him a number of times, his bedroom is all too familiar. You take in his lounging figure, despite the fact he’s beckoned you over with a smile. It’s a tired smile, sure, but he put it on just for you.

His room consists of his ridiculously large bed, king size obviously, and a little nook that houses a love seat and a small fireplace. He’s laid about the cushions of the love seat, a book in hand and some reading glasses miraculously pitched on his nose.

You remember him telling you he doesn't need them.. Of course he doesn't, he’s an angelic being. But he likes to play pretend.

You take in a deep breath, making Lucifer lower his book to look at you, his elbow resting on the arm and his face resting on his hand.

“Lucifer, I'm- I need to tell you-” You stammer through what you can barely call a sentence.

“Well don't force yourself, dear.” He rolls his eyes and sends you a sly smile, lightening the tension with some usual teasing remarks.

“I'm not! You've just.. you’ve done so much for me and that- it’s hard. To rely on someone. To.. need someone. But I do and-and I can't ignore it anymore. I need you by my side, Lucifer. I.. trust you.” You rant on, not entirely understanding the words coming from your own mouth. This goes on for a minute. Trying to say I love you without saying it directly is proving to be a more difficult task than you initially thought. So..

“I love you.”

It’s quick, almost timid coming from your breathless chest. Suddenly very alert, Lucifer sits up and cocks his eyebrow at you.

“I'm sorry?” He responds. Is he doing this on purpose?

“I-I said.. I love you…” You struggle to repeat yourself.

“I don't think I caught that.” Oh, he’s absolutely doing this on purpose.

“Lucifer, please.” You whine, looking at him with pleading eyes. He stands, approaching you without hesitation, without anticipation, without anger- you can’t read him. Your breath quickens.

“Say it again.” Standing directly in front of you, he barely has the upper hand. The smallest height difference gives him the slightest chance to look down at you, and you’re suddenly wishing you prepared yourself for this more. His stern voice is sending shivers down your spine.

“I-I.. love you. Lucifer.” You repeat with a squeak, looking to him like you’re speaking a foreign language. Like you aren't sure if he’s truly understanding your words. Those three simple words.

“Again.” He says in a low tone. When you finally look to his eyes, they’re softer than you originally thought. And despite his thoughtless approach, looking crude and intimidating, he’s completely red in the face.

“I.. I-I lov-” Before you can fulfill his request, his lips are on yours. Suddenly acting very desperate, he swallows the rest of your sentence. Your eyes flutter shut, his arms quickly wrapping around your waist and pulling you in. He traces your curves, his hands all too familiar with your body at this point. Not making it too far from the entrance of the bedroom makes the process of bringing you against the wall far too easy.

Whether it be his strength or your complete trust in him, you pay no mind when the back of your head hits the wall with a subtle thunk. You were sure if someone were in the hall at that moment, they would feel the need to check on the ruckus. You attempt to brace your arms against the wall, but Lucifer’s hands are instantly encasing your wrists, bringing your hands to his shoulders.

Touch him. He wants you to touch him.

You oblige, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck to keep yourself anchored. His tongue slips into your mouth smoothly and is searching for your own. With lavish rolls of his tongue, your neck can barely handle the weight of your own head, lulling along to follow his movements. He brings a hand to the back of your head, to cradle it, to keep you exactly how he wants you. Tilting his head just slightly, he devours any and every little sound that manages to slip out, your lips completely locked.

Lucifer brings you in closer, and you almost immediately noticing the constricted bulge pressing into your thigh. It’s enough to snap a snarky remark from you once you can pull away.

“If that’s all I needed to say to get you this excited, I would've said it soon-” Before you can tease him further, he pulls your lips against his again, a quick but sloppy kiss hazing your mind. He takes your neck firmly, his thumb and index finger guiding your head to the side. Bringing his lips to your ear, his voice fans across your ear.

“Say it, again.”

You want to scold him, when his passion brings the slightest flame against your ear. But the burning sensation, and his hand encapsulating your neck, is withering any words you were planning on saying. Which pushes Lucifer’s request to the back of your mind.

He plans a heavy kiss against your jaw, just in front of your ear, exhaling deeply. “My love-”

He brings you back for a moment.

“I-I love you, Lucifer-” You mutter out, your voice much higher than you intended it to be. His lips are on yours again. Not daring to break the connection, it takes nothing for him to bring your legs up and around his waist, where he holds you against his chest tightly. It doesn't last long though, because your back hits the plush blankets of the bed before you can truly process your feet were ever off the ground.

He crawls onto your lying form, his arms caging you in. You were expecting to see a lust-driven monster with how he's acting, but once you see his face, you’re met with sparkling eyes and a lip bitten so hard, that the slightest well of golden blood shines off his sharp teeth. A more familiar expression brings you some relief. You run the back of your fingers across his cheek, which he chases with a sudden smile.

“I love you.” You repeat. This one seems to take all the breath from his lungs. Because he didn't ask you to say it. You said it because it was simply true. You said it because you simply love him.

Your hand curls around his jawline, giving you a gentle hold on his face, to bring his lips back to yours. You hum sweetly into his lips, feeling them curl into a smile against yours. He’s quick to trail the kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to your jawline, then down to the column of your neck. They become deeper, sloppier, with each kiss. Occasionally, he’ll bite. Or he’ll leave the smallest bruises around your collarbone. It has all melded into one passionate sensation that you can only respond to with soft whimpers and breathy moans.

He’s completely kissed down your body, his movements bringing him down until he’s seated on the floor by the bed. You sit up on your elbows when you muster the strength, but your stability is quickly taken away when your ankles are taken in both his hands. He yanks you down the bed until your hips sit just at the edge. The sudden motion forces a concession of giggles and a startled yelp from you, music to his ears.

His ability to overwhelm your senses leaves you defenseless to him stripping you. It doesn't take much, while you weren't expecting this exactly, you did arrive in loungewear. Which makes it much easier for him to quickly access your clothed heat that had already soaked your bottoms with his treatment.

“L-Lucifer, you don’t have to- Mmn!” Your words are interrupted by a curled finger pressing the fabric of your briefs in between your folds. He drags his knuckle across your opening, the friction from the fabric brings a burning sensation to your already melting heat. It can barely be considered touching you, yet it forces your head to fall back onto the bed, your fists wringing the blankets below you.

With another breathless whimper, Lucifer's chest is heaving at the sound alone. Having you completely at his disposal and loving every moment of his touch?

Now that can bring a man to his knees. He just needs more.

“Tell me more, love.” He hooks his fingers around your underwear, just enough to slide two fingers in your entrance. You gasp, but there's barely any air to fill your lungs. He curls his fingers, just once, and he's enjoying the sight of your immediate reaction. He was convinced that your body was molded perfectly to his. Your hand fitting perfectly in his, your bodies perfectly connected when embracing, your entrance being perfectly filled with just his fingers. He adds another.

A slow curl, with all three fingers, hits your growing bundle of nerves another time, only to drag his still-curved fingers down across your clenching walls. You can barely call what comes out of your mouth next words, even if you mean for it to be his name.

While he could spend hours doing this, pumping into you quickly, only to slow and press his fingers deeply into you moments away from release, he’s hungry.

Before you can think any further, your mind truly in the clouds, a lavish lick of a serpents tongue runs up the length of your pussy. you grip the bed sheets on either side of you, arching your back away from the mattress. Even with your movements, Lucifer is eagerly following your hips, already having a desperate grip around your thighs. If you arch back, he dips his head lower. If you flinch and curl your body, he's pushing his tongue further into your entrance.

Completely at his mercy, you're left an absolute mess when he adds back those three fingers he previously tortured you with. In tandem, he works your entrance while flicking your clit, with the fork in his tongue only heightening the sensation of its tender state.

You're close. He's completely lost in the sound of you, the taste, but you're focusing hard on the twinging pleasure that heightens while you hold your own breath. it forces a myriad of heaving, hitching, moans, and whines. And after a collection of his own low growls and moans into your heat, you're left an utter mess above him.

His head tilts slightly, resting his cheek on your thigh as he cleans any of you that he may have missed. A rare occurrence that he doesn't take every last drop from you, It takes you a moment to realize he had left his position of kneeling in front you. Until the sudden clinking of a belt buckle forces your wide eyes to meet with its source. Th impressive outline of his cock forces you to bite down on your lip. Despite being a familiar sight, you're swooning at the sight of him releasing his length.

You match his hazy eyes as he falls forward, caging you in and leaving his own mess of precum to mix with your precious juices.

‘You- are incredibly frustrating.” He says in a low breathless voice. Your mind can barely process his insult before he's involuntarily grinding his hips against yours. You yelp, reaching a hand up to cover your mouth. But almost like instinct, Lucifer has reached up to take your wrist and push it to the bed, beside your head.

“L-Lucifer please, I'm still sens-”

“You're irritating.” he adds, his voice husky and his breath hot against your cheek as he lowers his head. “You're disobedient.” You are desperate to wet your suddenly dry throat, your head swarming with each buck of his hips, now sliding between your folds but never entering you. “and that only makes me love you more.”

His roller coaster of praise and repremands, are turned into heavy pants, a needy whine as he enters you, and a desperate moan into the side of your ear.

He's so familiar, so adapt to you. And you him. But despite his unusual behaviors tonight, he's much weaker than usual. More vulnerable. Even with the upper hand, his mind is running with the thoughts and sensations of his body melting into yours, giving his all to you. He wants to give his all to you.

His overstimulating abuse leaves it difficult to focus your eyes on any one feature, but the rosy hues in his cheeks and his glowing eyes will always find you. You reach your arms up and desperately claw at the back of his vest, the material barely letting you take on a steady grip.

“L-Lucifer, I-I can't-”

“Close..” You barely hear it, the softest whisper in your ear. “I need.. you to-”

“I-I love you..! I love you, Lucifer, please~” the words fumble from your mouth thoughtlessly.

“I'm yours-” he struggles out, his speed and rhythm becoming sloppy and unmeasurable.

You tilt your head back, your body arching into him only gives him access to a deeper part of you.

“Mine.. I love you-” you squeak out. With a final press into you, you feel the relieving sensation of him finally finishing. You stay connected as he continues to grind into you, despite already being fully sheathed. Finally, Lucifer collapsing on you with a hefty whine.

“Well?” You hum softly, running your hands through his hair as he continues to steady his breath. he looks at you, with a slow blink, and a goofy grin.

“Say it back.” You said calmly.

“say what?” You yank his hair back a bit and he winces with a smile.

“If I could kill you, my love, I would.” You say with a stern expression. Your seriousness only brings a smile to his face.

“I love you, too, darling.”

You find yourself in your room, scrolling through your messages and rereading the text Charlie had sent one last time.. just to be sure.

We're holding a clothing donation event for new sinners and residents! There's no pressure in how much you'd like to donate, but if there's anything you don't wear, it could go to good use in someone else's hands! Or claws! (Also, if you wouldn't mind helping with mending and sewing some stuff at the event, I would really really really appreciate it!) XOXO

You let out a quiet chuckle to yourself, tossing your phone aside. You open the door to your closet, not exactly realizing until now.. it was busting at the seams.

"Alright.. let's do this then." You rummage through your mess of a wardrobe, flipping through every piece. Charlie made it a point to make it sound like you don't have to get rid of too much, but this was a perfect excuse to dump most of your unloved clothes.

A few things stop you.

Your uniform you were given at the Morningstar manor. A dark red dress with a white apron. It was barely worn after Lucifer insisted you wear something more comfortable around the house.

Another dress of yours; one of your favorites that you purposely tore across the bottom, to bring it much higher across your thighs. Something to give you some much-needed attention after getting fired.

You toss those aside, along with some hand-me-downs you received and altered when you first came to the hotel. You wore some, but you've developed a nicer wardrobe that fits you much more comfortably.

You passed a lilac-colored dress, it had a light shine to it that begged to be caressed. You remember how lovely this felt against your skin. It was what you wore during a visit with Lucifer.

"I wonder what happened to the corset.." You mutter to yourself. This one's a keeper. You move on.

Something that felt expensive passes through your fingers, and you stop to examine it more carefully.

"Woah.."

It was the gown that Lucifer gave you for the gala he invited you to. It was the same gown that drew so much attention to you.. including his. The same one that you kissed him in..

You felt a bit torn. It held so many great memories, except for the end of that night, of course, and it was a gift after all.

"Okay.. if it still fits, I'll keep it." You barter with yourself, before getting undressed a bit too excitedly.

It took some hassle, but twisting and turning in front of your mirror, you're in awe at the quality. And it did in fact still fit. You ran your hands along the fabric, thoroughly enjoying the quality.

"Woah."

You quickly turn, hearing the exclamation come from your door. Lucifer stands with a bouquet of flowers in hand, but it's almost immediately on the ground. In a state of pure astonishment, Lucifer's eyes were sparkling at the sight of you.

"That's the-" He weakly holds up his finger to gesture to the dress, his words failing to form any coherent thought.

You chuckle nervously, tucking your hands behind your back and fidgeting with your gloved fingers.

"I was just.. looking through my clothes for the.. uh.. Charlie was asking-" you stammer out some sort of explanation, but nothing explains why you felt the need to play dress up.

"Her donation event! Right!" Lucifer quickly responds, stepping completely inside your room and shutting the door behind him. He kicks the flowers he's already forgotten about, and quickly scoops them back up. As he approaches you, he catches sight of the numerous piles of clothing. With a quick snap, they're neatly folded and sent away into a portal, assumingly somewhere near Charlie.

"Ah, angelic magic." You hum satisfied by the now neat floor. You examine him, placing your hands on your hips with a smirk. "A bouquet of flowers? What's the occasion?"

With another display of magic, a vase appears on your vanity, which he slips the flowers into.

"Just a gesture.. of love~" He draws out his words, slipping his hands onto your waist.

Oh, he's letting the I love you get to his head, isn't he?

You respond with a quick eye roll, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"Thank you, Luci, I love them." You draw out your words to mimic his.

"You picked out a good one." He looks you up and down, his hands on your waist thoroughly exploring your sides. "I already told you how stunning you look, right?"

"Yeah.. decades ago. It.. wouldn't hurt to hear it again, though." You mutter, a sly smile across your face. He holds you closer, his warm hands palming the small of your back. With a quick twirl, forcing a fit of laughter from you two, he stops when his eyes meet yours. "You look absolutely breathtaking."

"And stunning?"

"And stunning." He lets out a quiet sigh, tracing his claws from the base of your shoulder to your hand, interlocking your fingers. With his other hand, he pulls you in by your waist. You only respond with a quiet giggle.

"What are you doing?" You ask as he turns you around. He starts to slowly sway you along, and you struggle for a moment to keep up with the impromptu waltz.

"Dancing. I wanted to dance with you during that Gala. I never got a chance, though." His tone makes it sound as if it were your fault.

"Probably because you were pawning Charlie off to me every 5 minutes." You glare at him, with a still-apparent smile.

He shrugs.

"Can you blame me?"

"I can, actually."

Another laugh is forced from your lips when he spins you around. As he draws you back in, you're brought flush to his chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and let out a breath that you've been holding in for years. Lucifer gives you another contemplating look.

"Now, the dress is pretty and all, but..."

You cock your head to the side with a soft smile. "But?"

"I think I’d prefer you in white."

♡♡♡

Haven't written smut in a hot minute :') hope it was tasty

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corralinesage · 27 days ago

Text

Learning you by heart (1/?)

Natasha Romanoff/ Reader Christmas romance <33

Summary: You lock eyes with a stranger in the audience of an opera, her troubled appearance piquing your interests immediately, the thought of her sticking around to haunt your mind that demands answers for her predicament. Turns out that there might be more to her than you could have ever imagined.

Rating: General audiences

A/N: Let me know what you think!

Chapter 1: Columbus Avenue

Your body was cold, your armpits clearly sticky with sweat. You felt like you couldn’t quite breathe deeply enough despite the amount of breathing exercises and vocal warm ups you had already done. You fiddled with the fabric of your costume, playing with the pearls embedded into the corset of your gown. You had already gone through it many times that week, hell, you had already been on stage that day, yet it somehow didn’t stop being as nerve racking as it had been the first time. You stood behind the curtains, eyeing the brightly lit stage apprehensively, going over lyrics in your head almost obsessively, slowly starting to whisper them to yourself to make sure your mouth was capable of moving how you wished it to. The low tenor of your coworker’s voice bellowed across the stage as he held the final note ceremoniously until his lungs would no longer allow him to continue. You took one final inhale before taking steady steps onto the stage, the strobe lights nearly enough to blind you despite how used to it you were by then. You got into character, taking one more deep breath before beginning to sing.

You knew the piece by heart, it flowed out of you on its own, requiring little to no conscious effort from you, just like it had during rehearsals and the opening night. Your body moved with the music as you acted out the lyrics you were singing, the gorgeous red gown you were wearing dragging slightly behind you. The song was a dramatic monologue. You sang to the audience, telling them your version of the events that had taken place just a few minutes prior. You could tell from your tone that you were nervous. You could tell it from the way your voice threatened to slip into vibrato when it wasn’t needed. You struggled to get a proper grip on controlling your voice. You didn’t quite know why, but you felt on edge, worn out, and unsteady. You couldn’t see the audience, their ominous dark figures seeming undeniably unresponsive to your display of emotion. You looked at them with your wide eyes, the higher notes demanding a kind of concentration that wouldn’t allow you to think about anything else. You scanned the audience, deciding to make the mass of people less intimidating by choosing an individual to focus on. You had found it to be helpful when stage fright caught you by surprise, your gaze moving down from the higher levels of the theater to the front.

There was a woman there, a woman roughly your age, her grim exterior forcing your attention on her. She looked pained, the gaze of her light eyes weighed down by something that you couldn’t decipher. Your heart suddenly beat a little louder in your chest, from the strain of the high notes or the demeanor of that woman, you couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, you couldn’t stop it, nor could you tear your eyes off her. She had red hair, messy and unkempt, which stood out to you in the mass of nobility who usually dominated the crowds. She looked like she had dirt on her face, maybe even blood, but you weren’t sure if it was simply her hair curling against her cheek. She wore black clothes, almost like a uniform. She could have passed as a security guard, almost, had her uniform not resembled one of a dystopian warrior. You briefly noted the elderly couple beside her dressed in a dress and a sharp suit, their demeanors exuding high status. She didn’t fit in.

Suddenly her eyes met yours, the intensity of her gaze nearly making you choke on your own breath. She looked unwell, tears pooling in her eyes, eyelids red rimmed and raw. Her lips were pink and swollen. She was in distress and very obviously so. You felt the sudden need to help her somehow, yet all you could do was keep singing. You held her gaze, all your energy going on keeping your voice steady. You felt the way your eyes suddenly filled with tears. It happened sometimes when you were truly in character and able to channel the pain that you were communicating to the viewers, but this wasn’t that. You felt helpless, completely captivated by her grim gaze, your powerful voice and the orchestra filling the otherwise silent theater. She wasn’t okay. She was hurt, the look in her eyes longing, pained, troubled. You couldn’t explain it. You didn’t understand.

Your tears spilled over, the final long notes demanding every ounce of focus from you, yet you couldn’t tear your eyes off the red-headed woman. Your body ached, your heart throbbing ruthlessly. She kept looking at you, eyes staring at the other without a single interruption. You allowed your arm to rise up slightly as if to give your lungs more room to produce the desired notes, your other hand finding your stomach to remind yourself to keep your core tight to avoid slipping into your head voice. The final note resonated everywhere around you, on the stage, in the audience, in your head, rising into a crescendo before reaching its end. There was a brief silence, the lights turning off and breaking your eye-contact with the mysterious woman, before booming applause erupted in the audience, filling in the silence to the fullest extent. The lights came back on, the people in the front rows standing up to show their appreciation for you and the rest of the cast that walked onto the stage to receive their praise. You looked frantically around for the red-headed woman, your eyes blurry from tears, head fuzzy from whatever you had just experienced. You couldn’t see her.

“Holy shit, Y/N”, Beatrice whispered discreetly as she came to stand beside you, gently turning you to fully face the audience as you clasped hands. You looked at your cast member, unable to really say a word. “Way to end the show.” Her tone was filled with positive astonishment, so you decided to take her statement as a compliment, hoping that your performance had been up to standard because in all honesty, the only thing you remembered from it was those pained eyes that you had now lost into the crowd. You forced a smile on your face, focusing back on the applauding audience to bow for them.

“Girl, are you okay?” Beatrice asked you once you had managed to get backstage and escape the eyes of the audience. The show was finally over.

“Yeah, why are you asking?” Your hands came to your ear to remove your earrings as you both finally reached the dressing rooms, followed by a few more cast members. You looked at the Christmas decorations that were littered in the already chaotic room filled with makeup and clothing, walking to your designated vanity.

“I don’t know. You seem off.” She let out a slight chuckle. “You really sold me with that final scene.” You gave her an amused smile.

“I’m fine. Just got a little carried away maybe.”

“It was phenomenal”, she sighed, almost as if enamored by you and your talent. She was a few years younger than you and played a much smaller part in the opera, but she was nonetheless your favorite person in the cast. She knew when and how to be quiet. She knew how to give you your space, which you appreciated greatly.

“Thank you. I guess I was feeling it a little more today”, you chuckled. “You did really well yourself.” Beatrice was practically glowing.

“Thank you.” She had a childish glint in her eyes and an intense blush on her face. You knew she admired you greatly. “Care for a cupcake?” She approached your chair with a plastic container of peppermint cupcakes in her arms, offering you the selection.

“Who are these from?” You looked at the packaging for a card of some sorts, the room slowly filling with the rest of your cast members, some chattering enthusiastically, others clearly looking forward to withdrawing socially.

“On the house. It’s a little holiday treat. They brought it over right before the show.”

“Don’t mind if I do”, you hummed, picking one out of the box for yourself. You were starving. Beatrice grabbed one for herself, sitting down beside you as you began to debrief the success of the night. You tried your best to remain present for her as you ate the cupcakes, removing your false eyelashes, jewelry, and hairpins as you talked, but you could barely keep your thoughts in check. The image of that woman returning to the forefront of your mind time and time again. Was she okay? What had happened to her? You stayed in the dressing room for hours, the rest of the people filing out to go recharge themselves for the shows of the following day, but you and Beatrice were in no rush. The lights got turned off aside from the ones on your vanity, gentle Christmas music sounding from the radio that somebody had left on by accident. It sat on a table across the room beside a box of leftover Christmas ornaments. The atmosphere was comforting, so much so that you didn’t even notice the time pass as you munched on the cupcakes that you and Beatrice might have hogged for yourselves.

Even hours later, when you had gone to a very late dinner with Beatrice, you found your mind plagued by the woman’s grim eyes and distraught face. You parted ways with Beatrice around midnight, which made your predicament even worse because she was no longer there to distract you and your compulsive mind. Who was the woman and why had she made such an impact on you? You tossed and turned in bed, unable to wipe the woman’s face from your mind, unable to shake the creeping sense of… something. You couldn’t tell what it was, but it didn’t even matter because regardless of what it had been it was clearly there to stay. You slept poorly, your dreams an odd jumble of stress from the shows you had coming your way paired with the woman and her mysterious presence.

All in all, you were able to recognize how ridiculous of you it was to fixate on such an insignificant detail in the crowd, especially a few shows later when you had caught yourself scanning the audience as if she would have attended the show twice in the span of a few weeks, let alone even the same year. It was more than likely that she would never come see that same performance again. You caught yourself staring intently into the dark crowd time and time again with the woman on the very forefront of your mind. Every time you opened your mouth and began to sing on the stage during the weeks leading up to December, a ghost of that feeling of the opening week would linger in your body. You had never been so captivated by a gaze. You had never witnessed such intensity in anyone’s eyes. You tried to look back on the most meaningful people in your life, your mother, your siblings, your best friend and roommate, your ex who you had thought to be the love of your life yet came up short. You even considered the people who had looked at you with hatred in their eyes, but it couldn’t compare to the red-headed woman.

You quickly became frustrated with the idea of her. What right did she have to look at you with such intensity, with such reverence, with such agony? Who was she to plague your mind so ruthlessly and consistently? You stared daggers ahead of you as you once again waited for your turn behind the curtains to bring the show to its finish. You fiddled with your gown until you realized you were about to rip off the pearls from anger, so you left them alone, focusing your frustration on your cuticles and bottom lip instead. You watched your coworker, Daniel, belt out his last note which functioned as a cue for you to get into character. You took a deep breath, counted to five in your head, like you often did, and headed onto the stage.

You slipped into character with familiar ease, waltzing across the stage in an emotion filled frenzy as your lips formed each of the rapidly sung words, allowing yourself to get fully immersed into your role to escape the thoughts that dominated your mind, thoughts that had been dominating your mind for most of November. You directed your rage at the audience, communicating your character’s frustration through not only the tone of your voice but your expressions and gestures. And then you nearly slipped right out of your character when your eyes found an unexpected figure a few rows off from her designated seat in the audience. You had sworn to yourself that you would stop obsessively checking the seat she had once occupied, yet the habit proved to be harder to shake than you had expected to. However, all of a sudden none of that mattered.

She was there. It had to be her. Either that or you were seeing hallucinations. Had you not been met with such an intense wave of dejavú that her gaze inflicted upon you, you could have disregarded her as someone who merely shared a resemblance with the red-headed woman, but you knew you weren’t mistaken. Your voice nearly faltered, your body stilling for a fraction of a second. It was just enough for the woman to be able to tell that your reaction was her doing. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, but that simply wasn’t an option for you when you were singing. You needed air, filling your lungs in a spastic inhale before continuing to sing, your eyes glued on the woman and her now much more serene features. She looked more put together than the first time. She looked more like she belonged in the audience, her clothing allowing her to blend in.

You felt dizzy, your eyes remaining intently on her so that you would not have the chance to lose her again. She had beautiful features, even more beautiful than you remembered. Her intense eyes held your gaze just the same, a gentle smile pushing up the corners of her mouth. You felt a pull to her, a pure sense of childish curiosity that couldn’t be explained. Holding her gaze, singing to her, felt safe, yet at the same time you felt like falling apart, like you had forgotten to put on your dress before walking onto the stage. There was something in those eyes, something that couldn’t be explained. You felt your eyes fill with tears. You didn’t know why. Once again, it wasn’t part of the act. Her smile widened, your tears spilling over. You couldn’t control it, the anger of your character fading into defeat, into helpless silence as your final note reverberated around you, bouncing from the walls of the theater.

The lights went off, panic rising to your chest. You were going to lose her again. You could barely breathe as you waited patiently for the lights to turn back on, the rest of the cast joining you on stage. You saw the woman stand up among the other people in the audience, your eyes nailed on her as the applause roared into life. You felt your hands being grabbed from either side for the bow that your cast did after every show, but all you could focus on was making sure that she didn’t have the chance to escape. The lights above the seating area turned on, illuminating the crowd better, your brows drawing into a horrified frown when you saw the woman give you a fond smile before dropping her clapping hands and turning to the side to leave the row of seats. You didn’t even realize that you immediately let go of the hands that held your own, rushing off the stage without giving it so much as a single thought. Your heels clicked against the floor as you ran behind the curtains, hurrying out of the backstage area. You nearly stumbled over your feet, but you didn’t let it hinder you, rushing down the hallways to the entrance of the Metropolitan Opera House. There were some people lounging around but since your show happened to be the last one of the night, most of the people in the building were still clapping in the theater.

You looked around frantically, scanning for even a lock of red hair among the people, your feet already carrying you toward the exit. She couldn’t have gone far. You saw that one of the front glass doors slid shut, a lone figure heading for the street. You had no idea what your intention was, why you needed to see her face again, to see more of her, nor did you stop to ponder the matter. You ran after her, pushing the glass door open, your bare arms greeted by an icy gust of wind. It was snowing outside, the large snowflakes floating down from the sky in the darkness of the night, clinging to your hair and dress, melting on your warm skin. Your heels sank into the pillowy layer of snow with each step you took. There were Christmas lights and streetlamps around you, the glistening, fresh snow illuminating your surroundings. For just a moment you felt your heart stop at the magical sight. First snow.

After recovering from your sudden experience of pure awe, you started to look around at the people on the plaza that was in front of the opera house. You scanned them frantically from head to toe in search of your mysterious woman before spotting her walking along the lit-up Lincoln Center fountain toward Broadway. You picked up your speed, your arms gathering your gorgeous gown up and out of the way after nearly falling face down in the snow on your slippery heels, but you managed to keep yourself upright somehow.

“Hey!” You didn’t know why you shouted, a few heads turning your way immediately, but none of them belonged to the person you were after. “Hey!” You wished you would have had something to call her, something specific that would attract her attention. You were getting closer to her, only a dozen feet between you when she glanced back at the sound of your footsteps. Her eyes widened in shock, but she didn’t stop, discreetly picking up her speed.

Fuck, what were you doing? Why were you coming after her? Natasha’s chest squeezed with anxiety. You weren’t supposed to- She wasn’t ready, she felt exposed. She rushed forward in the powdery snow, trying her best not to look like she was indeed running away from you. How could she be such a fool, such a wuss? She should have been able to face you just fine. You were no one. She was no one. It would have meant nothing; two strangers meeting. Except none of that was true. You were everything and meeting you would mean everything. Natasha came to the intersection of Columbus Avenue and Broadway, crossing the former street to Dante Park. She glanced back once more to see you drown momentarily into a small group of people passing by which gave her the perfect opportunity to change direction and continue to Columbus Avenue down south.

You slowed down, noting that the traffic was abnormally slow for the night as you crossed the street, trying to relocate the woman again, but with significantly less enthusiasm. You were shivering, trembling from the cold, your sudden frenzy starting to fizzle out. What were you after? You were harassing some innocent stranger without any proper justification. You yourself didn’t even know what you were after and you could no longer even see her auburn curls as you reached a large, abstract clock statue that stood in the middle of the strip of walkway between the two roads, always as hideous as ever.

The snow-covered branches of the trees of Dante Park gave Natasha enough coverage to blend into the rest of the pedestrians lounging on the street. Ten seconds later she had completely lost you. She had no doubt that you would give up on your search when the two of you shared no connection. She could have easily kept going and carried on with her night, but she couldn’t. Her heart ached so violently that she could no longer take another step. She looked at the row of snow-covered benches on her left, briefly contemplating if she should sit down for a moment. The pain was immense. It was brutal. She looked back toward the crossroad where she had last seen you, spotting you by the large, ugly clock. You brushed your hands over your bare arms, shivering very visibly. You looked around, taking a few blind, aimless steps toward her direction, but you clearly had no intention to continue your chase.

You were so close to her, Natasha’s heart beating out of rhythm as she watched you briefly glance her way again, prompting her to step behind a street map post to avoid being caught. What a loser she was. There was no point in trying. She should simply leave you alone. That’s how things were meant to go, that was your designated path. She didn’t belong there, she didn’t belong in your life. She waited for a moment to be on the safe side before peeking her head from behind the post, needing one more look at you before she would be ready to let you go. Her heart jolted. You were closer, walking her way as you rubbed your hands together violently in an attempt to warm yourself up. You and your lacking clothing received a few appalled looks from bystanders, but you paid them no attention, your focus moving back to the opera house. You brought your hands up to your mouth, huffing a warm breath over them despite how little it did to stave away the cold.

You stepped off the sidewalk to cross the street, slightly off where the crosswalk had been marked, too busy warming yourself up to look around. Every cell in Natasha’s body stung in fear when she saw the way your gown glistened under a pair of headlights that appeared from nowhere, the driver taking advantage of the unusual lack of traffic by going slightly over the speed limit. Natasha didn’t waste a single breath, charging right at you without a second thought or even half a consideration for her own safety. All she could see was a car that was seconds away from running you over, and all she could think about was not letting it happen. Her body collided roughly with your own as she pushed you off the street and out of the car’s way just as the driver hit the breaks. You didn’t scream, you didn’t let out a single sound. You couldn’t. Natasha heard shocked gasps and a few horrified shouts from the sidewalk, but they disappeared into oblivion as she looked at you lying beneath her in the powdery snow.

Your eyes were wide, staring up at Natasha in pure terror as you lay on your back, your icy hands gripping her waist over her wool coat. You couldn’t process what had even happened, but you could feel her hand beneath your head, protecting it from the roughness of the collision with snowy asphalt, her hips and thighs pinning you down to the ground. You felt the way your chest rose and fell rapidly, your corset making the process of breathing feel even more laborious, your head spinning alongside the world around you. All you could do was stare up at what you had just now discovered to be green eyes. The streetlights illuminated her red hair, giving it a gentle glow, snowflakes clinging to her curls as more snow came down from the sky. Her cheeks were a soft pink from the cold, the tip of her nose matching the color, plump lips an even deeper shade of rose. You couldn’t feel any pain, the coldness of your body preventing you from feeling anything at its full intensity, yet you felt like you could feel her.

“Are you okay, dorogaya (darling)?” A hint of inappropriately possessive worry bled into her tone as she uttered the words, the endearment slipping out by pure accident, reminding her to take some mental distance from you despite your very intimate position. You continued to stare up at her, your lips parting but nothing came out. You nodded your head, but it came off as more of a tremor.

“Y-yeah. I’m- I’m-” Your teeth started clattering. You were freezing out of your mind.

“Are- are you okay?” The voice belonged to a panicked boy on the driver’s seat. Natasha glanced back at the scene behind her, noticing that the car had done a full one-eighty on the snow and ice when hitting the brakes, a few cars piling at the scene, waiting to get past, some drivers exiting their cars to see if an ambulance was needed. Natasha could tell the boy was young and clearly an inexperienced driver, anger flashing within her, hot and ruthless.

“You could’ve killed her”, she said in a voice icier than the snow pressed up against your skin as she moved carefully off you, barely sparing the boy a single glance before her attention was back on you. She knelt in the snow, her helping hands pulling you slowly to sit upright. You looked at her, you looked at him, you looked at the car, the snowflakes above you. It all felt so surreal.

“Are you hurt? I’m so sorry. Oh my god, I’m so fucked.” He was seconds away from crying, his whiny tone getting on Natasha’s nerves. She turned to him again, her stoic face conveying every bit of disdain that she felt toward him.

“Get lost.” The boy was clearly taken aback by her hostility, but he didn’t seem to be the type to defy authority, his hand fumbling for the car key. “And learn how to fucking drive.” He nodded his head, some bystanders watching the scene unfold, a few coming closer to ask if you needed help, but they were quickly convinced that you had made it through without a single scrape. Or well, not exactly. Natasha brushed the melted snow off your bare arms and shoulders, taking notice of the irritated skin there. Parts of it had been peeled raw by the rough collision with the ground, but they were barely enough to be considered wounds.

“Thank you”, you blurted out suddenly after she had helped you back on your feet.

“You’re welcome”, she smiled softly, a hint of something, something that was driving you insane, behind that expression, her hand coming up to your face to brush aside some of your hair. You looked at her, observed her carefully, unsure of what to say to her or how to voice why you had come after her in the first place. You felt like you needed to explain yourself to her, but you didn’t have the words for such a feat. “Turn around.” You followed her instructions, feeling like your brain was a bit behind from the current moment. “You’ve got…” She brushed her hand down the back of your dress, saving whatever she could from your gorgeous apparel. “A bit of snow.” Your arms curled against your body automatically as you continued to shiver like a leaf in the wind, your lower lip trembling, teeth chattering. “Here.” You turned to look at her. She had removed her dark brown coat and was offering it for you to wear. It looked warm and comfortable, the effect amplified by the fur neckline of the coat. You shook your head immediately, noting that she was only wearing a thin, satin blouse beneath it.

“No, you’ll freeze”, you protested weakly, but Natasha simply shook her head.

“I’ll be okay. Besides, you’re practically already frozen. I’ve still got a few minutes.” You tried to chuckle at her joke, but you were far too cold to produce such sounds. She wrapped the coat tightly around you, making sure it fit you snuggly to stave off the cold.

“Thank you”, you mumbled, feeling a pleasant but weak heat bloom on your cheeks from her considerate act.

“Keep it. It looks good on you.” Natasha brushed her hand over your shoulder as if admiring the fit on you. It brought her comfort and serenity to know that you would own a piece of her.

“W-what?”

“I have to go, and you probably should too.” There it was again, that look, that look in her eyes. You felt a visceral reaction in your body for being looked at that way. You felt unbearable disappointment even if you didn’t expect a complete stranger to want to hang out with you for longer than necessary. She had only acted out of basic human decency. She noted the hesitant look on your face. “It’s okay, detka (baby), you can keep it.” It was only fair that she would get to slip in one more endearment before leaving. You couldn’t really react to her words, still trying to process the fact that you had just gone through a near death experience. “Look both ways when crossing the street. Please, for my sake and my sanity.”

“I will.” Natasha started backing away, a bitter smile on her lips.

“Wait.” You felt hurt, abandoned, but you didn’t understand why. “What’s your name?” She pursed her lips, wiping the smile off her face as she looked away as if contemplating whether your question was worth answering or not.

“Natasha.” You smiled. “Yours?” She already knew the answer.

“Y/N.”

“I’ve always loved that name. It suits you”, she hummed softly.

“Thank you and thank you for saving my life. I owe you everything.” She shook her head in mild amusement as if you didn’t quite know what her words entailed.

“You owe me nothing.” She took a few more steps back. “Take care of yourself, Y/N.” She gave you one last smile before turning around and walking away, hopefully heading somewhere away from the cold. You stared after her, feeling distraught by the intimacy of the way she has said your name, an odd shiver going down your spine. You hugged the coat tighter around you, watching her disappear into the city covered by a blanket of snow.

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vixen-tech · 6 months ago

Note

sliding in dramatically, stumbling sneakers over head

if its not too much to ask [and dealers choice on the bots!] , could i get your headcanons for the fellas w/an insomniac reader ? totally not projecting. don’t ask me what time it is.

-AT-802U anon (IF YOU DONT KNOW WHAT IT IS YOU SHOULD TOTALLY LOOK IT UP) (ITS A WEAPONIZED CROP DUSTER)

Not Dreaming of Electric Sheep

Hello you three!!! Thank you guys so much for requesting, and since they're decently similar concepts I've made the executive decision to combine them all into one big "reader has a bunch of sleep problems" post!

And while I have you here, I did look up the AT-802U and I think it's absolutely sick- fantastic namesake. And from anon two, thank you very much for the P03 shout out I love writing our defacto tsundere <3

Includes: Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), P03 (Inscryption)

Hal 9000

Hal was made well aware of your insomnia before you joined the crew, as it had a history of disrupting your work. He takes extra care to make sure your sleeping area is in top shape for your arrival.

As mentioned in other posts, he can fill a caretaker roll quite well. He's often reminding you of how long you've been working and how soon it will be until the time you fell asleep the day before in an attempt to help you build a regular circadian rhythm.

He will also start experimenting with various treatment methods if your insomnia tends to be particularly difficult. From diet and meditation changes to different exercise intensities, hoping something will improve the quality of your rest.

More subtly, he will dim the lights throughout the ship at "night" to remind the crew that working hours are over. If anyone were paying attention then they would notice that the dimming doesn't follow any particular timezone, but instead your personal schedule.

Edgar

Edgar is very vocal about his grievances with your work schedule. Not only does it cut in to his time with you, but it also leaves you passing out around the house late at night! (Even if he kind of enjoys it when its right infront of him on the desk) He will constantly be pleading with you to drop some hours.

Besides that, he is far from the best influence on your sleep. He forgets to keep track of time himself and loves to soak up all the time he can get with you. If you let him he will keep you up into the early hours of the morning watching movies and playing music.

He does have a bit of a guilty conscious about it though, and will print you some of the latest articles on sleep science he can find. Including less than reputable homeopathic approaches, but hey- surely something has to work?

If you express interest, he will compose you a personal lullaby. Although it isn't a very scientific angle, he will feel immense joy whenever you fall asleep to it. Even if you only do after the seventh loop.

P03

To be perfectly honest, he did not notice that you had any problems for a good long while. He doesn't sleep himself so he saw nothing unusual in your behavior. Working through entire nights? Losing track of the hours while doing so? Yeah sounds normal, he does that all the time.

It isn't until he sees a decline in your energy, punctuated with a few passed out at your desk moments, that he remembers how much time humans need to spend unconscious to function properly. It's typically not a trait he finds all that endearing.

But for you, he can't find it in him to be more than midly annoyed that he has to be the one to do something about it. Going out of his way to help you under the justification that he'd rather have a moderate amount of good work than a large amount of bad work.

He sets up a timer near your station that acts as your cut off for work. Leaving you with plently of time to unwind and go to bed. If you refuse to and try to keep working he will psychically stop you, even moving your station to a room that he can lock you out of.

You really should be grateful he's putting in this much effort.

#vix fics #objectum #hal 9000 x reader #hal 9000 #2001 a space odyssey #edgar electric dreams #edgar electric dreams x reader #electric dreams #electric dreams x reader #p03 x reader #inscryption p03 #p03 #inscryption x reader #inscryption

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putrid-sex-machine · 25 days ago

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learning about the big dog little dog vocal exercise through a kink post then finding out its an actual thing that fr helps with vocal training is such a surreal experience

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gabessquishytum · 3 months ago

Note

Was reminiscing about a part of my life I sort of just forgot about and decided to make it dreamling. Yolo.

Dream is incredibly insecure about his body. He’s always wearing tons of layers and long coats and doing everything possible to hide how unattractive he thinks he is. Then for his birthday, Desire signs him up for pole dancing classes (they frame it very teasingly, but in truth they really do think it would be good for their brother. They’d never say that to his face though). Luckily they have Death on their side and manage to convince him to at least try out one class.

He shows up very very nervous. He’s wearing exercise clothes, but still as fully covered as he can be and practically shrinking into himself. But the studio is honestly… very comfortable. The lights are dim, and there’s soft music playing and pillows on the ground, and while the poles are very intimidating, there’s not a single mirror in the whole place. And of course, the instructor is so welcoming and soothing, and so patient with Dream’s nervousness (and the nerves of the other students- it’s a little relieving almost to know he’s not the only one insecure and nervous). It also helps, Dream is a little ashamed to admit, that the instructor doesn’t look the way he expected. He’s heavier set, with abundant body hair, and loose torn up gym clothes.

As the class goes on, Dream feels… better than he expected. Everyone else is learning with him, there’s no mirrors to obsess over what he looks like, and they’re all encouraged to be vocal in their compliments and encouragement to each other. Dream starts to feel more in touch with his body, feeling how it moves to do the simple spins they start with. The instructor always reminds them- here, they’re dancing for themselves. If they feel good, then that’s what matters.

And at the end of the class, the students all take a seat on the pillows on one side of the room, and are told to pick a song for their instructor to perform a dance to. He improvs a simple routine, but incorporates the moves they learned in that day's class, while also showing them how those moves are foundational for more complex spins and tricks, and how they can all build together into a cohesive dance. Dream is enraptured, watching how strong and elegant he is, but also how happy and how comfortable he seems. Dream realizes that more than looking any certain way, he wants, so badly, to feel like that.

Hob gets it. He’s been there. He used to be so down and negative about his body, too caught up in his insecurities to really live life. He got lucky that his friend Johanna dragged him to his first pole dancing class. He got even luckier that the instructor, Eleanor, was so kind and patient with him, even as he fumbled and resisted any pushback to his negative self worth. He learned a lot in those classes- he learned how amazing his body really was, and developed an honest passion for pole dancing, which was lovingly encouraged by his instructor-turned-wife. When Eleanor passed, he took over the studio in her honor.

Apparently, he’s following in her footsteps more than he expected… by falling for one of his students.

-🦇

Pole dancing Hob!!!! We all need a pole dancing Hob!!!!

Dream is surprised to find that he wants to go back to the class a second time. He's even more surprised that he finds the courage to take off his hoodie and do the class with bare arms - considering how much he generally covers up, its a big step for him. He's a little overwhelmed, honestly, and finds himself lingering in the studio after the class is over. He's trying to soak up how the place makes him feel, hoping that he can take some of that feeling home with him.

Hob notices him and the two end up sitting on the cushions together, where Dream admits that he's struggling with these complex thoughts about his body and self worth. He makes some kind of throwaway remark - "I wish I looked more like you, I wish i had your confidence." and Hob chuckles gently. He explains that it took him a long time to be at peace with his body. He spent way too long over-exercising and trying to maintain a physique that just wasn't healthy for him. Now he considers himself to be in the best shape of his life because he's HAPPY, and having a bit of cushioning is just an added bonus.

Dream is a little bit in awe. He's never had an honest conversation about bodies and stuff like that before. He's maybe a tiny bit in love with Hob already, and it only has a little bit to do with his incredible arse.

And honestly, Hob is a little bit in awe of Dream. He sees true courage in his new student's eyes as he takes to the pole each week, learning new skills and even developing bonds with the other students. It's kind of sexy seeing a man confront his fears and experience personal growth. Maybe Hob will make a move... After he's finished choreographing an intricate routine for them to perform, together <3

#🦇 anon #the sandman #dreamling

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martyfive · 6 months ago

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i didn’t know what the legend of zelda was when breath of the wild came out. i was probably in a middle of something very important at the moment, alright? something like sitting on a subway train on my way home. or like being in a middle of another family scandal. or failing another attempt of becoming someone i never wanted to be. busy stuff. i never even heard of the name zelda unless we were talking about zelda fitzgerald. i was nineteen and i wasn’t fucking around.

moreover, i didn’t know what zelda was about even when i bought breath of the wild itself.

what i always knew for sure is that i had never been and never would be a princess. every time i was told during our family dinners that those like me were never meant to be married to a handsome rich prince to live happily ever after, i was trying to find comfort in the vocally unannounced title of a friendly local knight in the shining armour bestowed upon me. the one who was there to shine and save and protect those in need. the one who wasn’t supposed to care about their appearances, being securely hidden behind a chain mail and metal shell that still never saved from bruises. a knight with a bear trap instead of a helmet. born to be the best and somehow failing every day. almost like a dream come true. not my own dream, but a dream nonetheless.

the life in our kingdom was a total disaster and i was a wreck of a knight.

by the time i escaped i had been depressed for approximately twelve years. i left everything i knew behind and moved to another country. i actually married my prince to make the paperwork easier for both of us. i found myself roaming in the wilderness i knew nothing about. i tried to take the bear trap off but every time i attempted to free myself from it it was hard to breathe through the neck that was losing its familiar balance. i didn’t know how to be an adult. i didn’t even know how to be a child. i wanted to learn, but i didn’t know where to start.

“what do you want for your birthday?” my prince asked me.

i didn’t feel like i deserved gifts. i did not achieve anything to receive them. the knight was technically laid off duty and the salary once paid in clothes and food was still haunting me. and i needed something else. we also needed something else to bond over except for our childhood bruises.

so i received nintendo switch for my birthday in a year i almost broke my neck trying to forcefully remove my fancy helmet as soon as i realised i couldn’t walk around like this anymore.

“games could be a part of a therapy,” the lady that was helping me with my breathing exercises said while i was pouring my blood trauma on the carpet in her office, “but they’re not gonna remove this bear trap of yours, you know?”

i knew that. i also knew i didn’t really want to live, trapped or not. so it made sense to me to start living my new life from the very beginning — to start from trying to be a child i barely ever was — and to try and learn how to be an adult like most healthy children did. meaning, to give myself time. to make choices i was robbed of. mistakes too, if necessary. to take a breath before heading off to run a marathon i never foresaw.

so yeah, i didn’t really know what the legend of zelda was when i bought breath of the wild. i only knew zelda was a princess i had never been and never would be. what i knew for sure is that the main character named link was supposed to save her.

and that he was her knight.

the whole thing sounded like a sick joke, but i was determined to know what the fuss was all about. looking back a couple years later, i’ve been wondering how it was even possible for me to stumble upon this exact game when i needed it that much.

while on my journey across the kingdom i wasn’t familiar with, with my own land shaded by the war and destruction, with no recollection of who i was and who i was to become, with a trapped in a castle tired princess named zelda, with the only light shining on the horizon gloomed by the darkness, i felt bad for link. what did he ever do to deserve all of this? i thought. why is this his burden to carry? is this normal for a character to stay silent before the impossible challenge he was supposedly destined to face and just… move forward no matter what?

i didn’t even know at the time how the zelda universe worked. that the event of link saving the world was something that threaded through the kingdom’s history like a football cup everyone was expecting to inconsistently happen once in a while. there was only this link and his own crazy challenges for me, and his destiny felt like a weight on the neck i, personally, being a broken knight i was at the time, wouldn’t be able to drag to the end.

but i had to.

i ran through the green fields from one destroyed town to the other and thought of link’s footsteps echoing in me as if every abandoned ruin was a part of my own depression i was supposed to face. every location had a name and each felt like it was important for someone who lived here a hundred years ago before the war took everything from them. the names meant nothing neither for me, nor for link and his amnesia, but for someone who wasn’t there anymore it was everything. and i had to accept it. there still was something to save. i had to look the destruction and what was left of the kingdom in the eyes and find a way to save what i can so the future would have a solid foundation they could build upon.

zelda couldn’t have saved the kingdom by herself. she had been trapped in that castle for a hundred years and she needed help of her knight. the task no single person deserved to condemn their soul with. i had no particular feelings about zelda herself, but it was a kingdom worth saving and there was only one knight that could do that. somehow, it had to be me.

so i visited every corner of the land and found everything there was to uncover, talked to everyone i could, solved everything there was to think of and turned up all the stones to find all the koroks. i just had to.

a couple months later i defeated the calamity and finally saved zelda. i took a breath and i let it out. and after that i felt better and empty once again. but it was something else this time.

it was the foundation. it was bare, but at least it was there.

i came a long way since finishing breath of the wild. i learned a new language. i grew up. i gave up my antidepressants to try and live without them. we moved from one city to the other. i got a dog that made me go outside and laugh every day. i started to make money. i started eating healthier. i started talking to people more. i took the responsibility. one by one, i pried the screws of the bear trap on my neck. it was still there, but it became easier for me to breathe. i realised that the kingdom i was raised in was never meant to be the only thing to define me. i was building my own on the ruins of what withstood. there was no other way to survive. and i just had to.

waking up as link once again years later and looking out to see the skies of tears of the kingdom, i cried. i felt like i met an old friend that was once everything to me and who i lost contact with for years, and then finally hugged them again. it was like finding myself a couple years later from where i was left dealing with my own shit and realising that my journey was worth it.

the ruins were still there, you see? but now we had so much else! there was another civilisation hidden in the clouds in the sky! and the whole another biome underground! giant temples to get confused about while looking at the map! there were new people to meet! new cataclysms to endure! new puzzles to solve! new koroks to find! damn, what a mess. i couldn’t wait to be a part of it!

and, of course, there was zelda to be saved.

zelda, who spent thousands of years in a form of a dragon waiting for her knight to take the previously shattered master sword she healed and to kill ganondorf. zelda, who was supposed to forget everything that made her human, but still was fighting for the light in the end. zelda, who was robbed of her life by the choice she made to protect those she loved, and who was blessed with another chance in the end. even a thousand years curse was finite. somehow, i found myself in love a princess i was never meant to become.

and it felt right.

and when link caught zelda falling from the sky over hyrule, i realised that the kingdom i was building with my own hands would always be there. and it was only my destiny to get to the rotten roots hidden underground in the darkness where no life was meant to exist but was flourishing in it’s own way instead, and to remove the sickness from it. to heal and to be healed.

and then i took my bear trap helmet off and smouldered it into a crown.

maybe i was never meant to be a princess. but in the kingdom that i built on my own, with all of its countless layers and clouds in the sky, with its ruins and old stones, with its depths and lurking horrors, with its riddles and joy, traps and secrets, songs and laughter, disasters and questions, dragons and princesses, with all the troubles and their resolutions…

there, i was only meant to be the king.

20/6/2024

#artists on tumblr #tattoos #the legend of zelda #tloz botw #tloz totk #martyfive text #zelda totk #zelda botw #zelda fanart #totk link #botw link #i promised it’s gonna be my next tattoo and here it finally is #my art #art #tattoo design #thanks to my brother for reading this text three times and making sure everything makes sense he’s the true king here

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fresh-new-yoik-watah · 1 month ago

Text

Fault Lines

CHAPTER ONE:

vocal exercise

a/n: oops, the need to consume more arcane led to this

pairing: Viktor x OC

warnings: none!

word count: 3.7k

MASTERLIST

——————————

Had Viktor known partnering with Jayce Talis six years ago meant he came with a pet, he might have let Jayce succumb to the catastrophic consequences of his explosive (revolutionary) theory, absolving himself of what often felt like a second, unintended partnership. Well, Rosie wasn’t a pet, per say, indeed very much human. Piltover’s Golden Girl, but still human. He would not have minded Jayce’s leech so much, or was Jayce her leech, the lines blurred, if she did not make her presence so noticeable. It seemed she had been crafted by the gods with the sole purpose of getting on his nerves, a distraction. Jayce adored her, enjoyed the chaos, enjoyed the humming. That faint, lilting melody with no discernable tune, infuriatingly persistent. It managed to weave itself into the rhythm of Viktor’s thoughts, like water seeping through a crack. No matter how he tried to drown it out, how loud his tools were, it persisted, an uninvited guest.

He’s unsure what compelled him to believe today might’ve been different. She had been admittedly quiet for a much longer period than usual, so perhaps it was false hope, toying with his desperation for silence he had not had in a long time, hanging in front of him, just high enough where he could not reach. He should have known better.

It barely rose above the drill in his hand, blending into the mechanical whirr as he worked on the metal arm atop his desk, but when he released the trigger and the tool fell silent, the sound continued. A hum. His head snapped up, golden eyes narrowing at the woman at the opposite end of the room that sat perched like some contented cat on a stool too high for comfort. Rosie’s face was hidden behind a book, its cover emblazoned with the title in bold, elegant script: Flourish Without Air: The Science of Oxygen-Free Plant Growth. An odd choice for her, Viktor thought, and turned his focus back to his tinkering, trying to block her out.

The door that led to the Academy hallway burst open with a thud, and he did not have to look up from his work to know who it was.

“Late,” Viktor said, the single word holding the weight of a reprimand. He didn’t turn around, didn’t need to.

“I know, I know,” Jayce replied, his voice carrying its usual blend of warmth and exasperation. “Save me the lecture.”

The humming stopped. “Lost track of time?” Rosie chimed in, maddingly chipper. “Got too invested in the art?” Her final word was emphasized just enough to imply a hidden meaning, some private joke between them.

Jayce groaned audibly. “I’ve told you, I’m not interested in art.”

“Sure, you aren’t.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, finally looking up from the metal arm he had been tinkering on. “Art?” he repeated, his gaze flicking between the two of them with muted interest.

“It’s nothing,” Jayce said, a little too quickly, his words tumbling over themselves in his eagerness to shut down the topic. He was halfway across the room now, making a beeline for Viktor’s area of the long desk that lined the back wall of the lab.

Viktor didn’t miss the way Jayce’s jaw tightened, the way his brow furrowed as he sent an irritated look in Rosie’s direction, who was still seated on a stool. She, unfazed, mouthed something silently back at him, her smug, delighted expression barely hidden behind her book. Viktor didn’t catch the words, but honestly, he didn’t care to, finding the exchange to be immature.

Jayce caught Viktor’s unamused stare, and his brow smoothed into an overly bright expression. “Oh! There’s a surprise for you,” he said, turning toward Rosie with a grin that was just a little too wide, a little too practiced.

Her head tilted slightly, a few ginger strands of hair fell over her shoulder as curiosity flickered across her face. She straightened up, closing the book she’d been engrossed in and set it aside. “Surprise?” she echoed, her voice intrigued, though edged with slight skepticism. Her tone said she’d heard this before, likely more than once. She folded her arms loosely, casualness that didn’t quite mask her piqued attention.

Ah, the surprise. Viktor resisted the urge to sigh as he turned his focus back to his ‘hexclaw’, picking up a screwdriver. He’d heard about it too many times already, Jayce had been mulling over the idea since the beginning of the year. “A gift,” he had explained, despite Viktor never asking for elaboration, a token of appreciation for everything she had contributed financially for their work over the years.

Viktor found Jayce’s gift idea baffling then and found it no less baffling now, and perhaps even a bit misplaced. There were many others with brilliant minds who lacked opportunity, forever hidden in the shadows of the elite, those perhaps a little more deserving, those who were not already provided for. That wasn’t to say Rosie was undeserving or unintelligent—far from it; he’d made that mistake early on, assuming her mind and wit were limited to social arenas and her artistic pursuits, he quickly realized how incredibly incorrect he had been. It came in slips—a casual comment here, a nonchalant observation there. She’d interrupt to answer complex equations about rune calibrations as though she were reciting the day’s weather of sunny skies with no chance of rain. He first thought she was guessing, but she had yet to be wrong. The first time might have been luck, the second, coincidence. Third and fourth? Practically impossible. And yet, despite her undeniable aptitude, she never expressed any extreme interest in a scientific niche.

But Rosie was Jayce’s “dear friend”, and this was Jayce’s gift, it wasn’t Viktor’s place to question, and frankly, he did not care enough to argue. And if it meant she would be out of the lab for a while—taking her infernal humming with her—he wouldn’t complain too much.

“What is it?” Rosie asked.

“It would not be a surprise if he told you,” Viktor interjected without glancing up, his voice flat, carrying the faintest edge of dry amusement.

Jayce rolled his eyes, unimpressed by Viktor’s lack of enthusiasm. “It’s a gift. From us,” he said, turning back to her with a wide grin.

Us.

Viktor’s hand briefly froze over the Hexclaw. It was not from them, this was a Jayce initiative, through and through. Viktor hadn’t contributed to it, hadn’t suggested it, hadn’t even particularly supported the idea. And there was Jayce, dragging his name into it, as though he had been some eager participant.

His grip on the screwdriver tightened. He had long since grown accustomed to Jayce’s habit of roping him into things he wanted no part of, but he didn’t understand Jayce’s incessant need to build a bridge between him and Rosie over the years, constantly, in the minutiae of their daily lives. She liked her coffee with honey, and Viktor knew this only because Jayce always handed him the honey packet to pass to her, insisting it was easier that way. It wasn’t, it wasn’t easier for Viktor to intercept and awkwardly hand it off. He eventually started bringing the packets himself to save Jayce the trouble of manufacturing another pointless connection between them.

”You’ll see it tonight,” Jayce said, still grinning, either oblivious or simply ignoring Viktor’s irritation.

“Viki, do you wager he’ll tell me before then?”

That name. It was a particular source of agitation for him. Since the day Jayce had introduced them, Rosie latched onto it immediately, as if they were friends that had known each for years before.

He had never corrected her though, not once.

She was prone to outbursts more than he, saying something would have only invited unnecessary confrontation, and Viktor didn’t find it worth the energy. Still, the nickname wasn’t any less annoying in his silence. It grated on him, chipping away at his patience each time it fell from her lips.

“I doubt it,” he replied, his voice steady and disinterested. He decided he would in fact be very glad she would be leaving their lab for good, gone somewhere else, somewhere that wasn’t there.

“Shame,” Rosie said, her tone light. “I guess I won’t be finding out what it is today then.”

Jayce’s brows drew together in sudden realization. “Shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his freshly cut hair. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot about your rehearsals.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “You’re alright, Jayce,” she said, her voice warm. “I know you’ve got a lot going on here,” she gestured broadly to the lab, “and up there.” She punctuated her words with a playful flick to the side of his head as she walked past him.

Jayce huffed a small laugh as he shook his head. She made her way across the room to where her bag lay haphazardly against the wall. There was a faint rustle of paper as she tucked her book into her bag.

Viktor presumed it was about a gala, but didn't dwell. Rosie’s career was a subject that rarely concerned him. What mattered was she’d be leaving soon for the day, and he could feel the tension in his shoulders ease at the thought.

The small screw Viktor had been adjusting gave more resistance than it should’ve, and with a bit too much force from tightening, seized up. He quickly twisted the tool in his hand back, attempting to loosen the screw, but he could feel the lack of grip against the stripped threading. It was ruined, unusable and unsalvageable. He instinctively reached for a small tin box to his left, his hand brushing against the cool metal lid before flipping it open.

Empty.

His fingers hovered for a moment over the hollow interior before he glanced over. He’d used all the screws. His lips pressed into a thin line as he closed the lid with a sharp snap.

Viktor grabbed his cane from beside his chair and pushed himself up, crossing the room to the cluttered corner Jayce had claimed as his workstation.

Jayce paused mid conversation with Rosie when he glanced over and saw Viktor rifling through the mess. “What’re you looking for?” He asked, stepping toward him, his tone curious.

“Screws,” Viktor replied without looking up, voice flat. He shifted a few loose bolts and a cracked lense aside. “Unless you’ve moved them again.”

Jayce reached down to shuffle through a stack of papers on his desk. Beneath the clutter, he pulled out his own tin box, popping the lid open with a flick of his thumb.

Also empty.

“Guess we’re out,” Jayce said.

Viktor gave a long sigh. Of course. Just his luck. He could place an order for more through the Academy, but with the amount of middle men it would have to pass through, delivery would take days, and he didn’t have that kind of time to allow his project to sit idly for. That left him with one option.

He moved back toward his corner of the lab, retrieving his coat from the back of his chair and shrugged it on. “Ensure Miss Young locks the lab if I’m not back before you leave,” He said over his shoulder, addressing Jayce.

“Where are you going?” Rosie asked as he walked toward the door.

“Screws,” he replied curtly, tone clipped and devoid of elaboration.

“Well, goodbye to you too, Viki,” she quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Viktor didn’t pause, didn’t look back, didn’t dignify her comment with a response. He grabbed the handle, twisted it and pulled the door open toward him, stepping into the hallway, leaving the lab and its occupants behind.

He hadn’t intended to take as long as he did. By the time Viktor had begun retracing his steps the sun was already gone, dipped far below the horizon. The store had been decently far to begin with, nestled along the cliffside edge of Piltover, but Viktor’s practicality still sometimes gave way to habit, and he had found himself taking a detour after the shop, adding what he hadn’t realized then to be hours to his time away.

He had found the spot as a child, and it was one of the few things that stuck with him through the years. He liked to go there when the weight of his work pressed too heavily, when he needed inspiration or shift in perspective, and just linger. The air there was cooler, it carried a scent of damp iron from the pipes of the city’s waterworks. It was secluded, just for him. His sanctuary of steel.

Viktor had set his own deadline to finish the hexclaw by Progress Day, and despite still being months away, he could feel it ticking closer with each passing day. It wasn’t essential to his and Jayce’s presentation to the council, ancillary at best, another tool in the arsenal of what Hextech could achieve, but he still wanted it to work, to function as flawlessly as the vision in his mind. Perhaps it was a point of pride, or humanity, as much as he sought to rise above it, an urge to perfect, to show off. Not to seek validation, he was confident enough of his mind, there was simply a certain satisfaction that came with demonstrating the full breadth of what was possible, not only to enhance, but to transcend human limitation. But perhaps he might’ve been shooting too far beyond what was objectively possible in the moment, having to remind his ambitions he was still only in today.

Viktor passed the steel bridge that connected Piltover to its sister city on his walk back after his detour to the water treatment facility. A pair of enforcers could be seen lingering at the far end, the Undercity end. They stood stiffly in their navy and gold uniforms as they monitored the crossing, though there was little activity to surveil. Few people ventured between cities this late. Viktor’s attention drifted to the gleaming arches that marked the start of the bridge. A marvel of Piltover’s engenuity, a symbol of unity, they called it. To him, it was more illusion than truth. To him, the bridge merely emphasized their divide, a glittering, steel reminder of everything the Undercity lacked and Piltover hoarded.

He was ready to turn his focus back to his path ahead when he heard it—a hum. His steps slowed, the sound prickling at his ears in a way that set his teeth on edge. It was a familiar melody, one he couldn’t quite place, but it wasn’t the tune itself that agitated him, but the person behind it. His golden eyes scanned the empty stretch of the bridge, searching for the source.

He spotted Rosie sitting on one of the benches towards the center of the bridge, almost perfectly suspended between the two cities. Her red hair was unmistakable even in the dim light. She was hunched slightly forward with her elbows resting on her knees, her gaze distant as if she were looking at something in front of her that Viktor couldn’t see.

The hum continued, soft and unhurried, filling the otherwise quiet night.

He hadn’t intended to stop, hadn’t intended to linger, but now that he saw her, leaving without saying something felt as impossible as turning back toward the lap without the screws rattling in his coat. He hesitated for a moment before approaching her. The clink of his cane against the ground echoed softly with each of his uneven steps as he walked. Rosie’s hum trailed off as she noticed the sound, her head lifting up in mild surprise once she saw him.

“Viktor?” she said, her voice curious. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He stopped a few feet away. He realized she was still in her same clothes from earlier in the day, a fitted green shirt adorned with intricate gold stitching, with sleeves that stopped just above her elbows. It seemed ill-suited for the night’s chill.

“I might say the same,” he replied.

She gave a small smile, leaning back against the bench. “I’m here often,” she admitted. “I haven’t seen you yet, though.”

His gaze flicked briefly to the enforcers at the far end of the bridge, then back to her, weighing whether this conversation was worth engaging. Talking wasn’t what he’d come for.

“Are you not cold?” he asked instead, his tone carrying more observation rather than concern. He saw the way her body seemed to press into itself, her arms resting tightly against her sides, her shoulders hunched.

“Perhaps I misjudged the temperature,” she admitted, her voice airy, trying to play off her discomfort. She crossed her legs, pulling her arms in closer in a futile attempt to fend off the evening chill.

Viktor exhaled softly through his nose, a near-silent expression of mild exasperation. There were certain principles he could not—would not—abandon, ingrained into the marrow of his being as firmly as the constructs of his mind. Small things, perhaps insignificant to others, but immovable to him, and among them was a simple rule: no matter the circumstance, he would not stand idly by while another suffered discomfort that he himself could alleviate, and certainly not a woman freezing in the cold. It was his ethos, a tether to a part of himself that had not been worn away by ambition or cynicism.

His brown coat was well-worn, hardly a shield against Piltover’s winter nights, but it was layered over his vest, and his shirt’s sleeves extended far enough to cover his arms. He would endure; he always did.

Awkwardly, he shrugged off the coat, his cane wobbling when he let it go momentarily to free his hand to pull the coat fully from his shoulders. He held it out toward her, giving a faint nod.

Rosie’s brow arched as she took the offering, a flicker of amusement lighting her face. She slipped her arms into the fabric, adjusting it to sit comfortably over her frame. “Chivalrous much?” she teased.

Viktor’s expression remained neutral. “I have a code,” he replied, the words matter-of-fact.

She let out a quiet laugh as she tugged the coat tighter around herself. “I hope you don’t flirt like that,” she said, glancing sideways at him.

He shifted his weight against his cane as he readied himself to walk. “No,” he said, his gaze fixed forward, “it is merely how I conversate with you.”

Her laughter bubbled up again as she stood and fell into step beside him. Without further exchange, they began the walk back across the bridge toward Piltover. Neither felt the need to fill the silence, but Viktor knew it wouldn’t be for long, that she would speak again soon enough, filling the air with her observations, her quips, or whatever other thoughts happened to occupy her mind.

Rosie shook the coat gently, the faint clatter of tin boxes rattling within the pockets broke the quiet. She tilted her head, a grin tugging at her lips. “Your pockets are loud,” she said.

They approached one of Piltover’s green trolleys. “Unfortunate for me. Now you will be twice as loud,” he responded without missing a beat.

Rosie’s pale eyes widened in exaggerated disbelief, her grin morphing into mock offense. “What—hey!” she exclaimed, clutching the coat dramatically as though wounded.

He allowed himself the smaller flicker of satisfaction. Her reaction was gratifying enough to almost coax a smile from him, though he refrained. Silence descended between them again as they stepped into the trolley, the vehicle tilting faintly beneath their weight as it settled on its tracks, but this time the silence was different, lighter. He took a seat near the window, his cane resting at his side, while Rosie folded herself into the spot opposite of him.

Outside, Piltover passed in fleeting glimpses, the light from streetlamps flickering in and out as buildings interrupted their glow, creating moments of shadows interspersed with bursts of warm illumination. Rosie leaned back in her seat with an ease Viktor envied as the sound of the trolley wheels against their tracks filled the quiet.

Her voice cut through one of the darker moments. “It’s a vocal exercise,” she said, her words seemingly plucked from nowhere.

Viktor glanced at her, confused.

“The humming,” she continued, her gaze focused somewhere out the window. “I do it when I’m nervous too.”

He didn’t respond. Words hovered on the edge of his mind, but none took shape. What would he even say? It struck him then how little he knew of how to actually talk to her. He had spent years observing her the way he did with anyone in his orbit: Jayce, Skye, Heimerdinger, the occasional Academy scholar who crossed his path, she was no exception. He had learned her patterns, noted her tendencies. The way her voice got higher when she was about to offer a barb or a joke. Her legs always crossed when she sat in the lab, her foot even twining around the other calf and shin. She always wore shoes with a squared front, giving them the illusion of something weighty and clunky. And yet for all that, she was still… indecipherable.

Was this an invitation to talk? A moment offered for him to connect? Or was it simply an explanation, overdue and brought forth by his earlier comment about her being “loud”? Had he struck a nerve, made her feel she needed to defend herself?

The trolley slowed with a faint screech of metal on metal, easing to a stop. Viktor blinked, barely registering the movement across from him as Rosie stood up from her seat. She probably said something—a farewell, a “goodnight,” maybe—but her words barely reached him, muffled as if they were spoken from the other end of a long corridor. He gave her a tight-lipped nod, a vague acknowledgement of her departure before she stepped off and vanished into the night.

The trolley lurched forward again, the wheels humming as it resumed its path. Viktor leaned back, letting the sway of the carriage pull him out of his thoughts. It wasn’t until he glanced down at his grey sleeve cuffed above his wrist that he realized Rosie still had his coat.

And his screws.

His lips pressed into a thin line, though whether it was from annoyance or resignation, he couldn’t quite tell.

Progress, it seemed, would have to wait for morning.

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