#in the end I sort of liked how this one turned out

[covenofagatha]

Do I wanna know? (Part 1)

Sequel to But you're my stepmom!

Picks up a few months later after your dad and Agatha get divorced and you've started college

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: fingering, mommy kink, slight angst

Fuck. You do not want to do this. 

It’s a Saturday night and you’re here. You should’ve said you had anywhere else to be, but instead, your car almost gets hit as you turn the corner in possibly the narrowest parking garage you’ve ever been in. It makes you swear and you stomp on the brakes so quickly you think you might have a bruise from the seatbelt. 

But luckily, you find a spot on the first floor and squeeze between two other cars, muttering a silent prayer that you don’t scrape against them.

You wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans as you get out and walk into the lobby of the apartment complex. 

It’s nice, although you hate to admit it. You would surely not mind spending more time here if it didn’t mean having to see—

“Hey, sweet pea!” 

Him. You look to your right and plaster on a fake smile when you see your father standing there, slipping his phone into his pocket. 

“Hey,” you say softly, awkwardly patting his back with a hand as he embraces you. 

He had been asking to get dinner with you at least once a week for the past few months since he and Agatha got divorced. You’ve always found an excuse to get out of it — you had homework, you had exams, you had to work over the summer and you were so tired — but now that it’s your first weekend in college and he knows that you don’t have anything going on, he insisted. 

Plus your mom had sort of asked for you to go at least once. Your dad has been sending you updates about his apartment search and random internet posts that he found funny, and having lived at home all summer, you’ve kept your mom in the loop. She is still obsessed with him, always finding ways to bring him up in conversation, and you wish you were brave enough to tell her to just move on. She was absolutely ecstatic when you broke the news about him and Agatha and she’s been pressing you for updates ever since. 

Part of the reason she wanted you to go see him was to scope out his new place and see if there was any sign of a new woman. There was still no sign about the lady he was having an affair with, so you weren’t sure if things had ended. 

And when he moved out the first time, he took your mom’s can opener and she still won’t let it go. Before you left, she texted you that if you saw it, you should steal it back. 

After the divorce went through, your dad had decided to sell the house and look for an apartment a little closer to his work, and he’s lived in this place for about a month now. 

“How are you? How’s it going?” he asks as he leads you to the elevator. He presses his fob to the button inside and then floor six. You remember him being so consumed with having one of the top floors, like that would make him seem more important. 

You shrug and pick at the peeling skin on your fingers. It’s a bad habit — one of your many. “Pretty good. Syllabus week has been a breeze. Made some new friends.”

“Classes seem like they’ll be fun?” he asks. 

“Yeah, I hope so.” 

And then a tense silence falls over the both of you. You haven’t actually seen him since your graduation, which was a whole other level of awkward with your mom there too, and you both know that the two affairs and two divorces has put a strain on your relationship.

It does hurt a little. You wish there was a way you could reach over the cold gap between you and go back to how things were when you were a kid, when you actually liked being around him. 

But too much has happened. 

“Well, I’m really glad you were able to come down for dinner,” he says and you smile tightly. “I can’t wait to show you the place and then we can get whatever you want to eat.” 

The elevator dings and you follow him to an apartment a few doors down and he unlocks the door and lets you go first. 

The floors are a laminate gray, the counters in the kitchen marble white with black pendant lights over the peninsula. The refrigerator is stainless steel and there’s a completely stocked wine cooler fridge built into the cabinets next to the stove. You walk past the kitchen into the living room where the couches from his and Agatha’s house are set up around an entertainment center with a fireplace and a blue rug under the coffee table. 

“What do you think?” he asks, stepping next to you and putting an arm around your shoulders to bring you in close to him. 

You take his fancy bachelor pad in again. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice. Maybe just pizza for dinner? We can order and watch a show or something?”

Staying in and having the television as a buffer is a much better plan than going out and having to make small talk that will end up with him on his phone anyway. He agrees and calls to order the pizza while you perch on the couch and scroll on your phone. You already have a text from your mom telling you to call her when you’re done and your chest tightens at the thought of all the shit she’s going to say. It’s fucking exhausting still being in the middle of this — you really thought it would get better, especially now that you’re in college. And yet, here you are. 

“So…” your dad starts, plopping down next to you with a groan once he gets off the phone. He grabs the remote and turns the TV on. “You like your roommate?”

Your roommate, Alice Wu, is a sweet girl from out-of-state. You think that you and her will get along just fine and you’ve already agreed on all the rules of cleaning and having friends over. The first week has gone well and you’ve gotten close. “She’s cool. I think she and I will be good friends.” 

He nods and turns on a show you watched awhile and the two of you sit in awkward silence until the pizza guy rings from downstairs. You excuse yourself to the bathroom after your dad rings him in. 

The bathroom is through the bedroom and you take careful note of the sheets still strewn all over the bed and the two pillows at the top. One nightstand is cluttered with a phone charger, earplugs, a lamp, and a picture of you on your graduation day in a silver frame. It tugs at your heart and you instantly look away, not wanting to feel any more nostalgia. 

However, on the other nightstand, there’s just a matching lamp. No hair tie, no other chargers or personal belongings. 

But that stuff is easily hidden, so you go into the bathroom. One toothbrush, one retainer case, one razor. You can’t tell if you’re disappointed or glad. 

At least you won’t have to listen to your mom talk endlessly about a new woman. 

Your dad already has a plate with two slices on it for you sitting in your spot on the couch and you dig into it, suddenly famished. The atmosphere does warm up over time, and it’s no longer uncomfortable silence and you do end up talking a bit about his work and more about your school while the TV plays.

He doesn’t bring up your mom or Agatha at all, and neither do you. In a way, it’s nice to be removed from them for a few hours. Your dad has been villainized by both of them — and obviously he fucked up — but he is still your dad, despite your complicated feelings toward him. 

After a few episodes of the show, you shift to get up, grabbing your plate. “You’re leaving already?” he asks and checks his watch.

“Yeah, it’s getting late and I should really be getting back to the dorms,” you say, trying to sound apologetic. Even if the bubble has been nice, you have somewhere you need to be. 

It’s hard for your dad to hide his disappointment, but he gets it and grabs his keys to walk you down to your car. 

“How’s, uh, how’s your mom doing?” he asks. Still putting me in the middle of all the imaginary drama she’s creating with you is what you want to say. But you know that he’ll call her out for it and you’d have to deal. 

“She’s pretty good. Work’s been keeping her busy.” A safe answer. A true answer. 

“Good,” he says and shoves his hands into his pockets and you know what’s coming next. “And Agatha? Have you seen her at all?” 

Imagines of her hot body on yours flash through your mind. Her rosy nipples, her pale stomach, the heat that swallows up her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve seen her around. She’s doing all right, too, I think.”

Your dad nods and stops at your car. “Well, I had a great time with you,” he says and holds his arms out for a hug. You mutter something in agreement and give him an embrace with two pats — the way you’ve done it since you were a kid. “Let’s do it again soon.”

He tells you that he loves you and after you say it back, you get into your car and he watches you as you drive away. 

Begrudgingly, you call your mom and put her on speaker and not even a second later, her voice fills your car. 

“How was it? Did you see anything? Is there another woman? Did you find my can opener?” she asks all in one breath and you take a silent, deep breath. 

You can’t wait to be home. “It was a pretty nice place actually.” Your mom snorts. “There wasn’t any sign of someone else there and I didn’t have time to look around. We just watched a show and ate pizza.” 

She makes a sound. “Wow, father of the year. Maybe he cleaned up the place before you came over.” You hum noncommittally. “What are you doing tomorrow? Want to come over? I’ll take you grocery shopping.” 

“Yeah, let me just check my schedule. Alice and I might be doing something, but I’d love to go there for a bit. Especially for groceries,” you tease and she laughs. 

“I bet your father didn’t even offer to do that,” she says smugly and your face falls. Sometimes you wonder if she does half the things that she does for you just to one-up him. 

“Okay, well I’m almost back now, so I’ll let you know when I’m coming over tomorrow,” you tell her, eager to wrap it up, and about to turn in. “Love you.” You hang up before she’s even done saying it back. 

Once you park, you text your roommate saying that you won’t be back for the night — staying with family — and walk up to the apartment side door, letting yourself in with the fob on your key ring. 

Agatha’s apartment complex is smaller than your dad’s, but just as nice, and you prefer it a lot more. 

After the divorce, she stayed in a hotel for about a week before signing a lease on a place about ten minutes away from where the house used to be. You had helped her pick out the furniture and spent more time here than at your mom’s house the last couple months of school and she gave you a key to it the day she moved in. 

It got harder over the summer to hang out with her, as you worked at an ice cream shop in the afternoons into the evenings and she was working her normal nine to five, but you made it work. 

Things are really good between the two of you. There isn’t exactly a label on it, per se, but you both know that it’s a relationship. And without your dad in the picture and with her not being your stepmom anymore, there isn’t as much of a need to keep sneaking around — so when she puts an arm around you while you’re walking down the street and kisses your cheek when you say something cute and ghosts her pinky against yours, it’s okay. 

You know things might change a little with you in college now, but you’re ready for it. And if you spend more nights at her place than at your dorm, so be it. It’s not like anyone’s going to know, and Alice will just think you’re staying with family. 

Unlocking the door, you can practically feel the tension seeping away from your body. Agatha makes everything feel better. Even the house you grew up in, the one your mom still lives in, doesn’t feel as home as this does. 

You don’t see her when you first walk in and you walk into the living room to see her typing something on her computer, brows furrowed, and you can just make out the glint of a document through the reflection of her glasses. 

“Hey, you,” you greet, kicking off your shoes. She startles and looks up before slamming her laptop shut and smiling. 

“Hey, honey,” she says and pats the spot next to her while she leans forward to place her computer on the coffee table. “How was it?” 

Agatha had emphatically listened to your incessant complaining about having to get dinner with your dad, but in the end she had also pushed you to go. You groan and flop onto the couch, situating yourself so that your head is in her lap and you’re looking up at her. “It wasn’t that bad,” you admit and she smirks. “Don’t even think about saying ‘I told you so’. I will leave.” 

She tosses her head back with a laugh and you play with the strands of hair that’s falling over her shoulder and teasing your face. “I would never, darling. But I’m glad it wasn’t bad. How is he?” 

Your nose wrinkles. “Can we not talk about my dad? Although, I was just thinking about how much of a reward I deserve for going.” 

“Oh, you think you deserve a reward, do you?” she ribs lightly, raising an eyebrow and poking you in the stomach. You giggle and twist away from her finger before sticking out your bottom lip as pitiful as you can and giving her doe eyes, nodding your head. She rolls her eyes fondly. “What were you thinking, honey?” 

You shrug like you’re just now beginning to think about it. “Well, mommy,” you say, a thrill running through you at her sharp gasp. “I think since I was such a good girl, you should give me an orgasm.” 

“Oh, just one?” she asks playfully, and you surge up out of her lap, turn over onto your knees to face her, and pull her in for a kiss. Your lips move against each other with familiar ease, her tongue licking hotly into your mouth and you moan — her hands slide up under your shirt and rest on your bare skin before you reach down and take it off. 

“As many as you’ll give me, mommy,” you pant, and she grins before starting to suck open-mouthed bites onto your chest. You’re wearing green lingerie but she barely even looks at it before unclasping your bra from behind and tearing it off, throwing it somewhere on the floor. 

She swirls her tongue around your nipple before suckling hard and you whimper, holding her head right against you. It feels like there’s a wire running straight from your boob to your cunt and you quickly feel yourself becoming soaked. Agatha switches to the other one and soon your entire chest is sticky with her saliva and you’ve moved onto her lap, squirming. 

Her teeth nip at the underside of your breasts and you can’t take it anymore. “Mommy, please,” you beg, grabbing her hand and leading it to the waistband of your jeans. Her fingers rest there while you quickly unbutton and unzip and then you shove her into your pants, your hand circled around her wrist to just feel her. 

Agatha chuckles throatily and moves her fingers experimentally against you while you try to grind down for some stimulation. You suddenly feel so empty, a molten heat between your legs, and Agatha crashes her lips back onto yours. She sucks on your tongue and tugs on your bottom lip as she finally presses against your clit and your hips jerk. “So wet for mommy, aren’t you?” she huffs and you nod and try to move against her harder. 

When she finally pushes your underwear to the side and runs her fingers through your folds, you keen and bury a hand into her hair, face dropping down into her neck. She sharply gasps when you start breathing heavily against her skin, content to just keep your lips planted against her throat. 

She slides a finger into you and your walls clench around her, trying to draw her even more in. Each time she fucks you, it feels like the first time — the same energy is there, the same electricity. But at the same time, she knows exactly what you need, maybe even more than you do. 

Her thrusts begin to pick up and heat is rising through your body and you can see little indents in Agatha’s skin from where your teeth have slightly sunk in. 

“Mommy, mommy — please, I need more,” you whine and she obliges by pushing another finger into you and curling them just right. A high-pitched sound leaves your mouth and you start riding her fingers the best you can, rolling your hips to match her and get her even deeper. You’re clenching furiously around her as sparks begin to fly in your lower stomach and you can feel the beginning tendrils of your orgasm start to build. 

Agatha’s thumb circles around your clit without actually touching it. “God, sweetheart, you look so hot right now, taking my fingers like such a good girl. You feel so good, too. Never wanna leave you,” she babbles, making you convulse even tighter. There’s a slight pink tint to her cheeks and her breathing has picked up and you know she’s affected too. Her fingers are moving faster and she pauses for just a moment, making you whimper, before she stretches you out with a third. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swear, your walls adjusting, and the slight burn only adds to the immense pleasure you’re feeling. “Fuck, fuck.” Your head is spinning, completely drunk with her and her perfume that’s been invading your nostrils the whole time, and you can’t even form a single thought. 

She presses harder on your clit and with the hand that’s not currently inside you, grips your hair and pulls you away from her neck. You can see red blotches staining her skin and the thought of her wearing your marks around gets you even closer. “Look at me,” she grunts, her thrusts becoming more sporadic and you stare right into her dark blue eyes with your pleading wide ones. Your breaths intermix and she looks like she might also cum just from this. 

Agatha lets out a strangled gasp when her gaze flickers from your eyes to your swollen lips to your breasts that are bouncing with your movements in her lap. 

“Mommy, I need — right there —” You can’t even string together a coherent thought and she scissors her fingers inside you, the pressure making you see stars. 

She looks you up and down again, drinking you in like she might never get enough, and her chest heaves with each breath she takes. “Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” she groans and your head falls back as you keep riding her. “I need you to cum for me, okay? Cum for mommy.” 

“Mommy, fuck, I’m gonna — fuck I love you,” you groan, not even realizing the words slipping out of your mouth, the words neither of you have ever said before, before it’s too late and your orgasm explodes through your body in a way it never has before. You feel it in every crack and crevice inside you and she keeps fucking you just as hard while rubbing your clit and it quickly becomes too much, tears springing into your eyes. 

Agatha’s fingers finally slow down and she coos sweet nothings in your ear and you wonder if she even heard you. It’s been a few months since you’ve been together, but neither of you has really acknowledged the depth between you. 

And you just did, in the middle of sex. 

“You okay?” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek and you nod before she pulls out of you and you wince at the sudden emptiness. You fall back out of her lap onto the couch. She must not have heard it. 

There’s a slight gnawing feeling that begins to grow in your stomach — if you said it for real, in a moment that couldn’t just be blamed on a dopamine rush, would she say it back? 

Does she feel the same? 

Agatha kisses you before sticking her three fingers into your mouth so you can clean them up. “Good girl,” she purrs in a low voice. “Was that a good enough reward?” 

You’re still a little out of it, but you nod dazedly. “Yeah,” you say softly and she gets off the couch and walks over to the fridge to get you a glass of water. “My mom wants me to go hang out with her tomorrow. What are you doing at night? Can I come over after?” 

She pauses for a fraction of a second and then glances at you over her shoulder. “Um, sorry, baby. I have to work all day tomorrow. Some last minute things I’ve got to get done.” 

You hum, a little disappointed, but graciously accept the water. “No worries. Maybe Monday or something.” 

“Yeah, of course. Just a second, I need to go grab something,” she murmurs and then walks into her bedroom. You’re exhausted and you get off the couch, stretching your aching muscles, and you’re about to follow her when her phone buzzes on the end table. 

Thinking it’s just a work email or something, you glance at it and your stomach drops, heart lurches. 

It’s a text message from an unknown number. 

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights

[ladsheadcanoncorner]

Yessss feed me the headcanonssssss

Can we get overprotective? Maybe like what they would do if your asshole ex shows up or something like that?

absolutely (gender neutral ex so you can picture as you see fit)! as a girly with a bad ex, i would've loved to have the boys there to defend me. hope anyone out there dealing with this can find some comfort here too <3

rating: sfw cw: bad ex, threats of violence ✉︎♡: ask box open, tumblr users + anons

Xavier:

Man is jealous of himself, so you can only imagine how he is when he finally meets your infamous ex at a work mixer

Xavier shakes hands and greets everyone except your ex, who he won’t even look at

He is grabby with you for the rest of the night. Hand in yours, on your back, on your shoulder. He won’t let you out of his sight for even a second

You: “Xav, it’s okay. We broke up a long time ago and -”

Your ex makes the mistake of jumping into the conversation right then. “Could only get someone who’s already trapped with you at work all day, huh?”

Xavier looks calm, but you can see rage flashing in his eyes

He takes a step toward your ex and quietly and calmly says, “Anyone who lost such a prize must be an idiot, and I don’t fight unfair matches.”

Before your ex can say anything else, Xavier is already leading you out of the party, hand on the back of your neck so that everyone, including your ex, can see that you’re his

“Let’s go home so I can show you just how lucky I am to have you.”

Zayne:

You’re at a cafe before work, one of the rare times you and Zayne have matching shifts

While waiting for your coffee to be called, you hear the barista say a familiar name

You and Zayne both whip your heads to look at the pickup counter, and your heart sinks when you see your ex

Zayne knows some details about your ex since you grew up together, but it is enough that he instantly turns on his protective side

The barista calls your name and Zayne’s next, and Zayne squeezes your hand before getting up to get the drinks

Right as your ex is reaching for the drink, Zayne slides in front and picks up the drinks you ordered with ease, cutting your ex off

The coldest delivery of, “It’s polite to say sorry, but I’m really not.”

Your ex starts to get upset but Zayne has already turned his back with your drink

He calls over his shoulder, “The life of a surgeon is busy. If you wanted to go first you should’ve gotten a better job.”

Zayne hands you your coffee with an easy smile and a kiss, making sure your ex is watching the entire exchange

Rafayel:

You and Raf are touring a museum to see the spot where his newest painting will be installed later that month

When you hear a familiar voice at the end of the hall, you freeze

Rafayel: “What’s wrong, cutie?” You: “That voice sounded just like my ex. You know that ex.”

Rafayel merely nods, and then drapes an arm over your shoulder as you keep walking forward, pulling you as close to his body as he can

Rounding the corner, your ex spots you and sneers, “Surprised to see you finally got back out there.”

Rafayel turns to you and says, “Aw cutie, I didn’t know you used to do charity work.”

You don’t know whose jaw drops to the floor faster, you or your ex

Raf looks at your ex and then continues nonchalantly, “I’m putting up a new art piece this month. You should really check out the red paint, I think it’ll match your vibe.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek and then the two of you leave the museum, Raf never letting you out from under his arm

You: “You’re not really going to use that paint in the museum, right?” Raf, coldly: “No, but I might make a custom piece if that asshole ever thinks of talking to you again.”

Sylus:

When Sylus gets back to the base one night, he can’t find you in any of your usual spots

Rationally he knows that Mephisto would have told him if you were in any sort of danger, but emotionally Sylus can feel his heart rate starting to speed up

He finally finds you on the terrace, having a rather heated conversation on the phone

He knows you’re completely capable of fighting your own battles, but as soon as he hears that name - the one you told him about, who hurt you - all bets are off

Casually strides over to you and plucks the phone out of your hand with a, “Let me handle this, sweetie.”

His hand is tracing protective circles on your back when he says, “How did you get this number?” Your ex on the other line instantly gets defensive.

“I’m going to stop you right there. Nobody talks to me like that and gets away unscathed, but nobody talks to her like that and lives. If you value that pathetic little life of yours, I’d leave town for a while.”

He hangs up the phone and then blocks the number before handing it back to you

Sylus: “I don’t think your ex will be bothering you anytime soon.” You: “Yeah because you threatened them?” Sylus: “It was more of a promise, kitten.”

He spends the rest of the night being extra romantic. Stealing long kisses whenever you walk by, taking you to his vinyl room to slow dance, and making sure you know just how much you are worth loving 

Caleb:

You’ve been acting weird all night, even though Caleb took you to your favorite restaurant

Caleb: “You’ve barely touched your food. Are you feeling alright?” You: “Yeah everything is fine. I’m just tired.”

As if you could ever actually lie to Caleb, but he doesn’t press the issue further

On the way out of the restaurant, you pass by a table close to the door, where you’re greeted with a, “Is that Y/N?”

As soon as Caleb sees your ex, he is like a different person. He’s squaring his shoulders, his hand is protectively gripping yours, and his eyes are absolutely determined

Of course he knows all about your ex, being on the receiving end of all of the nights you spent crying over this horrible person, but meeting face to face is a different story

Caleb puts on a fake smile and then bends down by the table so as not to cause a scene

“If you even so much as look at her again, I promise it will be the last thing you do. Understand?”

When Caleb stands up, your ex sees just how much he towers over them, and they shrink back in their seat

He then makes a dramatic display of kissing you right in front of them before you leave the restaurant

“Want to go get ice cream to make up for all of that, or should we skip right to the dessert at home?”

[sxorpiomooon]

What do people from your professional setting/career think of you?

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Pile 1-

OOO very mysterious yet magnetic. Someone who's very reserved yet people constantly want to be close to you or be able to understand you I keep hearing "get a piece of you" haunted by beyonce is playing in my head. People might also feel like you are someone who hides alot or has alot of secrets and might always want a piece with it however this somehow just makes them respect you even more. Alot of people have their noses in your business and might evesdrope. Moon might be prominent in your S10 chart I'm seeing 1h or 8h cancer asc? Sun rahu grahan yog in some manner. I also think you don't talk much and are reserved however people naturally seem to look up to you perhaps this is due to your magnetic presence. People in your professional setting might also not have any idea of what or how you are like in your personal spaces? It's something that's very hard for them to imagine I'm seeing. They might see you as someone who's to the point and is only there to get their job done. Mostly focused on themselves and the job that they're supposed to do and indifferent to everyone and everything else.

Pile 2-

the first thing I got was virgo and then what my cards say is that people might misunderstand you alot at first not because of you but because of them? Like I just see that they will fear you already when you meet them therefore causing misinterpretations or confusions. They think of you as someone who's very quick to get things done you might be very excellent at tackling positions I'm seeing mars exalted or mars in 6h? You guys might be good in management positions as well I just see you guys storming in and getting everything done. Very quick do you guys wear heels alot or is it a metaphor. Someone who's constantly doing something or achieving something I'm constantly seeing moments "jesus does she ever chill" is what I heard. You will have alot of people working under you in the future if not now. Someone who's always on the feet sort of like if there's a problem everyone will just stare at you because they known you'll get it done.

Pile 3-

People have alot of thoughts about you I can tell even before you are there however people might be too quick to judge you or might not take you seriously at first? This might be because of your age or like you being the only woman in the workplace there is some sort of inequality that you guys might have to face and you might have people taking advantage of you because of that but it's because you'll achieve alot at a young age? This pile also has alot of people that really don't want to work? You guys should travel this is random but currently this pile should just live I'm genuinely not getting anything about a job I just feel like this pile will have a turn in their life where they might give up on these things and just learn to have fun. This pile has some cool ass people tho I see you guys travelling alot in the future and making alot of friends also self employed.

Pile 4-

The outsmarter, the mastermind, the one who wins above everything and everyone. It's like you win in the end and you manage to find your way in situations people wouldn't even survive in. You are also someone who is able to just find a way? I see people just being so impressed by you. This pile might only rarely receive compliments and it's not because you don't do good work but because you literally leave people stunned. There is alot of jealousy too like people see what you do and they are just stunned because it never occurred to them to do that. Your mind works in ways they cannot even comprehend of. This pile is filled with leaders that are visionaries and are always able to see the bigger picture. Alot of times people might also feel like you are betraying them or harming them in some way? Like you are too clever but cmon manipulation is also intelligence. You are also someone who has been through alot yet has managed to secure this position. Sun rahu conjunction in a water sign in 1h.

[cherie-doll]

Okay great! Glad I cleared it w/ you first ^^

Could you please write the COD guys reacting to seeing his military crush bite an enemy in the throat, because somehow said enemy snuck up on them and, well, there wasn't much else they could do besides that, except like, die

So of course they chose to bite a guy to death, and he saw all of that

Is it #truelove or #ohmygodwhatwasthatgrossss 😭 /j

yk what's funny, i wrote a draft for this and turns out i never saved it... so here we go again

𖧧 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ᵎ Price had always thought of you as an admirable and exemplary soldier who always completed missions with efficiency. He never questioned how your methos for completing those missions... until now. A cry was about to leave his lips when he saw the enemy sneaking up behind you, until he stood watching in shock as you responded quickly by biting into their neck.

ᵎ Simon could have thought of other... methods that you could have used when taken by surprise. Sure, he's seen unspeakable war crimes but this has got to be one of those top ten moments on his list of things he wishes to NEVER witness ever again. Let's just say the ride back was dead silent.

ᵎ Soap would have such a big, fat crush on you there isn't anything you do that wouldn't look attractive to him. You've done a number of things and he would just kick his feet and giggle to himself. Seeing you sink your teeth into the enemy's throat with agility only made him experience an initial shock before thinking, "wow, they're so resourceful".

ᵎ Kyle could see why you would do something like that but... why? Just why? You have a weapon, he was covering for you and was it really easier to go rabid on someone rather than pull your knife out? He didn't know you had that side to you.

ᵎ Roach is scared. He's running; he fears he might be next if you confuse him for the enemy. He stood aghast for a moment before booking it out of there.

ᵎ Alejandro is lowkey into that. He had been observing you, watching your moves to see how you would perform out in the field. He's heard so much about how quick your reflexes are when it comes to combat but he surely didn't expect this. He likes 'em a little crazy anyways.

ᵎ Rudy made the mistake of assuming you wouldn't react in time. He had pulled out his weapon and aimed at the enemy who was attacking you now, he heard the shot on his end and then paused for a moment. He saw two figures still on the ground, until you got up, blood dripping down your chin and for a moment he assumed the worst; that he had aimed incorrectly and hit you instead. Until he saw the bitemarks on the enemy's neck.

ᵎ Phillip is usually proud of whatever his Shadows do to eliminate the enemy. He doesn't care how they do it so long as the job is done. He's yelling over the comm what a great job you did until he hears... questionable sounds? The sound of choking, ok so he thinks you choked the enemy out until another shadow responds saying you just bit someone and the gurgling sounds was the enemy choking on their own blood. Well...

ᵎ Makarov would sort of just laugh. He's never seen you panic so much in a moment where you don't even know what to do and act on whatever idea comes into your mind first.

ᵎ Keegan was beyond weirded out. When he had told you to learn from Riley he didn't mean for you to also take out the enemy soldiers by ripping their vocal chords out, he had meant it mostly as a joke that even the dog had better skills than you.

ᵎ König does not know how to react, how he should react. He is mainly concerned and hopes this doesn't become a habit. Perhaps he should suggest you visit a doctor? Ah, for your... teeth. Yep, that's exactly why. Not to get a mental checkup too while you're at it.

ᵎ Horangi is off the rails himself, he is no stable man to judge how you take someone out. He did give you the advice to fight with everything and anything. He was only trying to teach the new rookie he had a little crush on how to survive out there. And boy was he amused to see you take that advice.

ᵎ Nikto has killed a man in more ways than he can count. Some too brutal to mention. So, seeing you using your teeth as last resort to nearly bite the enemy's head off was like really falling in love with you. He did absolutely did not care that there was blood on your teeth, spilling down your lips as you tried your best to spit it out.

[lazysoulwriter]

Between the Lenses and the Track -Charles Leclerc.

hes so....

The first time you met Charles Leclerc, it wasn’t exactly glamorous. You were adjusting your camera settings in the Ferrari garage, focused on the telemetry screens reflecting off your lens, when a hand suddenly appeared in your frame, waving dramatically. You lowered your camera just in time to see Charles grinning at you.

“Got the shot?” he asked, playful as ever.

“Ruined it, actually,” you deadpanned, tilting your head. “You owe me a better one.”

From that day on, Charles made it his mission to provide you with ‘better’ shots—though most of them consisted of him making faces, posing ridiculously, or sending you exaggerated winks through your lens. It became a running joke between you two, a small part of your routine in the fast-paced world of Formula 1.

But somewhere along the way, your dynamic began to make headlines.

'Charles Leclerc’s Mystery Woman—Just a Photographer or Something More?’

'Flirty Glances in the Paddock—What’s Going On Between Ferrari’s Golden Boy and F1’s Shutter Queen?’

It was ridiculous. You were just friends, but neither of you ever bothered correcting the assumptions. If anything, Charles found it hilarious.

“Should we address the rumors?” you asked once, scrolling through yet another speculative article.

“I think we should fuel them,” he smirked. “Keep them on their toes.”

So, the flirting turned into an unspoken game. Post-race interviews? Charles would sneak in a comment about how he only pushes for pole position because he knows you get the best shots from there. Press conferences? If you were nearby, he’d find a way to mention your name. Once, he even called you his ‘good luck charm’ on live television, winking directly at your camera.

The fans ate it up.

It was harmless, right?

Until it wasn’t.

—

It happened in the backstage area of a Grand Prix weekend. The session had ended, and most of the paddock was clearing out. You were sorting through the hundreds of pictures on your camera when you heard footsteps approaching.

“Busy as always,” Charles teased, leaning against the table beside you.

“Unlike some people, I actually work,” you quipped without looking up.

“Ouch,” he placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “And here I was about to invite you to dinner as a thank-you for all the flattering angles.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Flattering? You make my job harder with all those stupid faces.”

“I give you personality,” he defended.

You turned to him, shaking your head with amusement. It was always like this—effortless teasing, easy chemistry. But then his gaze lingered just a little too long, his smirk fading into something softer, something more intent.

Your breath caught.

It was just Charles. Your Charles. The same guy who made dumb jokes and dramatically posed every time he saw your camera pointed his way. But suddenly, standing here in the quiet, the air between you had shifted. It felt heavier. Loaded.

His fingers brushed against yours, barely a touch, but enough to make your skin burn.

“Careful,” you murmured, trying to keep the teasing tone, but your voice came out weaker than intended. “The media’s watching even when they’re not.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “Let them watch.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t playful, wasn’t a joke or another inside reference to keep up the act. It was slow, deliberate, like he was waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t.

You let yourself melt into it, into the warmth of his lips, the way his hand came up to cup the side of your face like he’d wanted to do it for longer than he’d ever admit.

When you finally pulled back, your heart was hammering. Charles, however, just grinned.

“So,” he said, voice still low. “Should we fuel the rumors some more?”

You laughed, breathless. “I think we just did.”

[emotionallychargedtowel]

The em dashes in this example don’t exactly “belong” to Emma (the character) though, right? I’m pretty sure this is a summary of Mrs. Elton prattling. I guess I just don't want it to sound like they're Emma's responsibility, which adding them to her name seems to do. Unless they are her responsibility. Hm.

She is the reader’s point-of-view character. She's arguably the one who summarizes Mrs. Elton in this way. If she took Mrs. Elton more seriously it doesn't seem like her words would be summarized in this way. But then we’d have to read every word Mrs. Elton says here—verbatim. No thanks.

I was wondering if the reason Emma is such an em-dash outlier might be because of Mrs. Elton and/or certain other tiresome or longwinded characters (I'm thinking of Miss Bates, of course), along with Emma’s halfway listening to them.

So I cracked open my copy. And now I'm taking a perfectly good joke and turning it into a detailed discussion of my hyperfixation. Well, hopefully it's of interest to others anyway.

The short version of the answer to my question is that Emma's em dash quotient doesn't seem to be entirely, or even mainly, attributable to any specific character, including any propensity of Emma's as our point-of-view character. It's mostly just that Austen goes all out with the em-dashes all over the place. Now, I love em dashes and overuse them habitually. But the em dashes in Emma seem downright excessive to me.

Check out this bit where Emma and Harriet are looking at Mr. Elton's house:

“…there could be no possibility of the two friends passing it without a slackened pace and observing eyes.—Emma’s remark was— ‘There it is. There go you and your riddle-book one of these days.’—Harriet’s was— ‘Oh! What a sweet house!—How very beautiful!—There are then yellow curtains that Miss Nash admires so much.’”

They really are extraneous here.

At other points, they seem to serve the usual purposes in dialogue, like making a sentence into a sort of aside or showing when someone has been cut off by another person. And sometimes they accomplish other worthwhile things. For one thing, as in the Mrs. Elton summary, they often do the work of helping to condense a bit of small talk. There's also a part where Miss Bates goes off at length twice in quick succession, in which the em-dashes show how abruptly she jumps from one topic to the next.

Mr. Knightley's response when he thinks Emma is upset because of the revelation of Frank Churchill's engagement to Jane Fairfax makes good use of them in a related way:

"...[S]he found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, 'Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.—Your own excellent sense—your exertions for your father's sake—I know you will not allow yourself—.' Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, 'The feelings of the warmest friendship—Indignation—Abominable scoundrel!' —And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, 'He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for her. She deserves a better fate.'"

The em dashes show the abrupt way he switches from one phrase or exclamation to another. If his tone is "steadier" at the end of this passage, the em dashes seem to show how unsteady he was at the beginning of it. He's not just changing his tack repeatedly, he's doing it because he's agitated.

So, yeah. Austen does some worthwhile things with her preponderance of em dashes in Emma. But for the most part, she was just wilding out.

An ode to em

One of the reasons that I love Jane Austen's work is that she loves an em dash. Just how much does she love an em dash? Behold:

That's right, baby—Emma has 3102 em dashes in it! Not hyphens—this is just the count of true em dashes alone. It's glorious.

Let's all bask in the em dashes in this famous Emma passage:

“The best fruit in England—every body’s favourite—always wholesome.—These the finest beds and finest sorts.—Delightful to gather for one’s self—the only way of really enjoying them.—Morning decidedly the best time—never tired—every sort good—hautboy infinitely superior—no comparison—the others hardly eatable—hautboys very scarce—Chili preferred—white wood finest flavour of all—price of strawberries in London—abundance about Bristol—Maple Grove—cultivation—beds when to be renewed—gardeners thinking exactly different—no general rule—gardeners never to be put out of their way—delicious fruit—only too rich to be eaten much of—inferior to cherries—currants more refreshing—only objection to gathering strawberries the stooping—glaring sun—tired to death—could bear it no longer—must go and sit in the shade.”

31 em dashes in that sequence alone! And that's not even the whole paragraph—there are 9 more em dashes in the rest of the paragraph before that quotation! Iconic.

[trustmypoison]

Ateez confessing to their best friend

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘‘Can you please do a headcannon of ateez confessing to their bestfriend that they have a crush on them?‘

Hongjoong

I think there would be an unspoken tension between you two that you’re afraid to address. When you think about it, there always has been. It’s something you dance around for a while until you just can’t. But you’re visiting him late in the studio one night and you both are looking at something together, sitting close, and then suddenly you’re kissing. When it’s time to come up for air, he feels quite a bit of confidence in saying, “I guess we should talk about that.” 

Seonghwa

He’s stunning and you’re not blind. Neither are a lot of other people. The thing is, he turns down people left and right. You don’t think anything about it at first, but when an idol that everyone chases after asks him out and he says, “Oh thank you, but I’m not interested,” you just have to ask. When you bring it up, he initially shrugs it off. When you ask if he’s already interested in someone, he flushes and says “It’s not important.” It’s only after a little arm-twisting that he finally admits he’s interested in you. He’d feel a lot of fear about this moment but would be so, so relieved if you returned his feelings. 

Yunho

You both already act like you’re dating so why are both of you surprised?? (I’m sorry, all I can see is the friends to lovers fic I wrote for him.) This sort of creeps up on him in a way that once he realizes how he’s always looking for and reaching for you, he can’t unsee it. I do think there would have to be an external force that would compel him to confess. Like if you were asked on a date by someone else and you asked his opinion, he would find himself saying, “I’d really rather you not.”

Yeosang

So fucking casual!! So casual in fact that it feels like it came out of left field. He just straight up asks you out and you have this horrible moment of confusion before the panic sets in, because you can’t ask something like that so casually after years of friendship!! But he does and he accepts that it’s a shock for you, but he really just wants to get it off of his chest. He’d totally go back to normal if you didn’t like him like that, but if you did? Not so casual anymore because the relief is obvious!! The casualness was totally fake!!

San

He’s so touchy that this is another one that to strangers you look like you’re dating. But the thing is, he’s touchy even when no one else is around. So imagine cuddling up to him on the couch and he goes in to kiss your cheek like he’s done a million times. Naturally (and stereotypically) you turn your head at just the right time that he ends up kissing the corner of your lips. He likes to see you flustered and acts like he doesn’t understand why. “That was a little close, don’t you think?” You’ll laugh nervously. He’ll shrug in a strong attempt to be casual and ask if that’s a bad thing. If you question if he actually would want to kiss you, he says, “Yes of course,” in an instant. 

Mingi

This is totally an overnight realization. One day, he wakes up and sees you that day and thinks, “Uh when did I become attracted to them??” His attitude will do a 180. He’s totally avoidant, and when he can’t avoid you he’s totally awkward. You actually think you might have done something wrong and one of the group members has to step in. The problem is that he’ll have let this go so long that you’re mad by the time he’s ready to talk. He has to confess and grovel. 

Wooyoung

He confesses so many times in so many ways and you really think he’s joking. It’s funny to him at first because he thinks you’re just a little dense. But over time, the confessions get increasingly more serious and you still aren’t getting it. This will be to the absolute delight of his members to watch him struggle with this. Eventually, he’ll reach a breaking point and just pull you into a kiss because it seems words just aren’t working. His head might explode when you ask, “Wait, are you into me???” and he’s just like, “Yes!!! I kept trying to tell you!!!”

Jongho

Another stereotypical moment, but bear with me. You have a bad partner that just isn’t treating you right and you’re upset for the millionth time. He’s almost scolding you when he says you shouldn’t put up with that sort of treatment and you can do worlds better. But you might be a little jaded that all relationships are like this. If you express this, he’ll just snap and say, “I wouldn’t be like that.” That’s most certainly something that he can’t back out of now. Not that he wants to because bitterness about watching you suffer in your current relationship has been building for a while and he has a lot to say. 

[chimneyz]

Lazy Mornings

for the @bucktommyfluffebruary day four: clingy boyfriends rated: g | words: 842 on ao3

The heartbeat of the love of his life lulled him to a state of peace, Tommy clung a little tighter onto Evan’s shirt. He hummed softly, nestling his head into Evan’s chest, his hums turning to a soft familiar tune. A tune his mother used to hum while gardening her favorite lilies. His body relaxed whenever he was with Evan, his chest felt light, free.  The sun shined from the window hitting the top of Evan’s curls. Tommy loved how the sun hits them perfectly, giving Evan a glow, a halo of sorts. Loud snores echoed throughout the quiet bedroom, Tommy looked up to see Evan’s mouth propped open, drool dripping down the corner of Evan’s lips. Tommy loved mornings like these, mornings where he could be wrapped around Evan’s arms, holding him close. 

Tommy mindlessly hummed his tune, soaking up the warmth radiating from Evan’s body. He didn’t even realize the absence of snoring until Evan moved his hand, running his fingers through Tommy’s hair. 

“What are you humming there?” Evan smiled.

“Something my mom used to sing when I was little,” Tommy sighed with nostalgia. 

Evan hummed, “It’s nice.” 

Tommy nodded, nesting his head deeper into Evan’s chest. 

“Hon’ I need to get ready for an appointment soon,” Evan whispered as he kissed gently on top of Tommy’s head. 

Tommy let out a muffled whine, clinging onto Evan just a little bit tighter. If Tommy could freeze time, to stay like this with Evan, in bed for the rest of eternity, he would. He would fight the gods if it meant he could stay like this till the end of the universe. 

“Tommy?”

Tommy looked up at Evan’s big blue eyes, they sparked in the sunlight. 

“Don’t go,” Tommy finally murmured, “Reschedule it, stay with me.” 

Evan huffed out a laugh, “Tommy, I-I can’t.” 

Tommy tilted his head with a whine, it was rare for Tommy to pout. Evan was the one to usually pull this card, a card he pulled often. A card Tommy could never say no to. Now it was for Tommy to pull that card. 

Evan sighed, lightly tossing his head back on the pillow. Tommy could see Evan’s mouth twitch, trying to hide his smile. Tommy shifted himself up Evan’s body, resting his head in the crook of Evan’s neck. Softly peppering kisses along Evan’s skin, his body shook with giggles as Tommy continued up his throat. 

“Tommy, Tommy, I can’t reschedule it,” Evan giggled, “I can’t just show up to our wedding with no suit. Do you want me to show up naked?”

Tommy’s lips smiled against Evan’s neck. 

“You would like that, wouldn’t you? Was that your plan all along?” Evan tilted his head. 

“You got me,” Tommy smiled, “The only suit I want to see you in at our wedding is your birthday suit.” 

Evan barked out a laugh, his body shaking underneath Tommy’s. Gently grabbing hold of Tommy’s jawline, he slowly guides Tommy to his lips, sweetly kissing him. They lazily kiss, softly, gently. Tommy hums against Evan’s lips, slowly he pulls himself away, looking down at his Evan. His unruly morning curls, his soft pink lips, his big blue eyes that have captured starlight, a smile brighter than the sun itself. 

Tommy still couldn’t believe he was going to marry this man. He still couldn’t believe he found his forever love, his last, let alone that it was going to be Evan Buckley. Tommy still wasn’t sure if he deserved to be with Evan, if he was worthy of this marriage. But he was going to make damn well sure he was. 

“What is it?” Evan tilted his head, words dipped in honey. 

“Nothing,” Tommy grinned, “I just… Do you know how much I love you?”

Evan’s smile grew brighter, “Yeah, I have a pretty good idea.” 

“Good.” He leaned up, sweetly kissing the birthmark above Evan's eyebrow.  

Moving down, Tommy nestled his head against Evan's heart, humming his tune again, softly squeezing Evan's chest under his hand. Tommy’s spins shivered as Evan ran his fingers through his hair. 

“I still have to get going though,” Evan whispered. 

“Can you just stay a little longer?” 

Evan sighed, reaching for his phone on the nightstand, dialing a number. “I'll reschedule.” 

“This wedding doesn't have to be perfect you know,” Tommy murmured, “All I need is you, sweetheart.” 

Evan snorted, “Says the man who went all groomzilla when planning it.”

“I wouldn't say groomzilla, Evan.” 

“Tommy, hon’, you stayed up for over twenty-four hours just setting up the dream board agonizing over the perfect color pallet.” 

Tommy hummed. 

“Can we stay like this for today?” Tommy asked.

“For as long as you want,” Evan pressed his lips on top of Tommy’s hair. 

Tommy clung onto Evan just a little bit tighter, soaking in the warmth, the love. His lips hummed a tune, Tommy would do anything to stop time, to live in this moment until the end of the universe, the end of everything. To be by Evan’s side forever and ever.

tag list (if you want to be added or removed please interact or remove your interaction with this post)

@mmso-notlikethat, @buckhastwohands, @romanbridgers, @rosyhoneydew, @here-there-be-fics

@dangerouscupcakeperfection, @brokenpiecesof, @geekwarrior107, @bidisasterevankinard, @mountedeverest

@samas8, @a-mel0n, @grimmsdead, @comfortpilot

[isa-ghost]

I genuinely intend to remain reinforcing that Phil Does Not Want To Do Lore On The Realm because I don't want the community's pushing to send him to the point of never doing anything like it again (I've seen this lowkey happen before in other fandoms).

BUT...

I see such a clear pipeline from trPhil's "no fuck you go away I'm burying previous trauma and pain in logging obsessively" to some sort of "fine, I admit I'm miserable because I lost family and friends AGAIN, and I will begrudgingly try soothing it with letting people in my bubble again" type surrender moment brought on by trSneeg because he's so persuasive and makes excellent points with pure logic and reason and the idea makes me salivate.

Obviously it's all 100% ooc jokes and even if it WAS intentional rp, we have no guarantee that trPhil is "main" (specifically q) Phil, but technically trPhil HAS vaguely opened up to trSneeg about the grief and scars he has in the wake of losing his children. trSneeg knows trPhil is bitter and still grieving. He can see that logging, no matter what trPhil insists, is Not helping him actually heal. It's just barely letting him cope.

It's the same old tricks rpPhil has always turned to to deal with baggage, immersing himself as much as he can in physical labor of some kind. His projects back home in Hardcore, the "trains in his basement" in DSMP after he had to kill his own son, all the building and looting and protesting he did on QSMP any time the kids were taken away from him.

And I think we've seen more than enough evidence to show that trSneeg could 100% keep his cool through all the stubborn and heated refusal trPhil would meet with his attempts to convince him to just be willing to socialize and invest in people again. Not even to join Yellow, just let himself have meaningful connections again, rather than sticking to tolerating his and trFit's presences (most of the time). Even though trPhil's evasive behavior has been reinforced (probably tenfold) after The Keepers assaulted him and destroyed his wings AGAIN, I think with the tenacity and confidence trSneeg exudes, he could slowly eventually coax trPhil into opening up again. Even if just a tiny bit.

Especially because he sees why trPhil is so adamant on sticking to his guns rn, he knows it's not JUST the factions and snails. He'd see it even if trPhil hadn't straight up told him multiple times already. Right away, trSneeg would make it very clear that trPhil would have no obligations to anyone or anything, that socializing doesn't mean he HAS to save people from the peril they face or take a side in the interpersonal conflicts they have or help them all figure out what the deal is with the eyes or the Keepers or anything else.

He doesn't have to put up with a snail that reminds him of his lost kids, he doesn't have to choose a side like it's Purgatory again, he doesn't have to get involved with the horrors people are going through like he often did with the islanders, he doesn't have to help solve/understand whatever is going on in The Realm like he did with The Federation and The Codes and everything else fucked up and strange on Quesadilla Island. If having friends is all he wants, he can have that.

And even if trSneeg STILL couldn't sway trPhil with All That, that would mean we'd get a gut-wrenching storyline about how after so many years of loving and losing again and again throughout his immortal life, rpPhil knows that pain is a part of love whether you want it to be or not, you can't have one without the other. He can't make connections here without signing up for the stress and pain that comes with it because that's what it means to care about people.

It's not just the most recent time putting him off from it all, it's an entire cycle he's been forced to suffer in for as long as he can remember, because that's what being immortal entails. He wants the cycle to end already. He can't stand being fully alone right now whether he admits it or not thanks to QI. His determination to isolate himself as much as he can while he's in The Realm is to slowly reacclimate himself to being alone so he can tolerate it in his home world again. When the loneliness gets unbearable, that's when he has no qualms with being pestered by people or goes to see what everyone else is up to. As that happens less over time, he'll go home again now that complete isolation doesn't hurt anymore (or more accurately: now that he's reconvinced himself it doesn't).

All of this is to say, trSneeg is 100% the guy that would break the ice under trPhil and get his story rolling, whether that means he embraces the pain of loving and caring again, or reinforces how hellbent he is on trying to escape it.

[its-the-allure]

Drarry Rec List

Favorite trope/tag: Established Relationship

First Time for Everything

By gracerene | Explicit | 7.3k

Summary: Harry's ready to try something new.

Why I like it: Established relationship and first time? Yes please!

I've Got a Beautiful Feeling (Everything's Going My Way)

By toomuchplor | Explicit | 3.6k

Summary: This is absolutely unapologetic explicit filth but it's also absolutely unapologetic as a representation of been-married-a-while sex. That's got to be somebody's specific kink, right? If that's you, enjoy.

Why I like it: Please see above.

horizon

By @desertforestfic | Explicit | 1.6k

Summary: The sun rises on Harry and Draco.

Why I like it: Sweet and hot! Plus this Freeform tag says it all - “denial of how non-casual the casual sex is getting”.

Under the Mistletoe

By @jelliewrites | Explicit | 4.4K

Summary: Draco kisses Harry under the mistletoe...

...but not the kind of kissing you're thinking about, you sweet summer child!

Why I like it: all my favorite things in a new, clever way. The first of several sexy shorts in this established-Drarry life. Read them all!

Snow Can Wait

By its_the_allure (me!) | Explicit | 5.5k

Summary: Ten years after the war, Harry is on a first date with a cute Muggle bloke attending a classical music recital. But then the house lights go down, and an achingly familiar man with a shock of white-blond hair walks across the stage toward the piano.

This is a story about waiting - and making up for lost time.

Why I like it: Okay it feels weird to self rec in a rec list, but imma do it! This was my first time trying a non-linear narrative and I’m really pleased with how it turned out. We have a deeply in love Harry which I just adore, and Draco is super hot.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

By @moonflower-rose | Explicit | 40.1k

Summary: One summer evening, Harry Potter vanished in the middle of dinner with his friends. Four days later he came back. Sort of.

Draco Malfoy is on the case.

Why I like it: Such delicious pining!!! Very lovely characterizations of Harry & Draco. I want all the good things for them.

Come In, the Water's Lovely

By @wolfpants | Explicit | 3.5k

Summary: In the lush wilderness of Madeira, Harry and Draco reunite.

Why I like it: porn with feelings, my best and most favorite thing

Harry after Healer

By @zephyne | Teen | 1.2k

Summary: Harry’s loopy on potions after his procedure. Draco rather likes Harry this way, all open and innocent and awestruck. Oh—and yeah. Obsessed with Draco’s beauty. That part’s rather nice.

“Do we call each other ‘love’? How long have we been together?”

“We’ll have been married three years next month,” he replies.

“Merlin, I hit the jackpot!” Harry exclaims, beaming.

Why I like it: Inspired by that adorable viral video where the man wakes from surgery and can’t believe how gorgeous his wife is. So sweet and cute.

He's Perfect

By @itsphantasmagoria | Teen | 7.9k

Summary: Draco's son with Harry is a shining light in his life, and is perfect just the way he is.

Why I like it: A wonderful glimpse of Drarry’s life post-getting together, and I love how they stand up for their child. The interactions with Draco’s parents are especially satisfying.

Far From The Tree

By aideomai | Explicit | 112.5k

Summary: The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

Why I like it: Gorgeous writing, angst with a happy ending done so well, and the smut is smutting so hard!

PS. Do you have a favorite that isn’t on this list? PLEASE SHARE IT WITH ME!!!!

[ruewritesoccasionally]

The Reunion Pt. 6 | Aaron Pierre

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Reader

Warnings: fluff, softness overload and pure romance

Chapter Summary: Soft, effortless intimacy – The kind of love that makes the simplest moments profound. Bittersweet nostalgia – Acknowledging how long it took to get here but knowing they were always meant to arrive. A love that’s anchored, unwavering – No more fear, no more hesitation. Just certainty.

Word Count: 2.3K

a/n: anddddddddd that's a wrap, i had so much fun writing these two even though the slow burn was long as hell lol 😩 i really hope i did their ending justice - thank you to everyone who stuck around 🫶🏾

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4 & Pt 5

Six months had flown by in a blur of late-night unpacking, weekend furniture shopping, and quiet, stolen moments that made a house feel like home.

The place smelled of fresh paint, takeout, and something unmistakably theirs—a warmth that settled into the walls, lingering in every quiet moment.

Moving boxes were still stacked in corners, some half-opened, others untouched. A single wall in the living room remained unfinished, the two of them caught in an ongoing battle over the perfect shade of blue. It was a small thing, but the debate had turned into something else entirely—a running joke, a playful point of contention, another reason for Aaron to grin at her and say, “You just like having a reason to argue with me, don’t you?”

Their home was still coming together, but the foundation was already set. Not just the brick and mortar, but the way Aaron absentmindedly placed her favourite mug on her side of the counter, or how YN instinctively draped a blanket over his chair before he could sit down. Tiny, unspoken habits—proof that they belonged here.

Aaron, halfway through unpacking yet another box, shot her a look when she leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

“You’ve been staring at that box for ten minutes,” she teased. “You gonna open it, or are you waiting for it to unpack itself?”

His lips twitched. “Nah, I was just waiting for you to boss me around about it first.”

She huffed, nudging his leg with her foot as she passed by, and he caught her wrist, tugging her close just to press a lingering kiss against her temple.

This was their life now—soft, effortless, intertwined. And as they moved through the space together, something unspoken settled between them. The quiet understanding of how far they’d come.

They were building something, piece by piece.

Aaron lifted a bookshelf into place, his biceps flexing under the strain, and when he turned around, he caught her staring.

His smirk was immediate. “You good over there, sweetheart?”

YN, not even a little embarrassed, simply shrugged. “Just appreciating the view.”

He chuckled, shaking his head before stepping closer, resting a hand against her waist. “You know, you could help instead of just watching me sweat.”

She tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to think. “Mmm. But where’s the fun in that?”

Aaron groaned playfully, pressing his forehead against hers. “Unbelievable.”

Moments like this made it feel real—not just the moving in, but the life they were creating inside these walls.

“What do you think?” YN asked, stepping back and motioning toward the now-filled shelf.

Aaron tilted his head, studying the arrangement. “I think…” He reached forward and moved one book slightly to the left. “Perfect.”

YN gasped, nudging his shoulder. “Aaron.”

“What?” He grinned. “I was just helping.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips.

A few minutes later, she was sorting through another box when she felt warm lips graze the back of her neck, Aaron’s deep voice murmuring, “What’s ours is yours now, baby.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his words settle into her bones.

This wasn’t just a house—it was home.

As they continued unpacking, YN rummaged through a small box marked personal and pulled out a worn envelope. Her breath hitched when she realised what it was.

“Aaron,” she called softly.

He turned, his expression shifting when he saw what she held.

It was an old, faded note, one he had written years ago—back when their feelings were still unspoken. A reminder of a moment neither of them had acknowledged at the time but both had felt deeply.

As he took it from her fingers, his thumb brushing over the creased edges, he exhaled a quiet laugh.

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” he murmured.

She nodded. “And yet, somehow, it feels like yesterday.”

They stood there for a moment, the past and present colliding, reminding them of how much they had grown—how much their love had evolved.

Aaron lifted his gaze back to hers, his eyes warm, sure.

“No regrets?” he asked.

YN smiled, stepping into him, pressing her palm flat against his chest. “Not a single one.”

YN and Aaron finally settled on the couch, the chaos of unpacking momentarily forgotten. Two wine glasses sat between them, the soft clink of the glasses marking a brief moment of quiet before the words came rushing in.

“You remember when you swore we’d never work together?” YN teased, lifting her glass to her lips with a knowing grin.

Aaron chuckled, his eyes softening as he thought back to the early days. “Yeah, I thought it’d ruin everything, being around you all the time. But look at us now.” He paused, a more serious look creeping in. “Turns out, I was just scared of having everything I ever wanted.”

YN’s gaze softened, her heart swelling at his words. “What changed?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper as she studied him.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “I realised that it’s not a bad thing to want everything with you. I just had to stop running from it.”

There was a moment of silence, as if they were both lost in the reflection of their own past—those in-between moments where feelings were buried under confusion, where each tiny step forward had been a leap of faith. They were miles away from the days when they had danced around their feelings, avoiding the inevitable, not realising it was already happening.

YN smiled, her thoughts drifting to the time when they had first held hands without thinking, how her heart had pounded in her chest when their fingers brushed. “Remember when you almost told me you loved me, but didn’t?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Aaron snorted, clearly remembering. “I was just trying to protect my pride. I couldn’t let you know you had that much power over me.”

Her eyes twinkled with fondness. “And I almost said it too, before I was sure. But once I did... I never wanted to stop saying it.”

Their fingers intertwined, a silent promise between them. Those small moments had led them to this—this life, this love, this home.

The conversation shifted as naturally as breathing, from memories of the past to dreams of what was yet to come. The future seemed endless now, and their plans spilled out between teasing glances and tender words. Their love felt unbreakable, a quiet certainty settling between them.

Aaron rested back into the couch, stretching his legs out comfortably, his hand finding hers as he casually mentioned, “You know, when we’re older, we’ll probably still argue over the right shade of blue.”

YN let out a soft laugh, squeezing his hand before leaning her head on his shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure of it. But I’ll let you choose everything from now on to save time. We’ll skip all that back-and-forth drama.”

Aaron smirked, his gaze softening as he turned to her. “You say that now. But you’ll be back to fighting me for the final decision once we’re decorating our next place.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, nudging him with her elbow. “Only if you promise to let me pick out all the throw pillows. You know that’s non-negotiable.”

He chuckled, the easy banter rolling off of them, but beneath the teasing tone, there was a realness that spoke of the life they were building together. “Fair enough,” he said, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. “But let’s get through this one first—no more boxes to unpack, no more shelves to adjust. We’re good here, right?”

YN smiled, resting her cheek against his arm. “Yeah, we’re good. This feels like home.”

There was a soft pause, a moment where the weight of their love hung between them. Then, as if the thought had been in both of their minds for a while, she turned her head to look up at him. “You ever think about a wedding date?” she asked, her voice light but laced with curiosity.

Aaron didn’t miss a beat. “Already picked one. We’re getting married on a beach, somewhere beautiful—just the two of us.”

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. “You’ve already decided?”

He grinned, that familiar, playful glint in his eyes. “Of course. You think I wouldn’t?” He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear. “It’s already in my head, baby. A sunset, white sands, just us.”

Her heart swelled at the thought. “And what about kids? Got names picked out for them too?”

He took a moment to think, his expression softening as he imagined their future. “One boy. Maybe a girl after that. I’m thinking something strong… like Elijah, or Rumani.”

YN smiled, her heart fluttering at the idea of them raising a family together. The thought of their children, her and Aaron’s love passed on to them, filled her with a warmth she couldn’t explain. “I like those names,” she whispered, her voice quiet with emotion. She shifted closer, pressing her cheek against his chest as if grounding herself in the future they were building.

“I used to think love was supposed to be complicated,” Aaron murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. “But you… you make it easy. Waking up next to you every day? That’s all I’ll ever need.”

YN’s heart swelled at his words, and without thinking, she pressed a soft kiss to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Her voice trembled as she replied, “I feel the same. I’ve never known love like this, Aaron. It’s everything I never realised I needed.”

The room seemed to fade around them as they sat in that quiet moment, the weight of their love and dreams filling the space. It was simple—no grand gestures needed, just the shared understanding that no matter what came next, they would face it together.

And that was enough.

The evening had settled into a comfortable quiet. The house was mostly unpacked now, the last picture frame waiting to be hung. But for a moment, Aaron and YN found themselves alone by the window, watching the fading light of the day slip away, replaced by the soft glow of their home.

Aaron turned to her, his expression softer than it had been all evening. The playful banter, the teasing about furniture and paint colours—it had all slipped away, leaving only the real weight of their love.

“You’ve made me realise that home isn’t a place,” he murmured, his voice steady, yet vulnerable. “It’s you.”

YN’s heart skipped at his words, the truth of them sinking deep within her. She looked at him, her hand instinctively finding his, fingers intertwining as she searched his eyes.

“I used to worry about what the future would look like. The uncertainty... everything we couldn’t predict,” she admitted softly, her voice a whisper in the quiet room. “But now? Now I know I can handle it—because I’m not doing it alone. I’m doing it with you.”

Aaron pulled her closer, his hand gently cupping her face as his thumb brushed over her cheek, as though he were memorising the softness of her skin. He pressed his forehead to hers, feeling the deep connection between them.

“You and me,” he whispered. “That’s all I need. Forever.”

There was no need for further words. The silence that followed spoke volumes—of the promises they had made, the love they had nurtured, and the life they had built.

With a quiet but shared sense of anticipation, they walked over to the last box, where the framed picture from their first holiday together rested. It was a moment captured in time—both of them smiling, carefree, wrapped in the joy of their love.

YN smiled softly as she held the frame, her fingers tracing the glass. “I think this is it,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “This is the moment I want to remember. This is us.”

Aaron nodded, taking the frame from her hands to carefully place it on the wall, their home now complete with a symbol of the journey they had taken together.

They stood back to admire it, taking in the sight of their smiles frozen in time, the image a perfect reflection of their love. The way they looked at each other in the photo was exactly how they looked at each other now—full of love, understanding, and endless possibility.

Aaron wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, and they stood there for a long moment, the quiet hum of contentment filling the space around them.

“May we look at each other like that, forever,” they murmured together, their voices soft, but certain. The words felt like a vow, one that would live in their hearts for as long as they both lived.

YN smiled, the weight of the moment settling deep in her chest. This home, this life, this love—they had built it together, and it was theirs. And no matter where they went in the future, they knew one thing for sure: their home would always be where they were, side by side, hand in hand.

With one last kiss, they held each other close, the world outside forgotten as they stood together ready for the future.

As they gazed around their home—now complete in every way—they realised it wasn’t the walls or the furniture that made it theirs. It was the shared laughter, the quiet mornings, the small moments that built the foundation of their life together. They didn’t need to go anywhere to feel home; home was right here, with each other.

Aaron squeezed her hand gently, looking down at her with that same look of certainty, love, and playfulness that had first drawn her in.

“Let’s make this our forever,” he whispered, his voice low, but filled with more than just hope. It was a promise.

YN nodded, smiling up at him. “Forever sounds perfect.”

And in that moment, they knew: no matter where life took them, no matter what came next, they had already found their forever.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718 @kxllanxtdoor @random-human02

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[racoon3lizabeth]

Art critics at work

summary: remus already loves his work as a history teacher. but he loves it even more when he accidentally stumbles upon the new art teacher.

warnings: talk about mental health and death ish? and just a lot of fluffy cute stuff. modern & muggle au.

notes: hiiiii!! i just want to tell you all that it’d be really cool if you all sent me requests for how you’d like the story to go or small details and so on. basically anything you want me to add in the next chapters. AND ALSO!! i’m a beginner writer. i never once stated I wasn’t, this is just for fun! :)

remus lupin x fem!user

When Remus grew up he wasn’t like other kids. It sounds very naive, but it’s also very true. His father Lyall struggled with depression ever since he was a teenager. It was good for a while, at least that’s what Remus was told. But when he had just turned five his father got fired from his job. Lyalls only reason to go to work was to earn money, which resulted in worsening his own mental health.

Then when Remus turned six he suddenly only had his mother.

Ever since then he promised himself to never get a job he didn’t absolutely love. He never wanted to make someone go through what he watched his mom endure. So after almost five years of hard work and late nights of studying he successfully became a history teacher at twenty six years old.

***

The last few weeks have been nothing but hectic for Remus. Not only was he bedridden with the flu for a week, needing to get a substitute which he later learned didn’t do his job properly, he also missed out on a lot of information when he was sick. Causing him to all of a sudden have a huge pile of work. For some reason his colleague and best friend Sirius hadn’t felt like he needed to tell Remus about the fact that the school had finally hired a proper art teacher.

Sirius is that sort of cool music teacher that all of the students love. With classic rock band t-shirts, tattoos and incredible guitar skills. So perhaps it’s not exactly his fault, but still. Remus would have appreciated a heads up.

That’s exactly how Remus found himself walking through the halls of the school, strolling towards the arts classroom. Nodding his head in greeting to the students who kindly waved to him. His students are one of the reasons he really wanted to pursue teaching. Because when he was their age he would’ve wanted someone who paid attention. Who truly cared about his education. Sure, some are a bit difficult and hard to deal with. But those are also the ones who are going through the most.

The fact that their school hasn’t yet hired a new art teacher is a very nice convenience for him whenever he needs to print out paper and assignments for his students since he absolutely hates the teacher's lounge, always has ever since he started working. Small talk just isn’t for him.

He opened the heavy door which automatically closed behind him with a loud thump. Immediately stopping in his pace when he notices something very out of place. He was just there for the printer but ended up in a much different situation.

“Uhm,” he trails off. Inspecting the unfamiliar woman who’s standing with her back turned to him by the whiteboard. “Hello?” He questions, a line appearing between his eyebrows.

You can’t help but rapidly turn around as Remus breaks the quietness of the empty classroom. Eyes widened in shock. You had been too caught up in your own world to notice the door opening and then closing. “Hi,” you reply, eyes flickering over his face as you’re caught off guard. Shifting on the balls of your feet.

“Hi,” he repeats, for some reason needing to clear his throat once again. Though it’s probably just because of the flu he had last week and not the incredibly alluring woman in front of him. At least that’s what he tells himself. He doesn’t enjoy the fiery hot pink flush that quite quickly spreads over his cheeks. He doesn’t even know this woman who could potentially have broken into the school. He hasn’t got a single idea that you’re the new art teacher.

“Are you allowed to be in here?” Remus questions, his chocolate eyes observing her cautiously.

You blink, narrowing your gaze as he observes you. “Yes?” Your brows knitting together. “Are you allowed to be in here?” You echoed. Slightly confused as to why this man, wearing a dark green sweater with the white collar from his shirt sticking up from underneath and black dress pants, just comes into your classroom interrogating you unannounced.

“What?” He asks. Completely baffled as a scoff stumbles out of his lips. “I work here, of course I’m allowed to be here.” Remus argues. Threading his right hand through his sandy brown hair.

You manage to raise an unimpressed eyebrow, eyes narrowed. “I work here too.”

That’s when it clicks for Remus. It was about time they got a new art teacher after all.

“You’re the new art teacher?” He guesses, his cheeks turning even more scarlet. His eyes flashing with self depreciating amusement. He had just out of nowhere attacked this poor new teacher who’s just trying to get used to a new job, students and environment. Honestly, he blames it all on Sirius.

But honestly, you’re not very bothered. He looks very sorry with his lost puppy dog eyes and cheeks getting redder for every second. “Yeah, I’m y/n.” Reaching out your hand, offering him to shake it. Deciding that introducing yourself might lighten the mood just a tiny bit and possibly save him from further embarrassment.

His lips curl into a lopsided smile, giving you a firm although gentle handshake. “I’m Remus,” he smiles, retreating his hand. Already missing the warmth of your skin. “History teacher.” He adds, pushing up his glasses that had started to slip down his nose. Fuck! He’s wearing his nerdy reading glasses? Why didn’t he leave them at his desk?

His words make you beam, eyes twinkling with excitement. “So you must know a bit of art history then?” You assume. Happy to know that there might be a possibility of having just met someone who you can ramble about art with.

“Hmm?” He hums, putting the glasses on the top of his head. Hoping that looked a bit more dignified and not like the extremely smart history nerd he unfortunately (or fortunate for you) is. “Oh yeah, yeah.” Remus finally answered, nodding. “I know all about… Picasso.” He hesitates, internally slapping himself for being so caught up with his thoughts.

An involuntary chuckle escapes out of your lips. Quickly developing into a full blown laugh. “I’m so sorry,” trying to get the words out between your fits of laughter. “I’m so so so sorry.” you apologise desperately over and over.

The corners of Remus' eyes crinkled, chuckling softly. “No it’s alright.” He reassures. The beautiful melody of your laughter ringing through his ears. Never having heard something so exquisite before. “That was all on me.” Brushing it off with a dismissive hand.

The nervous shifting on the balls of your feet and the way you anxiously fiddled with your fingers has now entirely stopped. Completely caught up with your new colleague. “Good,” you nod, your eyes meeting for only a few seconds before they both dart away. Remus suddenly found the whiteboard extremely interesting when you decided to check out the floor just one more time.

The silence that followed wasn’t just excruciating, it was completely horrifying and it thickened for every moment that passed by.

“I’ve got a class in ten minutes,” Remus acknowledges and tilts his head a bit to the side, breaking the silence.

You nod once again. Feeling so incredibly confused. You’re always very talkative but suddenly the words are lost on your tongue. “I prefer Dalí.” You confessed out of the blue.

Remus' head turns, looking away from the whiteboard and onto you. “I’m sorry?”

“The painter.” You told him with a cheeky smile.

“Oh,” Remus breathes. Today really isn’t his day. He just manages to humiliate himself constantly. “I don’t know why I said Picasso.” He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Eyes glancing back up at the woman, his cheeks becoming more like a tomato once again.

—————————————————————————————————

tags: @amatoanima @po3tbbygirl

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 25

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know

A.N: I'm sorry for the delay. Unfortunately life gets in the way of these things!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17 • Part 18 • Part 19 • Part 20 • Part 21 • Part 22 • Part 23 • Part 24

• ··········· • ············ •

The trip down to the Entresol level was far easier than the one you just did. Get on the ascensor. Get off. Welcome to Zaun.

The undercity was very similar to what you remembered in your dimension, even though you hadn’t spent a long time there. Dark, chaotic, and yet in the chaos there was beauty. People shouting back and forth, vehicles coming and going, lights reflecting on colored glass panes. 

Once upon another timeline, after Viktor became hexed and started his commune, you became a common guest in it. Helping him do things and reach higher, do better...improve…evolve. He would find ways to get you to the commune quickly and safely; most of them wouldn’t have you pass through the streets of Zaun. And if by any chance you’d need to, he’d get someone to accompany you. 

No…he wouldn’t get someone…He would make someone.

It was hard to try and distinguish what was made out of love and what was made out of fawning. He wanted you in the commune, whether because he cared or because he needed more evolved; you didn’t know. But looking back at all the gestures he did, all the little smiles and touches, it was hard to imagine him, at that time, doing it for love. It was a means to an end. Much like the hex angel he had sent after you.

A tap on your shoulder snapped you violently out of your thoughts, so much so that you had to grab your chest to keep your quickening heart from exploding.

“Gods, Viktor.” You breathed. “Scared the shit out of me.”

“We have been walking for 10 minutes.” He sounded confused. “Where were you?”

“Far.” You looked at him, and he had a concerned look on his face. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. As long as you come back.” 

“I’ll try.”

“We are here.”

You had stopped in front of a two-story building. It was thin and tall, and it looked like it had been pulled up by the roof disproportionately. The broken window on the ground floor showed the dancing shadows of an abandoned store, with half-empty shelves and dust shimmering there. The other two floors had two square windows to the street but only a faint light coming out of them. The door to the living quarters was ajar, and despite looking neglected on the outside, clothes were hanging on the windows, and on the last floor, there was a little parapet with some plants on it. 

“There.” Viktor pointed to the first-floor window. “That was my bedroom.”

You looked up where he was pointing and smiled. There was a purple curtain there, and you wondered if that was there when he was.

“And that was the living room.” He pointed to the window next to the other.

Viktor had a melancholic air to him. A sort of haziness in his eyes as he remembered those times. You kept quiet, letting him reminisce.

“You want to go up?” You said when he sighed with finality.

“No. There is probably someone living there.” He turned around to walk further down the artificially lit streets.

You silently followed him through the streets, watching the stalls and the stores start to get customers. You knew danger lurked around every shadow, especially with the chembarons running amok, but right now it seemed calm and safe…safe-ish.

One thing that surprised you, though, was the sound above the sounds. Above the cacophony of the undercity, there were whispers and buzz like a layer of frenzied talk about the frenzy. Several times you’d pause and look back when something whispered in your ear. It didn’t feel evil or angry. It was playful, like a child touching your shoulder only to hide away.

“Is everything alright?” Viktor asked, and you nodded.

“I’ll explain later. Rune related.”

He paused and looked back at the building that was once his home and then at the intersection where you were both standing. In front was a metal bridge, a path to the left towards more buildings, and a metal stairway to the right.

“It’s there.” He pointed to a small location on a metal landing on a lower level.

“More stairs!”

“Zaun’s architecture is vertical.” He spat out, limping towards the steps.

You walked beside him, keeping a close eye on him. He held to the thin railing, and between that and his crutch, you both made your way down slowly but safely.

“As you can guess...” He adjusted his aid and straightened up. “It was fun for me growing up.”

The layer of sarcasm in the sentence was as thick as the fog that rolled above.

“Between the lungs and the bones, I was a regular at the playground…if there had been any playgrounds…” 

There was resentment in his voice, but not anger. He wanted the best for the Undercity, even after it had pushed him aside. He knew, the same as you or your mother, that the betterment of Zaun would be the betterment of everyone who lived in it. Whether they were healthy or not.

“Would you ever consider coming back?” You expected a resounding and quick no since that had been the answer given to you by his cosmic twin, but once again the thoughtful silence told you how different they were.

“Yes, if that’s a decisive factor in the improvement of people's lives here, I would.” There was no doubt in his tone.

“Sounds like you’ve thought this over.”

“Heh. It is where I was born; I will always love it. No matter what it becomes.” His head nodded forward, and you saw your target location coming up.

The store window was bright with orange and yellow lights, reminding you of a lit fireplace. The black-trimmed glass panes with gentle curves made it welcoming, and the array of colorful packages and signs made it even more appealing to the eye. But what made you look at the small store was the symbol on the sign. It was the fire rune, mirrored and delicately decorated with leaves and flowers.

“My mother used to come here.” He recalled once more. “I liked the little candy they had for coughs and the muscle cream too.”

You smiled at him and walked inside, his presence close behind you. The little voices and sounds from what you thought were the arcane became a little louder as you approached the store, but they quickly became silent as the bell signaling a customer entrance rang.

The inside of the store was warm and smelled of dried leaves and soothing balms. The dark wooden shelves were filled with paper packets, glass bottles, and tin cans with various colorful labels. The decorations, the advertisements, and even the rug on the floor were old and raggedy, but it gave the place a cozy feeling.

“Hello. Welcome to Fireside Elixirs and Medicines. My name is Elysium. How can I help you?”

Elysium smiled and brightened up the room as they placed their hands on the glass counter. They were wearing a baggy cream-colored wool sweater with a flowery detail embroidered in it, under a pair of green overalls. Their sleeves were rolled up, and his arms were filled with flowery and leafy tattoos.

“Alena sent us,” Viktor announced after the door closed, and Elysium's smile got bigger.

“Oh, yes! You must be the hex-head and the heir.” 

You tried to bite back a laugh but failed when you glanced at Viktor’s confused face. His eyes blinking, eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth trying to come up with a reply.

“That’s us.” You waved, and they nodded.

“I’ve got what you asked for here.” Elysium walked to the back of the store, waiting for them to follow.

“What did you ask for?” Viktor mumbled as he followed you, the wooden floor from the apothecary creaking.

“Old records of old customers...” you whispered back as Elysium opened the door to a small storage room and office space.

The small round table in the middle was filled with cardboard boxes, and those boxes were filled with notebooks and binders with papers of different sizes and colors inside. It was literally a mess of papers and books and dust bunnies.

“It’s all I could find, and Janna knows if that’s all of it.”

“I just wanted a list of clients…” you stuttered, surprised at the number of boxes and sheets.

“Yup…those are it. 90 years worth.” Elysium patted you on the back. “If you need me, I'll be right there.”

They pointed to a small corner couch that had an open sketchbook and some pencils next to it. You nodded, still a bit shocked.

Viktor was already inside the office, looking around the boxes, grabbing the lightest ones, and placing them on the floor.

“Do you still sell the rosehip tea?” Viktor asked quietly, Why did you finally accept your fate?

Elysium nodded curiously while you looked at both of them.

“I would like to buy some.” They nodded again, moving to get him his tea. “Do you perhaps have a kettle here?”

“Not here, but I can get you some hot water.” Both of you realized at the same time what the scientist wanted to do.

“That would be appreciated. Thank you.”

The storekeeper nodded again and turned around, probably to find the tea and the water. You shifted your gaze to Viktor, who was now fishing for something out of his satchel.

“Rosehip tea?” you asked, mimicking his movements from before, picking up some of the heavier boxes.

“It is good for joints and inflammation.” He explained, taking out a small leather coin purse, a notebook, and a pen with a colorful top.

“You believe in that?”

…someone else didn’t…

“I believe in anything that might help me. If anything, the human mind is very susceptible to the placebo effect.” He sat down in a chair, starting to undo his brace, sighing in relief once it was free.

Both of you sat down at the table as you started by picking a box and trying to make heads and tails of the boxes.

Viktor was a pro, quickly grabbing everything out of one box and making piles for each size of paper sheet and note and then making another pile with the whole notebooks. You started to follow his lead, adding papers and notebooks to the piles.

Elysium would come around at certain points throughout the morning, bringing the water for the tea and two mismatched cups. It was clear the shop still had some customers, the bell ringing from time to time and Elysium’s calm voice helping them out.

By the time lunch came around, you had made your way through a couple of boxes, and both looked proud when their new acquaintance whistled, impressed.

“I’m starting to think we should pay you for this.” They joked, leaning into the doorway.

“No need. It is quite…relaxing.” Viktor quickly blurted, and you snorted in disagreement.

“Please forgive him. He’s usually knee-deep in chaos.” You grabbed your backpack.

“Well, it’s food time. If you guys want to come, I’m going to a little stall down the street.” Elysium grabbed his satchel bag and waited for your answers.

You both nodded in sync and made your way out the door.

“Alena told me you are interested in the magic symbols. Can I ask why?” Elysium asked, slurping his noodles.

“I am researching them for my studies.” Viktor quickly blurted it out before you could even open your mouth.

“For hextech?” 

“No. Personal.”

“That’s awesome!!”

“What do you know about them?” You asked, setting the spoon down and leaning over the serving shelf of the food stall.

“Urban legend. Mom warned me about the old man with magic, that he would come and take me if I got into trouble.”

Viktor nudged your knee with his own, and you looked at him. He raised his eyebrows, and you nodded, acknowledging that the shopkeeper had the same experience as Viktor.

“Did your grandparents see him too?” 

“Not my grandparents…my great uncle.” Elysium finished his food and pushed the bowl aside. “He once saw him near the lanes, just looking.”

“Did he talk to him?” Viktor asked, also pushing his food aside and grabbing a small tray with a little fried round pastry layered with sugar and cinnamon.

“But he would see him there almost every day. Gr’uncle thought he was a ghost most of the time, and he was scared of ghosts.” They gave you a sad smile. “Later in life he became…sick…mentally…he’d forget things and see things, and we couldn't tell what was real or what was his imagination.”

“Was it the mines?” Viktor asked, plopping the sugar bomb into his mouth.

“Probably…or the gray. Or both.”

The air turned solemn, the three of you contemplating the lives of the citizens of the Undercity. They had been forgotten by the council; every piece of comfort they had been given by them was performative. Sure, Councilor Kiramman funded and made the pipes that expelled the gray from the city, but in the end, there was always a blade above these people's neck. You knew this because you saw it. Caytlin only needed to turn a key, and the toxic gas was once more weaponized against them. 

Every time someone tried to do good…actual good for the people of Zaun, there were hurdles and committees and just unenthusiastic talks about why they needed actual schools for children in Zaun; meanwhile, Piltover prided itself on the education of its citizens. 

Heimerdinger had been right when he told the boys back then about security, and when they told you, you were just as outraged as they were. Now though? Now you know that Hextech indeed needs some security precautions. Against Piltover's need to stomp on their lower city mostly.

Zaun was dangerous; the shadows were sometimes death sentences, but they had been left to fend for themselves. Enforcers weren’t policing the bad guys here; they were just making sure the cages were locked.

It angered you that you had been blind to most of it. Even to the point of not giving a shit about it. Your ivory tower was way too high for you to see the people down below. Until you were dragged into it. Sure, it was by a hexed Viktor, but the experiences were all real, the people who wandered into the commune, their stories. 

And even though the means he used were flawed, he tried to help them. Only to be the one who would fatally use them.

“It was evolution, my dear friend. The betterment of ourselves only leads to the betterment of our surroundings.” Viktor's mechanical voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He was right there…in your ear.

“Are you alright?” Elysium asked, stopping the animated conversation they were having with Viktor. You're Viktor.

“Yeah…sorry! Just thinking about the boxes back at the store.” You looked at your gloved hands. “I can’t feel the tips of my fingers.”

“I think we can start to decipher the clients with what we have now, and perhaps tomorrow we could investigate those.” Viktor grabbed a paper bag with grease stains from the man in the stall. It was filled with the sugary fried pastries he had been eating. “When we exhaust all of those people, we go back for more.”

“Sounds like a game plan.” Elysium nodded as if he was the one who was going to do it.

“It does.” You looked back at the shopkeeper. “You’re going to help us with this?”

“Ah! No. That’s all you.”

You groaned as they laughed, patting your shoulder in solidarity with your exasperation.

What you had thought was going to be a day of exploration turned out to be a day of tracking people through receipts, prescriptions, and old notes made by at least two generations of Alena’s family.

Luckily, once Elysium announced the shop was closing, Viktor groaned, apparently enjoying this methodical work, and you let out a relieved moan.

Elysium handed Viktor a tin with more rosehip tea and bid you both goodbye. It wasn’t late, but the air was starting to become even more chilly.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @kitewa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies @iamfandomnerd @jazzypop-op @jojo-at-heart

[freyito]

Want to write for boothill? Then....remember how he reacted when he was called cute? That should be your starting point

✭ pairing(s): boothill x gn reader

✧ a/n: as always, boothill cannot live a peaceful existence around me and MUST have some sort of angst in any fic i write. youre welcome :D

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, GET SHIP OF THESEUS'D, little bit of hc work?, not proofread

✎ wc: 1.6k

ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴ'

Boothill is a prideful man. You know that better than anyone. He doesn’t take much compliments, if at all. Perhaps ‘handsome’, or maybe even ‘dashing’, but he only really accepts them from you. A man of his standing can’t be called… ‘cute’. No, no. He’s rough ‘n’ tough, he’s manly, and on occasion, he’s pretty. But not cute, adorable, or anything of the sort. Don’t insult him like that! Not even when he comes home with a new getup, pretty in pink, even down to his medals.

Well, not that you cared. You called him whatever you wished, because he was cute. Especially when he was all pouty, acting indignant. This didn’t help him, of course, it only spurred you on to show him with as many adorable nicknames you could. ‘Boo-Boo’ in particular has always stunned him. He’d get this look, where his nose scrunched, giving you an awkward grimace (which often turns into a sheepish smile), and his face lighting up like a firecracker. He’d stammer and trip over his words, telling you to ‘knock it off, sugar…’, shake his head, and mumble something about how you can’t do that to a man’s dignity.

But you do. He won’t do much about what you call him, because deep down it sparks something akin to butterflies in his stomach. Or, at least, in what could be his stomach. It’s more like an odd quivering feeling within his wires that simulates adrenaline, and apparently, nerves! Boothill himself will never get used to it, but you’re quite taken with the effect you have on him, and the subsequent results.

He loves you, he truly does. And of course he’s willing to sit still and accept the fact that you won’t stop hurling such… endearing words at him. Yet, despite all his protests, all his pouting and shaking his head, he can’t help but admit (to himself, if he let you know, he would never hear the end of it) that he quite enjoys it. A man like him, who tossed his body away to become a killing machine, the hollow shell he inhabits created for the sole reason of revenge, considered cute? He hasn’t heard words like that directed at him in such a long time. Not since he was a kid, anyways.

When he looks into the mirror, all he can see is a weapon. Even the most human parts feel twisted to him, his teeth reinforced for… what reason? There was a point where he forgot why he had gotten all these augmentations, wondering if he truly needed to shed the entirety of his humanity. Truly, there was no need for sharper teeth, augmented tongue, and an augmented eye. Nor did he need a neurochip, his mind alone could’ve gotten him this far. And yet, he had still gone through with it. All this to kill one man, who has avoided him for so many years. How many more augmentations, or “upgrades” would he need until his dream of revenge was finally realized? What would happen once that happens? Perhaps, by then, he wouldn’t be so deserving of–

You wrap your arms around Boothill’s waist and rest your head on his shoulder. He flinches instinctively, before letting out a soft chuckle and reaching up to pet through your messy hair. There you two are, framed in the length of the mirror, and in an instant, he forgets about his earlier thoughts. 

You had just woken up, barely able to keep your eyes open, or your steps steady. Despite your blurry vision, you had caught Boothill standing there, staring solemnly at his reflection in the mirror. This kind of thing was all too common, and you regret to admit you’ve noticed his penchant to stare for too long. You don’t understand what’s going on in his head, but at this point, you’d rather just hold him. And hold him you do, burying your face in the crook of his neck like the measly morning light that had filtered through the curtains was just too bright.

“Awh, darlin’, why don’t you go back to bed?” Boothill murmurs softly, leaning his head onto yours. “Didn’t mean to wake you, and definitely don’t mean to keep you up.”

You groan and shake your head half-heartedly, squeezing his waist just slightly to emphasize your want to stay. Or, perhaps your stubbornness to let go. You peak out from his shoulder, shooting him a look that tells him all. ‘I won’t go back to bed without you’, or something of the sort.

“Don’t give me that look,” He chuckles, tilting his head a little so he could press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I’ll be back in bed in a minute, okay? Just gotta… clean up…”

His voice tapers off as his gaze returns to the mirror, oddly transfixed on his teeth and eyes. You let go reluctantly, but you decide to stay close by. You stand next to him for a moment, looking up at him and watching the way he bared his teeth and leaned in. You raise your eyebrows, trying to decipher what was going on his head at the moment, to no avail. While he registers the fact that you are right next to him, he doesn’t say much else, focused on his reflection.

“Hey, cutie,” You mumble, deciding to take a page out of his book. He snaps out of his trance and stares down at you with that same, flustered look, his cheeks red as he tries his best to form a sentence, something to tell you off. Eventually, he gives up, shoulders slumping slightly as he allows himself to be defeated by such a simple word. “What’cha thinkin’ about?”

“I-It’s nothin’, hun. Just…” He shrugs, gesturing towards the mirror, then himself. “I think I’m… unhappy.”

You blink and stare up at him for a moment, surprised by those words. Boothill has always had his ups and downs, and around you, he was never afraid to ‘cry’, wallow, or anything of the sort. He could mournfully explain what happened to his home to you, he’d tell you he missed it, but you don’t think he’s ever said he was unhappy. 

“Ah, uhm… with me? With us? Or, like…” You point at his mouth, “Your teeth?”

“No! No, I could never be unhappy with you, sugar. Or the life we have– but, I mean, I guess the teeth are part of it,” He turns away from the mirror, gaze softened, almost sorrowful. “It’s my body… I ain’t insecure, or anything, and I know what I was gettin’ into. I mean, I chose this for a reason, but… I dunno. I don’t. Sometimes I start thinkin’ if it was worth it, and sometimes it scares me to think of what happens after.”

“After… what, exactly?”

“When I find that sunuva-nice-lady, and string him up by his pearls and show him what iron tastes like–”

“You’ll have me. We’ll have a life, we’ll have the same life we have now, or maybe even better.”

“I… I suppose we will… but I hate to be the bearer of bad news, when Oswaldo Schnieder is dead, my bounty’s only gonna get bigger. You know that.”

“I do, but, not to jinx it or anything, they don’t know where we are. We can live out our peace day by day by day… yada yada yada.”

Boothill pauses, and thinks about it. It’s nice, that kind of future. But he also understands that it won’t be possible. You do too. Not that you want to admit it, if you were to say it out loud, you feared that it would become true.

After a beat, Boothill sighs and wraps his arm around your waist, nudging you back to the bed.

“Well, it’s a bit too early to think about that, isn’t it. I’ve yet to find the dang clockstucker,” He huffs, shaking his head, before falling back onto the bed, hands behind his head. “Best we get some rest instead of talkin’ all grim-like. Ain’t good for our minds.”

You follow suit, laying down next to him with a huff, rolling over onto your side and staring up at him. He closes his eyes, as if pondering something, or perhaps trying to go to sleep. Granted, he didn’t need to. He just liked to play along with you, hold you close and cuddle up despite how ‘uncomfy’ he claimed his body to be. Yeah, metal and steel wasn’t exactly the softest material, but… you liked it all the same. At this point in the relationship, it felt normal. If anything, it’d feel wrong to hold anything else other than steel.

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you reach out with your other hand and cup his face. His eyes flutter open near immediately, tilting his head ever so slightly and looking up at you.

“What’s up?” He smiles weakly, his bravado faltering. You know damn well that whatever was on his mind earlier was still haunting him, and you’d rather have him fight against being called the word ‘cute’, rather than this.

With a huff, you take your hand from his cheek, raking your fingers through his bangs before pushing them up and revealing the rest of his face. Taken aback, he blinks, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to decipher your goal. The eye that’s normally covered is damaged, torn a little at the edge, revealing some of the mechanized shell underneath. It’s not something he’s secretive about, you’ve known about it well before you two had started dating, but you didn’t see it much, and therefore, you were quite fascinated by it.

Before Boothill gets a word of protest in, you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s small and fleeting, but it’s enough to earn you a blush and a confused look. His lips work to form a word, but he ultimately fails, body slumping slightly as he realizes exactly what you’re going to say.

“You’re cute, you know? Like–”

“I know, I know, sugar. Thank you.”

© freyito, 2025 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | strawpage | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[kissingarthurclaus]

It's actually SO much fun trying to imitate the Arcane rendering/painting style?? I mostly eyeballed it for my first try and I think it turned out really good! I still gotta put together an official outfit ref for my s/i but man...I honestly can't stop thinking about them so here's a couple of little sketches as well!! 😭😭 (little lore dump + taglist under the cut!)

They were childhood friends, maybe even sweethearts, but they were definitely close! Unfortunately, my s/i's family fell on some pretty hard times, and she needed to find some kind of work to help support them. Suddenly she didn't have much time for him, and Viktor ended up alone again. They still cared about each other, but they grew apart, and with Viktor eventually moving topside to attend the academy she was left behind.

I imagine that they meet again just a little bit before Viktor meets Jayce when he's paying a visit to the Undercity and they bump into each other by chance. As an adult, she's running a body alterations shop with her best friend (my irl best friend hehe) where they do tattoos, piercings, even prosthetics! Later in the series, the shop is taken over by Silco but the two of them act as a sort of information hub for the Firelights.

I'm still working on some of the lore, like how she ends up meeting Jayce and Mel too and how they all end up dating but Viktor was the first one she fell for 💖 and a funny story that my mom told me once is actually that when I was a toddler she occasionally babysat a neighborhood boy named Victor!! We played together and bcs I was a baby I couldn't pronounce his name correctly so I called him 'pictor' and kinda bossed him around 😂 needless to say I'm using that in my lore!! I don't know something is just so special to me about childhood friends to lovers and I'm cooked aren't I??

Taglist♡: @me-myself-and-my-fos @tiny-cloud-of-flowers @sunstar-of-the-north @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus

@changeling-selfship @crushes-georg @cherry-bomb-ships @rosieaurora @rejaytionships @tropgothships @little-miss-selfships

@starlos-soulmate @limey-self-inserts @candyheartedchy @space-sweetheart @halsinkisser @clancykisser @squips-ship @berryshipbasket @soulnottainted @homevideorentals @cordshake @emceescha

[phantomyre]

Before Vincent could prevent Lucrecia from touching Sephiroth, the silver-headed male deflected as though he had been touched by a burning torch. It was painful to behold, yet it wasn’t surprising to the gunslinger. Lucrecia flinched painfully when Sephiroth pulled away from her, simultaneously shocked by Jenova’s invasive thoughts. This caused Lucrecia to cry out and drop to her knees, gripping her head, the tears resuming their stream. Vincent immediately joined her side and held her close to his chest.

It was no use… “Sephiroth…” Lucrecia’s trembling voice was hardly anything more than a whisper as she buried her face against Vincent’s cloak, her tears staining the red velvet garment. Any hope she might have had to rejoin with her son had faded, and Vincent could feel it in her voice. “Lucrecia,” The gunslinger whispered, an equal amount of despondency in his own voice. “I shouldn’t have… perhaps I was wrong to…” The mournful mother trembled, but she managed to lift her head and look up at Vincent. She shook her head and seemed to realize how she had pushed Vincent away the entire time ever since Sephiroth had appeared. He chilled trembling fingers lifted and caressed Vincent’s face, aiding him to look at her. “N-no… no. Don’t be. You’ve done more for me than anyone. This…” She slowly turned to look towards Sephiroth, the painful knot in her throat swelling up, but she swallowed it back with much effort. To hear her own son tell to not touch him, and to treat her like some sort of disease… she understood. “…This was all my doing,” Lucrecia finished, her eyes directed at Sephiroth as she spoke to Vincent. “I’m the one who…” The words of Jenova once again rang in her head. Your every move… only damages him further. Tears poured down silently down both her cheeks. It was all true. There was nothing she could do to change what had happened. She knew he had been bred and raised to own a mighty power. At the time, she had thought Jenova to be an ancient, but as her time at Shinra came to a close, she realized who the alien was and what her son would become. And there stood the product of her choice—a weapon who would be wielded against the planet. Vincent had been kept in the dark. He had tried to stop her, but she had not only closed her ears to his pleas, but also chose to disregard the well-being of her child for the sake of science. This was her reward for her crimes. Bereft of a child she didn’t deserve… and one who would never see her anything but a monster. Lucrecia’s thoughts were once again diverted towards her son; her ears ever keen to his movements and his voice. His request made her fall silent. Though Vincent knew her asking Sephiroth was an invitation for issues, he was surprised to see her face looking as though she were weighing Sephiroth’s wish. The gunslinger searched Lucrecia’s face and gripped her shoulders as if to gently bring her back to reality. But he was once again ignored, and Lucrecia slowly stood up, Vincent following her movement as he too stood up, eyes locked upon the back of her head as she faced Sephiroth. “Sephiroth,” Lucrecia’s voice softened, this time keeping a respectful distance from him, letting him know she wouldn’t attempt to get close again. “…I understand. The people have wronged you. And this world sees you as a monster.” She lowered her head, her hands clasped over her chest as she continued softly. “You want closure… an end for those responsible for your suffering.” A tightness seemed to take hold of Vincent’s chest when he sensed what she was doing. “…I may not be able to fulfill all of your wish, and I know I cannot mend your heart. But…” She stood up straight, slowly holding her hands up towards him as if she were gifting him something in her hand. She then slowly opened her arms wide, the cold breeze flowing through her silk dress and soft tresses. “But if it will give you any sort of peace… I’m here for you.” Vincent’s eyes widened in horror. “Lucrecia?!”

Distraught, Vincent could only watch as Lucrecia fought Jenova in her head. It felt like the same nightmare playing in front of him. The only difference was there really wasn’t anything he could do to spare Lucrecia from Jenova. His words had gone unheeded, and while she fought the alien, Vincent tried to maintain whatever was going on with Sephiroth as well. He could tell Sephiroth’s patience was running thin, but he also detected that hopeful curiosity. It was now or never. But it was all up to Lucrecia, now.

Try as she might, Lucrecia couldn’t ignore the voice in her head. “I was wrong… horribly wrong,” The sorrow-filled woman shuddered at Jenova’s words, feeling every jab like a dagger to the heart. “I didn’t know that I would… I never wanted to hurt anyone. I wanted him to be happy, and be a part of the powerful people of Cetra. But I…” Vincent glared, having never heard Lucrecia’s confession in such a manner, but knowing it all to be true. He had witnessed everything and how she had spurned his warning. Nevertheless, he wasn’t guiltless either. There within the cave stood two individuals who could have spared Sephiroth’s life—the only ones who had some humanity, knowing right from wrong—Lucrecia and Vincent. Hojo was beyond deranged, and any bit of humanity in him was reserved for himself and no one else. Sephiroth had every right to not trust either of them. And at this rate, Vincent knew Lucrecia’s cries were falling on deaf ears. As Lucrecia began to explain the past to Sephiroth, Vincent watched Sephiroth’s expression with keen interest, marking anything he said or did. Though Sephiroth gave little visual queues, Vincent knew the silver-head’s mind was reeling. “I tried, Sephiroth… I truly did,” Lucrecia practically begged, not knowing how else to tell Sephiroth the dire situation that had forced her from him. “They wouldn’t let me anywhere near you.” She tensed her fists and looked away, a mixture of frustration and agony written all over her face and in her voice. When Sephiroth made mention of ending his life, her eyes widened and she turned looked up at Sephiroth, her eyes filled with sympathy and sorrow. He desired death… her beautiful son… It tore her heart to pieces. Tears streamed down her face. “Sephiroth…” Her motherly instincts could no longer be contained, and she pulled herself from Vincent’s grip, leaving him dumb-founded and worried for her safety. Her child was suffering. He had been suffering for too long. And even if every logic told her it was far too late, she didn’t care. She stopped just within arms reach of Sephiroth and looked up at her son, seeing no one but him. “…I knew there was no way to spare you, Sephiroth. Not only had they kept you out of my reach, but the Jenova cells—they…” She choked back as she continued to answer Sephiroth. “They wouldn’t allow you to die, and neither would they let me. But how could I kill an innocent child? I thought perhaps I would run away with you, but they took you from me.” She looked away from Sephiroth, trying to calm herself and restrain herself from hugging him. “Sephiroth…” She slowly turned her eyes up to him again, tenderness in her glittering pair of hazel colors. For several moments, she simply looked at him, admiring him with a motherly interest. Slowly, her soft hand reached up and caressed Sephiroth’s face, her touch warm and tender. “…You’ve suffered enough because of me.” Vincent watched intensely, torn between pulling her from Sephiroth and allowing her the moment she had dreamed of. What terrified him the most was the shift in her voice. There was a strange sense of resolve; the fear, the sorrow… it had melted away the moment she had chosen to step forward. “Lucrecia…?” “…What do you wish for the most, Sephiroth?” Lucrecia continued to speak. “Whatever I can do to ease your pain… I’m here for you.” The implications made Vincent’s heart stop. “The hell are you saying?” But he knew what she meant.