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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years ago

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Google’s enshittification memos

[Note, 9 October 2023: Google disputes the veracity of this claim, but has declined to provide the exhibits and testimony to support its claims. Read more about this here.]

When I think about how the old, good internet turned into the enshitternet, I imagine a series of small compromises, each seemingly reasonable at the time, each contributing to a cultural norm of making good things worse, and worse, and worse.

Think about Unity President Marc Whitten's nonpology for his company's disastrous rug-pull, in which they declared that everyone who had paid good money to use their tool to make a game would have to keep paying, every time someone downloaded that game:

The most fundamental thing that we’re trying to do is we’re building a sustainable business for Unity. And for us, that means that we do need to have a model that includes some sort of balancing change, including shared success.

https://www.wired.com/story/unity-walks-back-policies-lost-trust/

"Shared success" is code for, "If you use our tool to make money, we should make money too." This is bullshit. It's like saying, "We just want to find a way to share the success of the painters who use our brushes, so every time you sell a painting, we want to tax that sale." Or "Every time you sell a house, the company that made the hammer gets to wet its beak."

And note that they're not talking about shared risk here – no one at Unity is saying, "If you try to make a game with our tools and you lose a million bucks, we're on the hook for ten percent of your losses." This isn't partnership, it's extortion.

How did a company like Unity – which became a market leader by making a tool that understood the needs of game developers and filled them – turn into a protection racket? One bad decision at a time. One rationalization and then another. Slowly, and then all at once.

When I think about this enshittification curve, I often think of Google, a company that had its users' backs for years, which created a genuinely innovative search engine that worked so well it seemed like *magic, a company whose employees often had their pick of jobs, but chose the "don't be evil" gig because that mattered to them.

People make fun of that "don't be evil" motto, but if your key employees took the gig because they didn't want to be evil, and then you ask them to be evil, they might just quit. Hell, they might make a stink on the way out the door, too:

https://theintercept.com/2018/09/13/google-china-search-engine-employee-resigns/

Google is a company whose founders started out by publishing a scientific paper describing their search methodology, in which they said, "Oh, and by the way, ads will inevitably turn your search engine into a pile of shit, so we're gonna stay the fuck away from them":

http://infolab.stanford.edu/pub/papers/google.pdf

Those same founders retained a controlling interest in the company after it went IPO, explaining to investors that they were going to run the business without having their elbows jostled by shortsighted Wall Street assholes, so they could keep it from turning into a pile of shit:

https://abc.xyz/investor/founders-letters/ipo-letter/

And yet, it's turned into a pile of shit. Google search is so bad you might as well ask Jeeves. The company's big plan to fix it? Replace links to webpages with florid paragraphs of chatbot nonsense filled with a supremely confident lies:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/14/googles-ai-hype-circle/

How did the company get this bad? In part, this is the "curse of bigness." The company can't grow by attracting new users. When you have 90%+ of the market, there are no new customers to sign up. Hypothetically, they could grow by going into new lines of business, but Google is incapable of making a successful product in-house and also kills most of the products it buys from other, more innovative companies:

https://killedbygoogle.com/

Theoretically, the company could pursue new lines of business in-house, and indeed, the current leaders of companies like Amazon, Microsoft and Apple are all execs who figured out how to get the whole company to do something new, and were elevated to the CEO's office, making each one a billionaire and sealing their place in history.

It is for this very reason that any exec at a large firm who tries to make a business-wide improvement gets immediately and repeatedly knifed by all their colleagues, who correctly reason that if someone else becomes CEO, then they won't become CEO. Machiavelli was an optimist:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

With no growth from new customers, and no growth from new businesses, "growth" has to come from squeezing workers (say, laying off 12,000 engineers after a stock buyback that would have paid their salaries for the next 27 years), or business customers (say, by colluding with Facebook to rig the ad market with the Jedi Blue conspiracy), or end-users.

Now, in theory, we might never know exactly what led to the enshittification of Google. In theory, all of compromises, debates and plots could be lost to history. But tech is not an oral culture, it's a written one, and techies write everything down and nothing is ever truly deleted.

Time and again, Big Tech tells on itself. Think of FTX's main conspirators all hanging out in a group chat called "Wirefraud." Amazon naming its program targeting weak, small publishers the "Gazelle Project" ("approach these small publishers the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”). Amazon documenting the fact that users were unknowingly signing up for Prime and getting pissed; then figuring out how to reduce accidental signups, then deciding not to do it because it liked the money too much. Think of Zuck emailing his CFO in the middle of the night to defend his outsized offer to buy Instagram on the basis that users like Insta better and Facebook couldn't compete with them on quality.

It's like every Big Tech schemer has a folder on their desktop called "Mens Rea" filled with files like "Copy_of_Premeditated_Murder.docx":

https://doctorow.medium.com/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself-f7f0eb6d215a?sk=351f8a54ab8e02d7340620e5eec5024d

Right now, Google's on trial for its sins against antitrust law. It's a hard case to make. To secure a win, the prosecutors at the DoJ Antitrust Division are going to have to prove what was going on in Google execs' minds when the took the actions that led to the company's dominance. They're going to have to show that the company deliberately undertook to harm its users and customers.

Of course, it helps that Google put it all in writing.

Last week, there was a huge kerfuffile over the DoJ's practice of posting its exhibits from the trial to a website each night. This is a totally normal thing to do – a practice that dates back to the Microsoft antitrust trial. But Google pitched a tantrum over this and said that the docs the DoJ were posting would be turned into "clickbait." Which is another way of saying, "the public would find these documents very interesting, and they would be damning to us and our case":

https://www.bigtechontrial.com/p/secrecy-is-systemic

After initially deferring to Google, Judge Amit Mehta finally gave the Justice Department the greenlight to post the document. It's up. It's wild:

https://www.justice.gov/d9/2023-09/416692.pdf

The document is described as "notes for a course on communication" that Google VP for Finance Michael Roszak prepared. Roszak says he can't remember whether he ever gave the presentation, but insists that the remit for the course required him to tell students "things I didn't believe," and that's why the document is "full of hyperbole and exaggeration."

OK.

But here's what the document says: "search advertising is one of the world's greatest business models ever created…illicit businesses (cigarettes or drugs) could rival these economics…[W]e can mostly ignore the demand side…(users and queries) and only focus on the supply side of advertisers, ad formats and sales."

It goes on to say that this might be changing, and proposes a way to balance the interests of the search and ads teams, which are at odds, with search worrying that ads are pushing them to produce "unnatural search experiences to chase revenue."

"Unnatural search experiences to chase revenue" is a thinly veiled euphemism for the prophetic warnings in that 1998 Pagerank paper: "The goals of the advertising business model do not always correspond to providing quality search to users." Or, more plainly, "ads will turn our search engine into a pile of shit."

And, as Roszak writes, Google is "able to ignore one of the fundamental laws of economics…supply and demand." That is, the company has become so dominant and cemented its position so thoroughly as the default search engine across every platforms and system that even if it makes its search terrible to goose revenues, users won't leave. As Lily Tomlin put it on SNL: "We don't have to care, we're the phone company."

In the enshittification cycle, companies first lure in users with surpluses – like providing the best search results rather than the most profitable ones – with an eye to locking them in. In Google's case, that lock-in has multiple facets, but the big one is spending billions of dollars – enough to buy a whole Twitter, every single year – to be the default search everywhere.

Google doesn't buy its way to dominance because it has the very best search results and it wants to shield you from inferior competitors. The economically rational case for buying default position is that preventing competition is more profitable than succeeding by outperforming competitors. The best reason to buy the default everywhere is that it lets you lower quality without losing business. You can "ignore the demand side, and only focus on advertisers."

For a lot of people, the analysis stops here. "If you're not paying for the product, you're the product." Google locks in users and sells them to advertisers, who are their co-conspirators in a scheme to screw the rest of us.

But that's not right. For one thing, paying for a product doesn't mean you won't be the product. Apple charges a thousand bucks for an iPhone and then nonconsensually spies on every iOS user in order to target ads to them (and lies about it):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

John Deere charges six figures for its tractors, then runs a grift that blocks farmers from fixing their own machines, and then uses their control over repair to silence farmers who complain about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/31/dealers-choice/#be-a-shame-if-something-were-to-happen-to-it

Fair treatment from a corporation isn't a loyalty program that you earn by through sufficient spending. Companies that can sell you out, will sell you out, and then cry victim, insisting that they were only doing their fiduciary duty for their sacred shareholders. Companies are disciplined by fear of competition, regulation or – in the case of tech platforms – customers seizing the means of computation and installing ad-blockers, alternative clients, multiprotocol readers, etc:

https://doctorow.medium.com/an-audacious-plan-to-halt-the-internets-enshittification-and-throw-it-into-reverse-3cc01e7e4604?sk=85b3f5f7d051804521c3411711f0b554

Which is where the next stage of enshittification comes in: when the platform withdraws the surplus it had allocated to lure in – and then lock in – business customers (like advertisers) and reallocate it to the platform's shareholders.

For Google, there are several rackets that let it screw over advertisers as well as searchers (the advertisers are paying for the product, and they're also the product). Some of those rackets are well-known, like Jedi Blue, the market-rigging conspiracy that Google and Facebook colluded on:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedi_Blue

But thanks to the antitrust trial, we're learning about more of these. Megan Gray – ex-FTC, ex-DuckDuckGo – was in the courtroom last week when evidence was presented on Google execs' panic over a decline in "ad generating searches" and the sleazy gimmick they came up with to address it: manipulating the "semantic matching" on user queries:

https://www.wired.com/story/google-antitrust-lawsuit-search-results/

When you send a query to Google, it expands that query with terms that are similar – for example, if you search on "Weds" it might also search for "Wednesday." In the slides shown in the Google trial, we learned about another kind of semantic matching that Google performed, this one intended to turn your search results into "a twisted shopping mall you can’t escape."

Here's how that worked: when you ran a query like "children's clothing," Google secretly appended the brand name of a kids' clothing manufacturer to the query. This, in turn, triggered a ton of ads – because rival brands will have bought ads against their competitors' name (like Pepsi buying ads that are shown over queries for Coke).

Here we see surpluses being taken away from both end-users and business customers – that is, searchers and advertisers. For searchers, it doesn't matter how much you refine your query, you're still going to get crummy search results because there's an unkillable, hidden search term stuck to your query, like a piece of shit that Google keeps sticking to the sole of your shoe.

But for advertisers, this is also a scam. They're paying to be matched to users who search on a brand name, and you didn't search on that brand name. It's especially bad for the company whose name has been appended to your search, because Google has a protection racket where the company that matches your search has to pay extra in order to show up overtop of rivals who are worse matches. Both the matching company and those rivals have given Google a credit-card that Google gets to bill every time a user searches on the company's name, and Google is just running fraudulent charges through those cards.

And, of course, Google put this in writing. I mean, of course they did. As we learned from the documentary The Incredibles, supervillains can't stop themselves from monologuing, and in big, sprawling monopolists, these monologues have to transmitted electronically – and often indelibly – to far-flung co-cabalists.

As Gray points out, this is an incredibly blunt enshittification technique: "it hadn’t even occurred to me that Google just flat out deletes queries and replaces them with ones that monetize better." We don't know how long Google did this for or how frequently this bait-and-switch was deployed.

But if this is a blunt way of Google smashing its fist down on the scales that balance search quality against ad revenues, there's plenty of subtler ways the company could sneak a thumb on there. A Google exec at the trial rhapsodized about his company's "contract with the user" to deliver an "honest results policy," but given how bad Google search is these days, we're left to either believe he's lying or that Google sucks at search.

The paper trail offers a tantalizing look at how a company went from doing something that was so good it felt like a magic trick to being "able to ignore one of the fundamental laws of economics…supply and demand," able to "ignore the demand side…(users and queries) and only focus on the supply side of advertisers."

What's more, this is a system where everyone loses (except for Google): this isn't a grift run by Google and advertisers on users – it's a grift Google runs on everyone.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

#pluralistic #enshittification #semantic matching #google #antitrust #trustbusting #transparency #fatfingers #serp #the algorithm #telling on yourself

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moonstruckme · 10 months ago

Note

Heyyy there! I really (like really) love your writing!!! It makes my day when I see you've posted a fic! I was wondering if I could request one either with doc!remus or emtxmaradeurs where the reader is very sick and kinda out of it and she's taken care of. Like maybe he/them asking her 'are you with me/us' becuase it looks like you're going to pass out. If you've written something like this before my apologies. Have a great day!!!

Thanks lovely, hope you have a great day as well!

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 670 words

When Remus and James get home from their shift, they find you and Sirius curled up on the couch, you with a mug of what appears to be noodle soup steaming in your hands. You’re taking sips of it like it’s tea.

“Hello,” says Remus, perching on the armrest to peck his boyfriend on the head. “You two aren’t where we left you.”

“One can only lie around in bed for so many hours,” Sirius replies, tilting his head back for a real kiss. Remus gives him one, and Sirius takes another for himself. “I’m very entertaining, but after a while we both needed a change of scenery.”

“And why is our girl drinking soup like a warm beverage?” James directs the question towards you, but you don’t seem to notice. After a moment, Sirius answers for you.

“She wasn’t doing very well with the spoon, and though I made some excellent points about how romantic it’d be, she wouldn’t let me feed it to her.” Sirius grins salaciously at you. You offer only a faint smile in return, and he squishes your thigh in his hand teasingly. “Eventually we had to compromise on a more innovative solution.”

“I see.” James ducks his head, finding his way into your field of vision. “Sweetheart,” he says carefully, “are you with us?”

You blink. Your eyes look fever glazed. “Yeah.” You match his gentle tone. “Hi.”

He smiles softly. “Hey there. You seemed a bit far away, m’love.”

“She’s only tired.” Sirius kisses the side of your head. “We’ve just had a nap.”

“Oh, must be nice,” James jokes. You smile in response.

Remus frowns pensively as he plays with Sirius’ hair where it’s draped over the edge of the couch. It spills through his fingers like stygian water. “What’s her fever at?” he asks.

“It’s coming down.” Sirius nods to the fever reducers sitting next to a half-empty bottle of cough syrup on the coffee table. “We’re working on it.”

“What was it last you checked?” James presses, but Remus has already picked up the thermometer. He murmurs a quiet direction to you as he nestles it in your ear.

“Her cough’s gotten a lot better, too, if you haven’t noticed,” Sirius says proudly. “Right, babydoll? We haven’t been having many problems since the last time she had medicine.”

That’s not saying much, James thinks as he looks around. There are still wadded up tissues strewn about the coffee table, enough that he wonders whether one of them ought to go buy more before you all get ready for bed, and even if your cough has abated the scrape of your voice indicates your throat still feels like you’ve swallowed knives.

Still, he tries to sound upbeat as he says, “Yeah? That’s great,” and kisses your shoulder lightly.

“I can see why you’re so tired,” Remus says. The thermometer beeps, and his brow pinches sympathetically as he reads the screen. “That nap was the first good sleep you’ve had in a while, hm, dovey?”

“Yeah,” you say, your voice a thin rasp. “I still have to turn over every now and then when my nose clogs up, though.”

“Poor love,” James coos, kissing your shoulder again. “I’m about to have a shower, would you want to sit in the bathroom with me and see if the steam does anything? I could use the company.”

“That’s a good idea,” Remus agrees. “After you’ve finished your soup, though.”

You give James a sweet, thoughtful look. “That would be nice,” you say. The sound of your voice makes him want to burst into tears. “Thank you guys for taking care of me.”

Sirius makes an indignant squawking sound. “Um, that’s actually been me, in case you’ve forgotten. These two only just got here.”

“Sorry.” You crack a smile, sleepy but real, and lean your head on Sirius’ shoulder. “Thank you the most.”

He hums, quickly pacified, and lets his head rest atop yours. “Apology accepted. Luckily for you, I actually quite enjoy it.”

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whatiswrongwithpeople · 6 months ago

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Shattered Silence

Jayce Talis x reader

Warnings: none, no spoilers for s2 , not connected to any canon plot

Prompt: An enemies to lovers story; “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Notes: I KNOW some people are absolutely hating this man now but I had this sitting in my notes app and just need to set it free. I hope there aren’t any mistakes , but once again it’s been written in my notes app-

Part 2

Jayce Talis was no stranger to the silence of late nights in the lab. The rhythmic hum of Hextech crystals, the faint flicker of blue light against metal, and the steady scratch of pen against paper were his constant companions. Tonight, like so many nights before, he found himself hunched over blueprints, mind locked in the methodical process of refining designs. It was easier to work late when there were no interruptions, no voices cutting through the quiet—especially not yours.

Jayce had never met someone more infuriating than you.

You were brilliant, there was no question about that. Your intellect had earned you a coveted place alongside him on one of Piltover’s most ambitious projects. But from the moment you two had started working together, it had been like throwing oil onto a flame. You clashed on nearly everything. You were methodical, calculated—always challenging his more instinctive, risk-taking approaches.

“I don’t see why you can’t grasp that stabilizing the core will reduce its volatility,” you had said during one of your many arguments.

“And I don’t see why you insist on slowing down innovation for the sake of caution!” Jayce had shot back.

The entire lab had been forced to endure your bickering. And it wasn’t just the disagreements over schematics that drove the wedge deeper. It was the way you two refused to back down, constantly pushing and challenging each other.

Jayce had always prided himself on being the best. He’d been driven by that mindset ever since he was a child, determined to prove himself worthy of his place in Piltover’s elite society. But you? You were a different kind of competitor. You weren’t driven by arrogance, as he had first assumed, but by a fierce need to prove yourself. You didn’t have his connections, didn’t have the same privileges. You’d clawed your way up through sheer talent and hard work, and you weren’t about to let anyone—even Jayce Talis—make you feel like you didn’t belong.

That realization had hit Jayce like a punch to the gut one night, weeks ago, after one particularly nasty fight.

** flashback a few weeks ago**

“I swear, if you could just stop bulldozing over my ideas for one second, you’d realize we’re trying to solve the same problem!” you snapped, slamming your notebook down on the lab bench. The room was empty save for the two of you, the other engineers having wisely fled after the first thirty minutes of bickering.

Jayce glared at you, jaw tight. “I’m not bulldozing—”

“Don’t.” Your voice was sharp, a warning edge in your tone. “Don’t stand there and pretend like you’re not dismissing everything I say just because you think you know better.”

Jayce’s fists clenched at his sides. It wasn’t that he didn’t respect you; he did. But you constantly pushed him in ways that no one else did, constantly questioned him, and it made his blood boil. He wasn’t used to being challenged like this. Not by someone like you.

“Maybe if you’d explain your ideas instead of acting like you’re the only person in the room with a brain—” he bit out, stepping closer to you, his frustration bleeding into every word.

You met his gaze without flinching, that fire in your eyes blazing hotter than ever. “Maybe if you weren’t so full of yourself, you’d actually hear what I’m saying!”

Jayce had taken a breath to fire back another retort, but then he’d seen something flicker in your expression. For just a moment, the anger cracked, and there was something else underneath. Hurt, maybe. Vulnerability. It was fleeting, but it was there.

He didn’t say anything, and you had turned away, picking up your notebook with a quiet sigh. “Forget it,” you muttered, heading for the door. “I’ll just rework the damn equations on my own.”

Jayce had watched you go, something unfamiliar twisting in his chest. He’d thought about going after you, maybe saying something—anything—to defuse the tension. But his pride had held him back, and instead, he had let you leave.

That had been the first time Jayce had realized that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t angry with you because you were wrong. Maybe he was angry because you were right, and he hated that someone could challenge him the way you did.

From then on, the tension between you two had only grown. Arguments became sharper, filled with undercurrents neither of you acknowledged. He could see the way others noticed it, the way their eyes darted between you and him whenever a heated discussion threatened to boil over. They weren’t just seeing two colleagues who couldn’t get along. They were seeing the thin line between rivalry and something else.

But that something else was dangerous. It was a fire neither of you were ready to touch.

**end of flashback**

Tonight, Jayce had resigned himself to another long night in the lab, the familiar hum of Hextech energy his only company. That was, until the door burst open with a force that made him jump.

His irritation was immediate. Of course, it would be you, barging in without a second thought. “If you’re here to argue about the core stabilizer again, I’m not in the mood,” Jayce muttered, not even looking up as he continued scribbling on his blueprints.

But then there was silence. No sharp retort. No biting comment.

Frowning, Jayce glanced up—and almost immediately his stomach dropped.

You stood frozen in the doorway, but you weren’t your usual fiery self. Your hair was disheveled, the neat, professional attire you always wore was wrinkled and disordered, as if you had thrown it on in a rush or hadn’t cared enough to fix it and your face... your face was pale, eyes wide and rimmed with unshed tears. Something had happened.

“I... I didn’t know where else to go,” you whispered, your voice cracking in a way so unfamiliar to Jayce’s ears that it almost made him flinch.

“What—” Jayce’s brain stuttered, not understanding, confusion and concern flooding his senses all at once. He had never seen you like this—vulnerable, shaken. You were always the one with sharp retorts, the one who could throw him off balance with a single glance. And now? Now you were standing in front of him, broken, and he didn’t know what to do. But when he turned fully to face you and noticed the sheer panic in your expression, all of his irritation, all of the snide comments he had prepared, dissolved instantly. “What happened?”

In a heartbeat, he was across the room, standing in front of you, his hands hovering just above your arms as if unsure whether to touch you, whether you’d let him.

“They—” you started, then choked on the words, your chest heaving with shallow breaths, hands trembling at your sides. “Someone broke into my apartment. I—I don’t know what they were after. They tore everything apart, Jayce. All of it. All my work... it’s gone.”

Hearing the sheer devastation in your voice, Jayce felt a surge of protectiveness swell inside him, his heart pounding as he imagined the scene. The thought of someone invading your space, of you coming home to find it destroyed... it made his blood boil.

“Did they hurt you?” he asked urgently, his voice tight with barely restrained anger.

You shook your head quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself, as if trying to hold yourself together. “No, I—I wasn’t there when it happened. But... everything was trashed. My work, my research, everything. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go back.”

Jayce felt a knot tighten in his chest. You—this person who was always so strong, always so put-together—looked like you were on the verge of breaking. And the fact that you had come to him, him , in this moment of vulnerability left him stunned.

Without thinking, he reached out, pulling you into his arms in a motion that was both instinctive and desperate. You stiffened at first, as if the idea of seeking comfort from him was the last thing you’d ever considered. But something inside you broke the moment his arms wrapped around you, and you let yourself sag against him, your hands clinging desperately to the fabric of his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Jayce tightened his hold, one hand resting on the back of your head as he cradled you against his chest, the other pressing firmly against the small of your back. He rested his chin atop your head, murmuring soft reassurances into your hair. “I’m here. We’ll figure this out.”

Jayce could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface as he thought about what had happened to you. His hand that rested on your back clenched into a fist as he imagined someone rifling through your things, invading your space, and leaving you terrified. Jayce’s anger surged, hot and violent, but he forced it down, knowing that what you needed right now wasn’t fury.

It was comfort.

You sniffled against him, your breath hitching as you tried to calm yourself, and his fist slowly unclenched, his fingers gently tracing soothing circles on your back. He hadn’t realized until now how familiar you felt in his arms, how right it felt to hold you.

For all the biting words and harsh glances the two of you usually shared, this moment was startlingly soft, intimate in a way that left him feeling raw.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice rough with emotion. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You didn’t say anything, but you leaned into him more, your face pressed against his chest, your body shaking as you let out a soft sob. The sound of it cracked something inside Jayce, and he found himself holding you even tighter, as if trying to shield you from everything that had happened.

When you finally pulled back slightly, you looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, and Jayce’s heart ached at the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Why did you come here?” he asked softly. It wasn’t accusatory—it was genuine curiosity. After all the arguments, the tension, he hadn’t expected you to seek him out in a moment like this. You let out a small, humorless laugh, your voice still trembling. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I guess... I guess because I knew you’d be here. And... you’re the only one who understands.”

Jayce’s breath caught in his throat. You were right. Despite all the arguments, all the bickering, you and Jayce did understand each other. You were alike in so many ways—both of you driven, both of you fighting to prove something, both of you carrying more weight on your shoulders than you let anyone see.

“I’m glad you came,” he said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face.

A few hours later the lab was quieter, save for the steady scratching of Jayce's pen as he continued to make adjustments to the prototype in front of him. The tension that had once filled the room seemed to have settled, softened by the rawness of the earlier moments. You sat on the edge of his desk, your legs swinging slightly as you watched him work, the weight of what had happened still heavy on your shoulders.

Jayce had been focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scribbled out a few final equations. But every so often, his eyes would flicker up to you, checking if you were still there, still okay. The silence between you was no longer strained or uncomfortable; it felt like an unspoken understanding that neither of you was ready to address fully yet. It was comfortable... for now.

Still, Jayce couldn’t ignore the way you were sitting there, curled inward as if the weight of the night hadn't lifted. The quiet vulnerability that had cracked through your usual armor made something stir in him. And as much as he tried to focus on his work, he couldn't shake the need to do something more for you.

Without saying a word, Jayce rose from his chair, his footsteps soft as he approached you. His mind raced—he wanted to offer more than just reassurances, wanted to do something that would make you feel *better*, something that would let you know that you weren’t alone in this. But what could he do?

Without overthinking it, he took off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

The gesture was simple, but it felt significant. The warmth of the fabric enveloped you, and for a moment, you were taken aback. Your eyes lifted to meet his, surprise flickering across your face.

“It’s cold in here,” Jayce said, his voice softer than you had heard it all night. There was no bravado, no teasing edge like before—only sincerity. “You should stay warm.”

You didn’t know how to respond to the unexpected kindness, especially from someone who had always been so frustratingly distant. You had been expecting everything but this. His jacket was heavy, comforting, and as you tugged it around your shoulders, you found yourself grateful, even though you didn’t quite understand why.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. There was something different in your tone now, a softness, something you hadn’t let him see before. You had always been so sharp, so quick to hide any hint of vulnerability. But in this moment, with his jacket around you and his unexpected kindness lingering between you, it felt harder to keep up that armor.

Jayce watched you closely, his eyes softening as you adjusted the jacket. "I mean it," he said gently. "You don’t have to go through this alone. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

You nodded, pulling the jacket tighter around you. It wasn’t just the warmth of the fabric that calmed you—it was the understanding in his voice, the quiet way he was trying to reassure you without making you feel like a burden. The connection between you, so fraught with tension and arguments, felt... different now. Maybe it was because of everything that had happened, or maybe it was because you could finally see a side of Jayce that hadn’t been so guarded.

For the first time, there was no bickering, no cutting remarks, just the two of you in the quiet of the lab, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air.

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t come here,” you admitted, your voice quiet but steady. Jayce gave a small, knowing smile, his hands slipping into his pockets as he took a step back. “I’m glad you feel safe enough to trust me with this.” he said , voice sincere.

You swallowed, nodding slowly. You didn’t know where things would go from here, whether the fragile peace between you would last. But for now, in this moment, it was enough.

#arcane netflix #jayce talis #jayce talis x reader #jayce x reader #arcane jayce #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane imagines #arcane imagine #arcane x you #jayce talis x you

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savi0rr · 5 months ago

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more vik w wife scenarios plsss 🙏🙏

Loving Wife .ᐟ

Viktor x Wife! Fem! Reader

In which, Viktor makes it a point to visit his loving wife. Even if it means that he's being followed.

a/n: you better like this or else anon.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

Viktor's crutch echoed softly against the cobblestones of the quiet streets of Piltover, the rhythmic sound a stark contrast to the stillness of the midnight hour. Typically, this time would find him immersed in the dimly-lit confines of the lab at the Academia, conducting experiments or poring over complex algorithms. Yet tonight, an inexplicable urge pulled him towards home—towards you. He let out a weary sigh as he fumbled with the keys, his fingers trembling slightly as he unlocked the front door of your townhouse. Stepping inside, he was greeted by a rush of familiar warmth and the comforting scents that reminded him of you.

Just outside, hidden in the shadows, Jayce peered cautiously around a street corner. “Damn it… where did he go?” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. A step behind him, Mel huffed in frustration, her keen eyes scanning the dimly illuminated area for any sign of Viktor. It was then she spotted him standing at your doorstep. Without thinking, she swiftly covered Jayce's mouth with her hand. “Will you keep it down?” she muttered, her voice terse and low as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I think it's his wife's house,” Jayce replied in a hushed tone, inching closer and using the shadows to conceal his movements. Mel rolled her eyes, a mixture of irritation and curiosity, and followed him in silence.

Inside the townhouse, Viktor stepped into the darkened entrance, closing the door quietly behind him and letting out a relieved sigh. Though the Academia provided him with certain comforts—his own room, the latest equipment, and the thrill of innovation—tonight his heart tugged him toward the simplicity of being home with you. The very thought of you had a magnetic pull that often made him reconsider the sacrifices he made for his work. A part of him wanted to unite his personal and professional lives, but he feared that the mere presence of your warmth would distract him from his endeavors.

He moved through the familiar hallway, each step sending a comforting wave of nostalgia through him. As he pushed open the bedroom door, he was greeted by the sight of your sleeping figure, illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. His heart softened at the sight, a warmth blossoming in his chest. He knew it was unwise to show up unannounced, that you preferred predictability, yet the very idea of being scolded in the morning felt trivial in comparison to the joy of simply being close to you. Losing himself in the moment, he placed his crutch aside near the bed and crawled carefully into the sheets beside you, making sure not to disturb your slumber.

Meanwhile, just outside the window, Jayce and Mel crouched low, their eyes straining against the darkness as they tried to glimpse what was unfolding inside. With a huff of annoyance, Mel pulled away from the window, crossing her arms over her chest in disbelief. “I can’t believe we’re stalking them,” she sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. “I just wanted to confirm what I saw!” Jayce shot back, glancing quickly at Mel. He tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. “Besides, you were the one who insisted we investigate this.” With a reluctant sigh, Mel shook her head, still feeling the stirrings of frustration. “Let’s just head back to the Academia,” she suggested a note of defeat evident in her voice.

Back in the safety of your bedroom, Viktor lay on his back, careful not to disturb you, but unable to take his eyes off your peaceful form. The gentle rise and fall of your chest soothed him, and yet, he held back, overcome by a rush of emotions that twisted within him. Just as he began to relax, you stirred, the softness of your voice breaking the stillness. “Viktor? Dear?” Your sleepy tone wrapped around him like a warm blanket. He felt a spark of anxiety as he realized you had awakened, instinctively bracing for any discontent you might express.

Rubbing your eyes, you slowly turned to face him, a smile spreading across your face as recognition dawned. “Ah—I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Viktor asked quietly, turning his head towards you, his voice barely above a whisper. You merely shook your head, still feeling the remnants of sleep. “No, I could feel you a mile away,” you muttered playfully, shrugging as you inched closer to him, your movements slow and relaxed. Viktor stayed silent, his heart racing as he savored the proximity, feeling an urge to reach out, yet hesitant to do so.

“I just… needed to see you,” he confessed, allowing vulnerability to seep into his voice. It wasn’t that he saw himself as clingy, but when he spent too much time away, he felt a palpable emptiness in his chest that only your presence could fill. A soft giggle escaped your lips, lightening the mood as you shook your head in a teasing manner. “You’re welcome here anytime,” you murmured sweetly, your fingers tracing along his arm in a tender gesture. “You are my husband, no?” The teasing lilt in your tone sent a shiver down his spine as you leaned in closer, your breath warm against his skin.

Viktor flinched slightly at your sudden touch, a mix of surprise and delight fluttering within him. “I suppose I am,” he grumbled good-naturedly, unable to suppress a smile as he shook his head, surrendering himself to the moment.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

Back at the Academia, amidst the clutter of Viktor’s lab, Jayce and Mel continued their search. Papers were scattered across the desk, papers and blueprints littered carelessly. “What exactly are we searching for?” Mel asked, glancing at the array of items surrounding them, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Something that proves he does have a wife,” Jayce replied resolutely, rummaging through drawers with purpose. Mel rolled her eyes at the absurdity of the situation.

#x you #oneshot #x reader #arcane #viktor #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #reader insert #viktor x reader arcane #fluff #arcane viktor x reader

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joehillsshark · 2 months ago

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listen👂 grian🌾

nobody🫥 touches👉 my bush🪴

you're done✅️

it all started🏁 when grian🌾 touched🖐 my redstone🔴

he played⚽️ himself like a xylophone🎹 set on automatic🚗

doc👨‍⚕️ monster👾 is a savage👹, with technical👨‍💻 skills🔧

and crazy🤪 vocal🎤 acrobatics🤸

i’m a legend📖 of the nho, with etho, beef🍖 and double o🅾️🅾️

docmc is coming🚶‍♂️ for4️⃣ you sevenfold7️⃣

got rendog🐶 and other firemen👨‍🚒

to douse🚿 the flames🔥 that you shoot🌠 at this leviathan😈

iskall can🥫 try again🔄

yo🇪🇸

you think💭 i'm in hiding😶‍🌫️, i'm just biding my time⏳️

putting pen🖊 to paper📃, coming up⬆️ with rhymes

we’re the star-studded⭐️ group👨‍👩‍👦‍👦 that got together👫 just to crush🥰 you

once☝️ we start something you know🧠 we're gonna see👁 it through💘

i'm the knight⚔️, the soldier🪖 who brings the fight🤼 at first1️⃣ light🔦

y'all had to incite✊️, so now i gotta indict👊

you're guilty👩‍⚖️ of getting murdered💀 with words📝

y'all are out-gunned🔫, go home🏠 nerds🤓

wohoo

hermit gang, hermit gang🐚

if you think🤔 you can stop🛑 the symmetry↔️, that's false👎

g team🇬 is dialing☎️ for help🤝, but i'm ignoring😒 their calls📵

and when their bodies🐖 dissolve🫠, you’ll know that false’s🚫 on a killing🗡 spree👯‍♀️

try to stop my pvp🛡 and perish painfully😵

i'm the queen👑 of hearts❤️, heads🗣 and body parts🦵

your diamond💎 armor👕 can’t compare📊 to my martial arts🥋

i'll send a poison☣️ dart🎯, to make you breathe🫁 your final breath🌬

g team's name🏷 will be the only thing left🚷

yeah

caffeinated☕️, animated🎆, redstone innovator👨‍🔬

my behavior's crazy😜, can’t phase👨‍🎤 me, impulse⚡️ is never lazy🛋 (uh)

tango💃, why would you betray💔 me, now my scope🔬 is aiming (what)❔️

better run🏃‍♀️ for cover📔 from all the ghast👻 balls🔮 that i be taming🐈 (what)

without a sound🔇, without no hesitation🙅‍♀️, my creations🎨 are amazing🤩

better watch⏱️ your step🪜 or the g team will end up blazing💥

who's the better team?⚖️ there is no controversy😎

but before it's said👄 and done you'll be begging🙏 us for mercy💗 (all-right)

hermit gang, hermit gang🐚

x🩻 gone give it to ya🎁, i'm gone give it to ya😼

x❌️ gone give it to ya😳, what ❓️

lyrical boxing📦, dropping💧 blows💨 on all my foes

and the g team they're looking👓 unclean🤢 needing some sunscreen🧴

getting burnt🕯 by words to hurt🤕 this herd🐑 of nerds

it's absurd🤯 how my rhymes got them injured🩸

danger⚠️, danger☢️

i got lasers💄 to cut✂️ 'em up like razors🪒

it's flexin'💪 season❄️ and i got flavor👅

their weak😫 defenses🥅 like trenches and fences🤺

that these dense heads🙄 are presenting🖥

they're presenting them alright👍, they're not very good🙌

i could walk👟 over that, i could jump🕴 over that

i could use an ender pearl🦪

i could use my elytra🪽

come on g team, jeeze✝️

yo, i don't know what to say🤷‍♂️

um, let me think🧐

hermit gang, hermit gang🐚

now i'm back🔙, got some things i wanna say🦜 (yeah)

whats the letter✉️ that starts the alphabet🔤, ay🅰️

ladies🚺 gotta get in line〰️, the diggity's be on the way🌌 (cliff)⛰️

cleo🧟‍♀️ dont know who she freaking 🥴with (ooh)😯

all the signs🪧 say to notify🔔 her next⏭️ of kin👥️

this diggity🐕 dog be dropping📍 bombs💣, nothing but hits🤜 (ay)

spit💦 that rhyme again (brrr)🥶, 'cause the message📨 is

i can mumble😐 rap and still🚹 be the best🏆 there is (woo-ah)

hermit gang, hermit gang🐚

oh you wanted me👨 to do a verse🆚️?

i'll have to check✔️ with g team-

i mean uh🤐, i'd have to😬, i'll have to check with my schedule📅

and see if i can...see👀 if i'm able to do that sort of thing😅

i'm a busy guy💼, got lots of ....things to do😮‍💨

yeah, i mean, i just don't know🤥 if its a good idea💡 for me to be part of this song🎶 really...

#hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #docm77 #hermitgang #hermitblr #falsesymmetry #rendog #impulsesv

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bouncybongfairy · 1 year ago

Text

Freezer Burn

Prince Zuko x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Tensions are running high which causes a argument between Zuko and yourself. He bruises the confidence you have in your hunting abilities and reaffirms your fear of being a burden. Wanting to prove otherwise, you go out in the cold to hunt. Feeling guilty about how he treated you, he goes out to find you. The two of you find some innovative ways to keep warm.

Word Count: 2.0k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Everyone was having a rough day of travel, even Appa was reaching his limit. It was freezing and the optimism of finding a warm place to sleep was fading in everyone. Anng found a small cave that would work for the night. It was on a small mountain and overlooked an even smaller village. Zuko started making a fire while Katara and yourself set up the tents. Yang and Sokka were already asleep, curled into Appa’s thick fur. You were hungry but so was everyone else.

“Are we going to be able to hunt for food soon? Or get some water?” you asked.

“We could but I don’t think the cold would allow us to be out there for long. Not to mention there wouldn’t be any animals out, it's just too cold,” she said.

“Not to mention you’d barely come home with anything in good weather,” Zuko grumbled, poking at the fire. He’d been making cracks at you all day, at first you could ignore him. Excusing his behavior on fatigue and hunger pains, but now you were taking it personally.

“You’re not a prince among us, so stop acting like it” you say in hopes of lowering his ego.

“I am the best fighter and hunter, the past two battles you’ve only slowed us down. Maybe if we had a successful kill earlier we wouldn’t be hungry now,” he said.

“Zuko don’t say that!” Katara snapped.

All day you’d been beating yourself up over that mistake. Deep down you knew the rest of the group was irritated about you costing them the meal earlier. It just reaffirmed your insecurity. Grabbing your bow and arrows, you start putting your clothes back on while preparing for a hunt.

“We’re all really tired and yes we may be hungry but you’re not the sole reason for that. Zuko is obviously just grumpy, don’t let his outburst get to you,” she says, grabbing your arm.

Deep down you wanted to listen and calm down, rest for a while. Your pride however wouldn’t allow you to stop yourself. As you left, you could hear Katara yelling at Zuko to apologize. The feeling of dread bubbled in your stomach, you didn’t want to make anyone worry but your ego was clouding your judgment. Everyone in the group had their own ways of helping and at times you did feel like a burden. Extra weight that Appa had to carry on his back. It wasn’t that you were mad about what Zuko said, you were more frustrated that it was true. At this point it felt like you’d been walking for hours. The snow was coming down hard, without any signs of lightning. Not eating and your lack of rest was starting to get to you. Your stomach felt like it was eating away at itself. Eyes burning and muscles starting to stiffen from the cold penetrating your clothes. You tried not to go too far, knowing you couldn’t carry an animal in the cold that far. But you had to get some distance between you and the cave in order to find any wild game. Finally spotting a young Moose Lion, looking lost and confused, you almost hesitated when readying your bow. After successfully hitting the animal, your body floods with adrenaline. This quickly fades as you realize you’ll have to drag the thing home. Seemingly underestimating the size which caused a struggle when walking back. Even though it was freezing, you’d broken into a sweat. Starting to feel lightheaded, you took a moment to catch your breath.

Katara was pacing at the entrance of the cave, anxious for your arrival. He wouldn’t admit it, but Zuko was feeling his own regret about how he’d spoken to you. He didn’t mean to let his anger get the best of him, it just sort of happened.

“I think I should go out to look for her, she could be freezing to death,” she said, starting to get dressed.

“You can’t, it’s a full blown blizzard,” Zuko said, standing up.

“Well we can’t just leave her to die out there!” Katara snaps, upset that he would even suggest stopping her from leaving.

“I know, but only a fire bender would have the resources to survive such severe weather. I’ll go,” he said, making the fire sustainable for the time he’d be gone for.

“Just be careful,” Katara said as he walked into the cold.

Once he felt just how bad it was outside, his guilt intensified. It wasn’t true what he said about you being a burden. He was just feeling insecure about his own place in the group. Simply projecting his inner turmoil onto you. Knowing it pushed you this far was getting to him. He took a deep breath and started following the faint track you left. Even though a fresh layer of snow was now covering the foot prints, it was still enough to follow. At times Zuko would use his fire for warmth and light. Getting desperate, he began calling your name out. Fatigue was starting to affect him as well. He finally thought he saw you, laying against the animal. He assumed you were just pulling the arrow out but when he got closer he noticed you were passed out. He immediately started assessing you, looking around knowing he had to find shelter that was closer than the rest of the group. Using his fire, he melts a coating of snow and ice, covering a small cave. The animal luckily kept you warm while he wasn’t there but he was still worried about your fingers. They had practically no color and your lips were tinted blue. Once he got you inside the cave, next to the fire he created, he brought the animal in. Impressed that you shot it right through the chest. Taking off his outer layers and bundling you up in them. He was relieved to see the color coming back to your fingertips and cheeks. Checking every once in a while to make sure you were getting too close and burning yourself.

The two of you wouldn’t be able to make the trip back any time soon, so Zuko began skinning and sectioning off the meat. Washing his hands with melted snow he was slowly collecting. As he roasted the meat, he couldn’t help but admire your beauty. Your eyelashes were long and the light from the fire was illuminating your face. Sleeping with your lips slightly parted, hair completely unraveled from the tight bun it once was in. After a couple hours, you slowly began to come too. Sitting up rubbing your eyes, Zuko rushes over to you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, brushing the hair out of your face. He grabbed a bowl of water, bringing it to your lips,

“Sit closer to the fire,” he said, helping you sit up fully. Still weak, you were wobbling while you sat criss-crossed. Still shivering a bit because your back was cold, not able to feel the heat from the fire. Zuko notices this and comes to sit behind you, stabilizing and warming you up. He was using a stick to roast the meat he’d prepared from the animal. It smelt really good, and was the only reason you were keeping your eyes open. He brought the stick to your lips but you were too weak to rip a piece off. Trying to bite a small chunk but not having the strength to actually get a bite. He laughs at your attempt and rips a small piece off, bringing it to your mouth. He repeated this a couple times, giving you sips of water in between. Letting you digest, he rests his chin on top of your head and keeps cooking. After eating, you could feel yourself gaining strength and energy. Becoming more aware of your surroundings.

“What happened?” you asked, looking around and noticing it was only you and Zuko.

“You went out to hunt and passed out. I came looking for you but the storm was too powerful to travel back to camp with you and the kill. So we're camping here for the night,” he explained, adding more wood to the fire.

That was when you slowly started putting the pieces of your memory back together. You were grateful to be sheltered now, definitely counting your blessings. Noticing that Zuko wasn’t wearing a shirt, you took off what he gave you. He accepted it but didn’t put it on right away, instead just laying it on his neck like a scarf.

“I’m sorry for egging you on like that, and for not stopping you from leaving,” he said, moving his chin from your head to your collarbone.

“It was my decision, I knew it wasn’t a good idea. It was my stubbornness that put both of us at risk,” you said.

“I like that you're stubborn, that you don’t listen to people who underestimate you,” he said.

“I thought you hated me,” you chuckle.

“I know that’s what I show but it couldn’t be further than the truth,” he spoke softly.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” you asked, moving your back closer against his chest.

“As mean as I’ve been, you always are so nice and understanding. Even when I don’t deserve it,” he said.

“Zuko you always deserve it, you’re easy to love,” you say, turning to face him.

His face was bright red and for the first time you were seeing his vulnerability. Just slightly, like he didn’t want to give too much away. You move his hair out of the way and look at his scar. Although he looked a little embarrassed, he tilted his head so you could get a full look. Without thinking, you started kissing the skin around his eye. He ended up catching your lips with his. Immediately you move so that you’re straddling his lap. His back was pressed against the wall of the cave, your back was facing the fire. Running your fingers through his hair, admiring how soft the strands were. He moaned into your mouth as you pulled and tugged. Rocking your hips against crotch, your stomach tightening after feeling him get hard. You take in a sharp intake of breath and narrow down, focusing on rubbing against his shaft. Zuko’s hips began to buck involuntarily, which led to his taking his pants off. You follow his lead and do the same, also removing your top. Using his hands to rock your hips against his. Partly because he liked spreading your wetness along himself but also enjoying watching your chest bounce. He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, you let out a strangled moan. The pleasure was so intense the rocking of your hips was becoming erratic. Seeing you react so intensely to his touch made him go somewhat feral.

Flipping you over so your back is against the cold ground. He was feverishly kissing your neck and chest, at times making you giggle. He smiled down at you, taking in how beautiful your eyes were in the soft glow of the fire. Your entire body felt like it was burning down to your core. Pulling your knees to your chest, taking the hint he sat up. He was now towering above you, his member laying on your front. Leaking pre-cum onto your lower stomach. He grabs himself, slapping his dick on your pussy. Enjoying the moans and whines coming from your mouth every time he rubbed his tip against your clit. He enjoyed watching you beneath him, desperate for his touch. A relief only he could provide you. Unable to take any more foreplay, he presses into you. Muttering curses as he is overwhelmed by your heat. How tight you felt around him and your moans matching up with his movement made him feel overstimulated. Like he couldn’t slow his heart rate down. Watching as your tits bounced with every thrust, how braindead you were from pleasure. He presses his hands down on your stomach so he could feel this cock pounding in and out of you. The sudden pressure was enough to send you over the edge. Pulling Zuko down and raking your nails down his back,

“Fuck!” he said it loud, right in your ear.

His thrusts were unrelenting as he chased his orgasm. Groaning and moaning into your shoulder as he finally came. Rutting into you as he came inside you, pressing himself as close as he could be to you. Petting his hair and whispering encouraging things into his hair. He laid down beside you, pulling you into his chest before covering the two of you with a woven quilt. Giving the fire one last hit before drifting off to sleep with you.

#prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x y/n #prince zuko fanfic #prince zuko imagine #prince zuko smut #avatar the last airbender #avatar last airbender #prince zuko #avatar live action #avatar netflix #netflix atla #netflix avatar #atla live action #atla netflix #dallas liu x reader #dallas liu zuko #dallas liu atla zuko #prince zuko imagine

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bonelyheartsclub · 2 months ago

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♡ Papyrus - Valentine's One-Shot ♡

Written by @/duskyskye

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A cloudy, blustery day right in the middle of one of the coldest months of the year. A thick blanket of grey clouds covered the sky, and the ground was equally covered in a layer of thick, white snow. Were you not dressed properly for the occasion, you think that you would be downright gloomy sitting outside.

Luckily for you, you had just the right skeleton with you to eliminate said doom and gloom.

Papyrus was ecstatic to see the wintery weather outside and had invited you on an outing especially for the occasion. You had of course agreed, as you were happy to keep him company. You’d come to learn on the brief drive that Papyrus was especially fond of the colder seasons, namely winter, even if some of his cousins were more averse to it. From what he told you, he and Sans specifically used to live in a colder place in the Underground, so maybe that was part of why.

“Well, this is where we stop!” Papyrus parked the car near a small field, one that looked to be fairly clear of people and just as frosty as anywhere else you had been. Papyrus stepped out of the car, careful of the icy pavement. In what you assumed was an attempt to impress you, he leapt onto the hood of his car and slid across to the other side, striking a pose that you could only describe as, “an attempt.” He quickly regained his bearings before strutting to the other side of the car to help you onto your feet. Once you found your footing, he took your hand in his and led you out into the field.

“So, you got any plans for us while we’re out here, Papy?” You eyed the field, nothing but snow and trees in sight.

“None whatsoever!” He happily declared, taking confident strides out into the open. “Though that’s what makes the snow so fun! Endless opportunities in what you can make, and what you can innovate! Observe!”

Papyrus proceeded to spread his arms into a T-pose and fell straight back and into the snow. You stared wide-eyed as he landed, unflinching, to the ground below, the smile never leaving his face. After a moment, he carefully lifted himself back to his feet, making a point to keep his feet spread in the position he fell in.

“Behold! I have successfully created a ‘Snow Papyrus!’ As you can see, I have utilized the force of my body to craft an image in my likeness! Now, I know what you’re thinking: ‘but, Papyrus! How would I be able to tell this is the very cool skeleton I think it is, and not another skeleton of similar likeness?’ I have a solution for that!”

Papyrus then proceeded to walk over to the head and poked two holes and a toothy smile into the impression with his finger.

“Ta-da! A complete Snow Papyrus!” Papyrus proclaimed, standing back up with confidence. You laughed, clapping at his antics. He bowed, his smile wide.

“Excellent work, Papyrus! I thought you were more of a snowman sculptor though?”

“Yes, well, I am! Though from what I understand, humans can only spend so much time in the cold before they must defrost, and I do not wish for you to freeze. Sculpting may take hours, and given I love you more than anything, I wish to accommodate the idea of you NOT turning into a popsicle.”

“Fair enough.” You giggled. “Still, I think we could probably make a traditional human-style snowman with all of this. Have you ever made one before?”

“I cannot say that I have! Most of my work has been of…well, myself!”

“Well, it’s easy enough. Here, I’ll show you!”

You took a small amount of snow in your hands and packed it into a small sphere.

“All you have to do is take a ball of snow and roll it around until it forms an even larger ball. Repeat that 2 more times, creating smaller balls each time, and stack them. Then boom! A snowman!” As you described in the process, you built a mini snowman on the ground. Once you were finished, Papyrus nodded, humming in understanding.

“Ah, yes, these snowmen! I knew of a monster who looked just like that! I believe the human Frisk still has a piece of him stored in their freezer…” You gave him a look, and at that point he realized how weird that must have sounded, as he quickly shook his head. “Um…regardless, let’s get to building!”

Papyrus proceeded to craft a snowball and sprinted, rolling up the snow as he went. It only took him a minute before he’d made a base that went up to your knees. Meanwhile you’d barely gotten started on the middle portion. Man, he could work fast when he was excited!

“How did that not fall apart in your hands?” You asked as he began on his second ball.

“I am quite skilled at handling snow, you know! Making a snowball is mere child’s play! Nyeheheh!” Papyrus was off to make the second ball, returning just as you finished the head. He planted the torso, securing it firmly on the base as you raised the head and plopped it on right after.

Your little snowman was a cute little thing, but a bit bare with just the snow.

“Hey Papyrus, could you grab some sticks from the trees over there? I want to give this little guy a couple more accessories.”

“Of course! I’m happy to oblige!”

Papyrus ran off to the wooded area of the field while you pondered the state of your snowy creation. Careful not to tip the head off, you poked two little holes into his head and drew a smile, much like Papyrus had done with his Snow Papyrus earlier. It still felt a bit lifeless. You remedied that by unwinding your scarf from around your neck. A splash of color seemed to be just what he needed.

Soon enough, Papyrus returned to your side, a small bundle of sticks in his hand. He observed the small changes you made, his grin hesitant.

“Well, I see you are quite the artist! Though won’t you be cold without your scarf?”

“I’ll be fine! Now, come on, let’s finish him up!” You gleefully nabbed two decent-sized sticks from Papyrus’ stack and stuck them into the snowman. Finally, your work was complete! You stood back to admire your work, when you were suddenly draped in a flowing red material.

“Papyrus?” You asked, feeling for whatever passed in front of your face. You reached around, only to find that Papyrus was swiftly wrapping his own scarf around your neck.

“I’m not letting you freeze under my watch! Even if you generously donated your scarf to another, your neck shall not go cold as long as I am here!” Papyrus grinned, clearly very proud of himself. You giggled, pulling the garment closer around your neck. You didn’t know what made you think of it, but it smelled faintly like the moon.

“Now!” Papyrus declared, “There is one last activity that I believe would be quite enjoyable while we are here!” Papyrus gave you a wide grin, sprinting to the car. In the blink of an eye, he was back, a bag slung over his shoulders. It astounded you just how many trips back and forth he could manage to make.

Just as quickly, he took you by the hand and led you past a line of trees. A few minutes of walking led you to another clearing, this one slightly different from the first.

The main difference being the small hill that divided it into two, and a small hill of snow dividing the two. Papyrus gave you a wide grin, kicking up into the air and landing gently on the top of the hill. With a flick of his wrist, the bag flew away, revealing what was inside.

It turns out that he had brought a sled!

Papyrus stepped onto the sled, placing himself delicately before gliding down the hill like a surfer riding a wave. He slid to your side, taking a bow as he stepped back into the snow.

“No good winter day is complete without taking a ride on a sled, don’t you think? It’s like cruising in a mini vehicle, but only one way and with a significant chance of face planting into a pile of snow!” Papyrus smiled, placing the sled into your hands. “I take it that you would like a turn of your own?”

“Oh absolutely!” You cheered, gripping it tight. You quickly sprinted to the top of the hill, sitting down squarely before pushing yourself off the ledge. The snow kicked up around you as you yelped in glee, landing at the bottom. Papyrus cheered as you arrived at your destination.

“Excellent form, snickerdoodle!” Papyrus applauded, helping you up and off the sled.

“Thank you, Papyrus, I try my best.” You giggled, giving him his sled back.

The two of you took turns going down the hill, with you just for the fun of it and with Papyrus trying to perform as many tricks as he could possibly do. Handstands, superman, one-legged, the works. You managed to snap a few photos for posterity. Though the ones you managed to get of him landing face-first would be stored in a folder that he’d never have to see.

A few rounds of sledding eventually wore you out, with the climb up the hill getting to be a bit much for your legs. Papyrus seemed to detect the wear on your body, as eventually he dropped the board and took a knee, taking your hand in his.

“Are you all right, sweetie? You seem out of it.”

“Yeah,” you replied, “I think my body is just telling me I’m ready to head home.” Papyrus nodded, planting a boney kiss on the back of your hand.

“Very well. Thank you for spending all of today with me. Would you like to cruise down the hill one more time before we depart?”

“Sure, Papy.” He grinned wide before hoisting you up in a bridal carry and taking you up the cliff. He gently planted you down on the ground before climbing back down to retrieve the sled. In a snap, he was at your side, setting the sled on the ground. He reached out a hand.

“May I have this ride, sweetie?” He asked, the grin wide on his face.

“Gladly.”

Papyrus helped you up, settling you near the front of the sled. He took his place behind you, wrapping one arm around you as the other rested on the ground behind him.

“Three…two…one!”

The two of you counted down together before Papyrus shoved off, the two of you laughing as you slid down the hill. Papyrus gave you a tight hug as you landed, pressing a kiss into the back of your head.

“Thank you for such a lovely snow day.” You leaned back into the hug, leaning back to rest your head against his shoulder. Papyrus snuggled you even closer, uttering a little “Nyeheheh” in his delight.

“Any time, my sweet snickerdoodle! I’m glad that I was able to spend this time with you. Though we go and I let you return to a not-so-frozen inside of my car, I do have one small question.”

“What’s up?” You asked, glancing up to meet his sockets. He gulped.

“I know that I cast my sled covering off into the woods for the sake of presentation and impressing you, but I did not happen to see where it landed. Did you?”

You shrugged your shoulders in response, chuckling a bit. Papyrus sighed, climbing off the sled with you in tow.

“Well, I suppose there is one more last thing to do before we go. Would you mind helping me look for it?” Papyrus laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Not at all, Papy.”

After all, this was such a fun snow day. What was the harm in it lasting just a bit longer?

#bhcmyvalentine25 #bhc #bonely hearts club

157 notes · View notes

queenofmorningstar · 16 days ago

Text

Caught Between the Vees

The Vees x f! Intern Reader

Summary: You're Vox's date to the gala, where information is flowing like champagne, and you're quick to grab it.

CW: The Vees being unhinged, Vox has some brain cells. Vox tries hardest not to simp, but fails. P in v, fingering, blowjob. Appearance Of Helluva Boss Villains.

Word Count: 4.8K

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5

Chapter Four: Tv Star

Vox’s arms were crossed, lips pursed as he leaned against the wall, eyes flicking between Val and Velvette, who were both lounging far too comfortably.

Vel was upside down on the couch, legs kicking up over the backrest, her phone in her hands as usual. “So, is no one gonna talk about the fact that I technically called dibs?”

Valentino snorted around his cigarette and waved lazily from his seat. “You didn’t call dibs, you just moved fast. That’s not the same thing, baby.”

“Fast?” Velvette grinned. “She came onto me. I didn’t even need to ask nicely.”

Vox leaned against the edge of the bar and gave a short laugh. His screenface flicked to a flat-line smile, and an expression of exaggerated boredom. “You two act like I wasn’t gonna get there eventually,” he said, sipping his liquor. “I’m playing the long game.”

“Is that what we’re calling sulking now?” Val drawled, flicking ash into a crystal tray. “Damn, baby, just say you are salty and move on.”

Vox rolled his eyes and smirked, but the twist of his mouth said he wasn’t denying it. “I can’t believe you guys fucked her first.”

“Skill issue, darlin’.” Vel mocked him. “You’re trying to be mysterious but we all know you have a large file of her in your system.”

The other two seemed in a mood to irritate him.

“She was delicious,” she drawled, stretching like a cat in sunlight. “Like, I knew she’d be fun, but—ugh. That whimper she makes when she’s close?,” She flicked her gaze across the room with purpose, “And she did—twice.”

“I just think it’s funny,” he said, the pitch of his voice warping just slightly, “how you two couldn’t wait. I mean, really? I was working on a connection. She actually talks to me. We have shared interests. But you two jumped on her like horny animals the second she stepped into the room.”

Valentino took a slow sip, unbothered. “We just didn’t waste time.”

“She’s smart,” Vox snapped. “She respects my ideas and innovations.”

Velvette bit her lip, eyes glittering with mischief. “Mmm, she respected my mouth just fine. Especially when I had her legs shaking around my shoulders.”

Vox’s grip tightened on his glass.

Val snorted. “You didn’t see her when I had her bent over the couch. Both holes full, moaning like a bitch in heat. She loved it.”

Vel chuckled. “I did see some photos of her in that pearl set from your cameras. Lovely. I get why you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Vox hissed. “I just think I should’ve had the first go. She likes me.”

Val hummed, amused. “Sweetheart likes all of us. That’s kind of the point.”

Velvette went back to her phone. “Don’t worry too much. She asks about you all the time. Gets this little smile when your name comes up.”

Vox relaxed at that.

Velvette was the first to break the brief silence that followed Vox’s pissy tantrum, stretching her arms overhead.“So…who’s gonna be the first to say it?”

Val cocked a brow. “Say what?”

“That we don’t want her to leave.”

Vox raised an eyebrow. “…Obviously.”

Val shrugged, slow and lazy, like the idea hadn’t occurred to him in full until this very moment. “Huh. Shit. You’re right. I kinda do want to keep her.”

“I mean,” Velvette said, “we could always just lock her up. Real pretty cage. Satin sheets, room service, a wardrobe full of lingerie and nothing else.”

Valentino let out a low, dark chuckle. “She’d look damn good behind gold bars. All spoiled and pampered. I’d collar her. Something delicate. Diamonds, maybe.”

Vox leaned back, watching them both with a raised brow. “You two sound deranged.”

“Oh please,” Vel purred. “You’re worse than us. You’re just good at hiding it.”

He didn’t respond, which, of course, was answer enough.

“Or or… we kidnap her?” Val offered, completely serious.

“No,” Vox deadpanned. “We are not kidnapping her.”

Val’s expression was halfway between offended and amused. “Why the hell not?”

“Because she’d escape,” Vox snapped. “She’d outwit her way out and have the whole building wired to explode, if she was pissed enough.”

Velvette looked surprised. “Oooh, I guess it does help building that long connection.”

“She’s not gonna want to stay if we trap her,” Vox continued, pacing now, caught in the kind of manic calculation. “She has to want to belong to us.”

Vel raised her brows. “I know that face you’re making. You've got something on her?”

Vox shrugged. “She has too much of a clean slate, it’s suspicious. I’m sure I’ll find something soon.”

__________________________________

The morning light was unforgiving. Everything ached.

After dragging yourself through the usual routine, you were getting ready, and then the doorbell rang.

When you opened the door, a sleek black box sat neatly on the mat, with Vox’s logo, so you brought it inside.

Inside, nestled in dark velvet lining, was a dress. An elegant, asymmetrical number in deep, midnight blue. Sleek fabric that shimmered subtly when it caught the light—simple at first glance, but clearly tailored for someone he’d studied. Your curves, your height, the way you move. He’d thought about this.

And below the dress—matching heels. Jewelry. And it wasn’t the only thing matching. A bra and panties, with Vox’s logo. That smug fucker.

Tucked into the side was a handwritten note. You swallowed, suddenly far more awake than you’d been two minutes ago.

“A gift to wear for today’s meeting. It’s more of a show for fake smiles and business. Though I know I won’t be bored with you by my side.

—V”

You saw the invitation attached to it, your name under Vox’s plus one. A very fancy invitation. This was full fucking gala. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

_________________________________

It draped your body with uncanny precision, as if tailored by hands that had studied you from every angle, memorized every curve. The sweetheart neckline framed your curves, the plunge dipped low, scandalously so, a narrow line of bare skin begging to be traced. The slit along your thigh was high, as you tugged on the gloves.

Your nervousness was at an all time high as you smoothed your hands over your hips and stepped into the heels.

The static began before Vox arrived.

You had…chatted with him online, if one can call it that. You had commented on one of his public projects, a design overhaul.

You had ideas. Not critiques, not flattery. Actual, tactical improvements. Vox hadn’t expected it. He certainly hadn’t expected to agree.

Since then, the messages had become... frequent.

The part he didn’t admit, not even to himself, was how often he found himself waiting. For your name on his screen. For your thoughts. For a sentence that would needle under his skin in that way only yours could.

He’d caught himself adjusting projects to see what you’d say. Leaving things half-finished so you could find the gaps. Vox had never made room for anyone like that, never cared to.

The static got louder.

A flicker in the far corner of the room, from your TV. The faint crackle of a dead channel and flickering of lights.

You didn’t turn. You simply reached for a pair of earrings, deep sapphire drops and fastened them without urgency.

He was behind you by the time you adjusted the last one. “Subtle as ever,” you muttered.

When you met his gaze in the mirror, he was leaning casually against the frame in a deep navy suit, not quite matching your dress but definitely meant to compliment it. Like he’d walked out of a magazine and into your personal space with full awareness of the effect he had.

“You’re early,” you said without looking.

“I like watching the process,” he replied, voice near her shoulder now. “Seeing how something magnificent comes together. It looks better than I imagined.”

“I bet you imagined a lot.” You quipped before you could stop yourself.

“Oh, I did,” He immediately whispered, his hands on your shoulders. Too close.

“And the rest of the… ensemble?” he asked, voice dipped low.

You gave him a long look. “I suppose you’ll spend all evening wondering.”

His grin glitched wider. “Cruel.”

Vox took a slow turn around your apartment like it was a showroom he was about to purchase. Sleek blue claw-like digits trailed across your bookshelf, tapping one spine, then another.

“I see the other two got to you first,” he said casually, plucking a mug from the counter and inspecting it like it offended him. “Sloppy work. No follow-through. And so unsophisticated.”

You gave him a flat look. “They didn’t hear me complain.”

Vox’s smile curled on his screen. “Ah, but you didn’t beg them to stay either, did you?”

Your pulse raced. It didn't seem like he was competing, no, he seemed to say...I know I'm your favourite.

He stepped closer; but you didn’t step back. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You had a feeling he didn’t tell you this ‘meeting’ was a gala on purpose. He wants to watch you falter just once.

Vox murmured. “You wear my color like it was always meant to be yours.”

Your breath caught.

Your situation has gotten more complicated now. You have to betray them at some point but… you didn’t want to leave either. And you don’t want to betray Charlie either.

He stepped back finally, offering his arm like a gentleman.

__________________________________

The car ride had been silent and you were content watching out of the window, and Vox tapped on various screens displayed in front of him.

The gala was already in full swing by the time they arrived.

Soft chandeliers hung low; wealth filled the space. Everyone here was somebody, or trying to be. The gala had gothic red colours, like the rest of Pride Ring.

Heads turned as they entered, and whispers followed them. You tried to keep your face neutral, and observe. Vox’s hand remained on the low of your back.

Conversations faltered mid-sentence, eyes turned to follow their path. Some greeted with over-familiar warmth, others with caution.

And yet, despite the gravity he carried, he never walked more than a step away from you.

They stopped at clusters of power-players—investors, tech moguls, architects who influenced Hell’s politics. Vox's voice was smooth, clipped, and professional, and you enjoyed watching him in his element.

He didn’t walk ahead of you or present you like a prize, which surprised you. He kept you precisely at his side, a half-step within reach. And every time Vox leaned toward someone with a proposition or a promise, he glanced at you first. For your insight.

You answered back to him in small nods and murmured observations, only for his ears.

The crowd noticed.

They noticed how his attention, sharp as it was, always bent in your direction before it snapped back to whoever he was dealing with. They noticed how he adjusted his approach based on your words. And more importantly—they noticed how he listened.

There was something dangerous in that. Because Vox didn’t listen to anyone.

He cut through conversations like a scalpel, left deals on the table half-finished if they no longer amused him, left people hanging on promises he’d never intended to keep. He brought you into the fold of every discussion, every negotiation, every web he wove.

They were halfway through the circuit of the room when a familiar imp, Crimson, approached them.

“Vox, my friend,” Crimson drawled, reaching out a hand. “I've been waiting for a moment with you all evening.”

Vox returned the greeting with his usual detached politeness. “You and half the room, Crimson. What makes your moment worth my time?”

Crimson didn’t flinch. “Because I’ve got an exclusive shipping corridor through the lower circles—clean, untouched, and ready to be digitized for your network. Imagine it: your signals running through every infernal trade route. We split it fifty-fifty.”

You said nothing at first. Vox casted a glance at you, silent.

Crimson, oblivious, pushed on. “No interference, no watchdogs. I’ve even paid off the Greed ring enforcers. You’d be foolish not to take it.”

You tilted your head, just slightly. “And how long before your 'exclusive' route is compromised by your interference?”

Crimson blinked. “What—”

“They’ve been scouting that same corridor for weeks,” you continued, voice calm, almost pleasant. “You haven’t bought off their informants. You’ve just distracted them. Temporarily. The moment Vox invests in your little scheme, they’ll know. And they'll come for it. Hard.”

The air tightened. Crimson’s smile strained. “And you are…?”

Vox didn’t let him finish.

He turned slightly toward you, as if Crimson didn’t exist now. “Go on.”

You went in for the kill. “You’re selling a liability dressed up as an opportunity. And you thought Vox would be too distracted by the gaudiness to notice the risk.”

The silence that followed cracked like ice. Crimson’s mask faltered, fury and embarrassment clawing at his composure. “I don’t recall inviting her into this conversation.”

Vox’s screen turned slowly back toward him. His voice dropped to a dangerous calm. “Then you’ve made your second mistake tonight.”

The tension snapped. A few nearby demons subtly drifted away, pretending to be interested in the art installations, but their ears stayed tuned to the fallout.

Crimson muttered a curse, smoothed his coat, and retreated with as much dignity as he could muster, which wasn’t much.

Vox said nothing for a moment. Then, quietly said to you, “I would’ve let him string the pitch a little longer.”

You gave a soft, knowing smile. “You would've been bored within a minute.”

A low burst of laughter escaped him. “Correct. And now I’m entertained and unburdened.”

His gaze lingered on you. You didn’t just protect his interests, but enhanced them. Where he tore things apart, you slipped the knife in between the ribs with surgical precision.

_______________________________

The waltz began with a slow melody, the crowd shifted to form pairs in smooth precision, toward the center of the ballroom.

Vox was speaking with two high-level investors near the dais, his tone clipped but magnetic. You could hear the trace of static in his voice—his usual sign that he was barely restraining the urge to end the conversation. He wouldn’t miss you, not for a few minutes, right?

You stepped away with the kind of practiced silence that wouldn’t draw attention. Your eyes swept the floor until they landed on him—Striker.

The outlaw and Vox’s secret little weapon supplier. He shouldn’t have been here. He hated galas. But Vox had insisted, probably to keep the weapons trade on a short leash. And Striker, ever the opportunist, never said no to a chance to stir the pot.

You caught him just as the music pulled into a smooth dip. “Dancing alone, cowboy?”

Striker blinked, surprised but not displeased. “Doll, I didn’t know Vox let you off the leash.”

You smiled sweetly. “I don’t work well with leashes.”

He chuckled low, offering his hand with a dramatic bow. He took her hand, and they joined the swirl of bodies under the blood-crystal chandelier. Striker moved well, unexpectedly elegant for someone who normally solved problems with violence.

They moved in a quiet rhythm for a moment. “Tell me,” you said lightly as you spin, “how someone like you ends up dealing in such... divine materials.”

Striker raised an eyebrow, but he grinned. “You mean the angelic steel?"

That confirmed your suspicions. “I mean exactly that.”

He twirled you, letting the movement give him a moment to think.

You pressed forward. “So, this smuggling pipeline of yours… how do you pull it off without the Exorcists breathing down our necks?”

Striker’s pride swelled at the question. He saw an opportunity to impress. And god, did he take it.

“Well,” he said, voice dropping into that conspiratorial drawl, “most of these uptight angels don’t bother watching the lower districts. We gathered all the angelic steel left behind after extermination. The angels have endless supply, so they litter it around there. Black market salvagers sweep it, I get it refined, and poof, it’s in Vox’s vaults before sunrise.”

You raised your eyebrows, just enough to look impressed. “Clever.”

“Damn right it is. It’s all about timing and contacts. I use a backdoor through Lust’s border—nobody checks shipments going out of Asmodeus’s territory. Too busy with... other things.”

You laughed softly, your work was done here. You pulled back, gave him a coy little smirk, and twirled herself out of his arms, spun backward into another set of arms waiting just behind you. Arms that caught you without hesitation, like they’d been expecting you all along…

________________________________

It took less than a second for Vox to find you. You were on the far side of the dance floor, with Striker.

Striker’s hands rested a little too comfortably at your waist, his cocky smile in full display as he leaned in to say something, likely some arrogant pitch masked as flirtation. Vox saw the curve of your lips, soft and amused. You tilted your head, inviting more.

But Vox knew better. He’d seen that tilt before. It was the angle you used when you were dissecting someone. You were studying Striker, and Vox didn’t know why. That was what irritated him most.

Vox’s hands flexed at his sides, sleek fingers twitching in suppressed agitation. A thousand calculations ran behind his screen. What were you after? What was he offering? And why hadn’t you told him?

It wasn’t about trust. Against his better judgment, against the nature of Hell itself, he trusted you. Which made this sting more.

He began to move. He crossed the floor with precision, never breaking eye contact with the pair, though only Striker noticed. And Striker, of course, smirked. That was the moment Vox arrived.

In one seamless motion, you slipped from Striker’s grip and pivoted gracefully into Vox’s arms, your body aligning against his like it was the only place you belonged.

Your smile returned, faint and unbothered, as if this had all gone exactly to your plan.

Vox caught you instinctively, arms settling around your waist. His screen flickered once. “Enjoy your detour?” he asked, voice low, modulated just above the music.

You looked up at him with those bright, clever, utterly unrepentant eyes. “Immensely. Striker’s quite talkative when he thinks he’s being clever.”

Of course you had a reason. He pulled you closer, turning them into the rhythm of the dance with practiced grace.

“And here I thought I was the manipulative one,” he murmured.

You leaned into him, just slightly. “I learned from the best.”

That did it.

You moved with him, matching every step, every subtle shift of weight, as if you had always belonged in his orbit. And Vox knew, more clearly than he ever had before, that you weren't just his partner in business. You were his partner in war.

With a sound like a channel switching frequencies too fast, the ballroom around them flickered and vanished.

They rematerialized in a burst of blue light, the air humming with residual voltage. His room was bathed in electric cobalt glow, the walls covered in various screens.You would have thought it was the room of a nerd gamer. The room looked straight out of cyberpunk fiction. The ceiling was…part of an aquarium. The water rippled above, and you saw sharks swimming around in circles above.

“You really couldn’t wait till dessert?” you teased, walking deeper into his space. But your teasing smile dropped when you saw his expression.

He stalked toward you until he was close enough that the glow from his screens painted your skin in electric blue. “I want to know every thought you’ve ever had. Every theory, every witty remark, I want everything you have, darling.”

Oh. oh.

The second his mouth touched yours, the world fell away. His lips were soft but hungry, like he was trying to memorize your taste, like he was starving and you were the answer to every ache he’d never named. Your heart thundered against your ribs, frantic and traitorous.

Everything about you—the tilt of your head, the way your fingers grabbed at his jacket like you couldn’t decide if you wanted to pull him closer or push him away—it all made his blood race in the best way. Finally. Finally.

But then you kissed him back, and Vox felt something unravel. One of the screens cracked behind them, reacting to the sudden spike in his pulse.

His mouth descended to your throat, kissing, licking and bit down, just enough to make you gasp and smiled against your pulse when he felt it flutter like wings. His fingers dipped under the hem of your dress, tracing the line of your thigh, not touching anywhere you truly wanted him but just close enough to make you ache.

Vox’s lips were on your jaw then your collarbone, then lower, his teeth scraping just enough to make you squirm. “I want to see how fast I can make you forget every clever thought in your head,” he whispered.

This kiss was filthier. All tongue and teeth and desperate friction. His hips pressed into yours like a question, and your answer was the soft moan he swallowed whole. Every part of him wanted to be everywhere—his hands roaming, mapping you like he was trying to memorize your body.

"You're unreal," he muttered against your lips, his fingers sliding to trace your ribs then down the small of your back. “Like someone designed just to fuck with me.”

The moment the zipper hit the base of your spine, your dress slid down like it was relieved to be dismissed. Vox’s hands followed it, palms dragging over your skin slowly, like he needed to feel every inch of what had been hidden from him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, just looking at you. “You actually wore it.”

The bra was delicate and right between your breasts, stitched in electric blue shimmered his logo. The matching panties clung to you like a second skin with the same signature mark in front of your pussy.

He spun you around, catching you effortlessly as he dropped into the bed behind them and dragged you onto his lap, facing away from him. Your back to his chest, your thighs spread over his.

Since the screens were off, the black surface reflected them. You felt blood rush to your cheeks.

“Look,” he said, one hand sliding up her stomach to cup her breast, thumb brushing the embroidered logo. “Look how fucking perfect you are in my colors.”

His other hand slid between your legs, pressing over the logo on your panties before slipping beneath it. Two fingers dragged through slick heat, slow, teasing, making you gasp and buck back against him.

He moaned, rutting up against your ass. “I want to watch your face when you come. I want to see every twitch, every whimper, every time you lose control.”

His fingers plunged in and you cried out, legs spreading wider instinctively. He curled them just right, and your hips jerked in his lap, the friction driving you insane.

You managed to open your eyes back to your reflection. Your head rolled back on his shoulder. His hand buried between your thighs. Your bra pulled down, exposing your breasts—one already in his hand, the other bouncing with every panting breath.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled. “And you’re going to come just like this. On my fingers and wearing my name.”

“Vox—” Your voice cracked, high and desperate.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Vox,” you moaned, nails digging into his thighs, legs trembling. “I’m gonna—fuck!”

He bit down on your neck, fingers working faster, harder, relentless and perfect.

Your body arched, mouth open in a silent scream as you come hard, clenching around his fingers, your thighs shaking.

Vox groaned, burying his face in your neck as he slowed his fingers, coaxing you through it. “That’s it,” he whispered. “So fucking beautiful. I could watch that forever.”

You were still panting when he finally pulled his hand away and brought it to his mouth, licking your cum off his fingers with a hum of satisfaction.

You didn’t like his smug grin, as if he knew he was always in control. You shifted in his lap, but instead of turning to straddle him like he expected, you slid down.

Vox stilled. “What are you—?”

Your fingers moved to his belt, your gaze locked with his as you unbuckled it. “You’ve had your fun,” you said, voice smooth, almost casual but your hands betrayed you, shaking slightly. “Now I get mine.”

Vox’s head tipped back, a sharp hiss escaping him as you unzipped him and pulled him out. He was achingly hard, flushed and leaking at the tip. You wrapped one hand around him, giving a single slow stroke, and watched his body twitch.

“Look at you,” you murmured, thumb swiping over the head. “So fucking needy.”

You smiled innocently and leaned in. The first drag of your tongue along the underside of his cock had his hips jerk. His blue-tipped claws scratched into the sheets. “Shit…fuck—”

You licked him again, slower this time, savoring him.

Then you took him into your mouth. You sucked in just the head, tongue swirling around it. Vox’s hands twitched, desperate to grab you, to thrust up, but he held back barely.

His hand found the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. “Deeper,” he whispered. “Please—fuck—deeper.”

You took him down slowly, letting his cock slide past your lips, past your tongue, until your nose brushed his pelvis and he groaned like you’d stabbed him with pleasure. You pulled back, slow and wet, then repeated it, faster, then again—until your head was bobbing in steady rhythm.

Vox was falling apart.

The way his voice cracked when you gagged a little, the way his thighs trembled when you moaned around him. Then you sucked him in, hard and deep, while stroking the base with one hand.

With a sharp, guttural groan, Vox’s whole body tensed. His hips bucked just once, and then he came—hot, thick, spilling into your mouth as he cried out your name like it hurt. You tried swallowing most of it, then slowly pulled off with a lewd pop.

He was still breathing like he’d just fought off a damn riot, head thrown back, lips parted, cock twitching despite just finishing in your mouth. But seeing you like this–

Vox was on his feet in a second, lifting you effortlessly and tossing you onto the bed behind them like you weighed nothing. You bounced on the plush mattress, laughing breathlessly as he stalked after you, already pulling his shirt over his head.

Your legs parted for him instinctively, and he settled between them, one hand braced beside your head, the other running down your side like he couldn’t believe you were real.

His eyes roamed your body, then his mouth crashed onto yours, tongue plunging in deep, and his hips aligned with yours, cock pressing hot and hard against the soaked fabric of your panties.

Vox pulled your panties aside and slammed into you in one rough, hungry thrust. You cried out, arching under him, nails clawing at his shoulders. You felt him so deep, stretching you open with a delicious burn that made your head spin. “Fucking hell, Vox—”

His rhythm was brutal at first, but then he slowed, grinding in deep, letting you feel every inch as he stared down at you like he was gazing at art.

Your eyes fluttered open. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” he whispered, brushing hair from your face. “The smartest, most infuriating, most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.”

You pulled him down and kissed him hard, legs wrapping tight around his waist, locking him in.

He picked up the pace again, pounding into you now, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room along with your moans, his groans, and the creak of the mattress as he drove deeper into you.

“You feel…fuck—you feel so good,” he gasped, voice losing control and buffering. “So tight, so warm—god.”

He shifted, grabbing one of your legs and hooking it over his shoulder. The new angle sent him even deeper, and you screamed, back arching off the bed as your orgasm slammed into you like a wave.

He watched you unravel completely under him. Your mouth open, your body shaking—and it shattered his control. He thrust wildly now, panting your name like a prayer, chasing his release.

When he came, his whole body seized as he spilled inside you, deep and messy and claiming.

He collapsed on top of you, breath ragged, heart pounding like a war drum against your chest. As you tried catching your breath, you chuckled at his screen with error messages.

[WARNING: LETHAL LEVELS OF BEAUTY DETECTED]

[PROXIMITY ALERT: GOD-TIER BABE IN RANGE]

[MELTDOWN IMMINENT]

[CRITICAL FAILURE: HEART RATE UNSTABLE]

[REASON: HER]

[SOLUTION: UNKNOWN. MAYBE JUST DIE??]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: The dress I imagined for the reader.

Vox’s room as I imagined.

The Foursome and Finale is coming soon and I can't wait for you guys to read it!!

Next>>>>

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prolifeproliberty · 11 months ago

Note

Hey, I'm stumped on this objection, if it's alright, I want your input on this

"For these types of people I always give them a hypothetical situation for them answer So if you knew your wife was going to die by giving birth to the child would you let Your wife get an abortion or would you let your wife die in the child grow up without a mother?"

What do you think?

I would answer that the choice is never actually that simple. We imagine this cinematic moment where the doctor comes out to talk to the anxious husband in the waiting room and says “Sir, we can only save one of them. Should we save your wife or your child?” and he has to make that choice.

That makes a very dramatic movie scene, but it’s not real.

There are three categories of “life of the mother” situations:

1. Very early pregnancy. Mother has a life threatening condition and cannot be kept stable until the child reaches viability (now around 22 weeks with evidence-based best practices). Even in these situations, a direct abortion isn’t the life-saving care. Usually we’re talking about the mother needing a treatment for her life-threatening condition that risks the life of the baby. Most ethical choice is to treat the mother. If the baby dies as a result of the treatment, that is a tragic loss. If the baby doesn’t die, awesome! In this category, there is no way to save the baby without saving the mother, because if the mother died, the baby would too. Ectopic pregnancies fall in this category because there is currently no way to save the baby. If we developed the ability to get ectopic embryos to successfully re-implant in the uterus, that would become the ethical option.

2. Late-term complications. I’m going out of order here for a reason. This is anything where the mother’s life-threatening health issue starts after viability, but especially when we’re talking 30 weeks and on. Baby’s chance of survival with an early delivery goes up rapidly as baby approaches full term. In these cases, if the mother needs immediate treatment for a life threatening issue, she doesn’t actually need her baby to die. There is no reason to choose between the mother and child. A C-section is actually safer than a late-term abortion, since third trimester abortions usually still involve the mother laboring and delivering a dead baby. If the concern, as posed in the original hypothetical, is that she would “die by giving birth,” then she probably just needs a C-section (or a better doctor).

3. The third category is the most complex one. This is when the life threatening issue for the other begins when the child cannot yet survive outside the womb, but may be able to in a few weeks. This is where the difficult decisions are made. This category includes women diagnosed with cancer who might decide to delay treatment to protect their child until their child can be safely delivered. However, even here we can see examples of mothers who choose to receive treatment without first killing their child, and doctors who find innovative ways to treat life-threatening illnesses without harming preborn children.

The true answer is “save them both.” We can’t always - just as any doctor knows in a triage situation they can’t always save all the patients. The decision of who to save is never based on which patient is more human, more valuable, or more worth saving. The answer is instead based on how the doctor can save the greatest number of patients. If the doctor can save everyone, they do. If the doctor knows a course of action means for sure saving one patient, while another might not make it, but the alternative is losing both, then they will choose to save at least one. We almost never see a situation where the doctor has to arbitrarily choose between two patients - the decision is always based on the condition of each patient, the resources available, how much time there is, etc. There are algorithms for this kind of thing.

Basically I refuse to let unrealistic hypotheticals dictate actual policy on saving children.

Because people believe in the “we can only save one, choose!” scenario, we get doctors telling women that they will die if they don’t get an abortion, and then they cry to the media that they had to go to Colorado or California to get their “life-saving procedure.” The reality is that either the doctor could have treated the mother without first killing the baby and given the baby a chance to survive, or they could have delivered the baby and then treated the mother.

Anyone who says they couldn’t do the first option under ____ state abortion law is either lying or ignorant. If the mother’s condition is actually life-threatening, every state allows doctors to treat the mother. Killing a child doesn’t cure any illness.

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thatbugkidd · 5 months ago

Text

Cyn and Uzi have a particularly.. interesting relationship in this AU

Their dynamic is a tedious journey of manipulation, mistrust, and gradual vulnerability with one another!! In the beginning their relationship is definitely very tense, with Uzi suspicious of any of Abso's subordinates and Cyn very manipulative and demeaning. Despite this, they do have a deep rooted respect for each other, not that either of them would admit it. It is a bit overshadowed by Cyn's manipulative tendencies and uzi's defensive hostility. Its.. not super healthy. But they still have an undeniable attraction to each other. Cyn admires Uzi's bite, and willingness to talk back to her, something few others do.

And Uzi might oddly admire Cyn's confidence, her ability to turn any situation to her advantage. She's quick on her feet and has wits, Uzi can respect that.

Uzumi, more generally known as Uzi, is quietly renowned for her innovation and knack for building weapons, which catches the attention of the head crime lord, Abso. Cyn is tasked with keeping an eye on Uzi to make sure she doesn't become a threat and is kept underway. here's a little snippet i planned for their first meeting hehe

Cyn enters the tattered workshop uninvited, leaning casually against the doorframe, smirking as she takes in the scattered tools and half-finished contraptions.

"So this is where the magic happens. I expected something... less chaotic. But then again, chaos has its charm."

Uzi, without looking up, coldly responds "If you’re here to buy, I don’t sell to Abso’s lackeys."

A harsh scoff was heard, Cyn exaggerating faux offense, "Lackey? Ouch. I like to think of myself as... freelance talent. Though, I do have a certain reputation to uphold."

Finally looking at her, unimpressed, Uzi snarls her nose "Yeah, I’ve heard. ‘Queen of Cyn.’ What, did you come up with that yourself, or was that Abso’s idea?”

Cyn chuckles, moving closer to inspect one of Uzi’s gadgets.

"You’ve got a sharp tongue, I’ll give you that. But I’m not here to pick a fight. I’m here to talk business. You and I—we’re not so different, you know." She trailed off, tracing the rough metal of the gadget, "we're both just trying to get by."

Uzi snatched the gadget out of Cyn’s hands, glaring at her, "We’re nothing alike. Now, leave before I show you how fast this thing can melt through steel."

Cyn grinned, leaning in closer "Oh, I like you."

The arcane au has been a lot of fun so far, I'm enjoying giving it its own story. >:3

Unfortunately small little update!! My mental health has been taking quite a dip and with holidays coming round, I'm just really stressed out as of late so activity may drop for a bit while I focus on myself. I got some art backed up that I'll try to be posting :3 but I'm gonna spend a couple weeks taking it slow and doing some art studies, games, etc bc my art has just been frustrating me so much!! If it had a physical vessel I'd beat the shit out of it rn tbh BUT just wanted to give a little heads up

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alizha · 2 months ago

Text

ｆｉｘｅｒ | 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟷

⁀➷ 𝗃𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗏𝗂 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 | 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗎

𝖶𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖢𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 5.7𝗄

𝖳𝖺𝗀𝗌: 𝖿/𝗆, 𝖿𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗁𝖾/𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖨𝖳𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗃𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋!𝗅𝖾𝗏𝗂, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗇𝗈 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋(𝗌).

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝖫𝖾𝗏𝗂 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗃𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗍 𝖲𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗄𝗂 𝖧𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾'𝖽 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍. 𝖧𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝖨𝖳 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝗎𝗍.

𝖠/𝖭: 𝖮𝗈𝗉𝗌, 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗎𝖽𝖺𝗅 𝖤𝗅𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒. 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀.

masterlist | cross posted to ao3 next chapter →

“Wait, say that again?”

The laptop makes a pathetic whirring sound as you jam your thumb against the power button again. “Hange, please, what did you do with this?”

Hange’s eyes sparkle as they crouch down to your eye level with a dangerous mix of curiosity and delight that you’ve come to know well. “You have a crush. On Levi.”

“Nope. Didn’t say that,” you say, busying yourself with flipping the laptop over to examine the ports. Hange’s chair squeaks beneath you as you carefully shake the charger from the tangled mess of other cables draped across their cluttered desk.

“You implied it,” Hange says, leaning in a little closer and grinning like a cat about to pounce. “He’s single, if you’re wondering. You know, I’ve always said he needs to put himself out there, maybe meet someone smart, sweet—,”

“Hange,” you interrupt, your focus hopelessly strained, “I can’t fix this if you keep distracting me.”

“—and you’re perfect! How have I never thought of it before?”

You sigh and press the heel of your palm to your forehead. “Maybe because I’ve never been assigned here this long.”

“That’s true!” Hange says, taking your shoulders in hand and gently giving you an affectionate shake. “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re my favorite IT specialist. I love when district loans you to us. Can’t you just take a full time position here? Then, you could see Levi every day.”

“This isn’t happening,” you mutter to yourself. “All I said was I think he’s attractive.”

“It was the way you said it!” Hange exclaims, throwing their hands into the air like they’ve just discovered a new element.

“Please, I’m begging you, let’s focus on the real problem here,” you say, setting down the laptop next to a set of beakers with some sort of suspicious dried residue clinging to the bottom. “What did you do to this poor laptop? It looks like it’s been through a war zone.”

“All I did was take it home over the weekend,” they say with a shrug, sounding mildly offended. “And I may have installed a few updates. And tweaked some settings. And maybe tried to make it run a little faster by deleting some programs. But it’s not my fault if this thing can’t handle a little innovation.”

You narrow your eyes, almost afraid to ask. “Which programs?”

“Just the unimportant ones.”

“Right,” you say, exasperated. “Well, whatever you did, it’s not just refusing to connect to your desktop setup. It’s barely powering on at all. I’ll need a bit more time to figure this out.”

“Oh, no need to rush,” Hange says, flapping a hand dismissively. “Just gives us time to figure out what to do about Levi.”

You roll your eyes and lean back in their creaky chair. “We’re not going to be doing anything about Levi. There’s nothing to do. I don’t think I’ve ever even talked to him.”

“Ooh!” Hange points a finger at you. “He asked you to fix the Wi-Fi in the gym that one time.”

“That’s hardly a conversation,” you say dryly, reaching out to shut the laptop with a soft click before standing up with a groan. “Unfortunately, I’m gonna have to come back later. Mr. Smith needs some help with a login issue—something about the gradebook.”

“Don’t use Erwin as an excuse to run away,” Hange says as you sidle past them with your own laptop in hand and head toward the door.

“Sorry, Hange, gotta run!” you call without bothering to glance over your shoulder as you practically bolt out the door.

It’s currently the middle of third period, and the hallways are empty as you make your way toward another wing of the building. Your steps across the linoleum echo off rows of red metallic lockers, littered with loose papers and frayed straps from backpacks haphazardly shoved inside. You pause by a locker near the corner of the hall, the faint murmur of an ongoing class drifting through the closest classroom door, to bend over and pick up the wrinkled wrapper of a protein bar off the floor.

Brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, you straighten and continue on your way. The wrapper crinkles softly as you crush it in your fist. There’s a trash bin outside the bathrooms just before you reach the history classroom, and you jauntily toss the wrapper into it as you pass by.

The buzz coming from inside the room steadily increases in volume as you near the door. You can see the students inside grouped at their desks, heads bent together over open textbooks and notes. As you stroll through the entrance, your gaze lands on Erwin sitting at his desk and immediately feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of Levi standing across from him, his arms crossed and his brow slightly furrowed in what seems to be his default expression.

Your steps falter for a fraction of a second. Normally, playing it cool in front of Levi is a breeze, but your conversation with Hange leaves you hyperaware of how flustered his presence makes you feel. Before you can fully recover your confident posture, Erwin glances over at you, leading to Levi turning to see what’s caught his attention.

You force a small smile and wave, earning from Erwin a warm reciprocation. Levi, meanwhile, gives you a slight nod before turning back to Erwin.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

Erwin nods. Levi turns toward the door, and you do your best to look unbothered as you cross paths.

“Hange’s chair is squeaking horribly,” you blurt out before you can think twice. “Might be worth a look if you’re already doing the rounds.”

He pauses, backtracking half a step to raise an eyebrow at you. “Hange’s whole classroom is a disaster. I doubt fixing one chair will make a difference.”

You huff out a small laugh. “Fair point.”

One corner of his mouth twitches faintly, and he continues walking past you before disappearing out the door. With a deep breath, you approach Erwin’s desk, heart beating just a bit faster. When you finally realize he’s wearing a sly, thin-lipped grin, clearly trying to suppress a laugh, you blink at him in confusion.

“What?”

Erwin shrugs cheekily, his gaze darting toward his students to briefly check they’re still preoccupied with their work before responding. “Oh, nothing. It’s just, that interaction with Levi? Very bold,” he says, the quirking of his eyebrow underscoring his sarcasm. He raises his voice an octave in imitation. “‘Hange’s chair is squeaking horribly.’ I’m surprised he didn’t fall head over heels right then.”

You cringe inwardly. “I do not sound like that. And I’ve already got Hange on my case. I don’t need you starting, too.”

“Hange’s got a good eye for these things, if you can believe it,” he says. “And for the record, your delivery was flawless—if your goal was to seduce him with furniture repair.”

Warmth rises to your cheeks, and you glare at him. “I don’t have any goals. I was just… making conversation.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” Erwin nods solemnly. “Completely casual. Levi loves casual. You’re playing the long game, clearly.”

“Erwin,” you say, your voice edged with warning. “Wait, does he really?”

He chuckles softly, and you shake your head with a huff.

“Nevermind. Just, can we drop this?”

“Alright, alright,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “But just a word of warning—Levi’s not as oblivious as he seems.”

You determinedly tamp down your curiosity and turn your attention to his open laptop, though it threatens to tear you apart from the inside. For now, you decide to ignore it. “Enough,” you say. “Before I decide to let you figure out your gradebook issue on your own.”

Levi catches the scent of something vaguely burnt wafting in the air before he even reaches the chemistry lab door. The muscles of his lower back tense upon instinct. Walking into Hange’s classroom always almost feels like marching into war.

“What the hell, Four-Eyes?” he says, nose scrunching at the swell of the volatile aroma as he enters the room.

“Well, well, two visitors in one planning period!” Hange exclaims from their perch on the desk, throwing their arms wide and nearly flinging their planner covered in disorderly sticky notes across the room. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Levi sets his toolbox down and nudges the unoccupied chair behind the desk. It emits a miserable squeal. “Heard this thing’s been making noise. Figured I’d deal with it before you make it worse.”

“Ah, my knight in shining coveralls,” Hange says, hopping down from the desk. “But hey, while you’re here, I’ve been meaning to discuss a certain lovely IT specialist who’s been temporarily transferred from the district office with you.”

He pauses with his hand on the chair and turns to give Hange his best rendition of an unimpressed glare. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting. She’s into you, you know.”

Crouching, Levi closely inspects the chair’s tilt mechanism and reaches into the toolbox for a wrench. “Maybe she thinks she is, but it’ll pass.”

“You’re such a killjoy. She’s legit interested, Levi. I know you’ve noticed, so don’t even try to deny it.”

“I’ve noticed,” he says flatly, tightening a bolt. “But that doesn’t mean anything. People change their minds all the time.”

“Oh, Levi, you’re so predictable,” Hange says, shaking their head with fond exasperation. “You mean people change their minds about you all the time. She’s not like that, though. She’s kind, she’s patient, she gets your whole… thing.” They gesture at him with a few wild flails of their hands. “And this is the best part—she said she thinks you’re hot.”

Levi snorts, shaking his head. “You’re making that up.”

“Am not!”

“Yeah, well.” He turns his attention back to the chair, resuming his work. “I doubt she knows I used to be in a gang.”

“Levi, half the student body knows you used to be in a gang. The other half heard the rumors and are still deciding whether they believe them.”

“If you’re trying to sell me on this, Four-Eyes, that’s not helping,” he deadpans.

“My point is, she’s into you, dummy,” Hange says, giving his shoulder a light shove. “She’s not waiting for you to be taller, or more talkative, or whatever nonsense you’re thinking of. She likes you. Don’t let that scare you off.”

The chair lets out a final, reluctant creak as Levi stands. If he’d known following up on your tip about Hange’s chair was going to get him ambushed like this, perhaps he wouldn’t have been so eager to jump on it.

“Fixed. Try not to break it again.”

“Thank you!” Hange calls after him as he grabs his toolbox and makes a beeline for the door.

Levi grunts his response and heads directly toward the janitor’s closet, warily eyeing his wristwatch. The bell would ring soon, and the students would be flooding the hallways in a blink. While getting caught during the passing period poses little more than a minor inconvenience, he attempts to avoid it altogether.

Striding down the hall, he makes it to the teachers’ lounge just before the closet and catches sight of the door sitting ajar. Inside, he’s surprised to see you bent over the counter, fiddling with the coffee maker. Your brow is furrowed in concentration as you jab at one of the buttons on the machine.

Fuck, it’s cute. You’re a whiz when it comes to anything IT related, but here you are, stumped by the damn coffee maker. To be fair, the ancient thing is more or less a lost cause. Levi exhales softly and steps inside the lounge just as the bell chimes from the intercom system and classroom doors swing open.

“Gonna break it if you keep doing that,” he says over the sudden roar in the hallway.

You jump slightly, then break out into a sheepish smile when you realize it’s him addressing you. “It’s already broken, I think. It’s been making these weird noises all week, and now, it’s not even brewing.”

Levi eyes the machine, as if he might intimidate it into magically working for you. No such luck. He stows his toolbox in the corner of the counter and points to the cupboard above the coffee maker.

“Forget that junk. There’s good tea up there on the top shelf. I don’t drink the sludge they stock this place with.”

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, but you follow his suggestion a beat later. Reaching up, you open the cupboard to find a neat row of tea tins nestled behind a cluster of mismatched mugs. “Wow. This is your stash? Do you live here or something?”

“I’ve considered it once or twice,” he says, leaning his hip against the counter.

You chuckle, a light, musical sound as you take one of the tins and examine the label. “Same. Shingeki’s a big school. You wouldn’t believe how many trouble tickets I walk in to find every morning before classes even start.”

“Dunno. I might believe it.”

That earns him a brilliant smile that makes his heart thump against his ribs.

“You know,” you say matter-of-factly, “the district office has one of those fancy latte machines. Touchscreen, milk frother, the whole deal.”

“Of course they do,” Levi says with a scoff. “Probably gets assigned its own IT specialist, and that’s why your department’s always stretched hopelessly thin. Wouldn’t want the administrators suffering through a regular cup of coffee like the rest of us.”

You laugh again, and the way you throw your head back just a little rouses a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. “You’d think they were running a five-star café over there instead of all those budget cut meetings.”

“Sounds about right,” he replies, somehow managing to maintain his cool veneer despite his growing fluster. “Nothing says fiscal responsibility like splurging on a machine that’ll break the second anyone presses the wrong button.”

Amusement gleams in your eyes. “Your cynicism is truly inspiring.”

“It’s not cynicism,” he says, feeling a faint smirk tug at his lips. “It’s realism. You work in this place long enough, you get used to things falling apart.”

“Well,” you say, tilting your head, “at least you’re an expert at fixing things, so I’ve heard.”

The instinctive urge to contradict you bubbles up in his chest, but Levi pushes it back down. He doesn’t know what to make of that coming from you. “I try,” he finally settles on saying.

You place the tea tin on the counter, lowering your gaze to the metallic cylinder as your fingers tap lightly against the lid. “Speaking of things falling apart, while I was helping Erwin earlier, he invited me out with the staff tonight. End Zone, right? Sounds like the teachers’ usual haunt.”

“Yeah, they go there,” Levi says.

Your eyes lift to his, peering through your lashes. “Do you ever join them?”

He shakes his head, brows pinching. “End Zone? Not my scene. Too loud, too crowded, and the food’s absolute crap.”

“Oh,” you say, your voice trailing off with a touch of disappointment. “Guess that’s fair.”

For a wild second, Levi considers it—throwing out an alternative. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere that doesn’t reek of stale beer and desperation. Maybe that small bistro a few blocks down from the bar, the one with real food instead of the greasy pub slop that passes for a meal at End Zone.

The words hover at the tip of his tongue. Dinner instead? Just us?

But he doesn’t say them. Because what’s the point? You’re looking at him like you might actually want him around, but you don’t know anything about him. Not really. Not the parts that matter. The parts that would make you look at him differently.

You think he’s an expert at fixing things, but you have no idea how much he’s broken.

So instead, Levi shrugs. “Yeah. Guess so.”

You nod ruefully, and he catches the flicker of uncertainty in your expression. But you cover it up quickly with another small smile.

“Well, I guess I’ll see if I survive a night out with Moblit and Hange’s karaoke.”

“Good luck,” Levi mutters. He shifts closer, reaches past her to grab one of the cups from the shelf—a white ceramic mug with big, bold text that read ‘WORLD’S OKAYEST JANITOR,’ which Petra had bought for him one Christmas.

His arm brushes yours, just barely, and he feels your breath hitch quietly before your eyes land on the mug. You let out a soft snort at the novelty print that has his stomach twisting not unpleasantly.

It would be so easy. A simple invitation. A step toward something he’s pretty sure both of you want. But his feet stay planted, and his mouth stays shut.

And you, after a pause just a beat too long, replace the tea tin on the shelf and step away. “I’ve gotta get back. Took too long tinkering with that hunk of junk. I’ll see you around, Levi.”

He watches her go, jaw clenched.

Idiot.

End Zone is exactly what you expected: a slightly run-down sports bar with dim lighting and battered wooden booths and an ever-present hum of conversation layered under the sound of whatever game is playing on the many wall-mounted screens. And beneath the scent of fried food and cheap beer, you can detect the sharp tinge of cleaning solution that doesn’t quite mask the years of spilled drinks and rowdy celebrations.

No wonder Levi hates the place. Sure, it makes sense now that he didn’t bite when you hinted that he should come out. But there was no way he didn’t get the hint, right?

A handful of Shingeki staff are already settled in their usual corner, nursing drinks and swapping stories about the week’s disasters. You slid into a booth across from Erin, who raises a thick brow at you as you take a long sip of your cocktail—something strong and citrusy that you ordered on impulse.

You set your glass down with a soft thud and fix him with a look. “You lied to me.”

Erwin, mid-sip of his own drink, hums in amused confusion before swallowing. “Did I?”

“Yes,” you say, jabbing a finger at him. “You told me Levi wasn’t as oblivious as he seemed. That he’d pick up on things if I made them obvious enough.”

He leans back, stretching one arm across the booth’s backrest, looking thoroughly entertained. “Ah,” he muses. “So you made a move, did you?”

You let out a sharp sigh. “I gave him the perfect setup, Erwin! I told him I was coming here tonight. I practically invited him without actually inviting him. And he just… let it pass! Didn’t even try to suggest something else!”

The frustration is more at yourself than Levi. You had thought you were being clever, giving him an easy way to say hey, let’s hang out! But instead, you were left walking out of the break room with an overwhelming sense of well, that was awkward.

Erwin chuckles, the knowing kind that makes you want to shove his shoulder. He swirls the remaining liquid in his glass before setting it down with a soft clink, a bit of the mirth in his expression slowly fading.

“I’ve known Levi a long time,” he says, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table. “Helped him get the job at Shingeki, actually.”

You knit your brows together at him. “Really?”

He nods. “And look, as someone who’s known him a while, it’s easy to forget that Levi can be… less than forthcoming when you first get to know him.”

“Oh.” You tilt your head and consider your brief conversation with Levi in the break room earlier. Before you had brought up End Zone, he had been perfectly pleasant. Downright flirty, even. “I suppose I wouldn’t call him a chatterbox, but he’s not that hard to talk to.”

Erwin gives a small, wry smile. “Good. I’m glad you think so.” He shifts in his seat and exhales, as if considering how much to say before finally continuing. “All that to say, Levi’s been through a lot. It’s not my place to tell you everything, and frankly, it’s his business who he shares it with.”

You’ve heard the inklings of the rumors. Admittedly, you had written them off as nonsense at first, but you couldn’t help but wonder. Levi seemed to keep a low profile at the school, yet everyone knew his name, and many happened to adopt the same stiff posture when he was mentioned.

“I don’t say all this to be dramatic,” Erwin continues. “I say it because the past leaves a mark. What Levi’s been through, it affects his relationships. All of them.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and fiddle with the condensation on your glass. The way he talks, you don’t doubt for a second that Erwin knows exactly what Levi has been through, but the fact he won’t elaborate tells you all you need to know about how much he respects Levi’s privacy.

“You’re infuriatingly principled, you know that?” you huff.

“So I’ve been told.” He grins and finishes off his drink. “He’s not indifferent to you,” he adds, apparently sensing your apprehension. “You gave him an opportunity tonight, and he didn’t take it. That doesn’t mean he didn’t want to.”

You let out a slow breath, rolling Erwin’s words over in your mind. Perhaps, it should have left you frustrated, should have made you want to throw up your hands and decide Levi isn’t worth the effort.

But instead, you feel a strange, unexpected sense of conviction settling in your chest. You want Levi to know that you see him, that you’re willing to be patient, that he doesn’t have to shut the door before anything has even begun. And then, you look at Erwin and the glint in his eye as he witnesses your resolve solidifying.

The bastard knew he wasn’t going to scare you away with any of it. You realize Erwin knew exactly what he was doing just as a hand slaps down on your shoulder.

Hange’s voice is suddenly way too close to your ear, singing out your name as you startle. “Come with me! I need a favor!”

You blink up at them. “For what?”

“For the duet,” Hange declares. “Moblit bailed and I need a partner.”

“And what part of that made you think of me?””

“Oh, you like music, don’t you?” Hange says, like it’s some quirky, unique characteristic of yours. “C’mon!”

Erwin chuckles as he watches this unfold, and you rub your temples, letting yourself get dragged away to the stage.

Levi doesn’t get a lot of quiet during the day, between the constant noise, the constant movement, the constant people. He likes his job well enough, but at the end of the day, there’s something almost sacred about coming home to silence.

His apartment is dark except for the slanted stripes of yellow light from the convenience store sign across the street, filtering in through the blinds. His mug, half-full with lukewarm tea, sits forgotten on the coffee table as he tips his head back against the couch cushions, letting his eyes slip shut.

It’s late. He should be in bed. Instead, his phone vibrates on the coffee table, screen flashing with Hange’s name.

He debates ignoring it. He really does. But experience has taught him that ignoring Hange only leads to more problems later, so with a resigned sigh, he picks up.

“Hange,” he grumbles into the receiver.

“Levi!” Hange’s voice crackles through the phone. In the background, he can hear the lingering murmur of voices, the occasional burst of laughter. It sounds as if they may be standing outside the bar with a group.

“I take it you had fun.”

“You missed all the fun,” Hange corrects.

“Yeah? Darn,” he says dryly. “You drunk?”

“A little.”

“A lot,” another voice—Erwin—murmurs somewhere in the middle distance.

“Anyway,” Hange drawls, “small problem. I might need a ride home.”

Levi sighs. “No.”

“Levi.”

“No.”

“Levi, please.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not a damn chauffeur, Hange.”

“Aww,” Hange whines. “I guess I could call a rideshare, but…”

“But what,” he says flatly. “But you’d rather inconvenience me?”

“You’re so perceptive! Come on, Levi. Be my knight in shining armor!”

Levi lets out a sigh through his nose, long and slow. He doesn’t really want to drag himself out of the house for this. Hange’s a pain in the ass, but they’re his pain in the ass. And despite all his grumbling, he wouldn’t actually leave them hanging.

“Fine. Text me where you are,” he says.

“You’re the best! I could kiss you!”

“Try it, and I’m leaving you there.”

Hange’s cackle comes through, and Levi just shakes his head, already grabbing his keys.

Approximately ten minutes later, he’s pulling up in front of the bright, blaring neon sign outside End Zone. The place is still relatively packed, but it’s not hard to spot Hange standing by the curb. Especially with both their arms flailing above their head like a malfunctioning windmill.

“Ah! My knight in shining, slightly dented, armor!” Hange crows as Levi rolls down the windows, swaying rather dangerously as they point at him. “I knew you’d come for me!”

Levi doesn’t respond, blinking slowly at them.

“And,” Hange barrels on, nearly toppling sideways, “wouldn’t you know it, your noble duty just doubled. Because guess what?”

Levi’s fingers tightened around the wheel. “No.”

“Yes.” Hange slaps a hand against the roof of his car and whips around to jab a finger toward you as you stumble up behind them.

“Oh my god,” you groan, mostly to yourself as you drag your hands down your face. Your shoe scuffs against the pavement as you slow to a stop, and Levi realizes you’re massively inebriated.

“This little lady needs a ride, too,” Hange says brightly. “What do you say? Two birds, one stone.”

You attempt to glare at Hange, but you can’t keep your eyes fully open which kind of ruins the effect. “I should’ve called a rideshare. I told you I would call a rideshare—”

“Pfffft.” Hange waves a dismissive hand. “Why would you do that when our dear Levi is here? Our ever-dutiful hero! Our chariot driver!”

“Levi,” you called as you ducked slightly, squinting blearily at him like you’re processing his existence in real time. “Levi, I’m so sorry.”

Levi feels his stone-faced veneer crack.

“Don’t even worry about it,” Hange speaks for him, throwing an arm around your shoulders and beginning to usher you toward the back door. “Levi’s a great driver. And he loves doing me favors. Isn’t that right, Levi?”

“No.”

“See?” Hange says, grinning. “He’s thrilled!”

You let out a long-suffering sigh as they wrestle the car door open and all but shove you inside. With a soft ‘oof,’ you flop unceremoniously onto the seat, then immediately begin fumbling with the seatbelt like it’s an even more complicated mechanism than the ancient coffeemaker in the break room.

Meanwhile, Levi’s attention flickers back to Erwin as he steps up to his window. The blond leans against the door, hands tucked into his pockets, an infuriatingly knowing expression on his face—the one Levi recognizes all too well.

“Drive safe,” Erwin says lightly.

Levi scoffs. “Obviously.”

“And Levi?” Erwin cocks his head slightly. “We’ve talked about this enough,” he says, his tone more a reminder than a lecture. “Don’t let too many more opportunities pass you by, my friend.”

Levi clicks his tongue and glances away. “Not sure what you’re suggesting. She’s wasted, creep.”

Erwin chuckles softly. He knows Levi knows full well what he means. He steps back, nodding once before heading back toward the bar.

In the backseat, there’s a clunk as you finally manage to click your seatbelt into place. “Seriously, you’re a lifesaver, Levi. I really owe you one.”

“Ooooh, yeah, that’s true,” Hange chimes in. “You totally do. Levi, name your price!”

Levi shoots them a glare in the rearview mirror. “Shut up, Hange.”

With that, he throws the car into drive and pulls away, the neon glow of End Zone shrinking into the distance as the quiet streets stretch out ahead.

By some miracle, Levi manages to wrangle your home address out of you. It takes a series of half-coherent mumbles, several wrong turns, and one false start where you insisted, with absolute certainty that you lived in “the place with the door,” but he gets there.

Hange, at least, is easier to deal with since this isn’t his first time dropping them off. After they wave him off, Levi starts navigating toward your apartment, which, as it turns out, is in a somewhat nicer part of town. That makes sense—it’s closer to the school district office where all the well-paid administrators and senior staff live. And it explains why he’s never run into you outside of work.

The mid-rise apartment buildings where you live are nice. Not fancy, but well-maintained. The kind of place that probably has a decent property manager and an HOA that actually does its job.

Levi pulls into the lot and shifts into park with a sigh. When he glances in the rearview mirror, he finds you slumped against the seat. Fast asleep.

For fuck’s sake.

He didn’t sign up for this.

With another sigh, he unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out, rounding the car to open your door. He crouches slightly, bracing an arm against the frame. You look peaceful, if a little disheveled. He almost, almost wishes he didn’t have to wake you.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out to give your shoulder a light shake. “You’re home.”

You groan softly, stirring in your seat, but your eyes stay shut.

He tries again, fingers pressing gently against your arm. “C’mon. You gotta wake up.”

Nothing still, except for the slight furrow in your brow.

Levi breathes out a measured exhale. He debates, for a brief moment, whether he should just haul you inside himself. But before he can decide, you mumble something.

“It’s true, ugh, you’re right.” Your voice is thick with sleep.

“What?” Levi frowns.

“You’re right, Hange. I do think he’s attractive!” Your voice rises and falls in irregular patterns, and one of your hands shoots out, narrowly missing Levi’s head. “And I won’t let his stupid stubbornness deter me…”

Levi goes still. Apparently, you think you’re still talking to Hange. His fingers tighten on the door frame as his mind scrambles for something to say. Anything. But you’re already sinking back into sleep, face peaceful, expression soft.

“You’re a damn menace,” he says, reaching for your shoulder once more. “Let’s get you inside.”

He’s got you halfway to your door when you finally seem to realize who exactly he is. You lift your head, curiously inspecting her own arm slung over his shoulder. Then, your face lights up in sudden, delighted recognition.

“Oh!” you exclaim, squeezing his bicep with surprising enthusiasm. “It’s you, Levi!”

He raises a brow and adjusts his grip on your waist. “Took you long enough.”

You emit a giggle—a goddamn giggle—and fondle the muscles in his arm further. “Oh, wow. You work out, don’t you. Holy shit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, trying to keep you from topping both of you over as he maneuvers you toward the door. “As a matter of fact.”

But he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth tick upward just slightly. Dammit. You’re cute. And your hands squeezing him like that is going to drive him crazy if he’s not careful.

“Where’re your keys?” he asks, eyeing the bag dangling against your hip.

“In my pocket,” you say cheekily, brushing your fingers down the length of his arm.

Levi’s breath catches when you take his hand in yours and press it against your ass. He can hardly believe his own senses as his fingers slide against the soft flesh beneath the layer of your pants. And, not to his surprise, he detects a distinct lack of keys.

“That’s not—” He swallows, his throat running dry. “The keys.”

“Levi,” you breathe.

He looks up to find your face is much closer than it should be. Your gaze is heavy-lidded, lips slightly parted, and the shine on them makes him nearly forget that his hand is currently feeling up your ass. Abruptly, he jerks away, his shoulder thumping into your door.

You call his name again, in that soft tone of voice that stirs something low in his stomach. In a blink, your hands are splayed on his chest as you lean forward, clearly aiming to kiss him. Levi’s heart stumbles into his throat, his mind cutting out into fuzzy static at the press of your body against his, and he barely manages to dodge the attempt in time.

“Whoa—hey.”

A noise of protest floats from your mouth, and you try again.

Fuck. Fuck. This time, Levi has no choice but to firmly grasp your shoulders and hold you at arm’s length.

“Not like this,” he says quietly.

You pout, and it wrenches in his chest. For a second, you look like you might argue further. But then, your drunken brain seems to catch up with reality, and your expression shifts into something dazedly thoughtful.

“Oh. You’re right. I—” You stifle a yawn against the back of your hand. “M’just tired.”

Levi sighs as you relax in his grip, the sudden burst of energy fading.

“Yeah, I know you are,” he says, reaching for your bag. “Time for bed, okay?”

He fishes your keys out and finally unlocks the door. After herding you inside, he barely pauses to take in the atmosphere of your home, this slice of your personal life that he deeply wanted to peruse. Briskly, he pulls you toward the only hallway and glances through each of the doors until he finds the one that is clearly your bedroom.

You’ve discarded your shoes at some point, leaving them haphazard in the hall along the way. It takes no small amount of effort to stifle the growl of desire deep at his core as Levi guides you to your bed. He scoffs quietly to himself as you flop onto the mattress.

“Get some rest,” Levi murmurs. He allows himself to watch you for a moment longer—the color in your cheeks, the fall of your hair, the curve of your lips that he finds so alluring.

And he tears himself away.

masterlist | cross posted to ao3 next chapter →

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x reader #levi x you #aot x you #aot x reader #aot fanfiction

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ludwigplayingthetrombone · 2 years ago

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Finally finished the first part of gai’s 8 gates coma and how kakashi dealt with it rewrite people have been requesting. [tw blood, injury, coma, death discussions, grief]

Kurenai: Kakashi Kks: Ah. Kurenai and...baby, what’s up? Kurenai: You mind if I come in a moment? Kks: Uhhhhh I-

Kks: So what did you need to speak about? Did something happen? K: No, Nothing’s happened. You haven’t gotten to properly see and bond with her yet. Here Kks: You know I’m not fond of kids. K: That’s why I didn’t ask. Hold your arms out. Ok, now, don’t look absolutely petrified.

Kks: She’s ok, I guess [YELP] Oi! Don’t pinch me while I’m holding your baby! K: You wouldn’t drop her. Asuma would haunt you forever! Kks: Terrifying thought, Mirai.... How are you feeling? K: Exhausted. Do you really want to hear how horrifying having a baby is? Kks: No, please don’t tell me.

K: I came over to check on you as well. Any news? Kks: No. He’s still the same. K: Is that why it looks like this in here? Kks: ...Yeah. Doctor said he may never wake up. Since we’re eachother’s medical contacts, Tsunade told me I had to prepare to make hard decisions should it come to that.

Kks: With the council breathing down my neck over a job I don’t want, I had... A bit of an outburst. K: I don’t even blame you. That’s... That they expect you to carry on like normal. Still grieving. The person you love most is gone. But you’re still here. Don’t let them just dust you off and move on again. I’ll always have your back. Kks: You and Asuma always did. Even when I wasn’t grateful for it.

Kks: I can’t tell if they just don’t care or didn’t realize, Gai’s the one who held me together all these years. Only reason I’m still here at all is because of him. I don’t think tenzou, the elders, or the village are prepared for what’ll become of me if I lose him. So, I don’t care anymore. Let them be mad. I won’t give up on him. K: You should talk to him. Kks: huh K: Talk about anything! I’m sure the sound of your voice will help him find his way back. Especially if you sound sad, Kks: uuh

K: I can hear it now, “My eternal rival is sad? Not on my watch!“ Kks: Pretty accurate impression. K: There’s been lots of source material! Kks: Maaa, Your mom’s a huge dork K: Oi! [kakashi chuckles]

K: He’ll be so upset he missed her birth Kks: Oh, devastated. I can’t wait to see the look on Gai’s face, Mirai, when I tell him /I/ held you first! When he wakes up

Kks: Hey, Gai. Kurenai said i should talk to you.

Kks: Feels weird. Most of the people I’m used to talking to like this are all... Dead.

It’s so eerie how silent you’ve been for so long. you’re not even this quiet when you sleep. Your kids come everyday to see you. Naruto and sakura when they can. Lots of others. I’ve been telling them embarrassing stories from when we were kids since you keep making them wait. Do you remember when I came over while you and Dai were making supper

Dai: Kakashi! Good to see you, my boy! Kks: Id Gai home? Dai: He’s helping with supper! Go on, inside, you’re always welcome! Kks: Ok Dai: Atta boy Kks: Hey, G- !? ummm? Gai: OH!! Rival!! Kks: Is that a lid?! Gai: Correct!! It stops me from crying while cutting onions! A win for me!!

Kks: Against.... the onions? Gai: Yep! KKs:[snicker] Gai: Laugh all you want! Not everyone can comprehend innovation. Kks: Whatever. You forgot this at the training grounds. I know it’s yours there’s a turtle on it. Gai: See! You’re already tearing up! Kks: Am not Gai: Also, thankyou so much! Kks: Bye, I’m leaving. Gai: Could it be? You’re scared I can cut much faster than you! Kks: I am not scared. Gai: Good, I think we have another lid! Kks: YOU-!

Dai: Great to see growing boys with such a hunger! I’ll never have to prep onions again! Kks: I think about that everytime I chop onions now. You’ve altered my brain with all the ridiculous things you’ve done. Can’t even look at the toys you’ve gotten the dogs without getting emotional

Kks: Just knowing you’re here still, I can barely function. It’s pretty pathetic... Your hair’s getting long. Turning into your dad.

[gai’s heartbeat] Kks: Gai

[gais heartbeat continues]

[gai’s heartbeat continues] Kks: If anything should happen to me, you’ll rush over, right? Gai: Damn right, I will. Dont you worry about that.

[Gai’s heartbeat]

Kks: I miss you

#kakagai #gaikaka #Kakashi Hatake #Maito Gai #might guy #naruto #my art #//coma #//blood #//death mention #Kurenai Yuhi #mirai sarutobi #naruto spoilers #i guess

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calummss · 2 years ago

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Do You Get Déjà Vu | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: thomas doesn’t come to pick up his daughter. you decide to take her home only to find a man of a table with a bullet in his chest and a lot of deja vu

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 1.6k

a/n: just fluff and comedy tbh… not my usual angst i promise also, this takes place in 1919 because season 1 tommy has my heart. helena is around 9/10 years :)

How you disliked summer. Sweat pearls dripping simply sitting and breathing. Delicate fabric sticking to you like a bee and its honey. It was simply too hot for a woman to be wearing layers of modest clothing but here you were, sitting in front of your desk; no countertop in sight, too many different documents sprawled across the surface, each waiting on your eyes and conscious to scan it and then evaluate whatever category it fell into.

‘Miss Verys?’ Katie’s voice pulled you out of your slump, yet your heart skipped a beat when you saw her come closer with an arm full of newer papers that acquired your attention.

‘Please tell me you are joking…’

‘I fear not, Miss,’ she pressed her lips together as she placed them onto the right corner, the surface area with less than ten documents. ‘But these are all for the week.’ She smiled.

‘Finally some good fucking news,’ you huffed, ‘Sorry,’ you tilted your head when you realised Katie was taken aback by your choice of words.

‘Also I don’t wish to add more to your plate but Helena is still present. It seems Mr. Shelby has yet to pick her up. Do you want me to stay and wait with her?’

‘Katie you are truly an angel, really, I am so grateful but you are being paid to work on from eight to three, I couldn’t let you do that. Legally and from my heart.’ You curled your lips, fingers rubbing against the sheet of paper you were waiting to flip. ‘Just tell Helena to pack her things and to come to my office. Since I will be busy reading through all of these I might end up staying for quite a while.’

‘Of course. And thank you, Miss Verys, have a good day.’

‘You too.’

Katie left and you were stuck in front of an ocean of paper. If you had known that directing a school was so strenuous you might’ve thought about inaugurating a school twice. But it was a lovely institute. A school for girls with the most brightest and innovative minds, no runner up to men but competition with finest ideas.

Momentarily Helena came through the door and patiently stood at the door frame, her bag in her grip.

‘Hello Helena,’ you smiled at her. ‘Your father is not here yet?’

‘No.’

‘That’s okay, just wait here with me. I have much work and since we’re the only ones here I thought company would be nice, no? Sit,’ you pointed to the chair, Helena still standing at the entrance barely having moved.

Helena hummed in response.

‘So,’ you grabbed one of your quills to start signing documents that needed your signature. ‘What do you like to do when you’re not at school or doing homework? I am pretty sure you like horse riding?’

‘I do.’

‘Something else perhaps?’

‘Recently we bought a family car,’ Helena had sat down in the chair, laying her bag beside her as she relaxed into the seat. ‘When we got it we drove through the countryside…it was so thrilling. The wind on my face felt different to when I am riding. Daddy looked so happy too. I like cars.’

‘My my, what a riveting experience.’ You glanced at her from your work. ‘I remember my first time in a car. Felt exactly like how you described it.’

Helena beamed back you, her bright blue eyes gleaming with excitement, ‘My uncle Finn liked the car ride at first too but we had to stop because he got sick,’

‘And did you?’

‘No, I felt great. I love cars.’

‘I too think cars are the greatest innovation since the marvellous idea to roast and ferment cocoa beans to make chocolate.’ You let out a lighthearted laugh, infecting Helena with the same giggle.

‘I like chocolate.’

‘You do?’ Your lips curled. ‘Do you want one? I might have a bit stashed somewhere between all this energy-consuming work,’

‘I’ve only had it twice,’ Helena began another story, ‘It is very expensive and my father says it is bad for your teeth and that you mustn’t eat too much of it. He said that when he was visiting London he met a man outside of the sweet shop who became so round, simply for eating a lot of chocolate.’

‘Well best you have only one piece then,’ you put a piece into your mouth before giving her her piece. ‘This is my favourite. Got it from Cornwall. They make the best sweets.’

Taking the piece you handed her, she started eating it, her eyes in awe.

‘What about your father, Helena?’

‘What about him?’

‘What does he do for work?’ You asked, amusingly raising your eyebrows before taking the second heap of documents before you.

Helena hesitated. ‘I don’t think I can say.’

‘Why not?’

‘Family business…’

‘Family business?’ You looked up, Helena nodding her head in response. ‘I’m just curious that’s all. When you speak of him, you speak endearingly. You seem to have a very good relationship.’

‘We do.’ She ate the last bite, looking around the room. ‘If he wasn’t my father he would be my best friend.’

‘How sweet.’

With an easy lead conversation, time passed quicker than expected. But an hour later and Mr. Shelby still hadn’t come to pick up Helena.

With minutes passing you realised that Mr. Shelby wouldn’t show up anytime soon. It was also way past closing time so you had to start locking up the building. You thought it best to walk Helena home to see if anyone was there and if not you’d take her back to yours so she would have a safe place to stay until anyone got in touch.

‘Hello?’ You knocked against the door, the hard wooden door aching your knuckles as you repeatedly hit against it. ‘This is Miss Verys from Small Heath Institute for Girls. I have your daughter Helena with me as she has not been picked up yet.’ Your breath ricocheted off the door.

Seconds later you could hear the lock turning and were greeted by an older woman, her hair all over the place as her dark eyes burned into yours. Feeling as if she were about to take a jape at you, you quickly jumped back into your sentence. ‘I’m so sorry to intrude but I grew worried when Helena still hadn’t been picked up yet. I hope that all is well.’

Your eyes left her frame, seeing figures surrounding a table where there seemed to be a man laying down upon, quick huffs and puffs echoing from behind.

‘Arthur, shut up and just get this out of me.’

‘Drink this, Tommy. It’ll help with the pain.’

The unravelling scene before you had your full attention, completely forgetting the woman at the door.

‘I—oh no don’t do that!’ You raised your voice, pushing past her, now standing in the living room with three men staring at you. ‘I’m sorry to intrude but I was a nurse at the front and seeing you just stick your fingers inside his wound just rang my bells.’

The man on the table had blue eyes that protruded from the dim light within the room, his chest covered in dry and fresh blood, sweat dampening his skin and clothes. You overheard that his name was Thomas Shelby, Helena’s father.

You stepped closer and examined his wound. A bullet wound. Minimal surface damage and easily removed.

‘If someone could get me some bandages, an unopened bottle of alcohol and some tweezers with a bowl of warm water.’

‘I’ll get it.’ Helena walked past you to what seemed to be the kitchen.

‘The cheap one, Hallie,’ the light haired one yelled after her, his toothpick sitting between his lips. ‘If you open that rum from the Caribbean, I swear to you that I won’t give you any more sweets.’

‘You give her sweets?’ Thomas lifted his head.

‘Sometimes.’

‘Mr. Shelby if you could just relax for a short time longer. I will get that bullet out of you as swiftly as possible.’

Further taking in his naked chest you noticed his tattoo. Similar to sun rays just above his right chest. You had seen this tattoo before…

‘Mr. Shelby, can I ask you something?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you perhaps have a scar on your lower back? On your right just above your glutes?’

‘How do you know that?’ He stared up at you, holding your gaze as Helena came back with the supplies you needed.

‘Given it was a back injury you were transported to the tent on your stomach,’ you grabbed the alcohol to clean the wound, a hiss escaping him as you grabbed the tweezers, ready to pull out the metal embedded in his flesh. ‘I was the nurse that treated you. I was covered in ugly drapes and bloods, can’t say you could recognise me,’

Thomas winced as the ends of the tweezers dug around to grab the piece of metal, a small smirk on his lips. ‘You don’t say eh?’

‘I’m sure you’ll be having a déjà vu when I pull it out,’ you grabbed it and pulled it out, a loud growl escaping his lips as air pushed past his lips.

‘Thank you again.’

‘No problem, Mr. Shelby.’ You disposed of the bullet in a dish Arthur held out to you. ‘Next time Helena is not picked up I’ll bring her home and bring my first aid kit with me.’

‘That’s actually not a bad idea,’ he pulled himself up, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it. ‘Small Heath is starting you feel like a battlefield,’

‘Then I’ll be your nurse ready to care you to health.’

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