#i’m doing this very quickly before i have to leave somewhere so

[honey-tongued-devil]

Arcane characters finding you asleep at their workplace

The devil works hard, but I work a little harder, so I’m back to writing Arcane headcanons a month before season two comes out.

Jayce:  

- Strong sense of guilt,  

- The first thing that comes to his mind is that you must have waited for him for a long time to fall asleep 

- He will make it up to you by trying to cook something for you, stopping to buy your favorite sweets before heading home, and giving you a shoulder massage the moment you sit down somewhere after you wake up.  

- The man of the Hamlet-like dilemma: he doesn’t want to wake you, but he also doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable.  

- If he has something urgent to do, he’ll try to cover your shoulders with something, even just his jacket, to keep you warm while he finishes only the essentials.  

- Once he’s free, he will very gently try to lift you from the chair, apologizing when you wake up and mumble something incoherent.  

Viktor:  

- In the early years of university, it sometimes happened that he found you in his room asleep, slumped over on a chair or bed with your shoes still on.  

- But as the years went by and the lab became his main space, that sight became a constant, repeating at least twice a week.  

- He tries to make as little noise as possible, whether with his aides, the door, or the stack of books and notebooks he needs to organize.  

- Before getting to work, he leaves the room again to bring you your favorite hot drink with a plastic lid pressed on top, so it doesn’t cool down.  

- Then, in complete silence, he works, deciding what to leave for tomorrow and what to do now, so he can finish as soon as possible without delaying too much.  

Ekko:  

- It’s hard to define what exactly a workplace is for Ekko,  

- But he often finds you at the Firelights' tree, in that room that’s supposed to be his, having likely sneaked in through the window to surprise him.  

- There are days when he comes back fairly early but stays to tell stories to the kids, and others when things go wrong, and he returns when it’s already dark, and almost everyone is asleep

- Finding you like this always makes him feel the absence of something more stable

- But he shakes his head and quickly pushes aside doubts about his ideals, stepping out of the room again and making more noise as he enters again, so you wake up, and he can pretend to be surprised in front of your open eyes.  

- By now, you know he steps out and comes back in, but it makes you smile every single time.

Vander:  

- You always sit at a table in the back of the Last Drop to wait for him, trying not to bother him, doodling, doing calculations, or planning something for the next day just to keep yourself entertained.  

- But by now, the sound of drunkards and the clinking of coins and glasses have become background noise that helps lull you into a catatonic state.  

- Vander usually notices after about an hour that you've fallen asleep; he always keeps an eye on you, but sometimes the customers cause problems.  

- He doesn’t like leaving you there, so far away, so he usually waits for a quieter moment to come over, pick you up, and bring you behind the counter, laying you down with your arms and head resting on the wooden bar.  

- He knows it’s not a big improvement, but his priority is to keep you safe.  

- When he finishes working, he closes the bar without doing the closing duties, sets his alarm for earlier than usual, and carries you to your room in his arms, covering your forehead with kisses.  

Silco:  

- The problem with Silco finding you asleep in his office is that he rarely arrives alone.  

- There’s always either Sevika or at least two other henchmen following him.  

- He sighs and sends them away, not without Sevika giving him a provocative look that means everything and nothing.  

- He hates those situations because part of him feels a strange warmth at the thought of you sneaking into his office for whatever reason, but on the other hand, he knows it negatively affects his image to be seen as a leader who tolerates certain insubordinations.  

- Because sneaking into the kingpin’s office is something that would get almost anyone else outside decapitated. But not you.  

- He huffs, pacing the room to deal with both emotions, and when he finally calms down, he approaches you, shaking you slightly to wake you up.  

- It’s certainly not the gentlest gesture on his part, but most of the time, it ends with you either going back to sleep in his bed while he works, or sitting on his lap while he flips through papers without paying them much attention.  

Jinx:  

- She can’t contain her excitement at all. When she notices your figure in her workshop, she always lets out a little happy sound that wakes you up.  

- From there, she immediately starts apologizing at least a thousand times, feeling guilty for waking you up but still too happy that you came to visit her.  

- She helps you up, talking nonstop about her day and anything that comes to mind as she leads you outside.  

- It’s not because she doesn’t want you around, but because she assumes you must be hungry as soon as you wake up, so before you're fully awake, you’ll find yourself at the Last Drop with enough food in front of you to feed her father’s entire gang of henchmen.  

- And she will absolutely feed you herself when she sees you haven’t taken a bite in too long, while stealing food here and there and continuing to talk.  

Vi:  

- For her, too, a "workplace" is a somewhat vague concept,  

- But in return, she has her secret spot, where she hides at night and tries to survive when she’s not out on the streets looking for trouble.  

- Every time she finds you there, she feels an indescribable pang in her heart.  

- She always feels like she’s neglecting the person she loves and failing to make you understand how much she cares about you.  

- She always hesitates before waking you up; sometimes she’ll even go change into clean clothes and wash the grime off her hands and face first.  

- Then she’ll wake you by sitting next to you, giving you a kiss, calling you by a silly nickname only the two of you know, and rubbing her forehead against yours before asking, with a rhetorical smile,  

- "Did you miss me?"

Caitlyn:  

- Sometimes you find yourself in the inner waiting room of the precinct, with her colleagues pointing out your body slumped in the chair and raising their eyebrows, teasing her. Other times, you simply sneak into her room, which isn’t much different from the police station anyway.  

- Every time, she sighs and gently wakes you, her pale eyes a little sad.  

- “Why didn’t you call me?” It doesn’t matter to her that you didn’t want to disturb her, because to her, you’re never a disturbance. It’s not a problem to have you around, even in public. She just feels bad that you waited instead of telling her, so she could have come much sooner.  

- She takes you away from the station without any issues, letting you continue resting against her shoulder as a Kiramman private vehicle takes you both to her home.  

- If you’re already in her room, she usually changes and lies down next to you, taking the chance to nap together, wrapped in each other's arms.  

Mel:  

- Falling asleep inside the Senate? Impossible.  

- But the keys to her office and her room are always in your pocket, and you usually bring her something to eat when you visit, though by the time you fall asleep, both the coffee and the treats are cold.  

- She’s not used to displays of affection, so she stays still for a few seconds before smiling and shaking her head.  

- She doesn’t wake you immediately, not because she doesn’t want to, but because if the sound of the door didn’t wake you, you probably need the rest. So she lets you sleep for at least 30 minutes before coming over, brushing your hair behind your ears to wake you, laughing when you lift your head with your eyes still closed.  

Sevika:  

- The first thing anyone would think is that falling asleep at the Last Drop is extremely dangerous. However, Silco’s henchmen aren’t too different from bipedal dogs by now; they know who you are, recognize your face and scent, and if they notice you’ve fallen asleep somewhere, at least three of them sit at your table to ensure your safety.  

- Sevika is always tasked with the worst imaginable jobs—tedious, long, and often dangerous—so when she finally returns, it’s usually either time to open the bar to the public or time to close it.  

- Even when she sees you, she can’t come to you right away, so she makes a face at whoever is watching over you, as if urging them to protect you better while she heads into the office.  

- Like Silco, part of her feels subconsciously softened by the idea that someone would feel the physical need to be with her so much that they’d wait, sitting until they fell asleep.  

- But on the other hand, she’s terrified that someone might see you and come after you to settle personal scores in a cowardly way.  

- When she finally comes down, she pulls you into her arms without saying a word, holding you under her large cape as she carries you away.  

[luveline]

hotch's little sister x spencer perhaps?

—Hotch’s sister graduates college, and Spencer is immediately smitten. fem, 1.6k

“She’s pregnant.” Emily shakes her bag of chips around. “But it’s not his baby.” 

Spencer frowns down at his sandwich. Rye bread is hard to cut, and the plastic knife isn’t putting up a good fight. “That’s awful,” he says. “He must be heartbroken.” 

“He’s distraught. Now he can’t decide if he wants to stay and raise the new baby with their first, or leave her and have split custody.” 

“What channel did you say it was on?” 

“It’s on NightDrama. I’ll find out the number.” 

Emily folds the empty packet of chips into a rectangle, then that rectangle into a triangle, folding the edges inside of a fold to create a parcel perfect for flicking at him. Spencer waits for it, tensing, but what he sees behind Emily steals his attention. 

She whips her head to follow him. 

You are, as Spencer watches you walk in, without a doubt one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen. And it’s not like you’re a model, you don’t walk with any such confidence, but it strikes him immediately. You’re pretty. And he’s never seen you in the office before. 

They get visitors occasionally but the majority of people so deep into this office would've been checked at security and cleared to come up here. You hold a visitors badge in your hand, which you promptly clip onto your shirt when you see people looking at you. Your frown makes you prettier. Something about the way you stand seems familiar, but Spencer can’t put his finger on what it is. 

“Should we go help?” Emily asks. 

“Who do you think she’s for?” Spencer asks back. He’s thinking you’re here to speak to JJ. They have people like this occasionally who JJ knows from past cases, drifting in on a hope that there’s more detail to be found. 

Emily stands up from her chair. Spencer follows suit. When you see her facing toward you, some of your apprehension melts into relief. 

“Hi,” you say breathily, summoning a smile that, again, seems familiar. Not in looks, but practise, maybe. 

“Hi there, can we help? You look lost,” Emily says. 

She sounds more friendly than Spencer could’ve hoped to achieve. He doesn’t even wanna think about it, from how pretty you are he would’ve stumbled over even the most basic hello. 

“I’m here to see Aaron Hotchner. He told me his office is up the stairs, is that still one of these ones,” —you nod gently at the stairs that do, in fact, lead to his office— “or somewhere else?” 

“That’s the right one, the very first door.” 

“Okay,” you give a soft laugh. “Thank you. This place makes me nervous.” 

You leave to travel up the steps. Emily and Spencer watch without any casualness as you approach Hotch’s office door, and give a little knock. 

It’s more surprising to see it tugged open so quickly after. Hotch usually says, “Come in.” 

“Oh, you’re here,” Hotch says. It’s to Spencer’s shock and Emily’s clear joy when he leans in for a hug. The bearhug kind, no politeness or manners about their intimidating boss as his arms cross behind your shoulders and he pulls you in. “You’re late.” He squeezes you. 

You let it happen. “I hate your building.” 

“What the hell?” Emily whispers. 

“I’m so happy to see you. Come on, come in, I ordered lunch for us already.” 

Emily is shameless. She takes Spencer by the wrist and encourages him to the wall below Hotch’s office as he ushers you inside. The door remains ajar, perfect for snooping, and Spencer doesn’t know what it is but he lets Emily drag him forward anyhow. 

“If that’s his girlfriend, he should be ashamed,” Emily whispers. 

Spencer raises his brows. “Did you think that was romantic?” 

“I’ve never seen him show affection to anyone who wasn’t Haley, and when was the last time she was here?” 

Spencer tosses it around in his mind. Sure, it was quite affectionate by Hotch’s standards, but the hug was so… uncareful. He’d grabbed you and hugged you like he was gonna shake you around for fun, like a dad hugs his daughter. “How old is Hotch?” Spencer asks. 

“You don’t think that’s his secret kid.” 

“No,” Spencer says, though he sort of does. 

Emily gestures for him to hush as your laugh drifts down from the office. “You did?” you’re asking. “It’s so nice to be home.” 

“Of course I did. It’s like I promised, okay? You finished college like I asked you too, you’ve done so well, and now I’m gonna make sure you’re happy. Like I tried to do for Sean.” 

“Sean,” you sigh. “He didn’t even answer my grad card.” 

“I don’t know what to say about him, I really don’t.” 

A small pause. “Well, at least you answered.” 

“You know I would’ve come to watch you walk–”

“But you couldn’t. It’s fine, Aaron, I wasn’t really expecting you to make it.” 

“I’m sorry. Really. And I’m proud of you, after everything.”

“Thank you… The bag was better than you being there anyways. Coach?” You laugh breathily. “My friends keep asking me if you can be their big brother too.” 

Emily and Spencer turn to each other, mouths agape, Emily slapping his arm as they struggle to make no noise. Since when does Aaron have a sister? A young sister freshly graduated? 

Hotch laughs too. “Come and sit before your lunch gets cold.” 

Emily gets out her phone to text Morgan, she and Spencer pressed to the wall with their heads ducked. Hotch is a total enigma, because what the hell sort of secret is that?

When Morgan appears, it’s with all the answers. He rolls his eyes at their clear position of eavesdropping but leans against Emily’s desk to give them the information they’re craving anyways. “She’s adopted. Hotch was already in college at the time, but they’re close. They get along a lot better than Hotch does with Sean, that’s for sure.” 

“He sounds protective,” Emily says, side-eying the office. 

“Look, it’s not my business, but I just know it was bad when she was a teenager. Hotch is a drill sergeant for a reason.” Ah, Spencer thinks. The Hotchner father. 

Spencer picks at his hands. It explains the conversation he shouldn’t have been listening to, to a degree. He feels the guilt of knowing something he wasn’t meant to like a sodden weight, retreating swiftly to his desk and his forgotten sandwich.

It’s nice to hear Hotch laughing, but it’s your laugh that draws him in again while he tries so hard not to listen. It’s as attractive to Spencer as your frown had been when you walked in. He thinks about how you finished college, how you’re here, and he wonders if he’ll see more of you —how often will you come in for lunch? Spencer checks his hair in his sleeping monitor and feels like an idiot. 

“I’m sorry,” Hotch says a little while later, elbowing open the door with his back to the office, “we’ll have dinner soon, honey, I promise.” 

You reach up to give him another quick hug. “It’s fine. It’s just nice to be in the same city again.” 

Hotch guides you down to the bullpen with the same pride with which he introduced Jack. It’s unmissable, the love he has for you in just one touch against your shoulder. “Y/N,” he says, pausing at the bullpen, “Derek Morgan you’ve met. This is Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid.” 

“Spencer Reid?” you ask suddenly, looking up into Hotch’s face like he’s lying, your brows pulled together in indignation, before you turn back to Spencer reverently. “You’re Dr. Spencer Reid?” 

He gets caught on his own breath. “Uh, yes?” 

“The Dr. Spencer Reid who wrote Methods of Continued Fraction Expansions?” 

Spencer feels heat like a kiss to each cheek. “Yes.” 

You turn to Hotch with a suspicious pout. “When I told you about the paper I was reading by a Dr. Reid a few months ago, you didn’t stop to think it could be your Dr. Reid? Or you just don’t like me?” 

That’s a sister’s scorn if Spencer’s ever heard it. 

“I thought you said Rain.” 

“I don’t think you did.” You turn back to Spencer. “I can’t believe it, I emailed you about Jacobi elliptical functions, you were so helpful, I owe you my degree.” You put your hand out with a beaming, beautiful smile, Spencer’s stomach totally flips. “It’s amazing to meet you in person.” 

He’s a germaphobe, he is, and that doesn’t just go away when you meet someone lovely, but he shakes your hand. You surprise him too quickly to think beyond taking your hand letting it happen. You’re, like, glowing. 

Hotch gives him a funny look. Mostly impassive, but not quite. 

Spencer abruptly lets you go. “I don’t think you would’ve needed my help to get there in the end. You clearly knew what you were doing.”  

Hotch’s eyebrows silently rise. 

You turn back to Hotch again, your smile catching. “I like your friends.” 

He smiles. “Let me walk you down to the lobby, honey.” 

You let him guide you away, giving the present members of the BAU a wave with just your fingers before you go. 

Morgan and Emily look at him heavily. “Spencer,” Emily says. “What was that?” 

He doesn’t want to say what he thinks it was, so he doesn’t. “She was nice.” 

Morgan’s laughter is immediate. Spencer has to walk off to the kitchen for a cup of tea he doesn’t drink to escape him and the connotation of his laughing. Spencer hopes he’ll see you again soon, though if he’s half a good a profiler as he thinks he is, he might end up in trouble with your brother.

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: you have a one night stand with an extremely attractive older man, but it doesn’t seem like you’ll see him again. fate has other plans, it seems.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23) unexpected pregnancy, light smut, reader and jack have both been drinking but are very eager/consent is definitely there. MDNI

notes: i am still working on former stripper!reader, but this came to me and i had to get it out. i think this will be a series of smaller drabbles, instead of a full one shot, but idk, what do you guys think/prefer? unedited. any feedback is extremely appreciated, especially reblogs/asks!

wc: 1.3k

next

You meet Jack Abbot in a dark bar on a Thursday. You, drug out by your friends, begging you to just let loose for once. Him, alone, on his last night off for the week, mentally preparing to go back to work the next day.

You caught his eye from across the room, and feeling brave, and of course egged on by your friends, you make your way over to him.

The first thing he does is ask you how old you are, to which you give a cheeky response of old enough. At the unamused look you receive, you tell him you’re twenty-three.

Jack nearly choked on his drink at that, and nearly tells you that you’re too young for him. But the pretty and cheeky smile you give him makes a small smirk appear on his face, so he doesn’t.

The second thing he does is order you a sweet fruity drink and a double shot of whiskey for himself.

One round turns into two which turns into three. You laugh a lot, and he laughs at your laugh. Jack tells you briefly about his time in the army, and in turn you tell him about your evil boss that you just know is out to get you.

I’m an ED doctor, he mumbles in your ear after you ask what he does for work

An eating disorder doctor? He snorts at your question.

“No, emergency department, like an ER,” You blush as he laughs at you, nearly choking as he downs the rest of his whiskey in one go.

You don’t even realize that you had effectively abandoned your friends and had been talking to Jack the entire night until one of them comes to ask if you’re ready to go.

You look at Jack, sheepish smile on your face and a glint in your eyes.

You end up at his place, his mouth on yours and calloused hands pawing greedily at your tits under your shirt before he even gets the door closed.

“Your skin is so soft,” He mumbles as he leaves open mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to your neck and back up again.

You moan, “I like the way your hands feel on my skin,”

Your hands tangle in his hair as you force his mouth back on yours, teeth clashing as his tongue fights yours for dominance, ultimately winning when you distract yourself trying to get his shirt off of him.

As quickly as his shirt comes off, he has you topless, your shirt and bra tossed somewhere in his living room.

The rest of the night is a blur, but you know he fucked you in some way, shape, or form on nearly every surface of his home, from eating you out on the couch, to fingering you until you managed to squirt all over his countertops as he made you drink water to stay hydrated, to fucking you dumb on his cock in at least six different positions on his bed, and once more pressed against the shower wall before putting his shirt on you and holding your body pressed up against his body while you slept the entire night.

The next morning the two of you chatted over breakfast. No awkwardness, he goes out of his way to make you laugh over his disgusting coffee, as so affectionately deemed it.

He doesn’t ask for your number, so you don’t ask for his. You kiss the side of his mouth as you leave him.

Jack goes to work, business as usual, but he thinks about you every day for the next eight weeks. Wondering if your boss ever let up on you or if you tried that new Italian place you were wanting to eat at.

You spend the next eight weeks stressed beyond belief. Work eating at your soul and consuming your entire life. You do think about Jack almost every day, contemplating going back to that bar just to see if he’s there.

But you don’t ever get the time, and your next meeting is an unexpected one to say the least.

Slipping on the wet floor in a grocery store was embarrassing, but hitting your head on the way down was mortifying. You were going to have to find a new grocery store.

The situation just keeps getting worse as the paramedics show up, telling you they have to take you to the emergency room since you show signs of a concussion and your nose is bleeding.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Mohan. I hear you took a bit of a fall?” The doctor is pretty, and her smile seems genuine as she talks to you.

“Uh, you could say that. This all could’ve been avoided if they had a wet floor sign out at the grocery store, though,”

She laughs, “You would be surprised how often we see that here,”

She starts going through the usual string of questions you get at the ED. You answer them all until she gets to the last one, “And when was the date of your last period?”

All of a sudden, your mind is blank. Surely you’ve had it, right? You had to have.

“I-I guess I don’t remember,” It comes out a whisper, and your brow is furrowed as you try and try to remember. You know you had it.

Dr. Mohan senses your inner turmoil, “No worries, we can do a blood test,”

She takes your blood and tells you she’s going to go order a CT for your head, “just sit tight.” With a mind smile, she’s gone.

You sit there, trying to rack your brain. There is no way you’re pregnant. No fucking way.

It takes what feels like an hour for Dr. Mohan to come back, ultrasound machine in tow, “So, I have your test results, and it does appear that you are pregnant. We’ll have to do an ultrasound to confirm how far along you are, but after that we should be able to get you to CT,”

“What the fuck.” Is all you can manage, eyes wide as you look at her, “Are you, like, certain?”

She places a hand on your own, squeezing in a comforting manner, “The ultrasound will be to confirm, but blood tests are rarely wrong,”

She gets you situated and pulls the gown up so she can rub the probe over your abdomen, “I am hopeful we won’t have to do this vaginally,”

She quickly places the cold jelly on your abdomen and runs the probe over it, trying to find a fucking baby. You feel like you might throw up.

“And there they are,” There’s a smile on her face and she shows you.

“Oh my god,” You think you’re in shock “I think I’m gonna throw up,”

“Oh!” She quickly steps into action, grabbing a bucket and rubbing your back while you vomit.

“I think this is the worst day of my life,” She gives your shoulder a squeeze.

“The vomiting could be due to the fall you took,” She bites her lip, “CT is pretty backed up, let me go get my attending to see if he can take a look and find something that can get you moved up the list. I’ll be right back,”

She quickly walks out, and you feel tears building quickly in your eyes. How the fuck could you let this happen?

And now, you’ll have to awkwardly face Jack and tell him your passionate night has resulted in this situation.

He didn’t even ask for your number for crying out loud.

Your downward spiral is interrupted when Dr. Mohan returns, with the last person you wanted to see right now.

“This is my attending, Dr. Abbot.” She gestures to him. “Dr. Abbot, I have a twenty-three year old female, approximately eight weeks pregnant with a possible concussion,”

You don’t hear another word that passes her lips, eyes glued to him, and he looks just as shocked and horrified as you feel.

[nottswitch]

꒰ florist!reader takes initiative with ceo!theo for the first time ꒱

cw: 18+ mdni, p in v, choking, mentions of ovulation, cursing

a/n: finally writing for this pairing, they’re literally my babies <3 decided to start off with something spicy (and i’m totally not ovulating rn)

⋆˚꩜｡

he was simply irresistible. you never realised just how hot your boyfriend was – well, at least not to this extent. but then again, this thought crossed your mind at the very least once a month, and every time it felt new and even more intense.

theo had just come out of the shower and had already slipped into his black, satin pyjamas. his curls were still damp, the shirt was halfway undone, leaving his lean chest on display, a small hint of his abs showing underneath the smooth fabric. he really had been hitting the gym lately – he found it a good way to relieve the stress after his tumultuous work days, filled with endless calls and meetings. and it showed, oh how much it showed…

“…and i think we’re not far off from closing the deal. tomorrow we have another meeting, i think we can do it.”

theo’s voice suddenly jolted you out of your thoughts. to your embarrassment, you weren’t listening – you were too busy ogling his body, your glistening bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you watched his hands move. his knuckles flexed just slightly, but it was enough to drive you insane with desire. unexpectedly, you found yourself wishing they were wrapped around your throat.

“amore? what’s wrong?”

theo’s eyebrows creased as he noticed how distracted you were. usually, you would eagerly listen and ask questions about whatever he was saying, but now… your mind was clearly somewhere else.

“nothing, baby. nothing’s wrong,” you murmured, scooting closer to him, your body moved by some higher force coming from the inside. “you just look so hot…” you whispered as your hand touched his chest, moving up and down over the tanned skin, fingers brushing over theo’s nipples.

a small, hesitant smirk appeared on theo’s lips at your touch. he’d never witnessed this side of you before, but he had to admit, it was the sexiest sight he’d had the pleasure of experiencing in a while. “i do, don’t i?” he murmured back, his hand automatically landing on your hip. “you’re so clingy tonight, principessa. anything you’d like to share?”

“not really. just want you, is all.”

you climbed onto theo’s lap, straddling him, your pussy settling snugly over his already semi-hard cock. his hands were skimming up and down your thighs, riding up your little nightgown, but not quite reaching the place that craved them. normally, you’d be all into the foreplay, but not today. your hormones were raging, and you felt how much it was turning theo on, which made you even hornier in response.

without saying another word, you leaned over to the nightstand, quickly grabbing a condom from the drawer. theo’s eyebrows rose, even more surprised by how proactive you were behaving, and his cock twitched between your legs – he’d always secretly wished you took more initiative, and now that it was happening? he couldn’t resist you. he wouldn’t even if he wanted to.

“oh, cazzo, amore…” theo swore under his breath, followed by a quiet gasp when you shifted on his lap, pulling down his pants and freeing his erection. he was fully hard at that point, and his cock throbbed as you rolled the condom on.

“want you, baby…” you murmured, lifting your hips up and grabbing his cock to line it up with your entrance. theo’s mind, usually busy with whatever godforsaken matter was on it at all times, was now pleasantly turned off. he could only moan when you lowered yourself onto him, your own voice breaking when he filled you up to the very brim. your nails dug into his chest, and it was a sting so pleasant, theo couldn’t hold back a small whimper. he never let sounds like that escape his mouth – but damn, if you weren’t ruining him this very moment.

“choke me.”

theo’s eyes snapped open, the pleasure overridden for a brief moment by the suddenness of your request. “a-are you sure?” he stuttered out, unable to keep his voice steady as you rode him, the slickness of your pussy gliding over his dick creating the most pornographic sounds he thought he’d ever heard.

“yes, please. choke me,” you panted out, taking ahold of his hand and guiding it to your throat. this did it for him. in a split second, you were already laid out on your back, with theo on top of you, his fingers curling around your throat. it wasn’t painful, no – he was still holding back the most primal part of himself, but it was getting harder and harder as he watched your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“you like that, huh?” he whispered, his lips hovering just above yours as he started thrusting into you, hips snapping soundly against yours. “my sweet princess likes it a little rough, yeah? cazzo, you’re about to kill me…”

and you couldn’t deny that even if you tried. as his hand around your throat cut off just enough air to feel a little dizzy, as his cock hit all the right spots over and over again, you realised that maybe it wasn’t just your hormones. maybe you really did like it a little rough sometimes.

au. more.

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝓑𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓛𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: Sweet, sweet smut

Tags: Fluff, language barrier, oral (f receiving), sex

Word Count: 2,263

Synopsis: Mark is on mission in a foreign country, but the sight of you leaves him dumbstruck.

The late afternoon sun spilled gold across the cobblestone streets, warming everything it touched. Market stalls were starting to pack up, and soft, lilting music floated from somewhere unseen. Mark touched down in a quiet alley just a block away from the town square, switching out of his bloodstained uniform and into something slightly less conspicuous—jeans and a sweater. The usual.

The mission had been quick. Get in, take out the anomaly, report back to Cecil. But something pulled at him, telling him to linger. Maybe it was the way this little town felt suspended in time, or maybe it was exhaustion. Either way, his stomach rumbled and his head ached, and he figured he had time for a quick break.

That’s when he saw you.

Sitting alone at a table outside a café, legs crossed like you knew they were being stared at, fishnet stockings catching the sun, short black dress hugging your figure just right. Red heels kicked gently at the empty chair across from you as you sipped a cappuccino like it was fine wine. Red lipstick, matching, dangerously perfect. Your hair fell in soft, effortless waves, and Mark swore he could smell your perfume from half a block away.

He stopped walking. Just… stood there. Staring. Probably with his mouth open.

Holy shit.

It wasn’t just that you were hot—though, yeah, you were like, rude levels of hot—but there was something about the way you looked out in the world. Relaxed. Unbothered. Like you belonged in a painting someone would overpay for.

He had no plan. No idea what to say. But his feet started moving before his brain caught up.

He slid into the chair across from you, awkward but trying to play it cool.

"Uh… hi."

You blinked at him. Tilted your head slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m sorry,” you said, accent thick and sultry, “I… don’t speak… English very well.”

Mark froze. God. Even your voice sounded like sin wrapped in silk.

He laughed—nervous, charming, boyish. “That’s okay. I don’t speak… um, whatever this is.” He gestured vaguely, earning a quiet, amused hum from you.

You leaned forward just a little, elbow on the table, chin in your hand. Your eyes sparkled like you knew exactly what you were doing.

"Name?" you asked softly.

“Mark,” he said quickly, pointing to himself. “Mark.”

You nodded. “Mark.” You repeated it slowly, letting the syllables roll off your tongue like a prayer. He swore he felt it in his spine.

Then you pointed to yourself. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he echoed, and it came out a little breathless.

You giggled, covering your mouth. He’d never wanted to be a cappuccino cup so badly in his life.

And just like that, the air between you sizzled—language barrier or not.

Mark had no idea how long you two sat there.

Every glance, every half-smile you gave him, every time your lips brushed the rim of that cappuccino cup—it all made his pulse quicken. You didn’t say much. Didn’t have to. The conversation unfolded in laughter, in pointing at silly things on the café menu, in mimed gestures and the occasional word you both happened to know.

And the way you looked at him? Like you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

Eventually, you stood, smoothed your dress over your thighs, and gave him a look that didn’t need translation. “Walk with me?” you asked, English soft and tentative.

Mark nodded, stunned stupid, and followed without a second thought.

The sun was dipping lower now, casting everything in warm, honeyed light. The streets were quieter. Your heels clicked against stone with each step, rhythmic and hypnotic, and Mark walked beside you like a man possessed.

At one point, you slipped your arm into his, and he felt every nerve in his body light up. His skin burned where you touched him—like you’d tattooed yourself into him without trying.

You led him down a narrow street, through a little archway blooming with flowers, and up a stone staircase. Quiet. Secluded.

Your place.

You unlocked the door with a soft click and looked over your shoulder at him, eyes half-lidded, a ghost of a smirk on your lips.

“I make you… coffee?” you offered, voice velvet.

He laughed, breathless. “I’m not really here for coffee.”

You stepped inside. “No,” you murmured. “I know.”

Your place smelled like perfume and something floral. The windows were open, curtains drifting like whispers. A lamp glowed warmly in the corner, casting your silhouette in soft curves as you kicked off your heels by the door.

Mark stood awkwardly at first—nervous, unsure, but already burning.

You turned, walking slowly toward him. You didn’t speak. Just reached up, gently tugging his hoodie off, fingertips grazing bare skin as his shirt followed.

He exhaled like you’d knocked the wind out of him.

Your fingers slid up his chest, nails teasing lightly over muscle. He was warm—solid beneath your touch. He caught your waist in both hands, pulling you in close, breath shallow.

Your lips brushed his—barely.

Then again.

And then your mouths met like gravity had yanked you together. Urgent. Hungry. He groaned softly as you pressed into him, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to make him hiss.

Somehow you were in his lap now, straddling him on the couch. His hands roamed your thighs, fingers slipping beneath the edge of that short black dress. The fishnets were soft under his touch, and he dragged a hand slowly up one leg, eyes flickering with awe.

“You’re…” he muttered against your lips, “...so fucking beautiful.”

You smiled, lazy and confident. “Say it again.”

“Beautiful,” he whispered, kissing along your jaw. “Perfect.”

You tilted your head back, breath catching as he bit softly at your neck. His hands found the curve of your hips, holding you in place like he didn’t want to forget the way you felt in his arms.

The rest of your clothes came off in a slow blur—every piece a promise, every inch of skin exposed another reason for him to lose his mind.

And when he finally had you beneath him, body flush against yours, your eyes locked and the world slipped away.

He didn’t need to understand your language. Not when your body spoke directly to his.

Not when every sigh, every moan, every whispered “yes, Mark,” told him everything he needed to know.

And he gave himself over to it—over to you—completely.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you unzipped the back of your dress, eyes never leaving his. Mark was seated on the edge of your bed now, shirtless, hair mussed from where you'd tugged at it, lips kiss-swollen and parted. He watched you with the kind of awe that made your chest tighten.

The dress slipped from your shoulders and fell to the floor in a hush of fabric, leaving you in fishnets and your bra—lace, black, delicate against your skin.

Mark swallowed. “Jesus.”

You smirked. Crossed the room slowly, like you had all the time in the world, like the way he looked at you didn’t make you feel like the most dangerous thing alive.

“You okay?” you teased, stepping between his legs, fingers slipping into his hair.

“Not even close,” he breathed.

You kissed him again—slower this time. Deeper. You rolled your hips against him, and he groaned low into your mouth, hands grabbing at your thighs, sliding up until they found your ass.

In one fluid motion, he had you on your back, the soft mattress dipping under your weight. He crawled over you, kissing down your neck, your chest, between your breasts. He made his way lower, stopping at the band of your fishnets.

“These should be illegal,” he said, voice rough as his hands traced up the length of your legs. “Actually, no. Don’t take them off.”

“Mark—” you gasped, fingers digging into the sheets as his mouth followed his hands. His lips skimmed along the inside of your thigh, teasing, before he dipped his head and kissed you exactly where you needed him. Your voice caught in your throat as your hips jerked upward, and Mark held you down gently, arms firm around your thighs as he worked you over like he had all the time in the world.

And he didn’t stop. Not until your legs were trembling, your voice was raw with moans you didn’t care if the neighbors heard, and your body arched helplessly under his.

When he finally pulled back, his mouth was shiny, and he looked far too smug for someone still fully dressed from the waist down.

You tugged at his belt next, fumbling just enough for it to be sexy. He helped, quick and rough, stripping down until he was above you—naked, flushed, gorgeous.

He paused for a second, forehead resting against yours.

Then, with a shaky breath, he slid inside slowly, giving you time to adjust, breathing through clenched teeth as your body welcomed him in. The stretch was perfect, the way he filled you just enough to make your breath hitch.

His pace deepened, hitting something inside you that made stars dance behind your eyelids—you gasped, head falling back, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

The syllables were soft and breathless, curling into the space between you like smoke—Mark didn’t understand a single word, but every part of him felt it.

Mark stilled for a second, breath catching like you’d just said something sacred. His eyes darkened, body tense above yours.

“…what did you just say?” he rasped.

“I—” Your voice caught. “Don’t… know how to say in English.” It came out shaky, soft. Honest.

Mark’s jaw flexed. You watched his throat move as he swallowed hard, eyes locked on you like you were something holy he didn’t want to mess up.

“Doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “I heard it.”

He kissed you again—slow and deep, dragging the taste of those words from your mouth like he could learn the meaning just by how you said them.

“Say it again.”

You did. Softer this time. And he didn’t need to ask what it meant.

Not when your body told him everything.

He kissed you like he needed it to breathe—deeper now, slower, hands framing your face like you were something priceless. He thrust into you again, watching the way your mouth parted, the way your body arched, saying those words again like they meant everything.

Whatever it meant, it was raw. It was real. And it was his.

He started to move—slow at first, every thrust purposeful, grinding into you just right. He kissed you through it, like he was trying to memorize your mouth, your taste, the little noises you made when he hit that spot.

You wrapped your legs around him, urging him deeper, harder, and he gave in, hips snapping against yours now, the pace desperate and filthy and so, so good.

“Fuck,” he gasped against your shoulder. “You feel—God, you feel unreal.”

Your nails raked down his back, and he cursed again, grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head, fucking you into the mattress with renewed focus.

“You gonna come for me?” he whispered. “Wanna feel you—shit—I wanna feel you come around me.”

“Mark—oh my god, yes—”

You shattered beneath him, voice breaking on his name as your whole body arched into his. He followed just moments later, burying himself deep with a choked groan, hands gripping your thighs like lifelines as he spilled into you.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing—slow, heavy, mingling together.

Mark lay beside you, one arm draped across your waist, thumb lazily stroking your hip. Your fishnets were still on. He’d made a point to keep that promise.

You rolled to face him, brushing hair from his face. “Okay?” you asked softly.

He laughed, breathless. “I think I’m in love.”

You blinked. “Love?”

He shrugged. “Have you seen yourself?”

Your looked puzzled—not guarded, not doubtful—just… unsure. Still caught up in the accent, the language that wasn’t quite yours.

Mark froze, then realized. You hadn’t understood him.

He opened his mouth to explain, but you were already giggling—soft and sleepy, hiding your smile behind your hand like you couldn’t help it. The sound wrapped around his ribs and tugged tight, making something inside him ache in the best way.

He groaned, burying his face in the pillow. “Oh my god. This is unfair. You’re not allowed to look like that and laugh like that.”

You leaned over, fingers trailing down his spine. “What did you say?”

He peeked up at you, sheepish. “Nothing.”

“Not nothing,” you teased, poking his side.

“I said I think I’m in love,” he repeated in a mutter.

You blinked again. And then—slowly—you whispered the word back, trying it out in your mouth like it was something foreign. “Love…”

Mark smiled. “Yeah. That one.”

You stared at him for a second, heart thudding so loud you could feel it in your fingertips.

And then, very softly, you said something. In your own language again. A single word. Gentle. Careful. Almost shy.

Mark didn’t know what it meant.

But the way you looked at him when you said it?

He didn’t need to. And as you curled into him, legs tangled, hearts still racing… he knew he’d never forget tonight.

Not for the rest of his life.

[lunebulous]

Sylus - Seeing you as a Bride

C.w: Fluff, honey-dripping fluff. Luke and Kieran being Luke and Kieran. Sylus being a loverboy like he is. Reader is refered to as she/her. It's not a wedding. A.N: This took so long to write but i'm very satisfied with the plot, although I wish I could have written it better. I hope you enjoy. Truly! Word count: 4k. Dividers by @cafekitsune

“White..?” Sylus cocks a brow, chuckling a little. “Why white, sweetie?” He asks while holding your arm on his, walking on the well illuminated streets of Linkon, as you watch your own feet on the still wet sidewalk. “Because it brings good luck! And peace!” You smile at him. “I always wore white for New Year’s Eve.” 

“And did it once bring you good luck? Peace?” He looks at the trees, still a little reluctant on walking you home; but since you asked him so nicely using your dangerous puppy eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. He wished you’d sleep at his place, but he wasn’t going to force you. Never. “Good luck..” You look at him, mumbling more to yourself than to answer him. Your eyes wander to his defined jaw, his hair that is so soft to your touch, and his flushed cheeks that he never hesitated leaning on your hands when you caressed him with your whole heart. He looks back at you, sensing your gaze burning on the side of his face, and he’s surprised by how much love he sees in your eyes. You’re adoring him right now, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. So he just. Readjusts your scarf; in a way to redirect his gaze away from your sweet face. “I could say that..”  you continue, nuzzling your nose on his shoulder as you smile, feeling contentment on your chest sprawling to your whole body.

He scoffs playfully, pretending to not feel so bubbly because of so little, but you catch his little smirk. He couldn’t help it. You melt him completely with a bat of your eyelashes. He just looks away a little, as he would be embarrassed if you caught him blushing like a little girl.

“Sy?” He looks at you, coming back to earth after quickly wondering if his heart had ever felt this way before. “Yes?” you gaze at his softened eyes. 

“You didn’t answer me… About wearing white..” Now you use your other hand to tightly hug his arm. 

“Of course. Guess I’ll change into something lighter for once.” He glances at your both hands on his bicep. “Is it easier for you to spot me if I'm wearing white, kitten?” “Spot you?” you look up at him.

“The N109-Zone is dark. And since you’re holding onto me with such claws, I figured you are just afraid of losing me out of sight.” “Ah, shut up a little. You’re too full of yourself.” “I’m not the one clinging to you like you’ll run away if I don't.” He chuckles amusingly. Sylus will never admit he loves when you mindlessly pull him closer - and since you both got into a more stable kind of relationship, it has been happening more frequently. You get your arms out of his, distancing yourself and walking by his side with a weird distance between you two.

“It 's okay! Won’t do it anymore then!” You pout a little, playing angry. “Oh no!” He coos. “No one to hold me back. Guess I will run away then…” And as soon as you roll your eyes at his terrible acting skills, his entire figure disappears in a red mist, swirling in the air before dissolving into the cold night’s breeze.

You stop in your tracks, eyes widened and suddenly aware that you’re alone, at night, still considerably far away from home. You get a hold onto your scarf, discreetly looking to the sides so as to not boost his ego too much - you knew he was still around somewhere, he'd never leave you unnatended - but the feeling of being watched on a completely silent street got your heart beating faster.

“Sy..?” your voice coming out as a whisper; and you feel energy shifting behind your back. You turn abruptly, and there he is, with that smug look upon his annoying face, offering his arm for you to hold onto again.

“What happened, little dove?” he holds back a laugh as you hook your arm on his once more. “I hate you.” “You love me, sweetheart.” he takes the side of your face on his other hand, bringing you closer before landing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

“She has boss wrapped around her finger...” Luke quietly chuckles, elbowing Kieran - equally excited - as they both watch Sylus talking on his phone, ordering white uniforms for the twins. There’s a glare on his eyes, and both twins instantly shut up.

“No need for the white version of the masks. They won’t wear any.” Sylus turns his back to the twins, putting them in their place.  “But boss! We can’t be seen-” Kieran interrupts, stepping forward “She’ll see us- and she’ll know that-” Sylus suddenly shows his phone, a black screen. He turned off the call before teasing them. “Haaaaaa!” Luke sighs, and then laughs as if he wasn’t desperate a second earlier. “You got us.” Kieran chuckles, pretending to faint on his brother’s shoulder. Sylus faintly smirks at the scene, putting the phone away as he strides towards the hallway, now focused on what he should wear for you. White, as you asked.

Alone at the big office, the twins stare at each other. “But why white?” “I don’t know.” Luke looks at the mansion’s entrance through the window. “Maybe there’s a reason, or maybe she just really likes that color.” “She wouldn’t make us wear it too if she just really liked the color. Do you think they’re planning something?” Kieran thinks fast, as expected of Onichynus' leader's henchmen. 

“Planning something? Like what? A wedding?” Luke starts to laugh, but stops as he looks at Kieran, who stopped too. “A wedding?” Kieran repeats. “Didn’t they.. just recently admitted they were into each other?” Luke stares at his twin, confused.

“Yeah. And boss wouldn’t propose like that. No.” Kieran states. “Yeah, no, he wouldn’t. I bet he’d go all out too.” They start giggling like teenage girls, teasing each other about it for a good minute.

“But she’ll wear white then. Right?” Kieran smirks mischievously. “U-huh.” Luke smirks too, sensing what his twin is thinking about. 

“Let’s. Do a little surprise. If she wears a dress. We could play a wedding march as she comes in.” Luke suggests. “We could even get him to stand at the end of the hallway.” “Who would play the wedding march, dumbass?” Kieran slaps Luke in the shoulder. “He is the one who knows how to play it!” 

“What is your suggestion then?! A bouquet? He already gets her flowers all the time!” Luke silently screams at his twin. Kieran gets silent for some time, deep in thought. “Oh. Oh! Oooh! I know what! Oh, I know just what to do!” Kieran gets up, pacing around the room excitedly. “Come with me. We need to buy something. Fast.” 

You have the passcode. You also have your eyes, which if scanned, can open the door to his base. But you feel a little bit nervous for some reason, your heart almost getting out of your chest. It’s the first time you dressed up a little bit more to see Sylus - and you had your motives. It’s New Year’s Eve after all and you want to start it right, looking and feeling pretty. But at the same time, you’re nervous - you are not the type of girl to wear a dress often, and you’re having that kind of imposter feeling of not being a real dress-wearer, just faking it. You chuckle at your own thoughts, standing still and feeling a little embarrassed with yourself, as you just need to open the door and get in as you already did so many times before. But now it’s different. Sylus knows you like him and… He’ll see you dolled up.. and know it’s for him. And he’ll get so cocky about it too… God, just open the door. You hear a click, getting startled but playing it cool.

“You should have just-” Luke grins widely, you just know by the tone of his voice. His mask looks down at your outfit choice. “Opened the door.” Kieran appears from behind him. “Looking cute, Miss Hunter.” You look delicate, like you rarely do, in their eyes. He gestures for you to enter. “Thank you! You guys are looking great! I didn’t think you’d be wearing white too!” You get inside, looking at them from head to toe. Their uniforms are now white, still having red streaks and details occasionally. “It strangely suits you!” “Yeah, boss made us-” Kieran stomps at his feet “ We didn’t want to be left out.”

You let out a loud laugh. “He always finds a way, doesn’t he?” You start walking through the long and decorated hallway, admiring the fairy lights adorning the otherwise cold mansion. The twins follow you shortly after. “He does.” Kieran looks at Luke quickly. You don’t catch it. “Miss, there’s something else for you upstairs. We got you a gift because..” Luke chimes in. “ You are now getting closer to us and you’re always down for pranking boss and you’re even spending the nights with-” Kieran interrupts Luke. “What matters is that.. we thought it’d be nice to demonstrate that you’re always welcome.” They both sigh in unison, raising your suspicions. “Where’s Sylus?”  You ask, stopping at the foot of the stairs and looking around with a polite smile on your face. 

“He’s going to be there too.” Kieran starts going up, nodding with his head upwards for you to follow him. And you do, realizing they are unbelievably quiet. Entering the bedroom you usually stay when you’re spending the night with them, you notice some small changes. There’s even more fairy lights, the only source responsible for lighting up the whole room; On your bedside table, there’s a small and black velvet box, still closed. The curtains that are usually closed, are now open, inviting you to feel the chill night’s air on your skin. There’s a record player sitting on your dressing table, with a record already on it, playing a soft piano song in a low volume. Luke is in front of you, facing the window, and Kieran is closing the door behind him. “Wow. Why all that?” You get unexpectedly surprised at the twins’ ‘thoughtfulness’, smiling.

“All that? You didn’t see anything yet!” Luke turns around to look at you. “Give me your phone, please. For the full experience.” He extends a hand to you. “My phone..?” you look at him, already catching onto something. “Why?” You’re already used to their little jokes, so you learned to not simply trust them everytime. “You look good in a white dress, miss!” Kieran steps in, rescuing his brother with a change of plans. They wanted your phone so they could text Sylus to meet you here, but you were already too aware of their movements. “You know what’s missing?” Kieran steps closer to you as you turn around to face him.

As soon as you do, you feel a pair of hands on your head, hearing a click. There’s a light weight on your hair now, and as you spin to stare at Luke, you see it. He put a veil on you. “Luke!” you step forward to slap his chest - “What the hell!” You start feeling your neck and chest burning up, the light graze of the long veil brushing against the side of your arms, engulfing you more and more as you move. You try to look behind your back to see its full length, but end up just twirling around. You realize how well it goes with your dress, your breath quickening. “Aw, you even like it!” Kieran teases as he holds his own cell phone behind his back, calling Sylus. Both the twins chuckle amusingly at the faint pink hue on your cheeks. “I bet Boss will love seeing you like that.” Your eyes widen. “Don’t you fucking dare!” You glare at Kieran now, as you try to take the veil off with your hands, but you don’t quite understand what kind of attachment it has.

You breathe deeply, closing your eyes to focus on the texture of it in your hands, figuring it out. It doesn’t seem to be a clip-on veil, like you expected. It’s not a headband type either. Fuck, where did they-

“Look, there’s more!” Luke drags a part of your veil to the front, revealing that it is in fact, a blusher veil. You freeze for a second, before feeling your cheeks burn and your throat go dry. You’re feeling like a bullied kid in kindergarten.

You would take it off your face if not for the fact you were with both your hands occupied, almost figuring out how to take it off. You then catch Kieran nodding towards Luke, and Luke takes something from your bedside table. You realize there’s more to their little act and as you wonder what it could be, it dawns on you. Sylus. No way. 

You let go of the veil to grab one of them, but it’s too late.

The door opens, and there he is. As soon as he gets in, he stops in his tracks, letting the twins rush towards the hallway, almost running. He immediately understands what happened - he knows how the twins are - but. He can’t move fast enough, seeing you like this. He swallows.

His eyes run over your off-white sheath dress, one that’s tight on your upper body but flows freely from your waist down. It has off-the-shoulder sleeves that bring a subtle femininity and cuteness to it. You look adorably vulnerable with the surprised look on your face, making his heart flutter. The veil frames your naked shoulders like a painting, and your hair, styled in soft waves, cascades in front of your chest. He stands still, staring. You’re immediately overwhelmed by his reaction, watching him analyze each one of your features. His gaze wanders all over you, making your skin hot and breathing stall. Your hands are glued to your sides, into little fists. His expression slowly melts from surprise to adoration as he tries to regain a certain composure to face you. He inhales quickly, ready to sigh. He notices you’re almost crying from embarrassment and he doesn’t want to make it worse for you. What he fails to realize is that he is also wearing white. You’re also seeing him… as a groom. The only sound that can be heard is the soft music playing. You decide to say something.

“Sy..” your voice ends up sounding a bit more hurt than you intended, and you look away from him - guiding your hands to your head again, finally taking the veil off, sliding smoothly against your hair. His eyes widened in protest. “I’m so-” “Don’t.” He exhales heavily, stepping closer cautiously. “I didn’t memorize you well enough.” He looks at you with contracted brows. He closes the distance between you both, softly cupping your cheek and making you look at him. “Please, sweetie.” His other hand holds your arm, his thumb caressing you in an attempt to comfort you as he almost pleads with his eyes. “There’s only me here.” You’re still holding the veil to your side, feeling a lump in your throat. It’s all too much - Sylus in white, the veil, the music playing as he looks at you like this. You feel like you could implode, your hands trembling softly while your heart beats as fast as lightning.

“That 's.. I know it’s only you, that’s the problem…” You mumble. 

“If I can’t see you like this now, what can I do to earn that right, my love?” Love. He never called you that before.

He softly glides his hand from your upper arm to your elbow, searching for your gaze. Slowly descending, he takes the veil from your hand. You look at it, the thin material looking so fragile in his big hands. 

“It’s not that you can’t..-” 

“So can I?” He asks, now using both his hands to hold the white fabric. He asks, for the first time feeling unsure of your answer. He doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed anymore but - he needs to see it again. He needs to commit you to memory and you took that away from him, not letting him bask in your appearance for long enough. 

“May I?” He brings the veil closer to the crown of your head, looking at the comb-like attachment, full of improvised clip-ins. The twins really did predict you’d try to take it off. He waits for an answer before continuing, the veil hovering over your head.

You gaze at his feet, his white trousers, his white button-up shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He’s wearing the watch you told him you loved. You finally reach his eyes, and you could never say no to the way they were almost-imperceptibly watering. You breathe in. “You may.” 

He smiles, a faint and singular dimple softly showing. You feel your knees getting weak at the sight. Since when did he-! You never even noticed he had one..! Or maybe he never smiled so widely for you to notice it. He places the veil on your hair, attaching it normally - not using the thousands of mechanisms the twins somehow installed on it to gain time. His hands work gently against your hair, making you get goosebumps. He notices, but chooses to not say a thing about it. He plants a kiss to your forehead, before slowly bringing the blusher veil to your face. He steps back just a little, to look at you fully. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “So beautiful.”

The veil on your face makes you feel brave enough to fully look at his eyes again. Through the white haze, you watch as he takes a hand to cover his mouth, quickly disguising it as if he’s adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Thank you, Sy..” you mutter. And your sweet voice is his last straw. With a step closer, he suddenly engulfs you in a hug, that slowly gets tighter. Your hands rest against his chest, taken by surprise at his abrupt movement. You feel his heartbeat, fast and thundering against your hand. He doesn’t let you go until you breathe in… and out. Relaxing with a stuttered sigh; a breath you didn’t know you were holding in - but he noticed. Now you were safe, in his arms. Like you were always meant to be.

You feel his right hand on your left shoulder create some distance, and with a movement of his fingers, the music gets just a little bit louder. He used his evol. He starts swaying side to side with you, his chin resting on your head.

“Sweetie.” His deep voice was laced with vulnerability. “It seems you were right.” He closes his eyes. Swaying... Left.. Right.. Left.. Right.. Slow..

“About what..?” You look up at him, freeing yourself just a little bit from his embrace. “Wearing white brought me luck.” 

You chuckle softly at his sweet words, but there’s raw sincerity in them, and hearing you laugh makes his heart twist. He loves you so much. Left.. Right.. Swaying.. Left.. Right..

Every fiber of his being would be incomplete without you, and he wants you to be sure of that. Of the lengths he’d go to see you happy, safe, fulfilled. He wishes he could be everything you need - the air you breathe. Since he can’t, he decides to take it away - if only for a fleeting moment. He stops swaying - and your heart skips a beat. You tilt your head to face him.

In a controlled but quick motion, he takes the veil back, uncovering you. Holding your face with both his hands, he breathes in, getting more desperate as the seconds go by, looking at your dilated pupils as if asking for permission. You nod. And his lips land on yours, a low hum on his throat as he tilts his head to kiss you. It starts gentle, his lips slightly sucking on yours as his fingers dive on your hair. You pull him closer by the waist, reciprocating as your back arches to taste him better. He starts licking your lips, wanting more of your taste. You let him in, a soft sigh being swallowed by him. Your hands gently squeeze his waist as you get breathless, and he pulls away - only to leave a handful of slow and intimate pecks against your cheek, the corner of your lips, your nose, your other cheek. His breathing is messy, but so is yours. He gazes at you for a moment, silently admiring your flushed state.

“There is no greater luck than having you.” He speaks quietly as he takes you in his embrace again. He doesn’t want to let you go so soon. Over your shoulder, he remembers Luke gave something to him on his way out. Discreetly, he reaches for his pocket, without raising your attention. He feels a black velvet box, and he opens it behind your back. There’s the ring he bought some time ago, for you. He chuckles. You raise your head at him, asking what happened. He uses his other hand to lay your head against his chest, saying it’s nothing. “Let me have you like this for a moment, sweetie.” A ring. The twins are unbelievable. You deserve more, so much more than this as your proposal. He expected them to know that by now. But you can’t find out, so he places it back in his pocket before hugging you again. Nuzzling against your neck, he tries to make you laugh - he knows how ticklish you are. His hands find their way to your ribs, softly tickling you. As you start giggling and pushing him away, he feels like he has his whole world right in front of him. But suddenly- A flashing light. You both startle, looking out the open window immediately. Luke has a camera on his hands, outside the railing of a balcony that faces your window, supporting his weight with one foot. And of course Kieran is the one holding him up by the waist, so his brother can take a picture of you two.  “Aww man!! I didn’t think you’d notice!” Luke screams, disappointed.

You feel heat creeping up your neck again. They’re beyond belief.

“I told you to not turn on the flash!!” Kieran scolds him.

“But it turned out so cute, look!” Luke shows something to Kieran.

“Oh.” Kieran stops for a second. “Hell yeah you’re totally right.” They both laugh.

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose, and as the scene unfolds your embarrassment gives way to laughter. You try not to care so much about them - you’re getting used to it. “Let’s go already, Sy.” You fully get out of his embrace, still laughing.

He can’t help but laugh a little too, as Luke almost falls off the balcony after Kieran gets distracted. “Yes. After you, sweetheart.” He signals for you to go first, opening the door. And as he closes it behind him, his other hand caresses the little velvet box.

Soon. Just a little more.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Something angsty like the batboys reaction to reader in the hospital! I don’t think we have enough angst here

Jason

The moment he hears that you were hospitalised it was as though he had a pit developing in his stomach and that it was growing ever larger.

His mind wanders towards the worst case scenario as to how you had gotten hospitalised in the first place and that no matter how hard Jason tried to stop thinking such things, they only continued to get progressively worse the more he tried to ignore it.

He was worried out of his mind about you and somehow found a way to blame himself for not being there for you, not keeping you safe and letting you risk the chance of dying somewhere he couldn’t find you. Jason knew you were in safe hands at the hospital, but that knowledge did very little to ease the ache within his chest as he managed to find the room you were in and felt his heart break at the state you were in.

‘Oh baby bird.’ He whispered as though any louder would physically hurt you as his eyes wandered to the machines you were hooked up to. He hated the sight of the heart monitor even more as it beeped at him rhythmically, showing him that you were alive and well, but he couldn’t help but think of each beep as a mockery towards him and his failure to be there when he should’ve.

‘You shouldn’t be in here hooked up to all these machines.’ Jason said a little louder this time as he sat down on the chair beside your bed, immediately grasping at your hand and squeezing it gently. ‘You should be home with me, cuddled beneath layers of blankets only to complain about how warm you get, but when I suggest you stop cuddling me. you then become stubborn and hug me tighter knowing damn well your making things worse for yourself.’ Jason chuckled softly at the warm memory, but that quickly died when he saw your face and being reminded that you were stuck in a perpetual slumber.

A coma is what the doctors said you were under and they had no idea whether or not you’d awake from it, but insisted that he should talk to you regardless.

So Jason swallows down the lump in his throat and takes a deep breath. ‘Your stronger then this sweetheart. I know you’ll wake up and will call me a soft teddy bear for worrying but I can’t help but worry about you. I always will worry about you because you mean so much to me, and I don’t want to ever think I’ll never get to see your beautiful smile or hear your laugh ever again. I don’t want that.’ Jason said as he finds himself praying to whomever was listening to keep their filthy hands off of you as he also pleaded you case to keep living.

He didn’t know what he could do other than hope that you healed accordingly and wake up so he could smother you in affection and never let you out of his sight ever again.

Jason doesn’t want to loose you but felt as though he was starting to run out of options the longer you’d remain in this coma. So he vows to himself that he’ll come here on a daily basis to talk to you in hopes that it would keep you away from the edge and back to him, preferably back to him and his arms where you belonged.

‘I’m not giving up on you little bird, for you never gave up on me when you should’ve. So I’m here, I’m right here I’m not leaving.’ Jason says to you and he keeps to his word as he stays by your side the whole night.

Dick

Once Dick is made aware that you were hospitalised from Bruce or Barbra, his smile drops from his face as he quietly excuses himself and starts making his journey to the hospital that you were residing.

The sight before him when he arrived at the hospital left Dick with an ache in his heart as he wordlessly sat down in the chair next to you, vowing to himself then and there that he wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. ‘You’ve scared me sweetheart, still scaring me if I’m being honest.’ Dick said as he eyed the monitors with distain as they hook onto you almost like leeches instead of their actual purpose.

He just wanted to take you home and care for you himself but knew he couldn’t.

‘I know I don’t confide in you about my thoughts and feelings and that’s mainly because I was afraid, afraid of how you’d see or think of me afterwards for you are by far the best thing that has ever happened to me.’ Dick confessed as he risked running a hand gingerly down your cheek, becoming upset when you didn’t lean into his touch like you usually do and tries to keep his composure as he continues.

‘If you wake up- no, when you wake up I promise to be more open with you, more honest with you as I don’t want this being the end of us when I have so much I’ve yet to share with you.’ Dick was quick to wiped away at his eyes when he noticed his vision begin to blur and the persistent sniffling he was doing before pulling out his phone to show you pictures of you, himself and Hayley as though that would somehow pull you out of your coma. ‘Hayley is missing you right now, she needs you as much as I do and I don’t think I have the heart to tell her I lost you because I don’t want to loose you.’ He admits as he puts away his phone and cling onto one of your hands desperately.

‘I need you here with me and Hayley, happy and healthy and laughing and in our one little fairy tale life where nothing else matters but us.’ Dick says softly as he presses kisses to your hand, trying his hardest not to break down into tears, but found it harder and harder to keep it all together when the person he cared for most was in a coma, and with no foreseeable future of awaking from.

‘I don’t want to be alone again…please don’t leave me alone and wake up as soon as you can…please I don’t ask for much but I don’t think I can handle loosing you sweetheart. So please, please remain strong and wake up.’

Damian

Leaves the room without another word, uncaring that he might come across as rude or disrespectful, but to Damian you were more important then anyone else and he wasn’t about to waste time with them when you were hospitalised.

Once he had gotten to your room in the hospital he immediately felt his facade crumble as his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you attached to so many machines. Damian could feel him heart rip in two the longer he looked at you that was followed by the need to search for the people who did this and pay them back tenfold.

However Damian knew that you needed him more then ever right now and that his thirst for revenge would have to be put to the side for the meantime, and if it was for you Damian would do anything just to see you open your eyes and tell him that you were okay; However he knew that reality wouldn’t bless him when you were deep in comatose.

So while he was alone with you Damian allowed himself to silently shed a few tears that he had been holding in the entire journey to the hospital, he didn’t know what to do. You were hurt, really hurt and Damian had never felt more useless than he did in this moment as he looks over your form and finding more reasons to simultaneously feel unbridled rage and sadness.

So without realising he had found himself resorting to one thing he thought he’d never do, beg.

‘Please open your eyes my treasure,’ he starts, ‘call me Dami, call me whatever your heart sees fit and I won’t complain about it, not once. I just want you to open your eyes and tell me that everything is going to be fine, that we’re going to be fine.’ Damian trails off as he finds his eyes blurred with more tears that didn’t fall until he was forced to blink.

‘Don’t leave me. this is all I ask of you, for I do not wish to face a life where you are unceremoniously taken from me, I do not wish to live a life we both promised to have without you by my side.’ Damian admits as he reaches for your hand, lifts it and kisses the back of it all the while closing his eyes, squeezing out the last of his tears as he tried to clam his breath but found no avail in his attempts. ‘Don’t take them away from me. I know my hands are tainted with blood, but spare their soul until you can claim mine.’ Damian could feel himself being torn apart at the idea that his pleas for your life weren’t enough to who ever was listening to him in this moment of vulnerability.

‘They are my heart and my soul and they are worth life more than I am. Their soul is pure in comparison to mine, tainted from a young age but I would do anything you ask of me if it meant keeping them safe and alive.’ Damian opened his eyes to look at your oddly peaceful face and felt the ache within his chest grow more into something more painful that he ever thought possible. ‘Torture me all you want I can handle it, but leave them out of it. I can’t stand seeing them hurt or in pain. Seeing them in pain tears at my soul at its very foundations, cracks my heart into a million pieces as I’m left bleeding profusely from imaginary wounds. Let them live, that is all I ask.’ He finishes as he found a fresh wave of tears brining his eyes as he now leaves it up to time to determine your fate.

Damian will forever hate feeling helpless when your life was considered.

Tim

Tracks down the exact hospital you were in and doesn’t waste a moment in heading over there as fast as he could.

He didn’t know the severity of your situation but he wasn’t about to risk a single second doing nothing.

So when he does arrive at the hospital he wishes what he was seeing before him was a dream, a bad dream and that if he pinched himself hard enough he’d wake up to you in bed besides him and no machines hooked onto you.

He didn’t like the sight as it made him feel violently sick but he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone here, not when you were in a vulnerable position such as a coma.

Tim doesn’t say much as he sits himself by your side, watching with seemingly dead eyes as your heart monitor reminds him that you were alive, while they might’ve been comforting for some, it wasn’t enough for him as he needed to see you awake and fretting over him for how long he stayed up for or the lack of sleep. He needs to see you awake and well to believe that you weren’t gone from his life entirely, not comatose or hooked up to every machine in existence.

He felt like a failure somehow, he was supposed to keep you safe and yet failed to do that, and was now faced with the idea that you might stay like this for months on end without any real progression. If he could easily track where you were in the hospital, then how come he didn’t do the same before you had gotten seriously hurt? Where was the logic in that? he was meant to be one of the smartest detectives in Gotham and yet he couldn’t use everything at his disposal to keep you safe from harm.

What a joke. Tim thinks to himself as he forced himself to look at the damaged you sustained, using it as a reminder of how easily it was for you to be taken from him when he wasn’t on guard and keeping tabs on you.

He didn’t want to promise anything aloud in fear that reality would somehow work against him and take you away earlier than expected. So he just sits there and allows himself to feel the guilt, the fear and the pain that had been building up within his chest from the moment he heard the news, to where he was now. He fisted his jeans angrily as he let the first wave of tears stream down his cheeks, audibly sobbing to himself as he chants to himself;

‘Please wake up, you’ll be okay. Please wake up, you’ll be okay. Please just wake up and take me out of this nightmare, I don’t want this to be real. I’m not ready to loose you yet.’

[miumura]

BE MY LUCKY SEVEN STRIKE! 𖦏 H.TAESAN !

THE CHARM BEHIND IT ALL ◟ ⟡ with even the amount of times you seem to show “disinterest,” that doesn’t stop taesan from trying to be with the one he considers as his “lucky one”.

LUCKY ONES ( 🍀 ) skater ! taesan x fem ! reader ───

(MIS)PLUCKED CLOVERS ╱ fluff ∿ use of petnames, reader kind of plays hard to get, taesan is confident/cocky (?) but he simply just has a massive crush 🫠

REACH YOUR DESTINATION WITHIN ｡ ｡ 2.4K+ WORDS !

─── MESSAGE FROM LUCKY CLOVER ◟ ⟡ hihi this is a taesan fic dedicated to @htaesan , my gongfourz half 🤍🍀 simply because i’m lucky to have her in my life ( lucky charmz in action !! ) . . and for lili — i may or may not have went through one of your blogs and gathered inspo through your reblogs… i’ll make better fics for you soon ♡♡

❛❛ 💬 ❞ 𝗦𝗢𝗣𝗛 > 𓂃 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗖𝗞 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗕𝗢𝗢𝗞𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗙 ⋮ 🪽

Taesan didn’t spare a single second—once he saw the clock hit 6 P.M., he was immediately out of the door. He barely managed to grab all of his belongings, let alone spray that favorite cologne of his–the one he swore he could never leave without. None of that really mattered though.

There was only one thing on his mind.

The wheels of his skateboard hit the pavement as he hopped on, quickly weaving through the streets. With the speed that he was going at, if anyone had seen him, they’d know instantly–Taesan definitely wanted to be somewhere.

Now, what was he that eager for?

His wheels immediately screeched against the floor, signaling his abrupt stop, his gaze looking at the entrance of the large building ahead. The crowd of people spilling out could have been overwhelming, but with Taesan, none of that seemed to faze him.

His eyes scanned the crowd for only a second before landing on you. It was almost too easy to spot you—your bag slung casually over your shoulder, your head turning from side to side as though you were searching for something.

Or maybe…someone.

There you were—the very person who made his heart pound harder than his feet hitting against the pavement. The one that made him rush out of his house without a second thought.

His pretty girl—well, at least, not yet.

The corners of his lips twitched into a smile as he stood there, watching you from a distance for a moment longer than he probably should have. Something about you had just enough to distract him.

But when you turned to walk away, Taesan snapped out of his trance, immediately pushing off to catch up. The familiar sound of his skateboard’s wheels rolling against the pavement filled the air, and he couldn’t help but grin, knowing you’d recognize it instantly. After all, it had practically become a daily routine for you to hear that sound whenever he was around.

“In a rush, today?” Taesan finally broke the silence, his voice light as he effortlessly glided beside you. He couldn’t help but notice you subconsciously picking up your pace after hearing the skateboard.

“Maybe,” you replied curtly, throwing him a sideways glance, eyes fixated on the street and the street only.

Taesan couldn’t help but chuckle. This was practically routine for him by now—leaving his house just to see and greet you, while you did everything in your power to ignore him. Yet somehow, your attempts to brush him off only made it harder for him to stay away.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the way you tried so hard to keep your walls up, only for them to crack ever so slightly, that made you so utterly distracting to him.

Not that he would complain, though.

Before you could get too far, Taesan hopped off his skateboard effortlessly, soon tucking it under his arm as he jogged a few steps ahead. In one swift move, now ahead of you–or in fact, right in front of you, which forces you to come to a sudden halt.

“Hey,” he said, his dorky grin on full display, his free hand giving you a small wave while the other kept his skateboard secured in one arm.

“Are you seriously doing this again?” you blinked, clearly unimpressed.

“Doing what?”

“Trying to walk home with me every single time,” you deadpanned, your eyes slightly narrowing at the sight of the guy’s grin never faltering from his face. “Do you have nothing else better to do?”

He shrugged, the spark in his eyes seemingly getting brighter. “Other than the skating competitions and skate hangouts I have with my friends, nothing is better than this.”

With nothing to say, you simply walked around him, continuing on with your path. It didn’t take long for him to be right back where he was as you heard the faint footsteps behind you.

There he was, catching up again, as persistent as ever.

“And those two things still can’t beat walking with you,” he added smoothly, finishing what he was supposed to say before he could let his words slip out of your mind.

You scoffed at his remark, shaking your head in disbelief. The audacity. Yet somehow, the tiniest smile tugged at the corner of your lips, though you made sure to keep it hidden from him.

Taesan let out an audible laugh, the sound light and carefree, clearly pleased with himself for earning a reaction. He slid right back into his place beside you, matching your pace effortlessly, as if walking together was the most natural thing in the world.

It was quiet for a few seconds–emphasis on the word–few–since Taesan couldn’t wait any longer and started to open his mouth again.

“Need me to carry your bag for you?” he asked, his voice light and teasing, just like the expression on his face. It was the same playful look he always wore whenever you two walked—though the walk back home together wasn’t exactly by your choice.

You shifted your gaze to him, eyebrows furrowed. He’d caught you off guard, as usual. While it was true you’d brought home more paperwork than usual, it was nothing you couldn’t manage.

“I am capable of carrying it myself,” you shot back, gripping the strap of your bag tighter as if to prove your point.

“I know you can, but I just want to,” he replied, his voice softer now. When you looked at him again, his face wasn’t teasing this time—it was warm, genuine, and entirely disarming.

Your mind stuttered at the change. That look… It was rare. At least, it seemed rare to you, given how hard you tried not to meet his eyes these days. But now you couldn’t help but wonder: just how many times had he looked at you like that before?

You were mentally cursing yourself–both for having your thoughts stray off, but also remaining silent on the other end. After all, why were you thinking so heavily about this?

It’s not like it mattered, you reasoned. You didn’t care. You didn’t want to care. But, why did your chest feel tight all of a sudden? Why couldn’t you shake that look from your mind?

“So—pretty girl—can I help you carry that?” Taesan asked once more, breaking you out of your train of thought. There was that look again–the way his eyes grew slightly wider but softer, and the usual smirk turning into a normal expression, but it still carried so much weight.

You hesitated, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag for just a second longer. Then, with a faint sigh, you gave in, slowly slipping the strap off your shoulder and holding the bag out to him. “Don’t complain if your shoulder starts hurting,” you muttered. “And stop calling me that.”

Taesan took the bag with ease, adjusting it onto his shoulder before flashing another grin—this one bigger, showing a hint of teeth. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, even as your own focus remained fixed on the road ahead.

He couldn’t help but find your stubbornness endearing. What might come off as irritating to someone else only made him more drawn to you.

After all, things were only fun with you.

Sure, Taesan had experienced plenty of thrilling moments before—winning first place in a skating competition, nailing a trick he’d practiced for weeks, or hearing his friends cheer him on. But none of those feelings came close to this.

Being with you was something else entirely. It wasn’t loud or wild; it wasn’t the rush of adrenaline he was used to. It was softer, quieter. The determination he felt when skating still lingered, but now it was different. It didn’t come with pressure or nerves—it transformed into something calmer, something that let him breathe freely.

Taesan always felt comforted whenever he was around you. No matter how many times you brushed off his attempts to ask you out or tried to ignore his presence, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, deep down, you felt the same way he did. Although he could be reckless, there are moments where his eyes lingered more attentively on you. He notices the way how your signature scowl softens the longer he was around, or the way your flustered reactions betrayed the walls you worked so hard to keep up.

With that alone, those small glimpses of signs were enough to keep him going.

If he could put it into words, he’d call you a clover–four leafed one at that. Meeting you felt like fate to him; he considered himself impossibly lucky to have crossed paths with you.

Ever since you entered his life, things ended up falling right into place. It’s like how people search for four-leaf clovers, having the desire to hold onto them forever; Taesan felt the same way about you. In his mind, you weren’t just someone he liked–you were truly his lucky charm.

So, if he were to be compared to those who hope and search to find these rare clovers, he would be just as focused on being able to have you in his life. His determination only showed that he wanted to hold on to this, to you.

Silence had stretched between you both, but it didn’t seem to bother Taesan in the slightest. For Taesan, he has always been involved in lively environments and movement; he found a sense of calmness in these moments with you.

“Will you stop staring at me like that?” You say after peeking at Taesan through your peripheral vision, feeling as if the silence was almost a little too much. You always expected him to say something, so any silence that was longer than five minutes was almost unbearing.

"Are you paying attention to me now?" Taesan teased, his voice a little too pleased with himself.

"Huh… as if," you muttered, doing your best to ignore him.

Taesan smirked, dragging out his words just enough to make the tension build. "I don’t know, it seems like you’ve been a lot more interested in me lately."

“Was your ego always this high?” you turned to raise your eyebrow at him, trying to maintain an indifferent tone in your voice.

“Maybe only around you it is,” he admitted with a grin, earning another scoff from your lips. Your footsteps, once perfectly in sync with his, came to a halt, the quiet sound of your steps now the only thing breaking the silence.

You turned around to face Taesan, your expression etched with confusion—or at least, that's what you wanted it to seem like.

"So, speaking of which," he started, his grin unfaltering as he closed the distance between you, "pretty girl, will you finally give me a chance?"

“A chance for?” you questioned, although knowing exactly where this was going.

“For us—you know, for me to ask you the very question you hate.”

“Hate is a strong word.”

“It’s not my fault that you act like you do,” he countered, his teasing tone shining through.

For once, you didn’t throw a scowl his way. Instead, you let out a small chuckle, crossing your arms as you tilted your head slightly. "Alright, then. Tell me."

“What?” Taesan’s eyes dilated slightly, his usual confidence wavering as he carefully gauged the sudden shift in your demeanor.

“Tell me the question I hate.”

“Do you want to…” His voice carried a hint of hesitation, making him wonder if this was even a right moment to ask you this–he had never felt like this before. His lips felt almost parched, leading him to press his lips together before he continued, “go out with me?”

“If I go out with you,” you trailed off, making Taesan’s curious eyes wander on your lips. “What’s in it for me?”

Taesan froze for a moment, the quick-witted remarks he usually had at the ready slipping from his mind one by one. His mouth opened, but all that came out was a soft, uncertain, "Um." Everything felt new to him.

He had never gotten too far with his confession before.

"Do you even know where you’d take me for our first date?" you teased, chuckling lightly as you stared at Taesan’s fidgety figure. You could see the way his grip on his skateboard tightened as his eyes almost carried a far-off, blank look–like his mind was racing but still empty.

If Taesan had to be honest, his brain had fixated entirely on two words from your question: first date. Were you actually considering it?

Wait, no—scratch that. He had to think back to your question.

Did he even know where he wanted to take you?

He was there, almost frozen, his brain malfunctioning. His mouth was parted, almost like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth.

That was when you took the chance to grab the bag strap off his shoulder, sliding it back on yours with ease.

“Have a proper plan next time,” you said, replicating the same smile he’d been giving you the past few weeks, giving him a tap on his shoulder. “and maybe I’ll have an answer you’d want by then.”

You continued to walk your way home as if nothing had happened, leaving him standing there, completely dumbfounded. For a moment, Taesan didn’t move. His stunned expression lingered as your words echoed in his head, but it didn’t last long.

You knew he would’ve been right behind you again, talking your ear off again.

And that’s exactly what he did.

His disbelief would soon melt into a grin—an extremely wide one this time—before he jogged after you to catch up.

You didn’t turn to look at him, though the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to suppress as his voice filled the air again. His usual stories about his day—filled with compliments that always seemed to flow in the (one-sided) conversation effortlessly—were becoming longer. His energy radiated a cheerful feeling, as if the world around him had suddenly grown brighter and lighter with every word he spoke.

Taesan didn’t mind your silence–he usually never did. However, hearing what seemed like an answer–at least to him–only fueled his determination even more.

He wanted to turn your exasperated sighs and annoyed glares into soft smiles and loving eyes. He wasn’t naive enough to think it would happen simply overnight, but Taesan had always thrived on challenges.

With this challenge, he also knew one thing for sure: he’d get his lucky clover soon.

‘💬’ ─── tws songs are too good …. and ohh to be considered as someone’s lucky clover 🍀

BND PERM TAGLIST ( OPEN ) — @juyeoz @j4d @itsactuallylina @rizzwoos

[lotties-ashwagandha]

LET IT BLEED AWAY BETWEEN US

(adult) lottie matthews x fem!reader.

she shows up at your door… (inspired by season three episode 2 babyyyyyy I wrote this at 4 fucking in the morning earlier bc I couldn’t sleep enjoy please read to compensate my suffering). read part two here.

“So,” you start, unsure of how to begin. “How was it?”

Lottie blinks. “The mental institution?”

You were better off not asking.

“It was fine,” she answers in a dull tone. She sits across from where you stand as she occupies your armchair — in your living room, which she has infiltrated and made herself at home in. “It’s been worse.”

She’s told you before, stories of all she has endured. You sit very straight, unsure exactly of how to proceed — it hasn’t been long since you last saw her, but there is a gap between the two of you already, and even in such a short amount of time the two of you have changed. She no longer has her wellness center to lead, you no longer follow her in it. You have been thrusted back into the real world — real dangers accompany it.

“You have a nice place here,” Lottie gestures around your living room. “I’m surprised you could get a hold of it so quickly.”

Your old house you had lived in before moving into the wellness center. You’ve had it on the market for a while, but no one has put in an offer. You don’t tell her that, though — part of you wants her to bear the guilt, think you found some new place in a pinch.

“I had to find somewhere to go,” you say defensively. “While you were detained.”

Her expression sours, she doesn’t like your wording. Neither do you. You don’t enjoy being angry with her, especially after being apart. All you want to do is rush to her, pull her into your arms and let it all bleed away between you, but it was Lottie herself who always showed those who followed her to feel their anger.

Lottie sinks further into her seat, sensing your discontent, crosses one leg over the other and pretends she’s blind to the world. “I missed you.”

You hum in response. Silence lies heavily between you.

“Are you upset with me?”

You don’t respond.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

She sighs. “Then what?”

“You hunted Shauna through the woods. You got shot.”

Lottie stands and makes her way to you. She looks tired above all, but you can’t help but notice a fidgety manner about her — dark eyes always flitting to avert your gaze, hands spinning her rings around and around her fingers. There is a general restlessness to her that you aren’t used to — it’s worrying.

“I understand that you’re frustrated—”

“What if it had been me?” You cross your arms. “Would you have hunted me?”

Lottie scoffs.

“Answer me. Would you have?”

She hesitates. She waits a beat too long before answering. You see the same flightiness. “No.”

You let it drop for now. You don’t want to press her and end up with a different answer. “Did it hurt?”

She’s becoming quite done with this. Her tone is laced with sarcasm, sharp with it. “When I fell from heaven?”

“When you got shot.”

“Yes, it fucking hurt.”

“I want to see.”

Again she sighs, more dramatically this time — but after a moment’s hesitation Lottie pulls off her black jacket. Your eyes find it immediately, though the wound is tiny. It’s already beginning to scar: the small mark of the bullet you remember all too clearly embedded in her skin.

“Are you okay?” Lottie asks.

“Are you?”

She offers you a soft smile — it’s not really an answer, more mournful than anything, but momentarily you have been persuaded to put your anger aside when her hands take yours and again you are home.

“If you ever get shot again, I’m leaving you,” you threaten. It sounded much less surreal to say in your head.

“I don’t plan on it,” Lottie assures you. “Though I didn’t plan on getting shot the first time.”

You beg to differ. It doesn’t matter in any case, what’s done is done. Now you need her in your arms, anger and all, and she needs it too — gently, almost so as not to scare you away into a fit of rage, she kisses you.

You had been silent when she’d told you she missed you, but you had missed her just as desperately. You missed the warmth and security of her beside you as you laid in an empty bed, you missed the novelty of being able to pull her into your arms whenever you wanted and decide it’s where you both would stay for a while. You missed her, in every way, and you were still pissed at her for all she had done to lose you.

Lottie glances around the house when you pull back, trying to determine in her surroundings where the bedroom is. You can see the disapproval etched into her features — this is not her home, this is not the life you have built together.

You can’t, not yet. Too mournful still.

When you pull her back over to the couch, it is a domestic gesture. When you lean against her so that you’re nearly on top of her and gently run a hand through her hair. When her arms wrap around you and you find your gaze trained on the bullet wound and you can’t help but reach out to trace it and know that someday, when the world is less dark and mournful and all of your wounds have scarred, you will kiss it clean of the past.

sexy sexy taglist: @webism @chaithetics @ahauandthesun

reblogs/comments always appreciated! :)

click here for my masterlist!

[bluebirdsfeathers]

First Day

──────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

Relationship: Ceo!Wanda X Butch!Loser!Reader

Summery: You are a new intern at Westview paper hoping to make a good first impression with you new boss, Wanda.

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Classism, use of y/n nothing else

A/N: inspired by this post by @wandaslittlehorns this was meant to be short but I really like this idea, so this is just part one now haha.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

──────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

──────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

You shot up in bed, the sound of your alarm belting in your ears. Aimlessly you smacked your bedside table, though you weren’t sure if the collection of cardboard boxes next to your mattress on the ground could be considered one, you eventually found and turned it off. Grabbing your phone, you looked at the time. “Shit…” You groan. Somehow, you’d slept though both of your previous alarms, the one that woke you was intended to let you know it was time to leave.

Today was the first day of your new internship and now you were going to be late. Great first impression. Jumping to your feet you make your way to the bathroom, you don’t particularly smell so some time could be saved by forgoing a shower. You get dressed and drench yourself in axe body spray. Your wrinkled white shirt had a small stain that you hid by tucking it into your jeans. They were black so it wasn’t like you weren’t trying to look professional with your limited wardrobe and budget.

Before long you were riding the cramped subway drinking what was left of the monster energy you’d grabbed before leaving on you way to your first full-time job since graduating college. An internship at the Westview Paper wasn’t something you just got handed. You had worked hard but you were by no means the hardest worker. You did however have a talent for getting stuff done quickly, all the assignments you completed the night before could prove that. It was weird that you had gotten picked for this position, you could think of at least five more deserving people in your graduating class alone. Especially since you thought you bombed the last interview stage. She was in the room for that. Wanda Maximoff, the CEO of Westview Paper. Though she hadn’t spoken a word, just sat at the back of the room occasionally making notes while you were grilled by a very intense man in a far too expensive suit.

As you emerged from the subway, lost in a sea of other commuters, you scanned your surroundings for Westview Tower, the homebase of the Paper’s operations, now your place of work. Checking the time as you rushed through the spinning door you were revealed to see you were only three minutes late. Standing in the lobby you looked around at all the people cutting through clearly on a mission to get somewhere faster than any human reasonably could. Lots shouted down phones while others talked into earpieces, not a single person without coffee in hand. Slowly you made your way to the front desk, “Hi, I’m y/n… I’m part of the new internship.” You said sheepishly, embarrassed slightly you didn’t know where you were meant to be, you were sure it was probably mentioned in an email somewhere. “Do you know where…”

“Third floor, room 43B, you’re late by the way.” The women at the front desk didn’t even look at you, just continued to type on the computer and chew gum. “Right, sorry, Thank you.” You took a few steps toward the elevator before she spoke again, slightly too loud for the distance between you. “Forgetting something? You won’t get very far without this sweetie.” She dangles your employee badge, and you retreat to collect it, cringing slightly at the pet-name.

Finally, you were able to leave the sensory nightmare that was the lobby and enter the elevator. It was just you alone with your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a mess. Have you looked like that the whole time? Is that why the receptionist was rude? Was she even being rude or is that just how people talk to each other here? You took a deep breath and tried to tidy your appearance, feeling much more self-conscious than you did ten minutes ago. The doors to the elevator opened to the Third floor and you set out on finding room 43B.

The room was easy enough to find and by the looks of things nothing had started yet. The other interns were all just talking amongst themselves, so you grabbed an office chair and joined the conversation. “So, y/n, did you do anything nice between graduation and now?” One of the male interns, the one with the most punchable face although it was a stiff competition, asked with a grating the tone of voice. “Oh well my parents took me to the Cheesecake Factory to celebrate,” the others laughed as if there was some joke everyone was in on but you, “Then we went to the cinema to watch the new Godzilla movie.” Again, laughter and you shifted awkwardly in your chair.

You weren’t left with the feeling for long as soon the door swung open and several very well-dressed people entered. Following what everyone else was doing you stood up and went over to great them. You went down the line of businessmen, each one either smelling like tobacco or overpriced cologne. You weren’t really looking them in the face as you made quick introductions, that was until you reached a hand with deep red nail polish. Lifting your head you met the gaze of Wanda Maximoff. She was dressed in a black suit with her white shirt slightly unbuttoned. Your brain buffered for a moment before you realised how long you’d been holding her hand. “Hi! I’m y/n.” You felt your cheeks heat up and quickly let go, painfully aware of how sweaty your palms now were. “Pleasure to meet you.” Wanda smiled while looking you in the eyes and you quickly became interested in looking at the floor, meaning you didn’t see how her eyes linger on you as she moved to great the next person.

What followed was a boring meeting about company goals for the next quarter, you tried to pay attention but felt your thoughts drifting to the events of earlier. It had quickly become evident you existed in a different tax bracket to everyone in the room. Your joyous memory of dinner and a movie now slightly tainted by comparison to the rewards of ski vacations and new designer goods your peers had received. While lost in thought your eyes found their way to Wanda as she once again sat at the back of the room and took notes. It was clear she’d paused her writing to look at you, catching you slightly slouched staring off into space. She shook her head disapprovingly, making you sit up straight instantly to which she gave a small laugh that only added to your embarrassment.

As the meeting drew to a close, you said your goodbyes to the higher ups, only managing a respectful nod in Wanda’s direction, before heading to lunch with the interns. “So, who do you think she’s going to pick?” Mildred, girl with the whitest teeth you’d ever seen, spoke to you in a hashed tone as you stood just outside the office room.

“Pick for what?”

“To be her personal intern? Were you not listening in there?” She sounded slightly annoyed. “We are all going to be assigned to different departments, so who do you think it’s going to be?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” You found yourself looking back into the room you’d just left; you could see Wanda talking to someone through the internal windows. She was beautiful, you’d love to be her intern, learning from the best. As she exited the room, she gave you one last look and a small wave before heading down the hall in the other direction. “Maybe it’ll be me.” You said without really thinking. Mildred scoffed and mumbled something under her breath before speeding off to catch up with the others.

The rest of the day was spent learning fire safety and being given a tour of the building. Passive aggressive comments from the other interns got less effective as you noticed you weren’t the only one receiving them and before you knew it you were back on the subway heading home. Getting off a stop early you decided to pick up a pizza as a reward for surviving your first day, the streets were a lot calmer near your apartment on the outskirts of the city, and the walk was enjoyable in the cool September weather. Your apartment was small, a studio with only the very basics, it was all you could afford on your previous job’s salary. But now you were going to be earning so much more, and you hand big plans for that first pay-check, like maybe a bed frame.

[you-know-honey]

Hanging in Your Hands

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

←←←1/2

Viktor finds in you a love that subtly transforms him: without realizing it, he begins to take better care of himself, rest better and relieve his pain, all thanks to the peace you bring him. Finding a way to show you what he could never do with words.

N/A: English is not my native language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I will update it. Remember to share and comment if you liked it. Endnotes.

“Home sweet home…” you hum as Viktor opens the door, letting you in first like a true gentleman. You’re the first to leave your coat on the coat rack and throw your shoes somewhere in the room, walking now much more comfortably towards the kitchen.

Viktor’s home isn’t very big, but it had changed a lot since the first time you went there. Before, everything looked like a scene from the most godforsaken place, with almost no furniture and white morgue lighting. It was hard to convince him that to improve his health he also need to improve his environment. The living room was the largest room, with a functional fireplace, a second-hand coffee table and a sofa so soft it could be a piece stolen from heaven. The kitchen was the smallest, there was no table or chairs, instead there was a breakfast bar and some swivel chairs that you had taken from the academy and that Viktor had fixed. The bathroom started the hallway, followed by his office and finally his room. You had made sure that every room reflected something positive, watering plants or doing crafts like a comfort fairy. Viktor appreciated it, he had told you so many times, he didn't mind that you filled his house with your not so practical decorations, they were your personal brand and he liked it, besides spending all that time decorating, painting and remodeling gave him more reasons to love you, to get to know you perfectly and be fascinated by what he found in your being. Without you he wouldn't have managed to make his house feel and look like a real home in which to rest.

Viktor removes his jacket with precise movements. His long, deft fingers slide the dark fabric over his shoulders, revealing the impeccable shirt that sits tight against his slim figure. He folds the jacket carefully, as if he's in no hurry, and lays it over the back of the sofa. His hands move up to the knot of his tie. His fingers, always so precise, pull at the knot with ease, undoing the pressure around his neck. The gesture, so mundane to him, has a strange effect on you, an electric current running through your body. As if that weren't enough, the top button of his shirt unbuttons under his touch, revealing just a flash of skin on his pale neck. His breathing seems to relax instantly, as if the small adjustment brings him some comfort.

Viktor exhales softly, running a hand through his messy hair, unaware that this distracted gesture, combined with the shadow of exhaustion on his face, makes him look almost unattainable, like a work of art that doesn’t realize its own beauty. You feel trapped in a magnetic web that he doesn’t even know he possesses.

“That was sexy,” you mutter to yourself as you rummage through some food in the fridge.

“Excuse me?” His low voice echoes behind you, you have no idea how he moved so fast, his tone is incredulous, and his eyebrows arch slightly.

You shrug, trying to look casual as you turn to look at him, even though you know your face is probably burning. “What I said. You’re sexy. Especially when you do that without realizing it.”

His brain shuts down for a moment, processing the bold comment. “Don’t joke with me…” he finally says, leaning his cane against the fridge and trapping you in a bear hug, your hands quickly returning his, feeling the medical corset under his shirt.

“I’m not joking,” you insist, your words crashing against his bare torso, causing him to shiver slightly, which only makes his arms draw you closer to his body. “Is it so hard to believe?” you can hear his heartbeat quicken.

“Stop it…” he replies with his lips on your head.

“Too shy to receive compliments?” in his defense you are being a little more daring than usual.

His arms pull you closer to his body as if that were possible, it is clear that he wants you to stop talking, he laughs when he feels you squirm in his arms as if you are complaining.

“Y/N…” he tells you with that tone that you know is a warning, although it is not serious, you know he is having fun.

You sigh and he loosens his hug a little, enough so that you can rest your chin on his chest.

“Shall we make dinner together?” you ask, Viktor leaned in slightly, his eyes half-lidded in a warm gesture, and brushed the tip of his nose against Y/N’s in a gentle movement, barely a whisper of contact. It was an intimate exchange, full of affection and closeness, that spoke louder than any words. It was as if they shared a secret, a moment just for them, full of warmth and sweetness.

“Sure.”

Making dinner together is a very big word for what really happens in that kitchen, you prepare everything and force him to sit behind the breakfast bar to prove that everything is on point once you start the dinner. Viktor is not afraid to admit that he does not know how to cook anything other than toast and sandwiches. The kitchen is his war zone and the oven is the enemy he has yet to overcome, luckily he has you and by the time the timer in the shape of a pigeon reaches zero his stomach growls with eagerness.

“Taran!” you proudly take the lasagna out of the oven, the warm aroma fills the whole house and both of your stomachs growl desperate for food. “How is it?” you look at him expectantly.

Viktor runs his face over the steaming mold, it looks good and smells good “It’s perfect…” although he could perfectly refer to you instead of the lasagna.

“Go to the sofa, I’ll bring the dishes in a second.” still with your gloves on you push yourself over the breakfast bar to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. Cooking always puts you in a good mood, but seeing that he likes what you cook is a reward on another level.

As you serve the plates and accompany it with something to drink, you watch Viktor’s silhouette walk towards the sofa, he limps a little but that gives him a certain charm because he no longer does it in pain, the way he sits, the way he sighs as he leans his back against the back of the sofa, the way he tilts his head to look at the fire. Everything about him seems like a work of art to you, from the veins that run through his pale, thin hands, his moles that you’re sure must be a constellation in the sky, his eyes that remind you of fresh honey in a virgin forest, his laugh, secret but beautiful like the whistling of rivers in the distance. You love him like you have no idea. Thinking about him revives your spirit, releases unbridled currents of adrenaline that die for him, to reach him, to be in his arms and stay there forever.

“Enjoy” he says when he leaves the dinner on the coffee table, letting you fall on the sofa. Using a blanket to cover you both from the cold.

“Enjoy” he answers, using his arm to pull your figure closer to him and rests his head on yours.

You both eat in silence, not because you have nothing to talk about, just that your stomachs really need that lasagna, you are focused on Viktor’s plate, but this time it doesn’t seem like your tactics are needed to get him to finish eating, he really razes the plate with emotion, something that makes you feel proud. With a full stomach it’s easier to think of something to talk about.

“How about a plant?” You ask, resting your head on his chest, there’s something about his heartbeat that works better to relax you than the ocean sound records on the record players next to the window.

“A plant? Where?” he asks with a playful tone “There are already many at home.” he mentioned, pointing with his gaze to the shelf above the fireplace, full of cacti of different sizes.

“For the lab…something small with green leaves maybe with flowers...” He can hear the small tone of excitement in your voice.

Viktor looked at you curiously. “What do you want it for?”

“For you. The doctors say plants help reduce stress.”

He smiled, a wonderful expression on his face. “Do you think a plant can handle that place?”

“I have faith in it. Just like in you.”

He takes a few seconds to look at you, there is tenderness in his gaze. He is not good with plants, in fact he agreed to have cacti only because they were easy to take care of since basically nothing happened if he forgot about it for a few days, a plant like the one you wanted requires more care but… he is not willing to say no to you, if you want it that way that will be and he will take care of that plant better than anyone else.

“A plant it is then.” He sighs. His figure moves beside you, before you know it he’s picking up the plates.

“Leave the plates, I’ll wash them,” you say, quickly getting up from the couch as Viktor begins to stack the cups and plates on the coffee table.

“No need. I’ll do it,” he replies calmly, already focused on the task. His hands move with the same precision he uses in the lab, carefully stacking each plate to keep them from falling.

“Viktor, I’m your guest. You can’t wash the dishes,” you insist, stepping forward to take the plates from his hands.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression reflecting a mix of amusement and stubbornness. “Guest? You’ve been here so many times that I could claim my bedroom. There’s no point in arguing this.” You reach for the last plate, but Viktor pushes it away with a swift movement. “It’s just a small task. It’s nothing complicated.”

“But—”

“There are no ‘buts’.” He gives you a look, serious but not harsh. It’s more like a silent declaration of victory. “I’ll take care of it.”

Resigned, you sigh and cross your arms, watching him from the couch as he stacks the plates like a jenga and heads toward the kitchen. However, as he stands up with the stack of plates in his hands, he suddenly stops halfway.

For a moment, you don’t understand what’s going on. His back is slightly bent, his posture rigid. Then, he turns his face slightly toward you, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, moving closer with concern.

“A small… inconvenience,” he says in a tone that tries to sound calm, although you notice the stiffness in his voice.

You move closer and see the reason: one of the glasses is dangerously tilted, about to fall. His hands are too busy holding the others and holding onto the cane; moving just a millimeter could lead to disaster.

“Let me help you,” you offer with a smile you can’t help.

“No. It’s under control,” Viktor insists, although his tone lacks the firmness it had before.

“Sure? Because you look like you’re a second away from creating an experiment on the fragility of ceramics.”

His lips curve into a slight smile, but his attention remains fixed on the plates. With a quick but gentle movement, you slide your hands over to catch the wayward glass before it falls.

Viktor shoots you a look, his eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and resignation. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now, can you admit that you need help from time to time?”

He sighs, shaking his head as he continues on his way to the kitchen. “No. But I’ll let you believe it, this time.”

You roll your eyes in response.

“How about I wash them and you dry them?” he offers.

“Fine.”

You watch him sitting at the breakfast bar watching him thoroughly wash each plate, glass, and cutlery, drying his hands on a kitchen towel.

“All yours,” he says as he leaves the kitchen, which is too small for the two of them. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Do you want some company?” His figure tenses up like a cat, stopping only to turn around slightly to find a mischievous smile on your face.

“Nice try.” A stifled laugh escapes his lips before he disappears down the hall and it’s not long before you hear the sound of running water.

The dim light of the bathroom bathed the tense lines of Viktor's figure, reflecting his thinness and the sharp features that marked his skin. Viktor took off his shirt with slow, almost mechanical movements. He had always avoided looking at his nakedness in the mirror, the reflection of a weak man made him sick, but this time the mirror gave him a different image. When he took off his shirt he discovered that on his torso his ribs were barely noticeable, his abdomen was no longer sunken and even a tiny roll of fat had formed in the lower part. He was still thin, but when he touched him he felt muscles and not just his bones, his pale skin had taken on more softness and color. The wounds left by his corset had stopped being reddened furrows and were now barely noticeable.

He caressed his neck, slightly hunched, free of tension. The scars on his side, reminders of medical procedures, were no longer like cracks, but just soft marks.

As he unbuttoned his pants, he braced himself with one hand on the wall for balance. His outer brace trembled slightly. With a methodical movement, he removed the metal piece, carefully setting it aside, as if it were an extension of himself that he could not despise.

He felt like a different person, naked in front of the mirror, admiring a more vivid reflection of himself, his hands running over his muscles that were once tired and sore, now looking strong and energetic. He smiled a little, hesitantly. For the first time, he liked what he saw in the mirror and he knew who he had to thank for that.

Steam began to fill the room as he adjusted the water to hot for the comfort of his leg. Once naked, Viktor stood still for a moment, letting the moisture envelop his skin. His body, although marked by a certain fragility, radiated an unbreakable strength, feeling each scar with something other than disgust for the first time in a long time. His eyes closed, enjoying that shower like no other.

After finishing putting away the dishes, you peeked into the hallway. You found him sitting on the bed, wearing baggy pajama pants and his shirt covering his naked torso, his head in his hands and his eyes fixed on his leg. His posture was rigid, filled with a tension that you could almost feel in the air.

You didn't say anything at first, because you knew that what he needed wasn't words, but company. You approached silently, crossing the hallway and sat down next to him, placing a hand on his good knee.

"Does it hurt?" you finally asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Viktor nodded, not raising his head. "A little. There are times when... it feels like it's never going to go away." He internally cursed himself, the whole day had passed without problems, with barely any discomfort, he didn't understand why the pain decided to attack him right now, it was as if it was mocking him.

Your chest tightened at his vulnerability. You knew how much he hated showing weakness, even with you.

"Let me help…"

He stared at you for a moment, as if considering your words. He finally nodded with a sigh. You knelt in front of him, placing his leg over your lap, pushing his pajama bottoms up to his thigh, your cold fingers giving him goosebumps where you touched them. The internal mechanism of the device on his leg was simpler but no less aggressive, as you removed the straps you could hear small gasps coming from Viktor’s mouth, his hand crumpling the sheets beside him, his skin reddening as the pressure of the device disappeared. Once the device was off you followed the usual nightly ritual, sliding your hands up his leg, applying pressure to the right spot and massaging the tense muscles in his leg and foot, you were precise, almost surgical, as you moved your hands up his leg with extreme gentleness. At first his muscles were tense but slowly you felt them relax under your touch. Finally, the tense grimace changed to a placid, lazy expression of relief as the pain faded.

"Better…" he murmured after a while. His voice sounded calmer.

“See? I’m good at this.” you said as you stood up to sit beside him on his bed.

He laughed softly, his low, warm laugh filling the space. “Maybe I should hire you as my personal physical therapist.”

“You couldn’t pay me enough.” you teased, giving him a soft poke on his nose. “But lucky for you, I do this because I care about you.” Your hands slid down his back, taking the shirt with you, exposing his medical corset. It took you a little more technique to remove it, a couple of twists here and the movement of the levers on his shoulder blades were enough to make the heavy structure give way, pulling it over his head and leaving it on the floor under the nightstand. Your hands caressed his bare back, his skin pale as sweet milk and warm as the first rays of the sun in the day.

He took your hand then, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on your fingers and murmur against them, “How lucky I am…”

“You have no idea…” you said, sliding your hand up his arm to his cheek. He looked totally sleepy but willing to simply adjust his posture and have your lips meet his in a slow, delicate brush, more sensation than intention. His messy hair falling over his forehead, tickling the bridge of your nose.

Without saying anything, his fingers slowly slide up your cheek, warm and a little clumsy, as if even in his sleepy state he wanted to make sure he touched you carefully. His thumb traces a small circle against your skin, and his lips, barely curved in a lazy smile, murmur your name, so low it almost seems like a sigh.

You lean into him, unable to resist the closeness he himself seeks. Viktor, so practical and rational during the day, now seems completely given over to the moment. The whole world had been reduced to that single point of contact.

There is no rush in the kiss, only a sweetness heavy with tiredness, as if sleep were pulling at him but he couldn’t help but stay with you a little longer. His lips are warm, soft, and his breathing, calm but irregular, mixes with yours.

When the kiss breaks you don’t know how, but you’ve ended up lying on the bed, his lips barely separating from yours, staying so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. His eyes half-closed, they look at you with a softness that melts any thought.

“I have a gift for you…” his voice is barely a whisper against your lips “Can you bring my bag please?” he asked, dragging one of your locks of hair behind your ear. You close your eyes, you're so comfortable that you don't want to separate from him. "Honey... please..." his words completely disarm you, the air leaves your lungs and you have to drag him back inside, it's the first time he calls you that...

You didn't expect it, you don't know what to do or say next. "I... amhmm... I... will go get your bag..." you murmur unsurely as you basically flee the room with your heart racing. You may have heard Viktor's giggle behind you but maybe it was just your nerves playing a bad joke on you.

When you returned with the bag to the room Viktor has lifted his torso from the bed and holds a small package wrapped excellently in ornate paper in his hands. You crawl to his side on the bed, cautiously dragging his bag, was sending you for it, a trick?

The air in the room is charged with a quiet expectation as Viktor leans forward slightly, holding a box wrapped in dark, elegant paper. His fingers, always careful, seem a little tenser than usual, as if the act of handing you the gift is more intimidating than he imagined.

“This is for you,” he says, his voice low but firm, though you notice the slight tremor in his words. He hands it to you, but doesn’t look directly at you; his eyes fixate on some indefinite spot, as if he’s not entirely sure how you’ll react.

You take the box, feeling the unexpected weight in your hands. You watch him, searching for some clue in his expression, but Viktor just crosses his arms, adopting a posture that could be interpreted as casual, though his slightly stiff shoulders give it away.

“Open it,” he murmurs, and his eyes finally meet yours, shining with a mix of nervousness and something deeper, something you can only describe as affection.

As you open the paper, you discover a retro-designed camera, impeccable, with a simple elegance that suits him perfectly. You blink, surprised, as he leans over to turn it on. Before you can ask, his hand rummages through his bag, showing you the small Hextech gem and to your utter astonishment he places it inside the camera mechanism. The room lights up for a moment before Viktor presses a button and the magic begins.

At first, music is the first thing you can hear, then like real magic you see a series of hologram images all around the room: you and him together at different moments, some captured in secret, others you remember clearly. Laughter, glances, small everyday gestures. Then, the photos change to your favorite things: books, landscapes, objects you love, letters you’ve never read written in his own handwriting, every detail carefully collected.

And then, his voice.

“My name is Viktor and…” he begins, his tone deep but soft, with that meticulous cadence that characterizes him. “This is for my dear Y/N. A record of shared moments, of laughter, of everything you represent to me, of everything she is and everything she have allowed me to be.”

Your eyes glaze over as the images continue: your first photo together, a romantic poem, even the portrait of you both that an artist had made on your first date after leaving the hospital, your favorite flowers, things only someone in love would choose.

“It’s an archive of memories,” his voice continues, “but also a reminder to me. That no matter how chaotic the world is, there’s always beauty in the small moments. And in all of these moments, there’s her.”

When the voice ends, the silence that remains is overwhelming, laden with emotions you can’t put into words. You look up at Viktor, who now seems unable to meet your gaze, his cheeks totally red.

“I wasn’t sure if it would be too much.." he admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But I thought… maybe you’d like it. You’ve done so much for me…”

You lean into him, setting the camera aside, and wrap your hands around his neck. “Too much?” Viktor, this is perfect...”

His lips curve into a small but genuine smile, and even though he tries to hide it, you can see the relief and joy in his eyes. This gesture, so meticulous and full of love, is irrefutable proof of how much you mean to him.

The weight of what you just saw is still present in your chest, warm and overwhelming. The camera is off to the side, forgotten for the moment, because now all your attention is on him. Viktor is still in front of you, clearly nervous but trying to keep his composure, as if you don’t know how to handle your emotions at this moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, with that analytical look that never seems to completely fade. But there’s something else in his eyes now: a mix of vulnerability and hope, as if he’s not sure if his gift had had the impact he expected.

You don’t need words to answer him.

You move toward him in one motion, your hands gripping the sides of his face before he can react. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, and for an instant, you can feel his breathing hitch, caught between wonder and anticipation.

“You’re amazing,” you murmur against his lips, and before he can process it, you kiss him.

The kiss is urgent, charged with everything you feel and everything you can’t put into words. It’s like you want to tear down any remaining doubts he might have about how much you love him. Your lips move with a desperate hunger, as if you’re seeking to etch into him every emotion he’s provoked in you.

It takes Viktor a second to react, but when he does, he kisses you back with equal intensity. His hands, ever careful, grip your waist, pulling you closer to him as if he needs to have you closer. There’s no longer any shyness in his movements, only the restrained passion of someone who’s been waiting for this moment without realizing it.

His breathing is fast, ragged, and you can feel his lips tremble slightly against yours, not out of insecurity, but from the torrent of emotions that overwhelms him. One of his arms wraps around you, while his other hand moves up to tangle in your hair, holding you with a firmness you’ve never felt from him before.

When you finally part, you’re both breathless. His eyes, normally calm and focused, now shine with a mix of wonder and devotion. His lips are red, and a smile, small but sincere, forms on his face.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he says, his voice huskier than usual.

“Did it bother you?” you ask, still panting, your hands still on his face.

“Disturb me?..” Viktor lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head, his forehead touching yours. “I couldn’t. But… I might need another demonstration to be completely sure.”

His playful tone, combined with the way he looks at you, makes your heart race again. “Cheeky…” Without saying a word, your eyes drift to the camera still resting to the side. You take the camara with firm but hurried hands, turning it on as he looks at you with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“What are you doing?” he asks softly, tilting his head.

“I want this saved too,” you reply with a mischievous smile, holding the camera in the air, above the both of you.

Before Viktor can react or say anything else, you lean towards him again on the bed, capturing his lips in a kiss filled with all the love you feel. This time, the kiss is more confident, more determined, as if you both know exactly what you mean to each other.

With the camera in one hand, you press the button, the click barely perceptible between the racing beat of your heart and the soft whisper of his breath against your lips.

When the kiss ends, you both stand there, foreheads together, sharing a soft laugh, as if the simple act of capturing that moment makes it even more special.

The photo joins the rest floating around the room, and you see the image: the two of you locked in a kiss, your hand holding the camera, his hair a little messy, and his face slightly tilted toward you, as if his entire world is contained in that instant.

“Perfect,” you say quietly, stroking your thumb along the edge of the camera before turning back to him.

Viktor looks at the photo, and though he doesn’t say anything, the soft smile on his face says it all. You grab the camera and add the image to the video, where that photo now sits as part of the collection. One more memory that encapsulates not only who you are, but what you mean to each other.

He looks at you once more, his golden eyes shining with something you could swear is pride. “I think this is my favorite memory so far,” he murmurs, taking your hand delicately, as if afraid the moment might fade away.

And in that instant, you know that no matter how much time passes, that photo—and this kiss—will always be unforgettable.

N/A: I'm sorry for the delay, my dog died and I didn't have the strength to do anything other than be in bed. I really hope you like it and it was what you expected.

[luveline]

hellooo I have a request for Spencer x bombshell! reader (I'm not sure if you've done this before and if you have I apologise!!) but like they're on a case and one of them gets pretty badly hurt somehow & then the other is really worried about them & stuff and then I'm not sure (I think this could be good but not the way that I have spoken about it and so I'm very very sorry!!)

u r so awesome don’t worry!!

cw canon typical violence and injury

Everything is crisp and quiet at the precipice of the stakeout. You adjust your gun where it’s poised over the roof of an SUV away from a moving officer’s body. The negotiator adjusts the megaphone at their thigh nervously, waiting for Hotch’s go ahead. You’re all waiting for it. A hand raised, sending you in, hostage recovered, a long case coming to a short close. 

“Don’t forget your leg,” Spencer says to you under his breath. 

“Trust me, babe, I can’t forget it,” you say back, glancing quickly at him to your left. He’s facing forward, trained on the window where you’d last seen the unsub. The distance between you both and the danger is small, less than three feet of space. You and Spencer don’t have a clear shot, the agent’s behind you better equipped and better trained, but you can make do in a pinch. 

“Hurting?” he whispers. 

“Half as bad as it was yesterday.” 

“I have a bad feeling.” 

“Yeah?” You follow Hotch’s hand. The negotiation begins. You and Spencer don’t talk again. 

The unsub is sour, the victim terrified. When the screaming inside begins in earnest, the FBI rolls inside, confident in taking down the unsub, if a little worried about the victims wellbeing. You and Spencer sweep in less than ten inches away from each other, unafraid, and you don’t see the sledgehammer until it’s hitting you in the jaw, spraying blood like dark ink over Spencer’s pale cheek. 

—

“I don’t care if that’s what you recommend.” A drag of a soft touch somewhere on your skin. “Sincerely. I want a second opinion.” 

“It’s a mandibular fracture, we have a suitable follow up procedure.” 

“I understand, but I’m doing what she’d want me to do. When she wakes up, she’ll say the same thing, and so there’s no point in starting the paperwork for a procedure she won’t agree to.” 

“I doubt her cosmetic preferences will outweigh functionality.” 

It’s Spencer’s voice, Spencer’s hand on your leg. He’s reaching back to hold you as he defends you. “Respectfully, you don’t know her. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. She needs peace and quiet.” 

The doctor harrumphs but leaves. Quiet is restored, and for a while you doze, the only thing at your attention Spencer’s hand where it climbs. He takes your hand. You know his fingers well where they twine between yours. 

A few hours pass by in sluggish slee, the bed elevated to an uncomfortable sitting position. 

“Hey?” he asks, fingertips to the hill of your shoulder. “Are you waking up?” 

You can’t make your mouth form words. Your eyes flash open in shock.

“Hey, don’t panic. I’m sorry, I’m going to explain, but please don’t panic.” 

You wait. 

Spencer stands in a rumpled shirt, hair in his eyes, glasses slipping down his nose. “Your jaw is broken, fractured, actually, pretty badly. You’ve had so much pain relief over the last few hours I’m surprised you can even open your eyes, and it’s good you’re struggling to move your mouth because it would only hurt anyways.” He claps your arm gently. “I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere though, okay? I’m right here.” 

That’s not what scares you; you know Spencer’s gonna stay. It’s not a question. 

Your hand strays up to your face. 

“It’s not bad,” he swears, and perhaps lies. 

“Spence,” you manage, a croak that aches and lisps at once. 

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning down. “Please don’t get upset.” 

You blink tearfully. You don’t remember what happened, just the flash of pain and now Spencer looking down at you like you’re wounded. He sits carefully on the side of your bed and grabs you by the waist, two hands on your sides and arms resting on your stomach, like a hug that hasn’t crept forward. 

“You won’t like the bruise,” he says apologetically. 

“Bad?” you whisper. 

“It’s all the way up to your eye. He also chipped two of your teeth… I’m so sorry, angel. It was my fault.” He thumbs your ribs. “I’ll fix everything. I already talked to your dentist, and tonight they’re coming back to talk about your plastics because the blow split your skin, okay? But you're mostly fixed already.” 

“‘M I… still pretty?” you ask. 

“Still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he says, not half as shyly as he’d usually would. 

You cry panicked, dribbly tears. He rubs shapes into your sides and swears again that it’ll all be okay, and it’s not that you don’t believe him, it’s just that it’s really starting to hurt. 

“Had a bad feeling,” he says, wiping your tears as gently as he can before they can wet the bandaging on your jaw.

“Did you get him for me?” you ask. 

Morgan clears his throat from the doorway to announce his arrival, a coffee cup in hand, pastry bag hanging between his pinky and marriage finger. He sounds like he’s about to laugh, “Did you, lover boy?” He beams at you. “I’ve never seen him pistol whip someone before. You would’ve loved it.”

You groan in agony. Missing out on seeing that is almost as bad as breaking your jaw. 

“I’ll recreate it for you,” Spencer promises. 

“And now it’s time for him to eat,” Morgan says, putting the pastry bag on the bed, “and get some sleep. He hasn’t slept in the two days you’ve been in here.”

“I had important stuff to take care of,” he says, rubbing your side. “While you couldn’t do it yourself.”

“Sleep,” you insist through your achy mouth.

Spencer’s eyes go soft and sad. “I will.”

[maddamoiselle]

The Weight of Wanting You

Pairing: Caleb x NonMC!Reader Synopsis: You fell for each other in pixels and whispers—never realizing you had already crashed into each other every day in real life. Tags: Ennemies to lovers, friends to lovers, university AU, slow burn( I hope)

Author's nonsense: I'm not finished with Tied Soul and Burning Heart. Do not worry. Just... this story couldn't get out of my head, so .. here it is. I hope you'll enjoy it. Words: a.5k -> Next Chapter

Chapter I: "Typing...Falling."

You spun your pencil between your fingers as the teacher was talking about the results of the exams your class took. His voice was stern, almost disappointed by the results of his class’s hard work.

You bit your lips as he started to call each student, saying the grade out loud and, as usual, from the worst to the best. Of course, no one lingered once they received their marks. They just left the room.

You started to relax once you realized half the class had received their grade. A sigh of relief left your lips. Maybe you’ll manage to have the best grade in the class. Which meant you’ll be able to gloat to your—

“ Is she missing ?”

You raised from your seat as you realized your teacher had called your name twice. You quickly walked toward him, his desk at the bottom of the amphitheater’s stairs. The smile you gave your teacher was like the sun as he congratulated you, giving a few pieces of advice to have a perfect mark.

Once your sheet was inside your bag, you spun around to walk up the stairs and leave the room. You scoffed when you heard the teacher call for the last student in the amphitheater.

Tall, striking and impossible to ignore.

Xia Caleb.

He had his bag on one shoulder, walking with a relaxed confidence. Everyone on campus was jealous or adoring him. From sport to class, he always came up first. The campus’s heartthrob.

He was nice to everyone, such a good boy…

Well, everyone but you.

Because you both hated each other.

As you passed him as he went down the stairs, you managed to hear his voice just before you put on your earphones.

”Tell me, do you even remember what being first feels like? Or has it been that long? Second place isn’t bad but it’s pathetic when you act like it’s an accomplishment.”

You snapped your head toward him, staring into his cold eyes. He gave you his signature smile, the one he gave to everyone. But you were the only one to know that hateful side of that … poor excuse of a man.

“ Enjoy first while it lasts. You won’t see it coming when I take it from you.” You spat at him. He rolled his eyes at you, his polite smile vanishing from his face. “ What, afraid of a little rivalry?”

” You keep calling it a rivalry. I call it repetition.”

You stared as he walked toward the teacher, not bothering to wait for a come back from you. You almost wanted to throw your bag at the back of his head, but the teacher would be a witness.

You walked out of the room, putting on your earphones before walking on the campus. Time was flying, and you needed to grab a train to go to Linkon. The next ride was in 2 hours, you could go to your apartment, take a shower, grab your suitcases and then—

A soft, high-pitched noise reached your ears before you crashed into someone.You tried so hard not to swear when your phone fell on the ground, screen against the floor.

“I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You looked down at the girl in front of you and sighed. As you helped her get up, you looked around, making sure he wasn’t there to witness such a scene.

If Caleb hated you, it was surely because during your first year, you were playing with your friend and, unfortunately, injured his precious girlfriend. He was furious with you and cornered you somewhere, and menacing you if you ever hurt her again, that would be the last thing you’d do.

Everyone on campus knew that Caleb and his “pipsqueak” were a tag team. He was very protective of her, and any guys that tried to seduce were met with a smiling Caleb, accusing them of stealing his girlfriend.

You didn’t really hate that girl. You just didn’t want to have any troubles. She always seemed to try to hang out with you, she wasn’t bad… But her boyfriend was.

That jerk.

”I should be the one apologising.” You sighed before noticing she was carrying boxes that were now on the floor. Checking the time one more time, you realized you still had time before going to Linkon and meeting up with your best friend. “Do you need help?”

”No, no, I’m strong! I’m going to be a hunter after all— What the hell!”

You didn’t touch the boxes. You didn't have to.

Instead, you breathed in. Slow. Calm. And the air answered.

It curled around your fingers like a ribbon pulled from a spool, invisible but obedient. Then it spread, widening, thinning, and becoming dozens of slender threads that slithered between cardboard and gravity.

The boxes jerked slightly—startled, maybe—but then they floated, just an inch or two, as if the air beneath them had grown suddenly thicker, like soft hands cradling their weight.

You guided them with a tilt of your palm. The wind flowed under and around, swirling upward at the corners to keep the balance, twisting gently like invisible dancers holding a tray overhead.

"Uh... are those boxes hovering?" She asked, eyes wide.

“They're getting carried,” you said. “Same as you were doing. Just with better posture.”

You walked beside your little wind parade, nudging the air now and then when a box drifted too far left. It's not glamorous. It's not heroic. It’s a little clumsy… It’s your evol.

Air manipulation.

”Your evol looks like Caleb’s!” She laughed as her hands were moving through the wind under the floating boxes.

You knew.

How many people have told you that? Always comparing your evol to Caleb’s? His evol was more controlled, stricter, and more relatable. While yours was clumsy, free-like, childish…

After following the girl for maybe ten minutes, you finally let the wind drop the boxes into a classroom. You quickly check your phone, trying to show Caleb’s girlfriend you were busy.

”We definitely should hang out some other times!”

You nodded while walking backward, putting your earphones back where they belonged. After a small wave, you dashed toward your apartment, using the wind to make you a little faster.

The door to your apartment opened as soon as you taped your code. After a quick shower, you made sure your suitcase was ready. You looked at yourself in the mirror and nodded before dashing to the train station.

The train was five minutes late, which made you able to catch it. You sat on a seat and smiled as you realized you had a notification of a very popular game you started playing years ago.

Seems like the game was in maintenance.

You went on Discord and smirked when you saw a notification about a message you didn't see today.

You always loved playing games, it helped you relax. A few years ago, you met this man online who helped you level up and finish the game. You both had fun, like a lot, and ended up writing to each other in Discord. You never saw his face or heard his voice. And it was the same for him.

You both didn’t want any drama, so you just decided to keep personal info for yourself. In the end, it worked well because you were always talking to each other. You didn’t know his face or his voice, but after all these years, you felt like you knew him perfectly.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (15:54): Dearest of friend, support of my warrior, healer of my health bar

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (15:54): tell me you have enough space on your computer because OUR game is in maintenance. Like a BIG maintenance. The new patch is 78GB

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (15:55): don’t give me the “ I have no more space ><“ bullshit because I’ll fucking crash out kqhdkf

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (15:57): we are playing tonight, you’ll have enough space in your computer, we’ll play all weekend :D RIGHT??

A soft scoffed left your lips as you read his message. Your grin didn’t leave your face as you typed your answers.

WindQueen.exe( 16:15): Do you think I live in a NASA server farm buddy? 78GB??

Grav1ty.D3n1ed ( 16:16): we both know you have 12GB of screenshots of me raging through the chat. That can be deleted. that should have been deleted

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:16): just tidy your computer :) pls

WindQueen.exe (16:17): nah

WindQueen.exe (16:17): I keep that. Too precious. I die laughing each time i read your rage

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:17): fine, fine

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:17): but if you don’t clear space, I’m going to have to play the new expansion alone

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:17): me

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:17): alone :’((

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:18): with strangers :’(((((

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:18): who don’t say “ we drop in, we mess up physics, we win pretty” every time we launch into battle

You laughed behind your hand, trying to keep your voice low. You’ve been a friend for maybe three or four years, and he really felt like you had already met multiple times. You wanted to meet him sometimes, but you were too scared… And for now… everything was good, so there was no need to create chaos.

WindQueen.exe (16:19): That’s emotional blackmail, and i’m reporting you to the discord mods

Grav1ty.D3n1ed ( 16:19) : i AM the mods

WindQueen.exe (16:19): … damn it

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:20): pls

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:20): just delete 3 folders of cursed meme and I’ll buy you the in-game wings you wanted

WindQueen.exe (16:20): …

WindQueen.exe (16:20) : make them glittery

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:21): deal

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:21): bless you storage goddess

You chuckled once more before watching a video about the new expansion. You were so excited to play it again. They created new classes, new maps, and a new story… Thank god the exams were over.

WindQueen.exe (16:30): Do you already have a strategy for our raid?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed ( 16:35): Strategy? The usual: loosely improvised and morally questionable. :)

WindQueen.exe (16:37): ok :) we’re so going to die :)

You scoffed as he sent you a thumb up. The ride to Linkon wasn’t that long, so before you noticed it, you were already out of the train, walking toward your destination.

The door opened and a waiter came to you. The cafe shop wasn’t full, and your eyes immediately fell on the dark-haired man’s back. You smiled at the waiter before walking toward your friend with a big smile.

You saw his back tense before you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, your cheek pressing against his face.

”Hey my little princess, how are you?” You gushed before making half a heart with your two fingers, waiting for him to do the same.

Hazel green eyes turned toward you, and a subtle amused smile sketched his lips as his gaze fell on your finger. He sighed before completing your heart by making the other side with his own finger.

”I don’t see how it looks like a heart.”

”Zayne, you wear glasses, that is why. Your point of view is irrelevant.”

”And I still operate on people’s hearts.”

”Scary.”

You sat in front of him with a big smile.

Zayne has been your friend for 13 years now, and a lot of people were surprised when they met you. Most of Zayne’s friends were doctors. You were the only one — you think — that was … normal? Energetic, loud, clumsy…?

But in the end, a lot of the hospital's staff liked it when you came for Zayne. You noticed them looking at the two of you, laughing at your interaction. You were like the wind, bursting the window open, making noises, being seen and felt. Zayne was like ice, calm, composed, watching you vibing around him.

” By the way,” you said after another monologue Zayne listened while eating his sweet. Most people would think Zayne didn’t care about gossip, and they were true. But when you were the one talking about it, he would stare at you, his expression telling everything you needed to know. “ Spill the tea.”

Zayne lifted his cup, slow and casual, like he’s weighing how much dignity he was about to sacrifice.

“Doctor Rivas matched with four different people on the same dating app. All under different aliases. He somehow forgot we all share one base-wide Wi-Fi ID.”

You nearly choked on foam.

“Wait—wait—he catfished himself??”

Zayne nodded, utterly unbothered.

“And flirted with his own dummy account for three days. Send a haiku.”

“You have it, don’t you?”

Zayne siped. Then pulled out his tablet.

“‘Mission log of my lonely heart

Call sign: Forbidden Touch

Craving your launch code.’”

You wheezed not minding the stares from the people.

“Tell me you saw his reaction when he realized you all were aware of it!” You grabbed the table while trying to find air to breathe.

“I had to pretend the protocol was still alive.”

You bursted out laughing and he smirked, eyes crinkling just a little.

“Also… Nurse Mira tried to use a hover cart as a shortcut through the mess hall. She made it to the salad bar before gravity betrayed her.”

“Why do I always miss these things?!” Your fist banged against the table. How unfair, you didn’t have that much gossip from school.

“Because you're actually being productive. Disgusting behavior, honestly.”

He siped, serene. You took a bite of your pastry and narrowed your eyes. But then, you couldn’t stop giggling, and Zayne actually smiled — the kind that’s small, rare, and only ever happens when he’s with you and no one else is watching.

“I know this isn’t tactical… but I like this. The quiet. The chaos from a distance.”

“You mean gossip.”

“I prefer ‘strategic morale intelligence.’” Zayne smirked at you while you rolled your eyes with a fond smile. “I enjoy seeing the masks crack. It reminds me that everyone is just one poorly timed sneeze away from humiliation.”

“That’s so beautifully evil.” You giggled while using a tissue to wipe your tears, minding your mascara.

He raised his cup in salute.

“And yet, I tell you first. Consider it an exclusive. You’re the only one I trust not to post it to the station bulletin.”

You leaned in, conspiratorial.

“Because you adore me?”

“Because I know you’re capable of war.”

You clinked cups again, a toast to shared secrets and dangerous friendship.

The coffee is warm. The trust? Even warmer.

After your full gossip session, you both left the coffee shop under the staff’s eyes. Now that you thought about it, while Zayne was calm on the trail, you were the one wheezing and snorting so loud… You almost fell from your chair twice.

”I’ll drive you to your parent’s house.”

You nodded, putting the suitcase on the seat before sitting next to him. You immediately connected your phone to his radio and started playing your favorite song.

You were using your phone as a mic before pointing toward Zayne when you wanted him to sing the next lyrics or when you knew he enjoyed the part in the song.

After a while, Zayne dropped you off in front of your parents' house. He helped you carry your suitcase inside before getting ready to go back home. He didn't seem surprise that your dad wasn't there, and who would blame him?

You gave him a big hug before going straight in your bedroom and turning on your computer. You took your phone and grinned when you saw his message.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (18:43): did you do it :)

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (18:43): you did right

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(18:44): answer me woman!

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(18:44): how is your storage??

You giggled at his message. He seemed deseparate….

WindQueen.exe(19:01): but there are so many memes I use :(

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:01): :)))

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:01): just send them to me, ill keep them on my computers

WindQueen.exe (19:01): awn <3

After a whole thirty minutes of cleaning your storage. You finally did it.

WindQueen.exe(19:34): the rage folder has been… archived

WindQueen.exe(19:34]: the cursed memes are in exile

WindQueen.exe (19:34): the desktop is clean

WindQueen.exe (19:35): you may now rejoice, oh pixel prince

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:36): 😱😱😱

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:36): SHE DID IT

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:36): I’m crying in GPU tears rn

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:36):: queue up. I’m launching the game. Wings out. Attitude on.

WindQueen.exe (19:37): I want the glittery ones

WindQueen.exe (19:37): and a new sword. Something that says “I cleared 80GB for this.”

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:39): Done. You’re getting the sparkliest sword in the kingdom. It pings every time it hits.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:39): Ping. Ping. Ping.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:39): That’s the sound of justice AND hard drive freedom.

WindQueen.exe (19:40): god that’s hot

WindQueen.exe (19:40): LET’S DROP IN. WIND ME UP, BABY.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:40): Chaos meets matchmaking queue.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (19:40): LET’S GO MAKE THE PHYSICS ENGINE CRY.

You arrived first, floating on spirals of wind, your avatar’s wings glowing silver-blue, trailing streaks of air behind them like light caught in motion.

You landed soft, zero impact, a swirl of petals and pixels around your boots. Pose: confident. Sword: glittery as hell. Your name flashed above your avatar.

WINDQUEEN.EXE

His avatar slammed down two seconds later, gravity trailing behind him like a cloak of falling stars. His landing craters the ground in a cinematic boom, chunks of stone hovering weightless for a breathless moment before clattering down in reverse slow-mo. And his name popped up above his head.

GRAV1TY.D3N1ED

You used your mic, your avatar using her own voice to talk in game.

"Nice of you to finally fall for me."

"Wasn't falling. I was aiming.” His avatar's voice answered.

“You ready?”

“I was born ready. But more importantly—your storage was reborn.”

You laughed, shaking your head, taking a sip of water.

“Bless this SSD.”

You both immediately went for the new map, not caring about the new monsters and their new skills. You just wanted to have fun with him. You wondered if his voice was similar to his avatar…

”Alright, ready? I think this is the lesser levelled mobs.”

”Of course, who do you think I am? We drop in, we mess up physics, we win pretty.”

”Amen.”

After one hour in a raid, your avatars were staying in a safe zone. You didn’t expect the new patch to be this easy. You were almost disappointed… but you needed to win each area before continuing.

You landed with a dramatic flourish, even though there’s no one around to see it. You did it for the aesthetic.

His avatar landed next to you with less flair but no less drama — his health bar blinking red from just barely surviving that boss’s final attack.

“Okay, be honest. You thought I was going to forget to heal you at the end, didn’t you?” Your avatar spoke through the game.

“I was already drafting my will. It said: ‘Tell WindQueen to clear her hard drive more often.’” He chuckled.

“Rude. I cleared seventy-eight gigabytes for this moment.”

“And every pixel was worth it. Did you see that combo? We practically rewrote physics.” He whistled, his avatar stretching himself.

"Physics was crying. Newton logged off."

"Einstein said 'nope' and phased through the floor."

You both just sat there for a second in the peaceful glow of victory. Your avatars doing idle animations: his cracking his knuckles, yours stretching like a cat.

“…we are so obnoxiously powerful together.” You scoffed, sipping your water with deep satisfaction.

“And humble. Don’t forget humble.”

“Oh yeah. Definitely the most humble players on the server.”

“Wanna run it again? Or are you emotionally recovering from deleting your meme folders?” He teased you.

“I’m emotionally recovering from you. Queue us up.”

“Yes ma’am. Let’s go break the universe again.”

You started another raid with stronger monsters. You knew you would be able to win and get all the delicious rewards you saw.

…

The environment was lava-lit and cracking apart. The enemies? Twice their level, twice their size, and way too smug-looking for digital creatures.

Spiked golems, firestorms, giant flaming crows — it’s a mess.

“Okay, this is fine. This is totally fine. I’ve only been set on fire three times in the last ten seconds.” you said while your fingers were flying on the keyboard, trying to keep your avatar alive and the monster away from your partner.

“Correction: four. You missed the one where the crow insulted your haircut.”

“I will yeet you off this cliff.” You spat, even if your lips turned into a smile.

“You’d miss me. Also I’m the only one keeping these golems from turning us into player jerky.”

“I'm the one pushing them back with wind blasts!”

“You’re just blow-drying them aggressively.”

“Oh wow. Okay. Next healing boost is mine, boy.”

“Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting your chat logs.” He said as he avoided another blow from the golems, which seemed ready to crush him each time he was trying to attack their healer.

“You already do.”

Suddenly, a molten hammer smashed down, barely missing you both. You cursed in your mic, drinking potion while trying to dodge another attack.

“ Move, or I swear I will use my ult to launch you like a volleyball.”

The battle was chaotic. Screaming lava wolves. Exploding terrain. A miniboss with too many swords. The mob aggro was intense, and the game's soundtrack was blaring like it knew you were about to die.

“Hey. Hey! HEY! You pulled the boss and like, twenty-six mobs.”

“Correction: twenty-seven. I aggro’d a lava deer. It looked at me funny.”

“You WHAT—?!” You frantically healed him. Your wind swirled like a whirlwind of desperation and regret. One more hit, and your friend’s avatar was down, your mana bar’s flashing red, and there was a burning crow dive bombing from the sky.

“I AM ONE PIXEL FROM DEATH.”

“I have a plan.” You heard him, his voice turning serious.

“If it involves dying and blaming me, again, I will unplug you myself.”

“No. I’m going to use my ult and turn this whole mob into space dust.”

“Fine. Do it. Channel your inner dramatic anime moment.” You chuckled, watching your health bar turning emptier and emptier by the seconds.

He floated into the air, gravity pulsing around him like a dying sun. It’s majestic. It’s epic. It’s—

“GUESS WHO IS HERE BITCHES—!”

You stared as his avatar was attacked by a crow who clearly pooped a bomb on his head, making it interrupt his ult. You smashed your head against your desk, trying to keep yourself from laughing too loud.

“…Did you just get dive-bombed by a bird and lose your ultimate.”

“It was majestic and tactical bird poop.”

“I’m logging off. I’m uninstalling. I’m joining a puzzle game guild.”

A lava wolf pounced. Your healing was on cooldown. Your friend was stunned. Your wind blasted push literally nothing.

[ “TOTAL PARTY WIPE.”]

Your characters collapsed dramatically. Grav1ty.D3n1ed's ragdoll pose was especially tragic. You took a screenshot immediately.

“…So… dinner and a post-mortem?”

“We died to a flaming pigeon and a spicy Wolf.”

You both decided not to try this boss again when you realized it was already midnight. You groaned before going into Discord. You still felt upset about your loss, and you were starting to be very hungry. One screen showed your avatars sitting together on a cliff, and your other screen was showing your conversation in discord.

WindQueen.exe (00:15):I just want to talk.

WindQueen.exe (00:15):To whoever programmed that crow.

WindQueen.exe (00:15):With fists.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:16):...I was mid-ult. MID. ULT.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:16):That bird is my worst ennemy now.

WindQueen.exe (00:17): it pooped on your ability bar, idiot.

WindQueen.exe (00:17): It wasn’t an enemy. It was an insult.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:18): I’m filing an in-game trauma report.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:18): Cause of death: aerial fecal sabotage.

WindQueen.exe (00:18): Meanwhile I was over here wind-blasting like a manic ceiling fan.

WindQueen.exe (00:19):Nothing.

WindQueen.exe (00:19):Not even a breeze of victory. Just flames.

WindQueen.exe (00:19): And shame.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:19):Honestly? We looked cool.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:20):Right before we died.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:20): Like, we went down with style.

WindQueen.exe (00:20): Oh, absolutely.

WindQueen.exe (00:21):10/10 drama.

WindQueen.exe (00:21): Zero survivability.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:21): I'm putting that on a t-shirt.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:21): "Our love language is revive timers." ❤️

WindQueen.exe (00:22): Not even timers. We died so fast the game laughed.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:22):Hey…

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:22): You healed me like ten times.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:22): That’s basically a digital love confession.

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling warm inside. You weren’t in love with your digital friend… But after all those years, you couldn’t help but think you might have a tiny crush for him. The way he writes, how funny he can be, or how much of a loser he likes to be to make you laugh..

How was he in real life…?

WindQueen.exe (00:23): Don’t flatter yourself.

WindQueen.exe (00:23): That was pure survival instinct.

WindQueen.exe (00:23)Also... maybe a little love.

WindQueen.exe (00:23): Like, 3% love.

WindQueen.exe (00:24): 97% panic.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:24): I’ll take it.

WindQueen.exe (00:25):I’m not queuing with you again until I’ve had emotional support cookies and a new wind spell.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:25): deal.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:25):but next run?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:26): we avenge ourselves.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:26): that crow’s going down.

WindQueen.exe (00:27): I’m naming my next spell CROW SLAYER.

WindQueen.exe (00:27) It'll sparkle. Out of spite.

You yawned before tapping that you were going to eat some noodles.

WindQueen.exe (00:28): i should prob sleep

WindQueen.exe (00:28) been staring at this cliff for 20 mins lol

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:28): Have you ever thought about how we talk more here than with people in real life?

You bit your thumb, staring at your screen. The soft music from the game was the only sound you could hear in your silent bedroom. You didn’t know who was behind the screen, but…

Gosh, you wish you did.

You were always talking to each other, sending memes, jokes, or just talking about your day. From what you knew, he was a man, the same age as you, he was living with his little sister and an old hag. He was a nerd, but he always seemed to be at the gym.

WindQueen.exe (00:30): All the time.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:31): It’s strange…I don’t even know your name

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:31): But i feel like… i already know you..? The real you? Not the sparkly air-sword version.

You snorted at that.

WindQueen.exe (00:32): that version is 20% cooler, though.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:32): true lol but i like both

Your heart stuttered, and for a second, you checked to make sure your mic was off. you were almost afraid he could hear it through the headset.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:33): not in a weird way!

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:33): just i feel like i can be myself with u

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:34): not being… a perfect shield…?

You frowned at those words. A perfect shield…? You had noticed when he was talking about his sister or friend, how he would always take the leader’s role, or how he said he couldn’t fail.

Even when you were playing on your first games, he was always tense, never wanting to lose. You didn’t really know how you managed it, but after a while, he started laughing and joking when both of you would lose.

He truly seemed relaxed enough.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:36): do you... see me in a bad light now?

WindQueen.exe (00:36): no no !

WindQueen.exe (00:36): i just realized how much i wanna give you a hug

You bit your lips.. Were you going to make a mistake…?

You took your phone and took a selfie where you made a half heart with your finger. Of course, you made sure your face wasn’t in the picture, just your top and your fingers that were illuminated by your screen’s light.

Now, you just needed to send it… easy…

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:37): awn :)

Grav1ty.D3n1ed ( 00:37): That’s adorable

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:37): if we ever hug, can i john cena you on the sofa?? I feel like you would so easy to handle

WindQueen.exe sent a media (00:37)

You read his message, smiling a bit. He was so… cute in a way? You stood up from your chair when you saw the ‘read’ notification under your picture. You went into the kitchen, boiled water, and took some noodles from your secret hideout.

Why did you send that picture? It was so embarrassing!

You looked at your phone, your heart skipping a bit when you realized he sent multiple messages.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed ( 00:38): that’s so cute ???

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:38): I’m sure you so embarrassed rn :)

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:38): would you believe me if I’m actually hiding my face in my hands??

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:38): fuck I’m blushing???

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:39): don’t fucking run away come back

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00;42): the old hag came to ask why i was punching the walls

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:42); Should i punch her instead?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:43): can i complete the heart?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:43): you’re lucky I’m cute under pressure

Grav1ty.D3n1ed Sent a media (00:44)

It was his hand, angled carefully to match yours, his fingers curved into the other half of the heart. You could just barely see part of a jack sleeve, his knuckles a little scuffed…

Were you blushing? It was just his finger!

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:45) : Gravity commits

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:45): even when it’s falling

… Your heart was beating way too fast…

WindQueen.exe (00:45): So that’s the fingers that made us lose today.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:45): D:

You couldn’t help but laugh, taking your noodles with you back to your room. It was easier to ignore the feeling your heart was trying to make you acknowledge. You both talk together a bit before logging off.

You finished your noodles before falling into your bed with a dumb face. You wondered if you were falling in love with a man you never met..? Did you even have time for love? You still have to study a lot to be able to go into the fleet… You closed your eyes, hoping to fall asleep quickly.

Your screen was still on, with the picture you sent and his together.

---

Next Chapter ->

[writtenbymoonflower]

hii!! i hope this is where requests go! but i was wondering if you could do either a remus x reader or poly x reader- (would rather poly but idk what you prefer) where they’ve been getting bruises from somewhere, but they don’t rlly notice it until it’s like finger prints somewhere, it could be like an ex harassing them or something? something along those lines of them being protective and hurt/comfort <33

hi sweetness! sorry it took so long! poly!marauders x gn!reader

cw: mentions of physical abuse from coworker. post-trauma stress, swearing

1.1k words

You had been growing increasingly skittish. Before these series of incidents, your boyfriends had been able to touch you whenever and wherever with little reaction. (with the exception of pleasant shivers). Sirius seemed to always have his hands in your back pockets, James had a habit of coming up behind you and nuzzling into your neck, and Remus, though not very tactile, would brush his hands appreciatively over your hips and waist. But in the past few weeks, your boys had been pulling back. And you knew the reason, you knew it was your fault. 

It had started with slight flinches. When Sirius gripped your shoulder affectionately and you jumped, eyes wide with fear. At any other time, the press of his fingertips would be pleasant. But when he squeezed the broken skin- broken skin he had no knowledge of -you winced and whimpered in pain. He immediately pulled his hand back, concern notched between his dark brows, and you immediately began reassuring and apologizing. You told him that you were just tense, that his touch was unexpected but not unwelcome, but he had still been careful since then. After a string of similar circumstances with James and Remus, they had all been handing you with kid gloves. 

Your behavior had changed as well. You had swapped your normal tank tops and tees for crew neck hoodies and sweaters, long sleeves to cover the purple and green spots littering your arms. Your face had been permanently tense in an attempt to stifle grimaces from rising up. You were sore, mentally exhausted, chronically anxious, and your boyfriends could tell. You had been constantly reassuring them of you being fine, but you could see their suspicion growing with every attempt. You could feel the tension thick in the air, attempting to rear its ugly head. 

Despite every attempt to seem normal, you still flinched when James touched your back, trying to pass behind you. 

“Right behind you, lovely” instead the usual comfort James’ voice carried, it put you on edge, making you inhale sharply, tensing your whole body. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled, shaking your head and squeezing your eyes shut, urging the panic to leave your body. Only when your breathing slowed down did you realize the crippling silence that had taken over the room. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweet thing?” Sirius probed, unusually careful. He was eyeing you suspiciously over his laptop screen. You quickly fixed your face, grateful for the distance the bar island put between you and your investigating boyfriend. 

“Yup. I’m all good, just startled me ‘s all.” You went back to chopping the vegetables in front of you with slightly too much vigor. The boys were still silent. You quickly changed the subject. “Remmy, can you grab the turkey from the fridge for me, please?” 

“Sure, dovey.” He walked behind you to get to the icebox. You made sure not to shudder as he made his way. He stopped, looking over your shoulder. Every nerve was standing to attention.

“You okay, honey?” You did everything to keep your voice from coming out strained. 

“I’m okay.” Remus sounded slightly confused. “Here, sweetheart. Your sleeves are going to get in the way.” He reached over to roll your sleeves up. A sweet gesture at its core, but you still froze in panic. He pulled them all the way up to your elbows. You just stared at the cutting board, wincing when James hissed, quickly making his way over to inspect further. Sirius took his computer glasses off, nearly catapulting himself over the bar. 

“Fuck, baby. What happened to you?” Sirius went straight to the issue. He grabbed your wrist, tilting your stained flesh towards the light. There were small, round splotches on the delicate skin of your wrist. Before you could find an excuse, Remus took your wrist. When he held your arm, his fingers fitting almost perfectly into the marks, he inhaled deeply.

“Who the fuck did this.” Remus bit out. James reached over to place a hand on his shoulder and Sirius gave him a pleading look, but nothing was going to calm him. Usually it would be Remus calming Sirius down, but when Remus’ fierce protectiveness comes out, nothing can pull it back in. In these cases, Sirius acts as the calmer one. 

“Rem, it’s ok-” You started.

“It’s not fucking okay! Someone put their goddamn hands on you and I need to know who did it.” Despite his voice growing in volume, he was still handling you ever so gently. James still moved between you and Remus, suspecting that Remus’ extremely visible stress would only put you more on edge. 

“Sweetheart,” James started, keeping his voice calm, even as it wobbled with worry. “Is this why you’ve been so tense lately?” Before another denial could form on your tongue, James continued. “Please, lovely. You can tell us. We won’t be mad, we just want to help you.” His dark eyes were searching your face, looking for any shred of emotion to cling to. 

Everything just felt so raw. You knew you were being ganged up on, drowned with affection and it was all too much. You pressed your lips together to keep them from wobbling but it was no use. Your eyes filled with hot tears and sobs started to wrack your body. Weeks of pent-up hurt came spilling out. 

“I just-” You struggled to get the words out between too-fast breaths. The boys caged you in, but for the first time in weeks, you felt comforted rather than clutched. 

“Take your time, baby. It’s okay. We’re not going to leave you.” Sirius smoothed your hair out of your damp face. 

“T-they hired someone at work. I-I used to know them.” You struggled. Pausing to suck in small bits of air. You could see questions spinning in their heads, but they didn’t interrupt. “I guess I make them mad. I’ve always made them mad. I don’t mean to, but I just d- do.” 

“Nothing.” Remus’ voice was sharp, but terribly kind. “Nothing you could do would make this okay. This is not your fault. Never has been, never was. No matter how upset they are, they don't get to hurt you.” You kept shaking, hot tears dripping off of your jaw. 

“I-” You struggled. “I’ve been so scared.” When you said this, Sirius caged you in his arms. You knew this struck a nerve with him too. 

“I know, baby. I know. I’m so so sorry you’ve been dealing with this yourself. It must have been so hard. But we’ve got you now. You’re going to be okay.” You couldn’t get words out anymore, but it was okay. They would stay with you until you could. 

“We aren’t going to let them do this to you anymore, you hear me?” James pulled your face out of Sirius’ neck to make you look at him. “We’re going to fix this.” 

[obsessed-with-fake-men]

After His Show

After seeing the band play a gig in the city, you ride back to town on Seb’s motorcycle. But, you get a little distracted along the way…

Sebastian xF!Reader, Sebastian xAFAB!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tw: nsfw, mdni, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of cigarettes, pet names, semi-public sex, oral male receiving

AN: This fic can be read as a follow up to Under His Desk or as a stand alone. I have been on the motorcycle thirst trap side of the internet lately and I thought that perfectly aligned with a fic idea. I have never ridden a motorcycle so if my descriptions are inaccurate, I’m sorry :)

Wc: 4400

It was another fall day and you had just finished a harvest which meant one thing - it was time to pop into Pierre’s for some more seeds. You head down the road that leads into town trying to decide if you want to focus on artichokes or if you have enough time left in the season to plant some fairy roses. You’re so lost doing the mental calculations that you would’ve run into Sam if he hadn’t grabbed you by the arms.

“Look where you’re going, farmer! You could’ve made a dent in me,” he jokes, squeezing your biceps. “No, but for real you’re strong right?” 

“Uh yeah, I guess I am?” you shrug.

“Well, we could use an extra roadie for the Goblin Destroyer show tomorrow night if you’re free,” he says. “I know Seb would be really happy if you were there.” Sam winks at you.

You flush, forgetting that Sam knows you and Seb have been fooling around since he almost walked in on the two of you. If you’d only grabbed your bra before hiding under Seb’s desk this embarrassment could’ve been avoided.

“Yeah, sure I don’t have any plans for tomorrow,” you say. “It would be cool to see y’all at a real gig and not just rehearsals.”

“Sweet! Okay, we’re meeting at the bus stop at 4, see you there,” Sam calls as he heads for home.

The next day you finish your chores around the farm as quickly as you can. You may be a roadie tonight, but you’re a groupie at heart and you want to look the part. When you’re satisfied that you look somewhere between halfway decent and slightly hot, you head for the bus stop. 

As you approach, you see Seb leaving. You try to catch his eye but it’s clear his head is elsewhere. When you get to the bus stop, Abigail whistles at you.

“Damn girl, you clean up nice,” she exclaims. You hadn’t really had a chance to dress up for a night out since you moved to Pelican Town a few months ago.

“Thanks,” you laugh. “You look great too, very punk rock.”

“Dude I wear this outfit literally all the time, but thanks,” she laughs.

You help load the rest of the equipment, looking around every now and then hoping to see Seb. By the time all of the gear is loaded, Sebastian still hasn’t appeared. You see Sam lingering by the doors to the bus.

“Hey Sam, is Seb… I mean I saw him heading to town when I got here and we’re about to leave,” you trail off.

“Oh yeah, he had to help his mom with something, he said he’ll meet us there,” Sam replies.

Disappointed, you board the bus behind Sam.

The ride to the venue goes by faster than you expected, and you spend the whole time laughing and joking with Sam and Abigail. Upon arrival you jump into your role as a roadie, unloading gear off the bus with the same focus you use to plant or harvest crops. When everything is set up, you head outside for a smoke break. You’ve always smoked off and on, but since hanging around Seb the habit has admittedly gotten a bit worse.

Searching your pockets for a lighter, you come up empty. You wish Seb was there, he always has one on him. As if in answer to your prayers you hear a motorcycle nearing. Looking up, you see Seb riding towards you. You had to focus to keep your mouth from falling open. Sure you’d seen him working on the bike and that was objectively hot, but seeing him ride up on it was another thing entirely. You weren’t sure if it was the confidence he rode with, but even with his face obscured by the helmet he looked sexy.

Seb pulled the bike up right next to you. He was surprised he parked straight because he had been looking only at you since he entered the lot. Seb knew you were going to be there tonight, but damn he didn’t know you were going to look this good all dressed up in black. He knows that it’s the traditional color crew wears, but he hopes you considered his reaction as you picked out your outfit - the thought makes him blush. Those tight black jeans seem to hug every curve and your top is cut just low enough to get his heart racing. 

Sebastian pulls off his helmet and runs a hand through his dark hair. 

“Need a light?” he asks, nodding toward the unlit cig in between your fingers.

“Yeah, your timing is perfect,” you say, as Seb dismounts the motorcycle and pulls a lighter from his pocket. 

You lean forward, breathing in as he lights the tip of your cigarette. 

“Sounds like you were missing me,” he teases, plucking the cig from your fingers to take a drag.

“Missing you or just your lighter, who’s to say,” you retort.

Seb offers the cig back to you, instead of taking it, you lean forward making eye contact as you take a drag while it’s still between his fingers, lips brushing his digits. Seb’s cock twitches at your brazen flirtation and he huffs out a laugh. Damn, you really know how to get him going.

Seb grabs your hand and pulls it up to his mouth. He kisses the inside of your wrist, causing you to draw in a ragged breath.

“Well I missed you, y/n…” he whispers against your wrist. 

You can’t think beyond his admission and his breath dancing across your sensitive skin. It makes your heart race and you’re certain he can feel your pulse quicken under his soft touch.

“Are you sure you haven’t missed me too?” he teases, pulling your body flush with his. Seb’s other hand captures your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his - the cherry of your cig reflected in his blown-out pupils. 

“You can tell me, baby,” he coos. “I know how to keep a secret.”

The back door to the venue opens with a bang.

“Yo Seb, you out here?” Sam’s voice calls. “It’s time for the final soundcheck!”

“Yeah man, I’ll be there in a minute,” Seb shouts back, not taking his eyes from yours.

Without warning, he pushes you back against the wall of the building, lips locking with yours, cigarette dropped forgotten on the pavement.

His hand travels to your waistband, fingers skillfully popping the button of your jeans.

“Seb what are you doing??” you hiss. “Someone will see us!”

“Not if I’m quick,” he promises with a wink.

Undoing your zipper, his long fingers find their way to your underwear. A moan escapes your lips as he brushes over the wet cloth barely covering your pussy. Seb is quick to capture the sound with his mouth.

When you quiet he whispers in your ear, “Can’t believe how wet you are for me already sweetheart.”

Gently he runs a finger through your folds under the fabric. You gasp, struggling to remain silent. Seb plunges the finger deep into your hole, covering your mouth with his other hand to keep you from crying out. 

He pumps his finger into you a few times, just enough to make you ready to beg for more when he removes his digit from you, bringing it to his lips. Watching Seb suck your juice from his finger causes your walls to clench around nothing - you can’t get over how hot and bothered this man makes you.

“Don’t worry baby, I just wanted a taste. Let’s call it a good luck charm,” Seb chuckles. “C’mon, they’ll be wondering where we are.”

As Sebastian heads onstage for sound check you grab a drink from the bar and join the waiting crowd. You’re not in the first row but you don’t mind. Positioning yourself in front of the keyboard, you look around, shocked by the number of unfamiliar faces at the show. The second the lights go down and the band takes the stage, there’s a palpable shift in the energy. Sure you’d been to rehearsals and a couple of local shows, but seeing the guys and Abby on a stage in the city, they look like they belong up there.

Seb had played it cool in front of you, but as he walks onto the stage he can feel his hands begin to shake. Shit, this is the biggest crowd they’ve ever had. He can NOT fuck it up now. Positioning himself behind his keyboards, Seb blinks through the spotlights to the sea of faces. Well maybe not a sea, but it’s a decent-sized lake. As soon as his eyes adjust, he sees you. He’d recognize your smile and bright eyes anywhere. He’s always nervous for shows, but locking eyes with you, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. You mouth “you got this” and blow him a kiss. God you’re so cute, he thinks, shaking his head to himself as his heart swells.

Abby starts the count-off with her drumsticks and muscle memory kicks in. Seb loses himself in the music as he always does. Forgetting he’s on a stage in front of a crowd of strangers, his fingers know just where to go. As the first set ends Seb slowly comes out of his daze, guided by Sam’s voice distantly addressing the crowd.

“We are Goblin Destroyers, thanks for coming out tonight!” Sam shouts as the crowd cheers. He introduces the band, and as you hear him say “...and on the keys we have Sebastian!” a huge cheer erupts from the audience. It’s a little too big of a cheer for your liking, and you can see Seb trying to hide his flushed face behind his dark fringe. You feel a sudden surge of jealousy and mentally kick yourself for not having marked Seb’s neck with your lips and teeth before the show. You’ll have to remember that next time. 

The music starts back up and you surrender yourself to the sound. The bass thrums in your chest and your eyes are glued to Sebastian. You love watching him play. It’s as if all his worries melt away leaving just Seb and the music. It’s so hot to see him this way, totally raw - the mask he usually keeps up between himself and the world is replaced by a look of utter calm.

The only other time you’ve seen him like that is when he’s inside of you. Watching his fingers expertly fly across the keys sends a shiver down your spine as you remember where they were just an hour before. You try to keep your lust at bay and enjoy the show, but the only music you want to hear now are the sweet groans from Seb’s lips as he fucks you.

After a few more songs, the show is over and people begin filtering out of the venue. You head backstage to help pack up when a hand grabs your arm and pulls you into a dark corner. Just as you open your mouth to shout, Seb slots his lips between yours for a devastating kiss, full of tongue and teeth and the adrenaline high he still has from the gig. You pull back for breath and punch him in the arm. 

“Ow, what was that for?” he asks rubbing where you struck him.

“For making me think I was getting kidnapped,” you laugh, putting your hands around his neck. Leaning up, you whisper into his ear, “You looked really hot up there,” and you take his lobe between your teeth. Seb lets out a soft groan and cups your ass in his hands. 

“Ahem,” Abigail clears her throat. 

The two of you freeze, debating whether it’s too late to pretend you were doing something, anything more innocent than what she’s seen.

“Oh my god, chill out you two,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I know you’re fucking, Sam called me as soon as he left your little sex pad.”

You burst out laughing and Seb says, “Ew, Abs don’t call my room a ‘sex pad’.”

“Whatever, will y’all just help pack up the gear?”

You turn to leave, but Seb pulls you in for another quick kiss.

“If everyone knows, I might as well show you off,” he says with a wink before walking away.

Packing up is quick work and before you know it everyone is piling into the bus.

“You want the same spot?” Abigail asks. 

“Oh um actually Seb said he’d give me a ride back….” you say. 

“Ah, I get it. You two drive safe and use protection,” She says, closing the last door on the equipment storage.

You flush and stammer, “wha- we won’t uh-”

“Oh my god wear a helmet, dumbass,” Abigail laughs, punching you lightly in the arm as she heads for the bus.

You make a final sweep of the venue to make sure nothing is left behind. Emerging into the parking lot you see Sebastian, leaning against his bike. The lone streetlight above like another spotlight, and he’s putting on a show just for you. Seb’s lips curve into a soft smile as takes a drag from his cigarette. The smoke curls up around him, obscuring all of his features except his gleaming eyes that track you as you approach. All his.

Finally alone, the desire that has built up over the course of the night threatens to overtake you right here in the parking lot. You reach for him as Seb puts an arm around your waist pulling you close. He leans down, kissing up your neck to your ear.

“Did you get all dressed up in black just for me?” he whispers, nipping at the sensitive shell of your ear. You let out a shaky breath. 

“All for you Sebby,” you sigh.

His cock hardens from both the nickname and your admission. He pulls your body flush with his. You gasp as you feel his hard length pressing against you. 

“Let's get you home sweetheart, there’s so much I want to do to you,” Sebastian growls into your ear.

Taking one last drag from his cig, he drops it to the pavement putting it out with a twist of his foot. Seb reaches behind his back and produces two helmets. He hands you the smaller one.

“I thought you only had the one helmet,” you tease. 

“Gotta keep my girl safe,” he says with a wink. 

The two of you put on the helmets, and you watch as Seb straddles the bike. Ugh, he looks so hot, something about the helmet covering his features, only his neck exposed, really gets you turned on. He starts the bike and revs the engine. Seb reaches out a hand to you and you take it, straddling the bike behind him, you wrap your arms around his stomach. He reaches back, running his hand down your thigh, giving you a quick squeeze. And then you’re off.

God, you feel so good nestled behind him. Your arms hold him in a tight hug as your thighs squeeze him. Fuck he loves your legs and with your tits pressing into his back, he’s in heaven. Seb has always loved taking his bike out, he feels so free flying down the quiet highway under the stars.

His heart swells at the trust you place in him, to keep you safe as the two of you speed through the empty streets. He hopes you’re having a good time too when he feels you lean back and let out a whoop into the night air. Seb laughs and does the same. When he’s with you, it’s like gravity’s endless weight is lifted and he can dream again. You must sense this because you squeeze him tighter for a moment. 

Something no one ever told you about riding a motorcycle is that it’s basically one giant vibrating seat. And with your arms around the man you’re planning to fuck the second this ride is over, the sensation is making you extremely horny. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs and you try to adjust your position to get the vibration right where you want it. Seb must think you’re uncomfortable because the moment you shift his hand reaches back to squeeze your thigh again.

His worry for you makes you determined to let him know just how good you feel. You start to move one hand, running it down his stomach. Seb returns his hand to the handlebar, thinking your touch is to reassure him, but you aren’t done. Your fingers drift downward, searching and finding. His cock stiffens and his hands clench the handles. You give him a rough squeeze through his jeans and he lets out a groan barely audible through the sound of the wind. You tug on his length as you rock your hips on the seat.

Closing your eyes you begin a slow pace of jacking him off over his jeans and grinding your pussy into the vibrations. You’re so lost in seeking your pleasure that you don’t notice Seb has turned off the highway until the motor cuts off. You whine at the lack of vibration, not fully comprehending what’s happening until Seb pulls you off the bike. His helmet is still on but his visor is open. You can see the desire flashing in his eyes. 

“My needy girl, couldn’t wait to finish the ride before needing my cock,” he growls. 

“I- I didn’t mean to…” you whimper as Seb pulls off his helmet, and runs his hand through his hair. 

“What am I gonna do with you,” he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

Setting down the helmet, Seb circles the bike. You take off your helmet, shaking out your hair. He drinks in the sight of you, the moonlight shining off your hair, the desperate look in your eyes, the way your black clothes cling to you and how he wants to peel them off. He pauses in front of you, hand palming his now aching erection. Your gaze is glued to that hand, taunting you.

Seb undoes his belt buckle, pops the button on his jeans and slowly pulls down the zipper. Watching you squirm with every small movement, he could do this for hours, basking in your hungry gaze knowing that you want him just as much as he wants you. But he won’t keep you waiting. He eases his cock out, hissing as the cool night air trails over his hot length. 

“On your knees baby.” 

You oblige instantly, he chuckles at your obedience. 

“That’s a good girl,” he growls. 

He shudders as you grab him, pressing a light kiss to his tip before you flick your tongue along the slit dripping with precum. And when your warm, wet mouth wraps around his length he has to stop himself from thrusting into the back of your throat. You take your time, sucking with your mouth and pumping with your hand until he can’t take it anymore.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and rocks his hips forward. Forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat. The feeling of your tongue on the underside and the light scrape of your teeth on top force out a groan from deep within his chest. His eyes lock on yours, so full of tears just waiting to spill out. He thrusts a few more times, relishing in the feeling of his balls hitting your chin. When your throat squeezes him as you choke on his cock, he swears if he died right now at least he’d die happy.

And as much as he craves to chase his own pleasure and pump his seed into your waiting mouth, he has to make sure you’re okay. Pulling his dripping length from your lips, Seb crouches down to cup your face in his hands. You cough and take in a few ragged breaths before meeting his gaze. He strokes your cheek, “such a good girl for me” he sighs pulling you in for a searing kiss.

“Up you go,” he says, pushing you up to standing. You lean back against the parked bike, not trusting your legs to hold you. Now it’s your turn to look down at Seb, even though you know you have tear streaks on your face and drool on your chin, his eyes are full of adoration. It’s so cute you don’t know if you want to laugh or to cry.

He rubs his hands soothingly up and down your thighs. Then his fingers catch the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough for him to press a soft kiss to your stomach. He grabs the waist of your jeans, eagerly undoing the button and zipper he pulls them down to reveal your black panties. This pair has a little bow just below the waistband like you’re a present that’s his to unwrap. He stands slowly, moving his hands from your waist to cup your breasts. 

He kisses you softly then whispers in your, “Turn around for me baby.” 

You do, bracing yourself against the bike. He softly touches your ass. It’s fully on display, framed by the lacy black straps of your thong. He growls, slapping your soft flesh. You let out a moan as the cool night breeze instantly soothes the sting. Seb cups your pussy and chuckles when he feels the hot wet crotch of your panties. 

“If I knew you’d like the bike so much, I would’ve put you on it ages ago,” he teases, pulling the fabric to the side.

He teases your slit with a long finger, dragging it through your folds to lightly flick your clit. You gasp and arch your back. Fuck he loves how responsive you are, every touch eliciting a reaction. He plunges two fingers into you, pumping his cock at the same pace. He gets lost in watching his digits disappear into your warm, wet hole. 

“M-more Seb, please,” you whine, pulling him from his trance. Before you register the loss of his fingers, the tip of his cock is already teasing your folds. You moan, pushing your hips back. 

Seb chuckles. “Is my sweet girl ready for my cock?” he asks under his breath.

He knows the answer is yes, he knows you’ve been ready since before the show, but he likes making you wait. Teasing you until his cock is the only thing that could make you feel better. He notches his length at your entrance and slowly pushes into you. You groan, finally getting what you’ve been craving for days. Your toys at home can’t compare to this feeling. Being filled and fucked by your man. 

He slowly enters you until his entire length is sheathed inside your perfect pussy. Your walls clench around him causing his breathing to turn ragged. His grip on your hips tightens, as he eases out of you until just his tip is inside of you. Then without warning, he shoves all the way back in. You cry out, arching your back and Seb knows he’s hit the spot inside you that makes you see stars. He thrusts into you again and again, fingers leaving bruises on your flesh as he steers you closer and closer to orgasm. Your walls squeeze him tighter and he knows you’re close. 

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, “Cum for me, you can do it.” 

And you do, expletives and his name string together in a chant that he’s sure could raise him from the dead as you cum around his cock. He follows you over that cliff, pushing as deep as he’s able, sealing his body with yours as tightly as he can. If two souls could join, it must feel like this, he thinks as he empties himself into you.

The two of you stay in this position, you draped over the motorcycle like Seb’s wet dream and Seb still inside you, head hung low, trying to keep his legs from giving out as he decides if he ever wants to move again. And then your pussy flutters around his length and he’s sure if he doesn’t pull out now he’ll die from the overstimulation. Easing his cock from you he watches entranced as his seed drips out of you.

He’s never wanted kids but his mind is suddenly filled with images of your belly swollen as his child grows inside of you. He flushes and his cock twitches painfully at the thought. He pushes that desire down, your relationship (if you can even call it that) is so new, he’ll do anything to keep from scaring you away.

Carefully, he covers your dripping pussy with the thin strap of fabric that is your thong. You groan and wiggle your hips as he rubs you through the fabric. Seb slaps your bare ass, huffing out a laugh at your little yelp. After tucking his cock away and pulling on his jeans, Seb helps you up and turns you around. Leaning against his bike, he pulls you into his arms kissing the top of your head and breathing in the smell of your hair. You rest your head on his shoulder, kissing his neck.

His heart is so full he fears it might burst. You pull back to see his face, the look in his eyes is so tender, so loving you have to hold back tears. You slide your hands behind his neck and pull him in for a kiss. The kiss is long, full of hope and passion and all the things you are too nervous to say.

Pulling away from the kiss, Seb squeezes your still-exposed ass. “Let’s put this away before you tempt me to go again,” he says pulling up your jeans. You giggle, buttoning your pants. When you look up Seb is back on the bike, his arm extended toward you with helmet in hand. 

“What do you say, baby, let’s keep this adventure going?” he asks, hoping you understand the weight of his words. You know that after tonight, your heart is his whether he knows it yet or not. You take the helmet and climb onto the bike behind him. You whisper into his ear, “Lead the way Sebby,” and set the helmet on your head. He starts up to engine and with a whoop, the two of you speed off into the night. 

[woso-story]

Better Boyfriend Than Him - Part Two

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Other Parts

Weeks have passed since that strange evening when Alexia walked you home, and somehow, she keeps appearing in your life. Whether it’s at gatherings Mapi invites you to, matches where you join the friends-and-family section, or even a random encounter at a café when you’re out with Mapi, Alexia is always there.

At first, you’re irritated. Her comments about your smile, the way you laugh, or how a certain outfit suits you feel pointed—deliberate. But whenever you express your annoyance to Mapi, she just waves it off. “That’s just Alexia,” she insists. “She flirts with everyone.”

You’re not convinced, though. There’s something about the way she looks at you that feels different. She doesn’t make a move—she knows you’re with Luis—but the way she carries herself, like she knows she’s getting under your skin, only fuels your frustration.

---

When Mapi invites you and Luis over for her birthday dinner, you’re excited. You’ve missed these small, intimate gatherings with close friends. Yet, when Luis declines, his excuse leaves you stung.

“I just don’t want to sit through an evening of being the only guy surrounded by women,” he says casually. “There are better things I can do with my time.”

Though you kind of understand his perspective, the way he says it grates on your nerves. Mapi notices your frustration when you arrive alone.

“It’s a shame Luis couldn’t come,” she says, though there’s a flicker of something in her tone that makes you question whether she really means it.

---

The dinner is small but lively, with Ingrid orchestrating the kitchen like a seasoned chef. Esmee and Kika’s laughter echoes through the apartment, while Aitana and Frido bring their own easy charm to the table. And, of course, Alexia is there, quietly watching you from the moment you step through the door.

After you help Ingrid carry out the final dishes, you return to the table and find only one seat left—next to Alexia. She smirks and pats the chair.

“Saved it just for you,” she says lightly.

Reluctantly, you sit down, ignoring the butterflies stirring in your stomach. As the group sings “Happy Birthday” to Mapi and the evening unfolds, you try to focus on the food and the conversation. Yet, Alexia’s gaze keeps finding yours, and you feel the weight of her attention.

At one point, her antics start. She lightly pokes your side, just enough to make you squirm. You glance at her, whispering sharply, “Will you stop that?”

But Alexia only grins. “You’re fun when you’re annoyed.”

Your voice rises slightly. “I’m serious, Alexia. Stop," louder than you intended.

The table goes quiet, and all eyes are on you. Ingrid looks concerned. “Is everything okay?” she asks.

You quickly mutter, “It’s nothing, everything’s fine,” before returning to your meal, cheeks burning. Alexia, however, looks smug, clearly pleased with herself for getting a reaction.

Mapi shakes her head from across the table, muttering something to Ingrid about how she knew this would happen.

---

Later, after dinner, you retreat to the couch with a drink. The room buzzes with conversation and laughter, and you’re content to sit back and soak it in.

But your peace doesn’t last long. Alexia appears beside you, settling in so close that her knee brushes yours.

“Comfortable?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

She grins. “Very. Though I was wondering—where’s your other half tonight? Did you lose him somewhere in the city?”

You sigh, not wanting to go into details. “He didn’t have time to come.”

Alexia tilts her head, her expression softening slightly. “If I were with you, I’d always make time for you.”

You shake your head, unable to hide your irritation. “You really live to irritate me, don’t you?”

Her grin widens. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing you react.”

She starts poking your side again, and you twist away, trying to fend her off. “Alexia, stop!”

From across the room, Ingrid and Mapi watch the exchange, their heads tilted together in whispered conversation.

“What’s going on there?” Ingrid asks, her eyes narrowing in curiosity.

Mapi sighs heavily. “Honestly? I don’t even know. Alexia’s just being Alexia, I guess. She loves getting under people’s skin.”

“Well,” Ingrid says thoughtfully, “it seems like she has a particular interest in this one.”

---

Back on the couch, you finally manage to grab Alexia’s hand, pinning it down to stop her tickling. She laughs, delighted, and leans back. “Okay, okay. Truce,” she says, holding up her free hand in surrender.

“Thank you,” you mutter, releasing her.

“You know,” she begins, her voice quieter now, “we should spend some time together. Just us. Get to know each other better.”

You blink at her, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. “Why would we do that?”

“Because I think there’s more to you than you let on,” she says simply.

“Well, I’m not interested,” you reply firmly, though a part of you wonders if she can hear the slight waver in your voice.

Alexia places a hand over her heart and pouts dramatically. “You wound me.” Then, just as quickly, she smirks. “But I’ll live. For now.”

Despite yourself, you can’t help but smirk back. “Good to know.”

---

As the evening winds down, you say your goodbyes and thank Mapi and Ingrid for hosting. You step out into the cool night air, relieved to finally head home.

But, as has become a pattern, Alexia is right behind you.

“Wait up,” she calls, jogging to catch up. “Let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Alexia, I’ve had enough of you for one night.”

She fakes wiping a tear away, her expression exaggeratedly mournful. “So harsh. But fair enough. And for the record,” she says, her tone softening slightly, “I really would make time for you. Sweet dreams, hermosa.”

Before you can respond, she turns and walks away, leaving you standing there once again, both irritated and unnerved.

As you make your way home, your thoughts churn. Alexia Putellas is impossible. She flirts, she annoys, and she pushes boundaries in ways that leave you questioning everything. And yet, as much as she frustrates you, you can’t deny that she’s left an impression.

You shake your head, determined to put her out of your mind. After all, you’re happy with Luis. Aren’t you?