#so we both have a lot of formative memories of the same places

[himblebo]

Hate that I’m having a huge fucking freak out after a really nice day

[harrysfolklore]

casual - ln4

summary: you’re in a situationship with lando norris, one that you know is going to break your heart, but you can’t seem to walk away. wc: 11.7k

folkie radio: i was about to scrap this entire fic bc i just didn’t like they way it was turning out but i finished it 😭 i’m still not really confident about it but i hope you enjoy it. disclaimer: this is angsty !!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You and Lando. Lando and You. An undefined space, more than friends, less than a relationship. You remember it like it was yesterday, though almost a year has passed.

It started innocently enough. As a data analyst and strategist for McLaren, you often found yourself working late nights, poring over race statistics and performance metrics. Lando would sometimes wander into the office, restless after a day of simulations and meetings.

At first, your interactions were purely professional - discussing tire degradation rates or fuel consumption patterns. But gradually, conversations began to drift, getting more personal and personal.

The shift happened subtly. One night, after a particularly grueling race weekend, you were both exhausted, sprawled on the office couch analyzing data. Lando's head drooped onto your shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air crackled with tension.

"We shouldn't," you murmured, even as you turned to face him.

"Probably not," Lando agreed, his blue eyes flickering to your lips.

The kiss was inevitable, months of built-up attraction finally finding release. And then came another, and another.

When Lando suggested heading back to his place, you found yourself saying yes without hesitation.

Before you knew it, you were in his apartment, you could feel the tension in the air. Lando stepped closer, his hand cupping your cheek.

"I've been wanting to do this for a while," he murmured, before leaning in to kiss you again.

Clothes were shed as you made your way to his bedroom, falling onto his bed in a tangle of limbs.

The next morning, sunlight streams through unfamiliar curtains, and you blink awake, momentarily disoriented. Lando's sleeping form beside you brings the memories of last night flooding back.

Lando stirs, his blue eyes meeting yours. "Morning," he mumbles, a shy smile playing on his lips. "So... that happened."

You nod, unsure of what to say. "It did."

An awkward silence stretches between you, the weight of the previous night settling in. You would be lying if you said that you didn't enjoy it. You did. You enjoyed it a lot. But you knew the implications of getting close with someone like Lando Norris.

"Look, Iast night was great," finally, Lando speaks. "But my life, my career... it's complicated."

"I understand," you reply, trying to hide the embarrassment on your face, "I mean, we're work colleges after all, it's complicated for me too."

"I'm not saying I regret this," he quickly adds, "I just... I can't offer you something else right now."

You take a deep breath, weighing your options. "So what are you offering?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Lando runs a hand through his tousled hair, "But I'd like to keep seeing you, if you're okay with... not defining things?"

And so begins, your undefined journey with Lando Norris. From that moment, your relationship existed in a grey area. At work, you maintained professionalism, but stolen glances, brushed hands and the way your clothes always ended up in his bedroom floor told a different story.

You know it's not ideal, to have a situationship with Lando Norris. Not when you know you could really fall for him and jeopardize your job. But at the same time, you can't walk away.

You love you job so much, and the fact that you're willing to shut the rest of the world away in order to focus on what you needed to do proved it.

As the Japanese Grand Prix weekend unfolded, you found yourself buried in work. The Suzuka circuit always presented challenges, and you were determined to give the team every advantage possible.

You were so engrossed in your data analysis that you barely noticed Lando enter the temporary office setup. His hand on your shoulder made you jump.

"Christ, Lando! You scared me," you exclaimed, pulling off your headphones.

He grinned, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes. "Come with me," he said, taking your hand and gently pulling you up.

"Lando, I'm in the middle of-"

"It can wait," he insisted, leading you out of the office and towards his driver's room.

Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against it, watching you with an intensity that made your heart race.

"I miss you," he said simply.

You felt a pang of guilt. It had been weeks since you'd had any real time alone together. "I've been busy," you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

"Busy doing what?" Lando raised an eyebrow.

"Coming up with strategies so you can win races, actually," you retorted, a hint of challenge in your voice.

"Oh really? And how's that going?" he stepped closer, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Well, if you'd stop distracting me," you tilted your chin up defiantly, "Maybe I could finish and you'd find out."

Lando chuckled, closing the distance between you. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him. "Maybe I like distracting you," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You shivered involuntarily. "Lando..." you warned, but there was no real resistance in your voice.

"Tell me about these strategies," he said, his lips now trailing along your jawline. "How are you planning to make me faster?"

You struggled to maintain your train of thought as his touch sent sparks through your body. "Well," you managed, "I've been analyzing your cornering speeds and-"

Lando cut you off with a kiss, deep and passionate. When he pulled away, you were both breathless.

"Sorry," he grinned, not looking sorry at all. "You were saying?"

"You're impossible, you know that?"

Before he can even reply, you drag him for another kiss. His fingers tangled in your hair as he pulls you closer, your hands slid under his team shirt, tracing the lean muscles of his back.

When you broke apart, Lando's eyes were dark with desire.

"I thought I was the one who distracted you. Seems like you're just as needy as I am," he smirked, his voice low and teasing.

"Don't flatter yourself, Norris," you felt a blush creep up your cheeks, but matched his playful tone, "I'm just... thorough in my research."

Lando's laugh was warm against your neck as he pressed a kiss there. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"We're not calling it a relationship, aren't we?" you blurted out before you could even think about it.

Lando's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. But quickly, his trademark grin returned.

"Well, we're not calling it a relationship," he said, his tone light and teasing, "maybe we should call it a 'performance enhancement program'. You know, for the sake of the team."

You couldn't help but laugh, even as you felt a twinge in your chest at the casual deflection of the relationship topic. "Oh, is that what this is? And here I thought I was just your favorite data analyst."

"Oh, you definitely are," Lando murmured, leaning in for another kiss. "The very best at... analyzing my data."

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo but smiled despite yourself. "As tempting as it is to continue this 'program'," you said, gently pushing him back, "I really do need to get back to work. Those race strategies won't write themselves, you know."

"Fine, fine. Go make me faster on paper. But don't forget, I might need some hands-on analysis later."

"We'll see about that, hotshot," you replied, straightening your clothes and heading for the door. "Focus on your qualifying first."

It's late, well past midnight, when your phone buzzes with a text. You're still up, reviewing data from the day's practice sessions. The message is from Lando, of course.

"Room 507. Now. Please?"

You can't help but smile, imagining the impatience and desire behind those words. You type back:

"Demanding, aren't we? What if I'm busy?"

His reply comes quickly: "Busy with what? I know you're probably still working. Take a break. You deserve it.”

You laugh softly. "I deserve it, huh? Well, when you put it that way..."

"So you're coming?"

You pause, pretending to consider it, even though you both know you're already reaching for your room key. "I suppose I could spare a few minutes."

"There's my girl"

You slip out of your room, heart racing with anticipation. You've done this countless of times before, sneaking out of your hotel room to end up naked in Lando's, but you still felt like a teenage girl every single time.

The hotel corridor is quiet, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. You're so focused on reaching Lando's room that you almost collide with someone rounding the corner.

"Whoa, sorry!" You step back, then freeze as you realize it's Oscar, who looks equally surprised.

"Oh, hey. Bit late for a walk, isn't it?"

Your mind races, searching for a plausible excuse. "I, uh... couldn't sleep. Thought I'd grab some ice."

"Ice?" Oscar's brow furrows slightly, "At this hour?"

"Yeah, you know... for my water," you say lamely, cringing at how unconvincing you sound. "Helps me... think better. For work."

"Right," Oscar says slowly, clearly not buying it but too polite to press further. "Well, don't let me keep you from your... ice-enhanced thinking."

You force a laugh. "Thanks. Goodnight, Oscar."

As you hurry past him, you can feel his curious gaze on your back. You silently pray he doesn't mention this encounter to anyone else on the team.

One of the main reasons why you agreed to mess around with Lando without a label was exactly that, the fear of putting your job at risk. You worked hard for it, and you would never forgive yourself if you lost it due to getting in a relationship with one of the drivers.

Which lead you to getting in a goddamn situationship.

Finally reaching room 507, you knock softly. Lando opens the door almost immediately, pulling you inside with a grin.

"Took you long enough," he teases, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"Yeah, well, I just had to convince your teammate that I'm wandering the halls at 1 AM in search of ice. So thanks for that," you retort, but there's no real annoyance in your voice.

"You ran into Oscar?" Lando's eyes widen, "What did you tell him?"

"That I needed ice. For thinking."

"Ice for thinking?" he bursts out laughing. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"Hey, you try coming up with a believable excuse on the spot!" you protest, swatting his arm playfully.

"Fair enough," Lando concedes, still chuckling. "Now, where were we? I believe you were going to help me with some... performance analysis?"

As Lando leans in, your lips meet in a passionate kiss. The tension that's been building all day finally releases as you melt into his embrace. His hands roam your body, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

"Oh really?" you tease, running your fingers through his hair. "I thought you were supposed to be focusing on your lap times."

"Who says I can't do both?"

Lando's lips find your neck, trailing kisses along your jawline. You tilt your head back, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Your hands slide under his t-shirt, tracing his sides.

He guides you towards the bed, your bodies pressed close together. As the back of your knees hit the mattress, you fall back, pulling Lando with you. He hovers over you, his weight supported on his forearms.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, his eyes roaming your face.

You reach up to cup his cheek, drawing him down for another kiss. This one is slower, deeper, filled with unspoken emotions.

As things heat up, clothes start to come off. Lando's shirt is the first to go, followed quickly by yours. Skin meets skin, and the world narrows down to just the two of you, lost in each other's touch.

The night stretches on, filled with whispered words, soft moans, and the rustle of sheets. You can't help but think that this undefined thing with Lando is getting more complicated by the day but you decide that's a problem for future you to worry about.

After an exhausting triple header across three different countries, you finally have a well-deserved two-week break.

The past few races have been grueling, with long nights analyzing data and strategizing for each track. While you love your job, the intense schedule has left you drained. Now back home, you decide it's time to unwind and have some fun with your friends.

It's Friday evening, and you're getting ready for a girls' night out. Usually, you’d spend your Friday with Lando, but this time you were dying for a chance to let loose, dance with your friends and forget about work for a while. 

And maybe, forget about your little situationship, too.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, they say. Because as if on cue your phone starts buzzing with an incoming FaceTime call. Lando's name flashes on the screen.

You answer, propping the phone up on your dresser. "Hey, Lan," you greet him while still doing your makeup.

"Hey, you," he replies, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in your appearance. "Wow, you look hot. Are you going somewhere?"

You nod, turning back to the mirror to continue applying your eyeshadow. "Yep, heading out tonight. It's been ages since I've had a proper night out."

"Oh," Lando says, his tone curious. "Like, out out? Are you... um, going on a date or something?"

You can't help but smirk a little at his barely concealed interest. "Why, Lando Norris, are you fishing for information?" you tease. "I mean, I could be going on a date. We're not exclusive, after all."

Lando's expression falters for a moment before he catches himself, forcing a casual laugh. "No, no, of course not. I was just, you know, curious. Making conversation and all that."

You watch him in the phone screen, noticing how he's trying to play it cool but failing miserably. His jaw is tense, and he's fidgeting more than usual.

Taking pity on him, you decide to put him out of his misery. "Relax, Lando. It's just girls' night. After that triple header, I need to blow off some steam with my friends."

"Oh, right. Cool, cool," the relief on his face is palpable, "That sounds fun."

"Were you jealous, Norris?" you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Me? Jealous? Nah," he scoffs, but the slight blush creeping up his neck betrays him. "I mean, like you said, we're not... you know."

"Exclusive," you finish for him, feeling a familiar twinge in your chest at the word.

"Right," Lando nods, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Anyway, I hope you have a great time tonight. You deserve it after all the hard work these past few weeks."

"Thanks, Lan. I plan to."

"Call me if you need me to pick you up," Lando assures, making you smile softly. Maybe he actually cares about you, you think.

"Don't worry, I can handle myself."

Just as Lando was expecting, you call him around 2 AM, asking if he could come pick you up from the club.

He doesn’t think twice before he’s getting up, putting a hoodie on and grabbing his keys to leave the house.

His car pulls up outside the club about 15 minutes later. You make your way to the vehicle, sliding into the passenger seat with a giggle.

"Thanks for coming," you say, leaning towards him with a grin.

“Of course, love,” Lando looks you over, a playful smirk on his face. "Looks like someone had fun tonight."

“I did, but I missed you,” you say as he starts driving, you’re not sure if he’ll take you to your place or his, but you don’t want to sleep without him, "Oh! I have to tell you something,"

"Well do tell," he encourages, glancing at you with interest.

"There was this guy at the club," you begin, noticing how Lando's eyebrow quirks up. "He was really handsome, and he was flirting with me."

"Was he now?" Lando asks, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something else.

"Yup," you say, popping the 'p' sound. "I pushed him away. Because even though you might not be my boyfriend, I only want you. No one else."

Lando's lips curl into a pleased smile. "Is that so?" he says, his voice low and teasing. "And here I thought I was just your favorite Uber driver."

You burst into laughter, the sound filling the car. Then, feeling bold, you place your hand on his thigh. "Will you sleep with me tonight?"

Lando doesn't even flinch. Instead, he shoots you a mischievous look. "Just like that? Usually, I at least buy you dinner first."

You groan, moving your hand from his thigh but he quickly catches it and kisses your palm before resting it there again, “Of course I’ll stay with you, baby.”

As you arrive home, Lando helps you inside, his arm steady around your waist. You stumble a bit, giggling as you lean into him.

"Careful there," he says, "Let's get you sorted, shall we?"

He guides you to the kitchen, one hand on the small of your back. You hop onto a barstool, watching as he moves around your kitchen with surprising familiarity.

"Let's get some water in you," he says, filling a large glass. "And maybe some food too. When's the last time you ate?"

You scrunch your nose, trying to remember. "Um... before we went out? I think?"

Lando shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. "No wonder you're in this state. Drink this," he hands you the water, "and I'll make you a sandwich."

You sip the water obediently, watching him as he rummages through your fridge. "You don't have to do all this, you know," you say softly.

"I want to," he looks up at you, his eyes soft. "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

As you finish your water, he slides a plate with a sandwich in front of you. "Eat up, pretty girl. It'll help sober you up."

You take a bite, suddenly realizing how hungry you are. As you eat, Lando leans against the counter, watching you with amusement and something else you can't quite name.

"So," he says casually, "tell me about this handsome guy at the club."

You swallow your bite, looking up at him. "Jealous, Norris?"

"Just curious," he shrugs, a smirk playing at his lips. "You said you pushed him away?"

You nod, setting down the sandwich. "I did. He was nice, but... he wasn't you."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Lando's eyes sparkle, but he doesn't say anything.

You slide off the barstool and step closer to him. Your hands find his chest and you lean in, pressing your lips to his. He kisses back, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, and you feel a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

But then Lando pulls away gently, resting his forehead against yours. "Let's go to sleep, pretty girl," he says, his voice low and a bit rough. "You need rest."

You pout, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. "But I want you," you whisper, leaning in so your lips are inches from his.

"And you can have me," he says softly, cupping your face with one hand. "But right now we're going to sleep."

You start to protest, but he silences you with a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

As he leads you to the bedroom, Lando's mind is in turmoil. He's acutely aware of the growing feelings he has for you - feelings that go far beyond the casual arrangement you've had so far. The way his heart races when you're near, the constant urge to make you smile, the fierce protectiveness he feels - it all points to something deeper, that both thrills and terrifies him.

But with these feelings comes a familiar fear. Commitment has always been hard for him. The demands of his career, the pressure of the public eye, the fear of letting someone down - they all contribute to his hesitation. And yet, as he looks at you now, soft and vulnerable in his arms, he can't help but wonder if you might be worth the risk.

In the bedroom, he helps you change into comfortable sleepwear. As you both lay down, you curl into his side, your head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart is soothing, and you feel yourself starting to drift off.

"Lando?" you ask, your voice sleepy.

"Hmm?" His hand is running through your hair, the gesture comforting.

"Do you push away the beautiful girls that come up to flirt with you? Like I did tonight?"

You feel his chest rise with a deep breath. There's a pause before he answers, "I do," he says softly. "There's only one girl I'm interested in."

You lift your head slightly, trying to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Really? Who's that?"

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I think you know, pretty girl."

You're fighting sleep now, but you're determined to get an answer. "Well, I don't believe you," you mumble, the words slurring together. "Prove it."

Lando opens his mouth to reply, but he realizes you're already asleep, your breathing evening out. He looks down at you, a fond smile on his face. Pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, he whispers, "Maybe I'll show you soon."

The Hungarian Grand Prix has just concluded, and the atmosphere in the McLaren garage is torn between elation and tension.

Oscar has claimed his first Formula 1 victory, a monumental achievement for him and the team. However, the circumstances of his win have left a bitter taste in Lando's mouth, casting a shadow over what should have been a moment of pure celebration for everyone.

You're standing off to the side, your mind racing. The strategy call wasn't yours directly, but as part of the team, you can't help feeling partly responsible for the decision that affected both drivers.

As Lando storms into the garage, his face like thunder, you brace yourself for the fallout. His usual easy-going demeanor is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a storm of anger and disappointment. You've seen Lando upset before, but this felt different.

"Lando," you start, reaching out to him, your voice soft and tentative.

"Save it," he snaps, his blue eyes flashing with anger as he brushes past you. The coldness in his voice makes you flinch. "I don't want to hear it. Not from you, not from anyone."

For the rest of the day, Lando avoids you like the plague. You take separate flights home so you don't really see him or hear from him after you left the circuit.

Over the next few days, you try reaching out via text, each message more desperate than the last. But they go unanswered, each 'read' receipt another twist of the knife. This isn't like Lando, to shut everyone out so completely. You can't help but wonder if this is about more than just the race.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you decide to go to his place. It's a risky move, you know, but the thought of leaving things like this is unbearable. Using the spare key he gave you months ago - a gesture that had felt so significant at the time - you let yourself in.

The apartment is quiet, but not empty. You can feel his presence, sense the tension in the air.

"Lando?" you call out, your voice echoing slightly in the silent space.

You hear movement from his bedroom, and soon enough he emerges, dressed to go out, and freezes when he sees you. His expression hardens, the warmth you're used to seeing in his eyes replaced by a cold, distant look. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk, Lando," you say, your voice firm despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. "You can't just shut me out like this. It's not fair, and it's not right."

"I don't have time for this right now," Lando's jaw clenches, his gaze darting away from yours, "I'm heading out."

"Of course you are," you say, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice. "Because going out and partying is so much easier than facing your problems, isn't it?"

His eyes narrow, a spark of anger igniting, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're running away," you say, taking a step closer. "From the race, from the team, from me. We're all just trying to do our best, Lando. The team made a call, and it worked out for the best. Why can't you see that?"

"Because it wasn't the best for me!" Lando explodes, his composure finally cracking. "Do you have any idea what it's like? To have victory in your grasp and then have it taken away? To be told that you're not good enough, that your teammate is the better choice?"

"That's not what happened, and you know it," you argue back, your own frustration bubbling over. "It was a strategic decision, not a judgment on your abilities. You're letting your ego cloud your judgment."

"My ego?" Lando's laugh is harsh and humorless, "That's rich, coming from someone who's never had to make these kinds of sacrifices."

The words hang in the air between you, sharp and cutting. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. You's never had an argument like this before.

"Fine," you say finally, your voice quiet but firm. "Go out if that's what you want. But don't call me when you're feeling lonely later tonight. I'm not just some convenient comfort for when you decide you need me."

Something flashes in Lando's eyes – hurt, perhaps, or regret. But it's quickly replaced by a hardness that makes your heart ache.

"Don't worry," he retorts, his voice cold. "I can always find another girl to keep me company. I don't need you for that."

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you take an involuntary step back. The undefined nature of your relationship, once thrilling in its potential, now feels like a weapon being used against you.

"Is that what this is to you?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just a convenient arrangement? Someone to warm your bed when you can't find anyone else?"

Lando's expression softens for a moment, regret flickering across his features. But he doesn't take back his words. Instead, he turns away, his hand on the front door.

"You know your way out." And with that, he's out of the door.

A week later, Formula 1 has moved to the iconic Spa-Francorchamps circuit in Belgium. The air is thick with anticipation - not just for the upcoming race, but for the looming summer break that follows.

You've thrown yourself into your work, burying your emotions under a mountain of data analysis and strategy planning. The tension between you and Lando hasn't gone unnoticed by the team, but thankfully, everyone's too focused on the upcoming race to pry.

You haven't spoke to Lando after your argument at his place, and you blocked his number, leaving him unable to contact you.

As you make your way through the paddock, your arms full of printouts and your mind racing with tire degradation calculations, you spot a familiar figure approaching. Lando, clad in his McLaren team shirt, is walking purposefully in your direction. Your heart rate spikes, and you quickly duck into a nearby hospitality area, pretending to be engrossed in conversation with a group of engineers.

This dance continues throughout the day. Lando tries to catch your eye during the team briefing, but you keep your gaze fixed on your tablet. He lingers near your station in the garage, but you find urgent errands that take you elsewhere. It's exhausting, this game of cat and mouse, but you're not ready to face him - not yet.

As the day winds down, you're making your final rounds, double-checking that everything is set for tomorrow's practice sessions. The paddock is quieter now, most team members having retired for the evening.

You're so focused on your checklist that you don't notice the approaching footsteps until it's too late.

"We need to talk," Lando's voice, firm and tinged with frustration, breaks the silence.

You spin around and Lando stands before you, his blue eyes intense and determined. He's changed out of his team shirt into a simple t-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly tousled as if he's been running his hands through it.

"Lando, I-" you begin, but he cuts you off.

"No, don't give me another excuse," he says, stepping closer. "We've been dancing around each other all day. Enough is enough."

Before you can protest, he gently but firmly takes your arm and starts guiding you towards the McLaren motorhome. You could resist, but something in his tone, a note of desperation perhaps, makes you comply.

The motorhome is quiet and dimly lit as Lando leads you inside and up to the second level where the drivers have their private areas. He ushers you into his room, closing the door behind you.

The space is unmistakably Lando's - a gaming setup in one corner, a few personal photos tacked to a board, his race suit hanging neatly on a hook. The familiarity of it all makes your heart ache.

Lando runs a hand through his hair, pacing for a moment before turning to face you.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, the words tumbling from his lips as if he's afraid he'll lose his nerve if he doesn't say them immediately. "I'm so sorry for how I acted, for what I said. It was awful, and you didn't deserve any of it."

You stand there, arms crossed, trying to maintain your composure even as a lot of emotions overwhelm you. "You were an asshole, Lando," you say quietly.

"I know," he nods, "I was angry and frustrated, but that's no excuse. I took it out on you when you were just trying to help." He takes a step closer, his eyes pleading. "I've been miserable this past week. I missed you so much, and the thought that I might have ruined everything between us… it's been killing me."

Despite your best efforts to stay strong, you feel your resolve weakening. You're weak when it comes to him, and you're pretty sure he knows it.

"I missed you too," you admit softly. "But Lando, we can't keep doing this. We can't just pretend everything's fine and then lash out at each other when things get tough."

"I know, I know," Lando nods eagerly. "I want to do better. I want to be better," he pauses for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting your eyes again. "And I didn't go home with anyone that night, by the way,"

You furrow your brow, momentarily confused by the seemingly random statement. Then, like a flash, you remember his cruel words from that night in his house.

As you laid in bed the night of the argument, you couldn't help but wonder if Lando had gone home with someone else, and if that was how it worked when you were not there.

And it hurt more that you ever thought possible.

"Oh," you respond, aiming for nonchalance but not quite hitting the mark. "That's… I mean, you didn't have to tell me that. It's not like we're…"

You trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence. What are you, exactly?

Lando takes a step closer, his blue eyes intense as they lock with yours. "I know I don't have to tell you," he says, his voice low and earnest. "But I want you to know. I only want you to keep me company, not anyone else."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. But almost immediately, a more cynical part of your mind chimes in. He wants you, but he doesn't want to be in a relationship with you. He wants the comfort, the intimacy, but not the commitment.

"Lando, I…" you begin, but the words catch in your throat. You want to ask for clarification, to define what this is between you, but fear holds you back.

Lando seems to sense your inner turmoil. He reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "I know I messed up," he says softly. "And I know things between us are… complicated. But I mean what I said. You're the only one I want."

You look down at your joined hands, then back up at Lando's face. Despite despite the voice in your head warning you to be careful, you feel yourself giving in. The pull is too strong, the desire to be with him overpowering your rational mind.

"Okay," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

Lando's face breaks into a relieved smile, his eyes lighting up. He pulls you into another embrace, holding you close. You allow yourself to sink into his warmth, pushing your doubts to the back of your mind for now.

When you finally pull apart, Lando's expression is soft, almost reverent. "Are we good?" he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

You take a deep breath, considering the question. Are you good? There's still so much left unsaid, so many questions unanswered. But looking at Lando, feeling the comfort of his presence, you can't bring yourself to disrupt this moment of peace between you.

"Yes," you say, managing a small smile. "We're good."

The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains of Lando's Monaco apartment. You stir slowly, consciousness creeping in as you become aware of the warm body next to you. Opening your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of Lando's peaceful sleeping face, his features relaxed and vulnerable in a way they rarely are when he's awake.

It's been two weeks since your conversation in the motorhome at Spa, and true to form, you and Lando had fallen back into your familiar rhythm without missing a beat. The race weekend had gone well, with both McLarens finishing in the points, and you'd flown to Monaco with Lando for the first part of the summer break without a second thought.

As you watch Lando sleep, you can't help but feel that being here with him feels right in a way that's hard to describe. You know that this thing between you, whatever it is, is a ticking time bomb if you don't define it soon. But every time you think about approaching the subject, fear holds you back.

So you've chosen to ignore it, to live in this blissful bubble for as long as you can. You tell yourself that you'll deal with it later, after the summer break, after the next race, after the season ends. There's always a reason to put it off.

Lando begins to stir, his eyelids fluttering open. When his gaze focuses on you, a slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face. "Morning, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," you reply softly, unable to help the smile that mirrors his.

Lando reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek as he leans in for a kiss. It starts soft and sweet, but quickly deepens as he pulls you closer. His other hand trails down your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You sigh into the kiss, your own hands exploring the familiar planes of his chest and back.

As things start to heat up, Lando rolls you onto your back, hovering over you. His lips leave yours to trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Just as things are about to progress further, there's a sharp knock at the front door.

"Ignore it," Lando whispers, leaning in to capture your lips again.

You lose yourself in the kiss for a moment before another, more insistent knock breaks through. Lando groans in frustration, dropping his forehead to your shoulder.

"I should probably see who that is," he sighs, reluctantly pulling away.

You watch as he gets out of bed, admiring the view as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants before heading downstairs.

Curious about who could be visiting so early, you decide to follow after a few minutes. You grab Lando's discarded t-shirt from the night before, pulling it on. It falls to mid-thigh, long enough to be decent for a quick peek downstairs.

As you descend the stairs, you hear familiar voices from the entryway. Your heart drops as you recognize the second voice - it's Max Verstappen. Panic sets in as you realize the compromising position you're in, but it's too late. You've already rounded the corner, coming face to face with both drivers.

For a moment, everything freezes. You stand there, a deer caught in headlights, wearing nothing but Lando's shirt. Max's eyes widen in surprise, darting between you and Lando. Lando looks equally shocked, clearly not expecting you to come downstairs.

Mortified, you turn on your heel and bolt back upstairs, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. As you retreat, you hear Max's voice, tinged with amusement and surprise.

"Dude, isn't that one of your strategists?"

You don't hear Lando's response as you shut the bedroom door behind you. This is exactly the kind of situation you'd been afraid of, the reason why leaving things undefined was so dangerous.

Downstairs, the conversation continues.

"Yeah, she is," Lando admits, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"Wow, okay," Max lets out a low whistle, "So… how long has this been going on? Please tell me it's recent and not, like, during the season or something."

Lando hesitates for a moment before answering. "It's… been a while actually. Over a year."

"A YEAR?!" Max exclaims, his voice rising in disbelief. "Lando, mate, are you serious? You've been hooking up with a team member for over a year and nobody knew?"

"It's not just hooking up," Lando defends, though his voice lacks conviction. "It's… complicated."

"Complicated?" Max raises an eyebrow, "Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen if you ask me. Does the team know?"

"No," Lando shakes his head, "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything. It's not affecting our work, so no one needs to know."

"Hey, not my circus, not my monkeys," Max holds up his hands in surrender, "But seriously, Lando, be careful. This kind of thing can blow up in your face if you're not careful."

They exchange a few more words before Max takes his leave, reminding Lando about their plans for later in the week. As soon as the door closes behind Max, Lando bounds up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

He finds you in the bedroom, already dressed in own clothes. You're pacing nervously, chewing on your bottom lip - a habit he knows you fall into when you're anxious.

"Hey," he says softly, approaching you cautiously. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't expect Max to show up unannounced."

You stop pacing, turning to face him. "It's fine," you say, but your voice is tight. "I should go."

"What? No, please don't go," Lando's face falls, "Max won't say anything, I promise. He may be a bit of a prat sometimes, but he can keep a secret."

"I'll just have a walk around the harbor, I'll be back," you say as you grab your phone from the nightstand.

"But why?" Lando asks, a note of panic creeping into his voice. "Is this because Max saw you? I swear, it's not a big deal."

"I'll meet you for lunch, okay? you say softly, avoiding Lando's gaze.

"Okay," he replies simply, not pushing for more.

Without further conversation, you gather your belongings and head for the door. Feeling more conflicted than ever before.

After Max caught you together in Monaco, you stayed a few more days with Lando before reluctantly going back home, and he took on a trip with his family. You don't really see him for the rest of the summer break, until he showed up at your place two weeks before it was time to get back to work.

"So," Lando says as you laid in bed, "ready to go back to being all professional and proper soon, Ms. Strategist?"

"Oh, I'm always professional, Norris. It's you who can't keep your eyes off me during briefings."

"Me? Lando gasps in mock offense, "I'll have you know I'm the picture of focus and concentration."

"Sure," you drawl, "That's why you kept 'accidentally' brushing against me in the garage."

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Can you blame me? You're irresistible when you're talking about tire strategies."

You laugh, pushing him away playfully, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his proximity. "Smooth talker. Is that how you charm all the girls?"

"Nah," he grins, pulling you back towards him. "Just the brilliant, beautiful ones who can calculate pit stop windows in their sleep."

Your breath catches as he nuzzles your neck, his stubble tickling your skin. For a moment, you consider bringing up the conversation you've been avoiding all summer. "Lando," you murmur, "we should probably talk about-"

He silences you with a kiss, deep and passionate. "Or," he says, his eyes dark with desire, "we could make the most of our night."

You know you should resist, that you should have that conversation you've been avoiding. But as Lando's hands start to wander, you find your resolve weakening, as always.

You don't really hear from Lando after that night. He says goodbye after breakfast the following day, and then it's radio silence.

You try not to think too much of it, the break is coming to an end and he has responsibilities and work to go, it's not personal, you try to convince yourself.

But your mind can't help but wander. Is he with someone else? Is he avoiding you? Did you make him upset and you failed to notice?

But you don't dare to bring it up to him. He's not your boyfriend, after all.

The transition back to work after the summer break is jarring. The McLaren Technology Centre buzzes with activity as everyone prepares for the upcoming race. You're immediately swept up in meetings, data analysis, and strategy sessions. Despite working in the same building, you and Lando barely cross paths for days. The few times you do see him from afar, he's always surrounded by engineers or caught up in simulator work.

Finally, the team arrives at Zandvoort Circuit for the Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the paddock envelops you as you make your way to the McLaren garage, your arms full of strategy documents and your mind racing with last-minute considerations for the race.

As you approach, you spot Lando and Oscar chatting animatedly near the entrance. Your heart does a little flip at the sight of Lando, and you can't help but smile. You've missed him more than you care to admit.

"Morning, boys," you call out, aiming for a casual tone as you near them.

They both turn, matching grins spreading across their faces. "Hey there, stranger," Lando says, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief that never fails to make your stomach flutter.

Oscar, ever the gentleman, moves to take some of the papers from your arms. "Let me help you with those. How was your break?"

You smile gratefully, handing him a stack of documents. "Thanks, Oscar. It was lovely, very relaxing. How about yours?"

As Oscar launches into a story about his time back home in Australia and his trip with his girlfriend, you can't help but steal glances at Lando.

He looks good - tanned and relaxed, with a hint of stubble that you know from experience feels delightfully rough against your skin. You quickly push that thought aside, reminding yourself of where you are.

"Oh, that reminds me," Oscar says suddenly, turning to Lando with a sly grin. "How did that lunch go the other day? With Emma?"

You feel your body tense involuntarily. Lunch? Emma? Who's Emma?

Lando's eyes widen slightly, and he shoots a quick glance your way before looking back at Oscar. "Oh, uh, it was fine. Just a casual thing, you know."

But Oscar, oblivious to the sudden tension, presses on. "Come on, mate, don't be modest. Emma told Lily it went really well. Said you two really hit it off."

You feel as if all the air has been sucked out of your lungs. The documents in your arms suddenly feel impossibly heavy.

Lando runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you've come to recognize. "It wasn't… I mean, it was just lunch, Oscar. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I'm just saying," Oscar continues, still grinning, "she seems really into you. Might be worth giving it a shot, yeah? It's about time you settled down with someone nice."

You can't bear to hear any more. "I should get these to the engineers," you mutter, already turning away. "See you guys later."

As you walk away, you hear Lando call out your name, but you don't stop. You can't stop. If you stop, you might fall apart right there in the middle of the paddock.

You make it to the back of the garage before you hear rapid footsteps behind you. "Hey, wait up," Lando's voice comes from behind you, slightly out of breath.

You turn slowly, trying to school your features into a neutral expression. "What is it, Lando? I'm kind of busy."

He looks at you, his eyes searching your face. "About what Oscar said… it's not what you think."

"What do I think, Lando?" you raise an eyebrow, fighting to keep your voice steady. "We never defined what this is, remember? You're free to have lunch with whoever you want."

"It was just a favor for Oscar," Lando steps closer, lowering his voice. "His girlfriend's friend is new in town, and they asked if I'd show her around. That's all it was, I swear."

You want to believe him. God, how you want to believe him. But the memory of those blissful days during the summer break, followed by days of silence and now this… it's too much.

"Look, Lando," you say, hating how your voice wavers slightly, "we both knew this couldn't last. We have jobs to do, careers to think about. Maybe… maybe this is for the best."

"What? No, that's not…" Lando starts, reaching for your arm, but you step back.

"I really need to get these to the engineers," you say, gesturing with the documents still clutched to your chest like a shield. "We should both focus on the race this weekend. That's what we're here for, right?"

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk away, your vision blurring slightly as you blink back tears. You can feel Lando's gaze boring into your back, but you don't turn around. You can't.

As you round the corner, out of sight from the main garage, you lean against the wall for a moment, taking deep breaths to compose yourself. The rational part of your brain knows you're overreacting, that you should hear Lando out. But the emotional part, the part that's been dreading this moment since this situationship began, is in full fight or flight mode.

With one final deep breath, you push off the wall and head towards the engineering room, burying your personal turmoil beneath layers of race strategy and tire calculations. Lando Norris was consuming every part of you.

The tension between you and Lando remains palpable throughout the race weekend. You both maintain focused on your jobs, but there's a hint that something is not right with you.

The truth is, your situation with Lando has been consuming you for weeks now. What started as a casual arrangement has grown into something much deeper, at least for you.

The more time you spend with Lando, the harder you fall for him. And it's terrifying. Being casual isn't enough anymore; it hasn't been for a while. You've reached a point where you don't think you can continue this way. The pain of loving him in secret, of always being on the edge of something more but never quite reaching it, is becoming unbearable. You need clarity, commitment - or you need to walk away before you lose yourself completely.

To make matters more complicated, Lando wins the race at Zandvoort, securing his second victory of the season—one he had been craving since Miami. Your heart breaks even more as you realize you can't even celebrate this moment with him properly. Watching him on the podium, champagne in hand and pure joy radiating from his face, you feel like crying right there.

You want to run to him, throw yourself into his arms and celebrate with him, tell him how proud you feel and how much he deserves this. But you can't, not until whatever is going on between you gets sorted out.

It's not until after the race, when the celebrations cool down and the team begins to pack up, that Lando finally corners you in a quiet moment.

"Can we talk?" he asks, his voice low and urgent. "Please?"

You hesitate, glancing around the garage. Most of the team is busy with post-race duties, paying you no attention. With a sigh, you nod and follow Lando to a more secluded area behind the motorhome.

"First of all, congratulations on the win. You really deserve it," you say as soon as you're alone, trying to keep your voice steady.

Lando gives you a bittersweet smile. "Thanks, but that's not what occupies my mind right now," he replies, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart race, "I don't understand what happened back there. Why won't you believe me about Oscar's friend?"

You cross your arms, a defensive posture you're all too aware of. "It's not just about her, Lando. It's… everything."

"What do you mean, everything?" he asks, brow furrowed.

"I mean this whole situation," you take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts, "I thought I could handle it, but…"

"But what?" Lando steps closer, his voice softening, "Talk to me, please."

"But it's getting harder," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Every time I see you with someone else, every time we have to pretend there's nothing between us, it hurts a little more."

Lando reaches for your hand, and this time you don't pull away. "You're the only one I want," he says earnestly. "You have to know that."

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "You always say that, Lando. But you still won't fully commit to me. It's hard to believe it when you won't put a label on us, when you go out with other women-"

"That wasn't a date," Lando interrupts, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "I told you, it was just a favor for Oscar."

"I know, I know," you say, pulling your hand away and running it through your hair. "But that's not the point. The point is, I don't know where I stand with you. We've been doing this dance for over a year now, and I still don't know what we are to each other."

"I thought you were okay with this. With us staying without a label. You agreed to keep things casual."

"I was okay with it," you turn away, blinking back tears. "But it's not enough anymore. At least, not for me."

There's a long moment of silence. When you turn back, Lando is staring at the ground, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"What are you saying?" he asks finally, his voice small.

"I'm saying that I can't do this anymore, Lando," you say firmly, "I want more. I need more."

"We agreed it was too complicted," Lando looks up at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable, "That we couldn't be in a relationship."

"I know what we agreed," you say, your voice cracking slightly. "But feelings change. People change. I've changed, Lando. And I can't keep putting my heart on hold for a someday that might never come."

Lando steps forward, reaching for you again. "Please, don't do this. We can figure it out. I'll try to be more open about us. We can tell our friends."

You shake your head, cutting him off. "It's not just about telling people, Lando. It's about commitment. It's about knowing that when I go home at night, I'm not just someone in your bed. It's about building a future together, not just living for the moment."

"I don't know if I can give you that. Not right now," Lando's face falls. "My career is at a great point, and-"

"And mine isn't?" you interrupt, a flash of anger cutting through your sadness. "Do you think I'm not risking just as much as you are? If not more? But I'm willing to take that risk because what we have… what we could have… it's worth it to me."

You watch as emotions play across Lando's face - confusion, fear, longing. Finally, he speaks, his voice barely audible. "I don't want to lose you."

Your heart aches, but you stand your ground. "Then give me a reason to stay, Lando. Show me that I'm more than just a convenient distraction between races."

Lando opens his mouth to respond, but you hold up a hand to stop him. "Don't answer now. Think about it. Really think about what you want. Because I can't keep going on like this. It's not fair to either of us."

With that, you turn and walk away, leaving Lando standing alone behind the motorhome. As you make your way back to the garage, you can feel the weight of unshed tears burning behind your eyes. But you don't let them fall. Not here, not now.

You've laid your cards on the table. Now it's up to Lando to decide what he's willing to do with them.

The Monza race weekend flies by in a whirlwind of noise and action. You keep yourself busy, diving deep into numbers and race plans to avoid thinking about your feelings. It's easier to focus on tire strategies and pit stop timings than to deal with the ache in your chest every time you see Lando.

When you do have to talk to Lando, you both act normal and professional. But there's a tension in the air between you, like a tight rubber band ready to snap. You catch others giving you worried looks sometimes, and it makes you feel even more on edge.

Lando has not given you any kind of response to your talk in Zandvoort, and it's been just a week, but you feel like you know his answer. He's not willing to give you what you ask for. And it hurts, more than you can say.

As Sunday night gets closer, whispers of Carlos Sainz's birthday celebration begin to circulate through the paddock. You know Lando will definitely go - he and Carlos are really close friends. A small part of you wishes you could go too. You imagine laughing with your coworkers, having a drink, and forgetting about all the drama for a while.

But then you think about seeing Lando there. You picture having to smile and act like everything's fine when it's not. The thought of making awkward small talk with him, or worse, seeing him chatting happily with someone else, makes your stomach churn. It feels like too much to handle right now.

In the end, the thought of facing Lando and all those people is just too much. You decide to skip the party, even though a part of you feels guilty and a bit left out. But the relief you feel at making this decision tells you it's the right choice for now.

As the sun begins to set after the race and everyone gets ready for the party, you retreat to your hotel room. You order room service – a plate of pasta that you barely touch – and settle in for a quiet evening alone. You try to lose yourself in a book, but the words blur on the page, your mind constantly wandering to thoughts of Lando. Is he at the party now? Is he having fun? Is he thinking of you at all?

Meanwhile, at Carlos' birthday celebration, Lando finds himself struggling to enjoy the party. He mingles half-heartedly, his laugh a beat too late, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He can't help but scan the room periodically, hoping against hope that you might have changed your mind and decided to come.

Max, observant as ever and knowing his friend too well, notices Lando's distraction and pulls him aside.

"You alright, mate?" Max asks, "You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here."

Lando sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Is it that obvious?"

Max nods, taking a sip of his drink. "Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, Lando considers brushing it off, but the weight of the past week suddenly feels too heavy to bear alone. "It's about her," he admits quietly.

Max doesn't need to ask who 'her' is. By now he knows the situation his friend is caught up in, "Trouble in paradise?" he asks.

"More like paradise lost," Lando lets out a humorless laugh, "I think I really messed up, Max. I was so worried about keeping things casual, about not complicating our working relationship, that I didn't realize how fucked up the whole thing was."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Max asks.

Lando looks around the room, at the laughing faces and clinking glasses, and suddenly feels very out of place. "I don't know. I just know I can't be here right now. Not when things are like this between us."

"Then go," he says simply. "Go find her. Talk to her. Life's too short for regrets, especially in our line of work."

Lando looks at Max, a hint of his usual playful smile returning despite the situation. "When did you become so wise, Verstappen? Did all those championship trophies finally knock some sense into you?"

"Someone has to be the voice of reason around here," Max rolls his eyes, but there's a fond smile on his face, "Now go on, get out of here before Carlos finds you and makes you stay, I'll distract him."

"Thanks, Max. I owe you one," Lando chuckles, patting his back.

"You owe me several, but who's counting?" Max grins, clapping Lando on the shoulder. "Now go get your girl."

With a newfound sense of purpose, Lando slips out of the party. His heart pounds as he makes his way to your hotel, not even sure if you would want to talk to him.

When he's finally standing in front of you door, he knocks softly, hope and fear warring in his chest as he waits for you to answer.

You're curled up on the bed, still trying and failing to focus on your book, when you hear the knock. Confused, you glance at the clock - it's barely past 10 PM. The party should still be in full swing. Who could be at your door?

As you pad over to the door and peer through the peephole, your breath catches in your throat. It's Lando, looking slightly disheveled, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

You hesitate, your hand on the doorknob. Part of you wants to fling the door open and throw yourself into his arms. But another part, the part that's been hurt and confused for the past week, holds you back.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you slowly open the door, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the emotions inside you.

"Lando?" you say, trying to sound calm even though your heart is racing. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at Carlos' party."

Lando looks a bit messy, like he rushed over. He shifts from foot to foot, looking nervous. "I was," he says. "But I couldn't stay. Not when you weren't there."

You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms. You're trying to protect yourself, even though you want to believe him. "You left your best friend's birthday party early because of me?"

Lando nods, looking right at you. His eyes are so intense it makes your heart beat even faster. "Can I come in? I think we need to talk."

You hesitate for a moment. You're scared of getting hurt again, but you also really want to hear what he has to say, even if it breaks your heart. Finally, you step back and let him in.

As he passes by, you catch a whiff of his cologne mixed with the faint scent of the paddock - a combination that's uniquely Lando and achingly familiar.

Lando walks into the room, running a hand through his hair. "I've been doing a lot of thinking this past week," he begins, turning to face you. "About us."

Your heart starts to race, but you force yourself to remain calm. "And?" you prompt, when he doesn't continue.

"And you were right. About everything," Lando takes a deep breath, "I've been so focused on not complicating things, that I didn't realize how much I was hurting you.”

"Lando, I-"

"Please, let me finish," Lando interrupts you softly, "The truth is, I've been scared. Terrified, actually. Of commitment, of letting someone in completely, of potentially damaging our careers if things went wrong. But this past week without you… it's been hell", he takes a step closer to you, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I've dated before, had relationships, but nothing has ever felt like this. What we have… it's different. Special. And I've been an idiot for not seeing it sooner."

Your breath catches in your throat as Lando continues, his words coming faster now, as if he's afraid he'll lose his nerve if he doesn't get them all out. "I kept telling myself that keeping things casual was the smart thing to do. That it was protecting both of us. But all I've done is push you away and make you doubt how much you mean to me."

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you've seen him do countless times when he's nervous or frustrated. "The truth is, I'm crazy about you. I think about you all the time. When something good happens, you're the first person I want to tell. When something goes wrong, you're the one I want to turn to. And it scares the hell out of me because I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Your heart is pounding so hard you're sure Lando must be able to hear it. You want to speak, to tell him how much his words mean to you, but you can see he's not finished yet.

"I know I've messed up. I know I've hurt you by not being clear about my feelings, by not giving you the commitment you deserve. And I'm so, so sorry for that," Lando's voice cracks slightly, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes. "But if you're willing to give me another chance, I want to do this right. No more hiding, no more pretending we're just casual. I want to be with you, properly. I want to tell our friends, take you on proper dates. I want everything."

He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "I can't promise it'll be easy. Our careers, the media attention, the travel - it's all going to be complicated. But I'm willing to fight for this, for us, if you are."

You stand there, momentarily stunned by Lando's words. Your mind is racing, trying to process everything he's just said. You've dreamed of hearing something like this from him for so long, but now that it's happening, you find yourself almost paralyzed.

Taking a shaky breath, you finally find your voice. "Lando, I… I don't know what to say. This is everything I've wanted to hear from you, but I'm scared too. What if we try this and it doesn't work out? What if we end up ruining our friendship, our work relationship?"

Lando's hand finally makes contact with your cheek, his touch impossibly gentle. "Those are all valid fears," he says softly. "And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about the same things. But I think what we have is worth the risk. Don't you?"

You lean into his touch, your eyes closing for a moment as you savor the feeling. When you open them again, you see Lando looking at you with such tenderness it makes your heart ache.

"I do," you whisper. "I really do. But Lando, I need you to be sure, if we do this, I need all of you. No more half measures, no more hiding."

Lando nods, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "I'm sure. I want all of you, and I want to give you all of me in return."

The sincerity in his voice, the look in his eyes - it's everything you've been longing for. Unable to resist any longer, you close the distance between you and press your lips to Lando's. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if you're both afraid this moment might shatter. But then Lando's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens.

It's not your first kiss, not by a long shot, but it feels different this time. There's a promise in this kiss, a commitment that wasn't there before.

You pour all your pent-up emotions - the longing, the frustration, the love you've been holding back. Lando responds with equal passion, one hand tangling in your hair while the other presses against the small of your back.

When you finally break apart, Lando rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips.

"I've missed you so much," he murmurs. The relief and happiness that flood Lando's face are beautiful to see.

"I've missed you too," you admit. "More than I wanted to admit, even to myself."

Lando's hands start to wander, tracing patterns on your back that make you shiver, you melt at his touch, but then your mind starts racing again.

"Where do we go from here, Lan?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando takes a moment to consider your question, his hands still gently caressing your back. He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of tenderness and determination.

"Well," he starts, a small smile playing on his lips, "I think we take it one step at a time. We don't need to rush anything, but we also don't need to hide anymore."

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

"First things first," Lando says, his voice growing more confident, "I want to take you on a proper date. No sneaking around, no pretending we're just colleagues grabbing a quick bite. I want to take you somewhere nice, hold your hand in public, and not care who sees us."

The thought makes your heart flutter. "I'd like that," you reply softly.

You wrap your arms around him, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. For the first time in a long while, you feel truly happy and hopeful about the future.

"So," Lando says after a moment, a hint of mischief in his voice, "since I left Carlos' party early to come here... does that mean I get to stay the night?"

You laugh, playfully swatting his arm. "Cheeky," you tease, but there's no real accusation in your voice. Instead, you lean in and kiss him.

As the kiss intensifies, you both start moving towards the bed, hands roaming and clothes starting to come off. This time, there's no holding back, no pretending this is just a casual thing. Every touch, every kiss is infused with the promise of something lasting.

Two weeks later, you're in Baku for the Azerbaijan Grand Prix.

You're in the McLaren garage, eyes fixed on your tablet as you analyze the latest telemetry data. The familiar sounds of mechanics working and engineers discussing strategy fill the air, but you're completely focused on your task.

Suddenly, you sense a pair of eyes on you. Without turning, a smile tugs at your lips. You know exactly who it is.

"See something you like?" you ask playfully, still not looking up from your work.

You hear a low chuckle, then feel a warm presence behind you. "Just admiring my girlfriend," Lando's voice is soft, meant only for your ears.

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you gently against him. His lips brush your shoulder in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine.

The past fortnight has been a whirlwind of emotions and adjustments. True to his word, Lando has taken you on proper dates and you've made your relationship official. You still feel giddy every time Lando calls you his girlfriend, a fact that hasn't escaped his notice. He seems to take particular joy in introducing you as such, his eyes always seeking out your reaction.

"How's the data looking?" he says, giving you a quick squeeze.

"Pretty good, actually," you turn back to your tablet, but remain in his loose embrace. "Your last practice session showed some promising improvements in sector two."

"That's my girl," Lando murmurs, pride evident in his voice. "Always making me look good."

You chuckle, elbowing him gently. "You do that all on your own, superstar. I just provide the numbers."

You turn in Lando's arms, facing him with a soft smile. The garage bustles around you, but in this moment, it feels like you're in your own little bubble.

"You know," you say, your voice low, "I never thought I'd be standing here like this with you. In the middle of the garage, no less."

Lando's eyes crinkle as he grins, his hands resting comfortably on your waist. "Having second thoughts?" he teases.

"Not at all," you shake your head, your smile widening. "It's just different. Good different."

"The best kind of different," Lando agrees, echoing his words from that night in your hotel room.

"I should probably get back to work," you say reluctantly, not making any move to step away.

Lando nods, but doesn't loosen his hold on you. "Probably," he agrees, a mischievous glint in his eye. "But first…"

He leans in, pressing a quick but tender kiss to your lips. It's brief, mindful of your surroundings, but filled with promise.

As he pulls back, you can't help but laugh softly. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"You love it," Lando grins, finally releasing you from his embrace.

"I do," you admit, your heart full. "Now go on, superstar. You've got a car to drive soon."

As you watch him blow you a kiss which made you throw your head back in laughter as he left, your heart feels full.

You and Lando. Lando and You. Finally, together.

[dduane]

Erotica and anniversaries

...The big E, first. Here she is. Isn't she lovely?

...Right there upstairs at the Library of Congress, on the second floor. (I noted at the time we passed through some years back—and continue to smile at the memory—that her artist has included his copyright statement right there, to make sure no one misses it.)

...Anyway, where were we? ...Oh yeah: the local takes on erotic writing and smut.

This subject seems to come up every couple of years. What nudged me into revisiting it this time was the notes off a comment to a post earlier today, responding to someone working on an explicit-leaning AU, and discussing the writing of (story) bibles for projects.

Anyway, the notes:

#love that the advice was not just 'stick to porn' or 'don't write porn at all' but 'ah yes; common problem; let me explain to you how to write a series bible'

Well, disclosure here: in my case, it can't really be otherwise. :)

Let this act as everybody's sort-of-biennial reminder (if needed) that I'm not going to be caught condemning people for writing smut, as I've written it myself. (And continue to do so when the mood moves me.)

The post from very nearly two years ago, discussing the issue in more detail, is over here. As you'll see if you read it, there were some folks who experienced brief episodes of cognitive dissonance on learning I was a cheerful writer of explicit material. Some of the surprise was probably due to the fact that a lot of people see me—mostly due to the relatively-higher profile of the Young Wizards books—as primarily a writer for younger readers.

But that's not how I got started. My (1979) debut novel centers a universe where the following exchange between two of the protagonists appears—they then being wrapped up in blankets and afterglow in the wake of a prolonged and enthusiastic post-reunion shag:

A soft chuckle in the darkness. “Lorn, remember that first time we shared at your place?” “That was a long time ago.” “It seems that way.” “—and my father yelled up the stairs, ‘What are you dooooooooing?’ “—and you yelled back, ‘We’re fuckinnnnnnnnnnng!’” “—and it was quiet for so long—” “—and then he started laughing—” “Yeah.”

Nor was this a one-off. This book and its sequels contain a fair number of passages in which human (and occasionally non-human) sexualities, both in the abstract and the experientially concrete, take center stage. And the mode in which they're expressed and discussed is intended for adults. Those sequences can probably be described as at least borderline erotica. (I certainly try had to be as graceful about such passages as I can, when and where it's appropriate to be.)

With this in mind, it's worth repeating what turns up in that earlier post, which came off a query to a ficcer about "how do you feel knowing that people may be jerking off to your work?":

I'm an entertainer. Writing's a form of entertainment. (And not just for the readership: for me, too.) To be aroused by art one's experienced is (almost by definition) to be entertained, I'd say...

Other people's art in these modes certainly is entertaining for me: and I desperately hope mine is for other people. (Almost all my more explicit writing is published only pseudonymously, which from my point of view is just fine. There's a fair amount of writing work out in the world that [for contractual or other business reasons] doesn't have my name on it. This is just more of the same.)

(Per that, adding here again my own tags from that earlier post:)

#and no I'm not going to let on where the smut is#why would i deny anyone the delights of the search#and of being repeatedly mistaken#while possibly finding smut writers who're better at it than i am#:)

Anyway, finally: from that earlier post—on nearly the thirty-eighth anniversary of something happening to me that would, just a year before the event, have seemed wildly unlikely—this note, unusually apposite because of what today is, and what's coming tomorrow.

I consider erotica—and its more casually-dressed (or undressed…) cousin, smut—to be perfectly legit forms of literary expression; ones that can soar to unexpected heights if you’re willing to put in the work. The sexy-stuff-writing muscle requires periodic exercise if it’s to remain viable and/or useful. So I exercise it. And being a 70-plus-year-old person who sometimes creaks audibly when she walks has done absolutely nothing to decrease my interest in the subject—the brain being, after all, the biggest sex organ, and the one least vulnerable to the depredations of time. If anything, nearly fifty years of experience (and more than three and a half decades of marriage to @petermorwood) have added… let’s just say nuance. 😏

So, happy Valentine's Day to all those who choose to celebrate, in whatever mode.

And to the Man Upstairs:

...See you in a few, sweetie. :)

[kokii-omii]

Random fun facts about my Twst ocs

pt,3 (its gonna be long)

Maddex Hatcliff

His hair is white with orange strands

he cuts his own hair (we can tell)

was a victim of trey's oyster sauce prank

he was like 11 and making a tart for fun and remembered trey telling him over the phone that oyster sauce makes it taste better

he hates oyster sauce for this specific reason

he's ambidextrous because he thought being able to write with his left hand would be fun

has terrible memory so he ends up mixing his stories together

however he does know all of heartslabyul's rules (just so he could find loopholes for every single one)

he's a go with the flow type of guy so you rarely ever see him upset

he knows how to do magic tricks

he dotes on riddle a lot and is mostly seen with him when he's not on class

Krohn Luteus

he dances when he cooks

is honestly really forgetful

he also gets scammed easily (Azul & ruggie you better stay away)

his solution is to cook food whenever people are arguing (it always works)

him and Ezmond are mostly found in the library cuz they're always studying together

ruggie makes krohn go on errands with him because he knows Krohn will say yes without asking for anything in return (he's just happy to be there)

he beat jack in an arm wrestling contest

talks to himself sometimes

will do a lot of things but giving his recipes away is where he draws the line (Azul is frustrated by this)

Viridis Ashengrotto

Emo

is NOT a morning person at all

is childhood friends with Leo

he tweaks out a lot for a lot of things

he was so mad he got placed in octavinelle because that meant he'd have to listen to Azul

he has to be woken up by Alfred otherwise he's sleeping through the whole day

is actually a well known painter

has sold a lot of his paintings already so he has a good amount of money

buys from luxury brands but rarely wears them because he's mostly painting (he can afford them)

sometimes he uses his merform to paint multiple things at the same time

is a great singer as well

his second best subject is animal linguistics

he knows how to play the bass

he sometimes collects scraps in the sea and makes art out of them

has slightly better grades in PE than azul

he sucks at potion making tho

Leo Kerdo

His merform is two times the size of his human form

The reason he's grumpy most of the time is because his human form is really short

he's much calmer when he's in his merform tho (still a little grumpy but not as much as usual)

he's what I'd like to call "Impatiently Patient" where he's gonna be patient with someone but he's gonna complain the whole time

He deals with Viri tweaking out a lot and he's the one who constantly has to set him straight (he smacks the shit outta him sometimes)

probably the only octavinelle student in flight class to actually be really good at flying

is surprisingly good at fighting despite his size

has a really big appetite

complains a lot when viri asks him for help but still helps him anyway (also cuz he gets compensation from Viri)

Alfred Manta

can cook really well

He's the one that does Viri's hair in the morning

His nickname for Viri is "Bocchan"

is easily irritated but hides it really well

he may or may not be responsible for any minor inconvenience you have

nobody can prove that he did it

often the one to speak for his brother if nobody can understand his gestures

Him and Rook have a sort of cat and mouse rivalry

him and Jade hate each other

got some sorta butler beef between them for their respective Ashengrotto

they both try to hunt each other down (its basically two stalkers playing hide and seek with each other)

likes photography

has a weird collection of candid photos of everyone (when did he take them? only he knows the answer to that)

purposefully stands in the dark near the light switch to scare anyone who comes in but then acts like everything's completely normal (freak)

his favorite food is shrimp (run yuu)

Reese Manta

mostly snickers and giggles

he's selectively mute

he's very silly

he doesn't really care much for people so you don't really see him hanging out with anyone outside of viri,leo,and his brother

Can write really fast

he can draw but mostly just draws silly doodles on his sketchpad

he's very expressive even when he doesn't talk

he talks when his brother isn't around to talk for him but he usually whispers it on someone else's ear (viri) so they can talk for him

he doesn't really feel like he has much to say so he doesn't say anything

tho he does talk out loud when he's got a great insult or just an insult in general

him and Floyd are surprisingly good friends

once tried to gross Viri out by shoving takoyaki in front of his face and Viri looked him dead in the eyes and ate it with no hesitation

Viri gained his respect that day

his favorite food is tempura

Ezmond Morado

He lets Krohn braid his hair sometimes when they hang out

is really good at sewing

makes his own outfits sometimes

He was the one who managed the pomefiore dorm in rook and vil's absence in book 6 (it's like vil never left)

krohn makes him eat more even though he has a diet

Pan Nikos

low key has a sleeper build (he used to work out)

is technically related to Jade and Floyd cuz their Mama's are sorta cousins

his stamina is situation dependant

he can be rushing in without getting tired or he's dead on the floor the first minute in

never let bro play rage games

Peyn Algos

thinks he's more mature than the others but he's really not

he got his UM when he was encountering overblot malleus

he can speak fae tongue

picks fights with sebek the most (mostly cuz they're both really similar)

Idia Shroud's #1 glazer (only in the presence of people he hates)

almost fist fought Rollo in glomas

Lucien Thornhill

His hair is naturally curly and orange

he straightens it very often

needs glasses but doesn't wear them to maintain his appearance

has a resting bitch face

he's a perfectionist

one of malleus's retainers appointed by the senate

is an owl fae

has a younger brother named Edwin that goes to Royal Sword who is an owl fae

he is really great at sports, Spelldrive especially

has a weird hyperfixation on balusters

one minor inconvenience away from a crashout

sebek low key has beef with him

carved his own wand and uses that instead of the magical pens they give you

-------------------------------------------------

ignore how I posted this unfinished

[melliemell]

Fyodor x reader but reader got isekai to their universe (reader knows a lot about what bsd like what happened etc)? ^^

this was too fun to write ngl

Pairing: Fyodor x reader

Contents: SFW, bribing, that one scene of fyodor tied up but make him face an unexpected new player, Approx 2k words

“Help me secure him. Now.” The officer’s voice hissed, spurring you into movement.

There was no need for all the worry, really. It’s not like Fyodor was fighting back. Pulling the restraints around him was easy, his arms almost limp as both of you manhandled him into place.

Maybe it was his indifference or the way he observed you calmly as you worked... Your superior was having none of it, the beads of fat sweat rolling down his temple obvious as day. He wanted this done with quickly. Now.

Fyodor’s reputation exceeded him everywhere he went. It didn’t matter how pathetic of a circumstance he put himself in, it was obvious he was always in control.

No normal man would be this calm. Especially under the hold of Ace. 

It was one thing to know of this moment playing out–the memory of it clear in your mind as can be. 

But to be here. 

It’s in those moments that you really reflected on your life—the absurdity of it. 

“You’ll be dealt with later,” the officer said to Fyodor, voice rough. Violet eyes only regarded him cooly, a smirk pulling at his lips a second later.

A shiver ran down your spine, intrigue pulling at your heart nonetheless.

You handed the bag to your superior, watching as he roughly put it around Fyodor’s head. Not even a flinch, no word of complaint came from the bound man before you. There was silence for a moment, a shared look of relief between you as you stepped out of the cell and locked it in place. Your eyes didn’t leave Fyodor’s form as you walked away.

“I’m not dealing with this, that’s all from me,” your commander mumbled once you were far off into the corridor. “I’ve heard enough of this one to know we shouldn’t be meddling further. He’s Ace’s problem from now on. You alright, kid?”

“Sure,” you said. 

But you kept that question spinning in your mind for the rest of the night. You found yourself checking the surveillance cameras in the cellars more often than you’d like. But you saw the exact same picture every time. 

Just as expected.

Fyodor, bound and unmoving. Head obscured as he awaited the faith he so carefully planned out for. 

It’s a shame, really. All that planning would go to waste; you highly doubted he had factored you into the equation. You still had to be careful about this though.

It’s been months now; no signs of your previous life coming back any time soon. This lack of control was maddening, and the desire to bring back what you’ve lost was gnawing at your gones ever since.

You made up a plan, yes. Duh.

But it was a stupid, downright idiotic thing to meddle with Fyodor of all people. At least Dazai would’ve been less likely to murder you. Yet you had no choice. Fyodor was your best bet at getting back home, his mania over reality and finding the truth of this world was the surest path to untangling you from this mess you found yourself in.

That is, so long as he complied. Which… well, risks were meant to be taken, right? 

You turned off the surveillance for his cell. The leading corridor too, just for extra measure. It’s not like it mattered much, but it set your mind at ease as you took the walk to his confinement knowing no one watched you.

Fyodor heard your steps, head slightly rising. He waited as you set the keys in the lock and the screech of metal against stone echoed.

The door was unlocked.

It’s not like he was incapable of speaking under that hood. He could be doing this for dramatic’s sake, the bastard. Taking pleasure in revealing as little as he could while leaving you squirming with warry anticipation. 

You felt none of that, though, stepping in with uncharacteristic indifference before shutting the door behind you. You expected more worry to be coiling in your gut, yet you found yourself observing him curiously. 

Fyodor looked rather pathetic, to be frank. It never sat well with you how a man of such power and knowledge would put himself in positions like this. He could be deriving a sick type of pleasure from it; plenty of people adored playing the defenceless sheep–

–only to pounce with bared teeth upon their pray, the pretence discarded a moment later.

“Sorry to barge in on your happy time,” you said, standing right before him. “But I doubt you have much else to do besides shiver and be bored to death in here.”

You reached for the hood, lifting it carefully off his face. Wild dark locks spilt forth, and dark violet eyes locked into yours a second later. You weren’t going to back down now, keeping your gaze steady as you both considered each other. 

Fyodor cleared his throat. “I see. Are you here to keep me company then?” He tilted his head. 

Being this close to him felt a bit unnerving; like being involuntarily dissected. 

“Kind of. Consider me your angel in disguise, here to raise you from perdition and all,” you said, tossing the hood on the floor. Fyodor followed the movement, eyebrow rising.

“I’m touched,” he said, voice blank.

Fyodor wasn’t impressed. No sign of surprise there either. His perfectly masked indifference was worrisome, but you couldn’t let yourself fall in doubt. You were nobody to him, the chance of knowing your secret were slim. Hopefully. 

Besides, if Fyodor knew you possessed the knowledge of his ability–you would have been long dead.

Deep breath.

“Do you know why I’m here exactly?”

Fyodor smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be kind enough to tell me.”

Bastard. You came closer, hovering right above him as you said, “I’m here to offer you a proposition.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sorry to say it’d interfere with your plans a bit. I’m sure you’re capable enough to adapt.”

You waited. Fyodor leaned back, looking up at you as he considered. He breathed deep, his chest rising against his binds with every inhale. He was studying you, violet eyes boring into you soul.

You’d be a fool to deny how pretty this man was. It was always the morally ambiguous and undeniably dangerous types that drew you in, unfortunately. Fyodor was no exception. 

At least he had the manners to compensate. Or that’s what you told yourself.

“My, you must think very highly of me. I wonder the type of rumours you’ve amassed about me in your little organization.” He hummed, looking all the more apologetic as he continued. “But as you can see–I’m quite in a predicament right now. I doubt I’ll be of much use to you now.”

Huh. You had your expectations but such an outward lie was not one of them. How unusual. He was fooling no one, he must surely know that? Fyodor didn’t want to share anything, playing it safe until you revealed more. 

Fine then.

You reached out, revelling in the flash of confusion crossing Fyodor’s face as you took hold of his chin. You leaned down for extra emphasis, not feeling bad in the slightest as you rested a foot on the open space between his spread thighs. Fyodor didn’t flinch, but the air around you shifted. You weren’t here to play around with empty words, and he needed to be made aware of that. One way or another.

“You sure about that?” you asked, holding him in place. “Then it won’t be of importance if I told you that what you’re looking for is no longer in the vault, would it?” It wasn’t a lie. You made sure the files were discarded off the moment Fyodor set foot on this ship. Working here for months had its perks, the security palpable when it came to their own. 

You fought hard to keep your smile at bay as Fyodor didn’t say a thing. 

“I see you’re quite informed.” His voice was blank, completely devoid of any hints at how he felt about this. “What might it be you’ll want from me then? Considering you’re looking to make a deal here.”

Now we’re talking. 

“Ding ding. That’s a fast learner.” Your finger tapped him on the cheek in thought as you formulated your statement. Fyodor did not look impressed. “Let’s see. I can’t really give you the files, you see. They kind of don’t exist. You’re welcome.”

“How terrible to hear.”

You smiled. He was surprisingly compliant til now. It was a good look on him if you were honest with yourself.

“But thankfully for you–” you tapped the side of your temple, grinning wide “–I’ve got aall the info you need up here. And more. But we’ll talk about that later. Now, all I want is for you to do me a tiny little favour, how does it sound?”

“Tempting,” Fyodor said, head tilting. “If you speak the truth. Go on.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Kill Ace.”

There. Simple and direct. Fyodor raised a brow, amused. “Oh? How unusual. I gathered you’re not a friend of the Mafia, but this–what cruelty.”

“I don’t mind the Mafia. It’s him that I’ve no need of.” His ability disgusted you, to put it frankly. Greed was a dangerous thing, and men who played around with other’s lives for the sake of it were no better than sewer rats. Karma’s face flashed before your eyes, the memory of what was to come tasting bitter on your tongue. “But–” you brushed a loose strand of hair behind Fyodor’s ear, voice seeping with sweetness “–don’t touch the others. If there is even one casualty, I’ll make sure there’ll be consequences.”

Fyodor didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. “So many demands. What am I to do but follow them? Yet I’m still tied up here, aren’t I?” 

“I’m sure you can manage on your own,” you said. “I’ll find you when you’re done. I don’t mind getting you out either, so long as you don’t break the rules.”

Now something shifted, Fyodor’s attention seemingly caught. You wondered what went about in his head. You must be quite the novelty; even more so if he realized how much you knew of him. 

…or of his plans. 

“Interesting,” was all he said. Like there wasn’t anything else to be discussed. 

You sighed, pulling away to retrieve the hood again. At least you got somewhere. You hoped his curiosity was enough to keep his end of the bargain. Fyodor was such an untouchable individual it would’ve been impossible otherwise to get something like this out of him.

Cooperation. Or you hoped, there was nothing stopping him from ending your life and everyone else’s here after he was done with you.

…

Fuck.

You needed a safety plan in case he had other ideas in mind.

You went back before him, hood in hand as you lowered it over his head and eyes before you spoke again. “And Fyodor?”

He couldn’t see you but his lips finally moved in answer. “Yes?”

You bent down, facing him directly. “I hope this works out for the both of us. I would really like to talk to you about things after.”

“I would love that too.” He smiled. You couldn’t tell if he was sincere or not.

You came closer, your breath ghosting over his cheek. Fyodor’s jaw tensed as you spoke quietly against his ear. “I’m quite… new to this place. You see, there are no ability users where I come from… and I would really love to go back there. I think you’d be willing to lend a helping hand. We’ll talk more, yeah?”

You moved slowly back, pulling the hood lower before you stopped again. He wasn’t going to answer, it seemed. Fyodor’s lips remained sealed, no doubt thinking over your words. Spinning them around his mind. 

You smiled knowingly, leaning in to brush your lips against his a moment later.Just because you could. 

There, maybe he’d have more to think about as he waited for Ace’s arrival. Fyodor certainly didn’t indicate it though, remaining still against your lips. You weren’t surprised. You set the hood in place, finally stepping back.

A lot of things were about to change in a few hours. The anticipation was building inside you; hope mingled with a sense of danger that only fueled your impatience further.

What a day it’s been so far.

[etherealrin]

PLEASE more rin x reader with the friends to lovers trope

₊˚⊹♡ 0x1=lovesong?!

the three times your childhood best friend itoshi rin realizes that he loves you + the one time he says it

warnings: none // wc: 3.8k

note: hai i hope this delivers what you wanted! fic + title loosely inspired by txt's 0x1=lovesong. female reader, kinda messy writing & ik that sae returns to japan when its winter but i make the rules here so it's actually summer. badly proofread!

one.

the first time itoshi rin met you was when he was a toddler, on a sunny, cloudless day at the park.

rin stared dejectedly at the bright green, now malformed, chunk of plastic he held in his tiny hands. it had previously been a dinosaur figure, possibly his favorite one so far too.

of course he had to break it and ruin the fun for himself.

rin's head whipped around, left, right, left, right—he was looking for comfort, in the form of his older brother sae—who was nowhere to be found. it dawned on him that even then, in a bustling playground full of lively kindergarteners, itoshi rin found himself alone. a zero in a world of ones.

as he sat there on the sidewalk, mourning his latest tragedy, the last thing he expected was for a little girl to approach him.

"hi," you said shyly. rin tore his gaze away from the broken pieces of his toy and looked up at you, curiousity in his eyes. you were pretty, he thought immediately. although you were both barely four, there was a simple elegance in the way you held yourself, and an obvious kindness in your delicate features. he wondered why you had chosen to approach him when so few of his peers ever did.

"hi," rin repeated back at you, exhaling sharply.

"um, do you want to play family with us?" you stuttered a little as you asked, motioning to three other children behind you. even at the age of four, rin's teal eyed gaze was still piercing. "we need someone to be the dad."

you wanted him to be the dad? rin rarely recieved invitations to play with other children, let alone was he well-versed in this game called family. but for some strange reason, he really wanted to try it. maybe it was because of you. you who had noticed his despair and tried to save him, in your own way.

"okay," he said decidedly, looking at you and your group of friends with wide eyes.

"yay! we can play for real now!" you squealed to the kids behind you. "my name is l/n y/n," you stated, staring at him expectantly. oh. you wanted to know what his name was.

"itoshi. itoshi rin."

"okay itoshi-chan, let's go!" and then you were dragging him off to the playstructure and under the slides, where your "house" was.

"just rin is okay," rin blurted out. "i have a brother so itoshi is confusing anyway."

"okay, rin-chan it is then! let's be friends!" your joyful grin made rin's tiny heart twist with a feeling he didn't understand. why did it make him so happy to be wanted by you? why did you even want to be his friend in the first place?

"alright!" he replied with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

rin doesn't remember much else from that day, but he knows that it was one of the better memories he holds from his childhood.

two.

a lot had transpired since that fateful day at the park, and the two of you were attending the same junior high as first-years. somehow, you had wound up in a majority of the same elementary school classes as well, thus you and rin formed a tight-knit friendship. twelve year old rin was going through somewhat of an edgy phase (that he never really grew out of.) hence, he was also going through a period where he was even more tight-lipped in class, despite his growing popularity. recruited by his older brother sae, rin had fallen into the clutches of soccer since first grade, and he had something that could only be described as a genius talent for the ball game. he was the only first-year who had made the soccer team, and rumors were that he was likely next in line for the position of captain, which was usually exclusively given to third years. he had soccer practice almost daily now, and you had art club after school, meaning your schedules aligned. as soccer practice often ran late, you developed a habit of making your way over to the fields after art club was finished to wait for rin. then the two of you would walk home together. rin never put too much thought into the simple act of you waiting for him, until one afternoon, you weren't there.

huh? he had thought. maybe you were running late or something? rin had just finished the last of his laps around the grassy field, and he surveyed his suroundings with slight dissapontment. you really weren't there?

"itoshi-kun, what's up?" a second year asked him, noticing his odd demeanor.

"nothing," rin quickly answered. but a slight frown stuck to his face, though the older decided not to push it. rin found himself yearning to see your face, missing the back and forth banter that was so ingrained into his day.

"right well, happy birthday! get home soon," his teammate wished him, walking away. birthday? with a jolt, rin realized that the boy was right, it was, in fact, september ninth. he had never really enjoyed his birthday that much, given it was too close to the beginning of the new school year and just reminded him of how much longer he would have to suffer before summer break. rin started for the cool metal benches where his soccer bag was, beginning to pack up his things and change out of his cleats.

"hey, underlashes!" a voice suddenly cut through his thoughts. so you were here after all? rin dropped his shoes.

"y/n, i really don't appreciate the brother reference," he complained. secretly, he was relieved to hear your teasing. he'd never admit that he didn't mind the nickname that you had given him after you proclaimed that the itoshi brothers had under eyelashes longer than should be humanly possible. something about it was rather endearing.

"oh, cheer up," you began. "you'll be thanking me after this one." rin took a proper look at you and bit back a laugh. you looked like you had just run a marathon given how your red your face was, paired with the small beads of sweat trickling past your forehead. yet somehow, each lock of your hair still fell perfectly to frame your face. you smirked and shoved a small white box into his hands. "i had to run to get here in time, ya know?"

rin looked at the box quizically, recognizing the logo of his favorite bakery in an instant. he untied the pale blue ribbon holding it together and inhaled deeply, content.

happy birthday rin! was written on the small matcha cheesecake that you had gifted him. the small motion made his heart swell.

"i thought you might like matcha since you like ochazuke so much," you explained.

"i do like it," rin's voice came out softer than he meant it to. the same old odd feeling was back in his chest. he still couldn't quite place it. it made him naseous and somewhat giddy, like a kid high on cotton candy. he didn't know if he hated it or loved it.

"happy thirteenth, rin!" he felt the familiar, inviting warmth of your smile, and suddenly all was right in the world. as you sang happy birthday to him and slapped a party hat atop his messy dark hair, rin felt like you were the only two people on earth. he felt like he was home, more so than he ever did in his own room. you had a way of bringing that sensation to him, through the nine years he had known you.

after you had finished belting out the last notes of the melody, rin said with a slight grimace, "thirteen is an unlucky number."

"you're not superstitious, so shut it! don't jinx yourself!" you reprimanded him. "oh, but speaking of, i got you that new horror game that you wanted. it hasn't come yet though, it's still being shipped."

"really?" oh how rin's eyes and facade lit up at the mention of the video game.

"yeah, you can go curse yourself all you want once it's here."

"...thanks." itoshi rin was often described as a cold boy. and you were just about the only person he could open up to. rin questioned for a second if it was normal for him to feel that ecstatic over a mere video game.

"hey, look! the sun's setting!" you exclaimed, poking his shoulder lightly. rin's train of thought stalled, instead choosing to direct his attention towards the patch of sky which you were pointing at. streaks of yellow, orange, and red danced across his vision as the sun became slowly swallowed by the earth. "it's beautiful, isn't it?" you asked him.

rin turned to meet your gaze and almost passed out. he swore you looked like an angel sent from heaven itself in the glowing warmth of the sunset, you beamed at him. had you always looked like this? your eyes shone like a million stars, and he felt a smile tugging at the corner of his own mouth. if you had asked him if he was blushing, he'd say no way in hell, but truthfully his face was a little red and it definitely wasn't from his previous workout. rin was suddenly reminded of how he felt when he met you.

"yeah," he breathed. "it's nice." what he really wanted to say was that you were nice, not the sunset. the sunset, for all its glory, was barely lukewarm compared to you. no, that wasn't it. you were radiant, and rin had known that from the very moment he saw you, so many years ago. but for now, he'd have to settle for just this, whatever your friendship was, he was much too scared to lose it.

three.

a little over two years had gone by since that evening when you had celebrated his birthday with him, and the end of rin's third, final year in junior high was approaching. sae had left for spain, scouted by the top soccer club there, and rin wanted more than anything to follow in his footsteps, to be the second best striker in the world after his brother itoshi sae. though sae's leaving had left him a bit lonelier, your friendship was still as easy-going as ever, and rin prayed that it would never change, as sappy as it sounded. he also tried (and failed) to ignore the increased stares between you two, that seemed to take place everywhere. sometimes, he thought that there was some sort of romantic tension between you two, and there had definitely been no shortage of mixed signals. maybe there was a hint of yearning in both your expressions? that year, the only class you shared with him was advanced mathematics, and he loathed the subject immensely. he likely would have cut class entirely if it weren't the only time of day he saw you that wasn't during lunch.

and it's during lunch one day in the month of february that you asked rin something, almost causing him to choke on his noodles.

"she what?" rin askwed between strangled coughs.

"yumi-chan wants to know if you're thinking of giving anyone chocolates for valentine's day," you repeated to him. was rin dense or something? either he was just that, extremely dense, or he chose to ignore his ever-growing fanclub. girls had begun to gush over him after he had been picked for the soccer team's captain last year, and it was also that previous valentine's that rin had recieved about a hundred confessions, ranging from girls in your grade to underclassmen, to even your seniors. you tried to pretend like the fact didn’t bug you, but it nagged you in all the wrong ways. your only saving grace is your recollection of how last year, rin had just stood there awkwardly, accepting gifts yet not seeming satisfied with any of them. he looked as if he were waiting for someone's confession, one that never came.

you never asked him about it though, not wanting to dance between the border of normal questioning from a friend and being plain nosy. however, you did mull over it from time to time. was it possible that rin really had been waiting for someone? or had he just been pissed off?

"you can tell yumi that i don't plan on giving anyone anything, especially her," rin spat with distaste, bringing you back to the present.

"the poor girl has done nothing wrong to you," you tried to defend her.

"doesn't mean i have to like her," rin retorted.

"i'll tell her, in gentler wording that is. you know this won't stop anyone from giving you chocolates next week anyway, right?" you wondered if he heard the slight grimace in your voice.

"on feburary fourteenth i will have suddenly been in a very tragic car crash and unable to attend school," rin declared. you could tell from the conviction in his voice that he might actually be plotting a way to skip that day.

"righttt, whatever you say."

unfortunately for rin, he suffered no such vehicular accident and was, rather angrily, perfectly healthy and in attendance at school that valentine's day. it was time for math class, again, and rin had already recieved eighty two chocolates. he thought he might break his own record that year given the school day had barely begun. what he was not prepared for was the sight of you, standing in front of your desk as a boy, whom rin could not remember the name of (he's sure it was some npc anyway) thrusted a pink heart shaped box towards your body. no, there could be no mistaking it, that boy had just confessed to you.

something akin to envy took over rin's body and before he was even aware of it himself, he was standing next to you, glowering at the boy. rin had been mad plenty of times, but he was practically ready to spit fire right then.

the boy hurriedly scurried away, like a mouse, and rin stared daggers at his back.

"hey rin!" you greeted him, as if nothing was wrong.

"who. was. that." not a question but a demand came from the boy with the blunt bangs in front of you.

"rin, it's fine. that's just tokimitsu, and i swear he's harmless," you answered quickly, doing a poor job of concealing the excitement bubbling up inside of you that rin cared. “he was probably just being nice anyway."

"sure didn't look like it, he was blushing like he walked into a makeup store and fell in that damn pink powder," rin griped.

"why's that bothering you anyhow?"

"i- uh," rin didn't know how to answer that. he didn't even know that he could get jealous over you until then. and how would he tell his best friend that? after all, friends weren't supposed to feel that way for each other. it was wrong for him to be this possessive over you. rin assumed that it was just because he had known you for so long, and that he didn't trust this half-baked tokimitsu guy. he's lying to himself.

"he just pisses me off, i guess," was the answer that rin gave you.

"so what'cha got there?" you motioned at his bag, obviously stuffed full of confessions and candy. "sharing is caring..." rin wondered if you were frowning as he unzipped the backpack and told you to take anything you wanted, hiding under an excuse that the chocolate would ruin his diet as an athelte.

when the final bell tolled for the end of school, rin was waiting outside your class.

"rin? don't you have practice?" you were surprised at his sudden appearance.

"nope, cancelled." rin lied through his teeth. he then dragged you away, setting a brisk walking pace that was opposite from the direction of his and your houses. you shrugged and followed. you didn't have anything planned so you assumed it would be fine.

you were about a block away when you realized where rin was headed towards: your favorite cafe. oddly, he didn't even enjoy their pastries, he had told you they were too sweet for his liking multiple times.

rin led you past the door, weaving through a small crowd of poeple, and stopped abruptly at a table for two. he nodded at the light pink menu that sat atop the marbled top.

"you order," he announced. rin still couldn't take his mind off that infuriating moment in math, and had he been compelled, almost possesed, by a strong urge to take you to the cafe you frequented on that valentine's day. i'll one up you tokimitsu, he thought.

you were still scanning the menu when the waitress approached you, notepad in hand.

"if you're having trouble deciding, we're doing a special promotion for couples today on the strawberry snow parfait for two!" she suggested, looking at you both.

couple? you guessed that you could see where she was coming from. you and rin might have looked like a couple, but before you could clear up the misunderstanding, rin interjected. he knew that strawberries were your favorite fruit, given how often you brought them to school.

"sounds perfect, thanks," he said, and the waiter was off with a nod of her head, scribbling something down. hold on a minute. rin had agreed that you two were a couple to her? you wondered if he was that desperate to get the promotion.

"rin," you hissed. "we're not technically a coup-"

"shhhh!" he shushed you. and as if compelled by an yet another mysterious force, rin took your hands in his. "they don't know that, and you like strawberries, right?" he finished with a wink.

maybe you had died and been brought back to life by that wink, because with the way your heart threatened to explode back then, you definitely shouldn't have lived through it. knowing that he remembered your love of strawberries made you somewhat giddy.

you didn't trust yourself to say anything back yet, only nodding in silent agreement. it was also that day when you realized that you might really, really have feelings for the boy sitting across from you with the enchanting cerulean eyes.

plus one more.

you since graduated junior high and somehow beat the paper thin odds, winding up in the same high school as itoshi rin. and you never stopped thinking back to that february fourteenth, even after months had past and it was now novemember of your first year as a high schooler. rin only became better and better at soccer, so naturally you, his best friend, were present at every home game he had. but rin had changed that summer before the start of first year, on an oddly cold night where sae had returned to japan earlier than expected. rin refused to mention much about it to you, but you knew. it had scarred and changed him, his attitude was at its worst and he played with a newfound rage, something that demanded people to notice him. really look at who was going to surpass itoshi sae, his tepid excuse for a big brother.

it was only a few short months after the start of high school and rin's debut as the star striker of the soccer team. rin had been seen and scouted by countless numbers of japanese clubs at this point, just like he'd hoped, and you had encouraged him to go wherever he thought would be best. even if it meant going far from home, and far from you. but for rin, no offer was good enough to surpass sae's yet. so he stayed in place, until he had called you abruptly today at seven in the night. the call had been brief and rin failed to mention anything of importance except telling you to meet him at the park immediately.

he never specified which park, but you knew for him that there could only be one.

when you arrive at the now faded playstructure that you first met itoshi rin at, you're hit by a wave of nostalgia. the sky is exactly as cloudless as it was in your memories, and the crescent moon smiles down at you. were you two really sixteen already? had it been twelve years since you befriended the slightly teary eyed boy with the broken dinosaur figurine?

"hey, y/n." rin's voice is oddly lower, and his tone is serious.

"rin," you smile at him. "did something happen? why'd you wanna meet here all of a sudden?"

"this is it," he whispered, showing you an enveloped containing a letter that read with "the JFU invites you to an elite training camp for the national team…" in glittering gold letters. "my chance to become the world's number one striker, to finally being recognized by sae again..." he trails off, the hurt in his voice all too obvious and too painful for you to hear. "it'll be far, and i probably won't be able to come to school for a while. won't be able to see you for a while."

"rin, you have to go," you steal glance at the boy who had been by your side for all of these years. you wish you could tell him that you'd be okay without him, but there was no point in lying. that's why he had called you all the way over here.

"just- just promise me one thing y/n," rin says, practically commanding you to look at him again. you're enthralled by the deep blues of his irises, and you think that you might never be able to look away.

rin doesn't ever want to look away either. he's at a crossroads right now, he's more aware of that than ever. rin doesn't think he can go down the right path in peace unless he tells you this one thing, what he's been wanting to say from the very instant you made his life worth living.

"please, don't leave me behind," he begs, his voice hushed but urgent. "i can't lose someone else i care about." shit, he has to tell you the truth now. "the boy you met at the park that day, the one that you wanted to play with, he's been in love with you ever since." its a quiet admission of what was so obvious to everyone else, but so incomprehensible to you two.

rin thinks that he’s ruined it all, this was the end of the line for you and he’d just have to live with that rejection.

on the other hand. you're stunned into silence, entranced by the boy who had drawn your attention since you were four, and you know that your words will fail you again. in the pale moonlight, he looks perfect, sculpted by michelangelo himself. so, you do the only thing that you know can express what you feel for rin. you screw your eyes shut and press your lips onto his, gripping the edge of his soft gray hoodie.

a gush of relief floods rin and reacts a second later. you swear you see fireworks erupting. the kiss nothing less than movie worthy, he's the male lead, you're the main love interest, and the world fades to nothing around you two as you're consumed by rin's love.

when you suddenly realize you're not breathing and neither is he, you push away in a rush. rin's cheeks are hopelessly red, and you assume your own aren't much better off.

"wait, let's do that again, please," rin gasps, breathing heavily while tugging you towards his chest. his black bangs cover his eyes just a bit, and you reach to swipe them out of his face.

rin thinks that he is going to melt, more helpless than a popsicle left out in the sweltering summer sunlight. he cradles your face gently, kissing you once again.

the two of you stay like that for a while, and you're not sure how late it is when he pulls away for the final time, but all the stars are out in the sky now, glinting and sparkling.

you hope that there were no children left playing around at this hour.

"so, you'll send me off tomorrow morning?" rin asks. it's unfathomable to him how you can make him feel so complete, so full. you're definitely the one for him.

"that's a promise."

"and you love me?" he asks again.

"even after the end of the world, i will," you assure rin, tracing the grooves on the palm of his hand.

zero multiplied by one should always equal zero. at least, that's what the fundamentals of mathematics declare. but with you as the one, rin thinks that zero times one might equal something else: love.

a/n: if u made it here MWAHH big kiss. probably the longest thing i've written in a while and not planned out at ALL, sorry for the crappy world building and stuff, i tried... also tried to keep it more in line with canon. i’ve never written with japanese honorifics hopefully i didn’t mess up too badly 🙁 side note i think rin would actually enjoy 0x1=lovesong vibes

masterlist!

[fictionalsweethearts]

CONVENIENTLY CLOSE | VI X READER | ARCANE

Synopsis: Seven years have not passed in vain, and the woman in front of you seems to be Vi's sign, but hardened by prison, stronger, taller, eager to live the lost years. And to see you again. Faced with old habits and the need for a place to lay low, Vi takes refuge in your apartment and stays conveniently close, maybe too close.

Contains: arcane!vi, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of arguments and dialogues, nsfw, explicit stuff, arcane universe, childhood friends, romance why not?, SESBIAN LEX

Word count: 6,780

Note: This fic was born from this bot which gave me juicy material to use here, part of the story arises from it, all credits to the creator!

Also, english is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

It happened in the blink of an eye, the fleeting eye contact, a chill running down your spine as you stopped to look again at who you thought was dead or gone. You paled like a ghost, barely taking a step before her arms were around you, and you let out a gasp.

You barely recognized the woman whose face buried in your neck; the toned arms, the network of tattoos on her arms, the gear on the side of her neck, the pronounced hairstyle and the piercings moved this Vi away from the one you once knew, seven years did not pass in vain and both had changed a lot, but the memories still endured. You wrapped her with doubtful arms, insecure but at the same time overwhelmed by the situation.

Your mind was flooded with memories the moment you dared to inhale the essence of her neck, that sweet aroma hidden behind the sweat and leather of her jacket, the same smell that crept into your nostrils on those afternoons on the couch, practicing boxing together, hiding in the alleys to avoid the poor victims of your pranks full of enthusiasm and malice. Of that last hug that morning, before the paths separated, life changed, Vander died and Zaun sank into chaos commanded by organized crime. Everything had changed but that hug brought you back to sweet adolescence for a few seconds, before you pulled away.

"For God's sake, you're... muscular." you murmured then, looking at the taller woman with attentive eyes.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" Vi's hands start to roam, finding their way over your shoulders. A smile appeared on her lips, the same thought kept repeating in her mind 'it's her, it's her'.

"It's an statement."

You could barely form a question in the face of such a situation, your childhood friend returning from a seven-year disappearance to stand before you in all her glory, alive, healthy, certainly different but still her nonetheless. At your sudden silence, Vi giggled, patting your shoulder gently. "Long story. don't wanna talk about it just yet."

You nodded, studying the Vi who was once four inches shorter and scar-free, realizing that wherever she was, circumstances had hardened her. “You were in prison,” you said then, not as a question.

“Surprise, surprise,” Vi muttered sarcastically. “I wasn’t dead. And i'll spare you the gritty details, cause I didn't exactly break out. I served my sentence, somehow."

She'd always had a habit of being vague, even during your childhood years. She never answered your questions directly, and she never explained herself when she got into trouble. It frustrated you back then, and it's no different now. "Enough about me. you're gonna have to fill me in. it's been like, what? Seven years?"

"Wait, I-" you had to shake your head and take a breath, cause suddenly having Vi before you wasn't among your plans. You were still at the alley. "Can we... go somewhere else? Grab a drink, talk this out?"

For a moment, she looks like she might refuse. For a moment, you wonder if she'll duck away, the way she always did. But then Vi sighs softly and nods.

"Lead the way, then." she takes a step back, folding her arms behind her neck. "I'm not payin', though.”

Gathering your thoughts and whispering a 'what a night' under your breath, you begin to lead Vi through the backstreets of a Zaun she no longer knows, but you do. Jericho served a wonderful octopus stew, and Vi was able to verify it once again after so many years. You sipped your cocktail, watching the hungry girl in front of you devour the plate, the Zaun market maintained its usual flow of customers and workers, a swarm of smells and sizzling of embers, murmurs, knives and pans to the fire filled the place.

"Now. You better start explaining how did you break out jail." you said.

The question doesn't come as a surprise - Vi had been expecting it. She sighs, and her eyes flutter up to yours, trying to find the words, trying to find the right way to say it. "I didn't break out. I served my sentence." she can see your skepticism, your disbelief, and she adds: "I got parole. Good behavior. That kinda bullshit."

"Good behavior. You?" you scoff.

"Yeah yeah, I was a saint, believe it or not. Guess I had a change of heart, people grow and all that."

"And now you're out and hungry." you comment, watching Vi finish the bowl and let out a hint of a burp.

"You gotta admit, the food behind bars is not so good." Vi grins at you again, her eyes flickering to your drink. "And the drinks either, care to share?"

Vi takes the glass, wrapping the fingers of her free hand around the base. She stares at the liquid for a moment, then her gaze drifts to meet yours, she's thinking, a lot. "Seven years... seven years is a lot of goddamn time. Almost don't recognize ya. What've you been doing all this time?"

"Let's see…" you say, your eyes scanning the market as you gather up seven years of your existence and rank them in order of importance. "I have a job, I'm… an interpreter."

"A what?" she asks, raising a brow.

"I translate, dumbass."

"Oh, right right." Vi giggled. "You work for the pilties, do you?"

"Actually, yes. I get many academic texts to translate."

"Ah, a sneaky rat. No wonder you'd take any job," she snickers. "I'd almost feel betrayed if you said you never went back to your old life of stealing and pickpocketing."

"I realized I couldn't lean on crime forever." you shrug. "Languages fits me better."

Catching up had never felt so necessary. Vi had undergone a true metamorphosis in prison, a wild flower torn from its roots and still able to cling to life with minimal water, in hostile, dry, cold soil. Now she was outside, eager to feel the putrid Zaun air against her skin, no matter how foul-smelling it was, to continue a life that hadn’t even begun yet. Yet it was the means that worried you.

"What's your plan?" you asked after a short moment of silence. "Now that you're out."

"Well, I gotta lay low for a while. They ain't gonna be lookin' for me out in the streets, but that don't mean I should be causin' trouble." her lips pull into a small smirk, as her eyes flicker to you. "Maybe I'll start robbin' the rich and givin' the profits to those in need. Or something like that."

"You'll get yourself in prison all over again." you said, rolling your eyes.

"What, you think I need you to lecture me, mother?" Vi's mocking tone couldn't help but annoy you. Again with that blind confidence and smug smile, hasn't changed one bit.

"Where are you staying?" you asked, sipping your drink which suddenly tasted bitter.

"Don't have a place. Can't exactly go back to my old apartment, for obvious reasons." her expression shifts into a smirk, a gleam of an idea passing her eyes. "Why? You offering a place to crash?"

"Huh, figured out so. You don't have a goddamn place to crash and still you intend to start robbing again?"

"It's not robbing, it's just taking something that some rich snob doesn't even need. Besides, I'll manage, alright?"

The conversation wasn’t going in the direction you expected, a sour feeling settling in your stomach as you recognized an old pattern that the years had accentuated in Vi; her stubbornness. It was one thing to be happy for an old friend who had gotten out of prison, but it was quite another to still believe that crime was a way of life and support that. And you were sick of that shit.

"I gotta go." you said, laying a bill on the table. "I have a paper to submit due tomorrow."

Vi's expression changed to as if she had been slapped. “Hey, I thought we were catching up. Where the hell are you going in such a hurry?”

"I'm happy for you, Vi, but I'm not who I used to be anymore. And neither should you be." you say, your tone so sober that Vi thought you were pulling her leg until she saw you get up from your seat and start walking away. Vi scowls and grabs the bill you left on the table, crumpling it up in her hand.

"Damnit."

Zaun had changed. It was no longer the fragile balance between misery and hope, but an overwhelming network of crime, wrapped in the growing business of Shimmer and prostitution and the certain tacit anarchy that ruled its existence. Vi needed a few days to get used to it, to recognize the city that saw her grow up and find a way to make her way through that melodious chaos. Crime had evolved, the presence of enforcers was increasingly scarce, which gave way to more aggressive, more experienced, more ingenious criminals when it came to benefiting from the few assets of the rest. In Zaun there were no rich people, only the owners of manufacturing factories, who pulled the strings and commanded drug trafficking, who could not be counted on more than one hand's fingers. However, Vi was not going to allow herself to feel strange in the city she called home, not before playing her cards and making her way into the market she knew best apart from crime: fights. With raw confidence and the certainty that seven years of training behind closed doors had given her the skills to hold her own in the ring, Vi went to the Pit and signed up for one of the night's matches. The result? A downcast and barely alive opponent, Vi claimed a spot she didn't intend to give up, and a bag full of coins. She felt right at home.

It took her three days to make a small fortune, yet her name was frequently whispered and attracted unwanted attention, putting her in a position where she had to remain low for a few days. She could keep that up long enough to make a living after seven years in confinement, but to do so she needed the hospitality and goodwill of someone in particular; you. You assumed Vi wouldn't incur in invading your precious privacy, but that wasn't the case. Not when, working on one of your latest translations, in the quiet of your apartment just a couple of blocks from the red-light district, you felt the fleeting passing of a shadow in front of the window and your alarms went off.

She had to admit, you'd picked yourself a nice little spot to settle down in. Vi could have sworn you would have moved to Piltover, after hearing about your choice of profession, but here you were, all cozy in a fancy apartment in Zaun. She couldn't be sure it was exactly safe, but you probably had ways to deal with that. A couple hours of lurking around in the shadows, and she found herself outside of your apartment window, looking in. Vi takes a moment to study the view through the window, observing your movements inside. She should probably announce her presence, but she can't help the little thrill that comes from the thought of spooking you. 

Believing herself undetected, Vi stepped into the house while investigating what she thought was your office. A room cradled with an aesthetic chaos of shelves, books and plants, a kitten sleeping by the window, very self-absorbed in his feline dreams to recognize a strange smell in his safe space. But you certainly had better instincts than Pepper.

"Stop there or I'll blow your fucking head." you stated, holding a gun against Vi's head, not even recognizing her in the darkness of the room.

Vi's eyes widen as you suddenly speak, the cold metal of the gun pressing against her skin. She raises both hands in a small surrendering gesture.

"Woah, woah! Easy, doll, it's just me."

You remove the gun from her temple, realizing that it was Vi and not another petty thief. "For god's sake." you grumbled, putting the pistol down and turning the lights on. You were in your pajamas, messy hair and still glasses on from working for hours. "What the hell are you doing by breaking into my place?"

She responds to your question with a dismissive shrug. "I need a place to crash, darling."

"Oh, fuck off." you spat, quickly walking towards the desk to put the gun into the drawer again. Pepper woke up with a hiss, just then realizing a intruder was inside. He bristled. "Why would I? You got yourself in trouble, don't you?"

"Technically not trouble. At least, not yet." she glances down at the hissing ball of fur on the floor, and scowls. "You got a damn cat. Of course you do."

She averts your gaze, shifting awkwardly. "I need a place to crash. at least for the night. My place from... before ain't exactly available to me right now."

You can't help but let out a sarcastic laugh, holding your hands akimbo. "I can't afford to have tenants, you know? Especially not the troublesome ones."

"I ain't a tenant, I'm just asking for a sofa to sleep on for one night. It's not a big deal." insists Vi, her tone softening, just like her eyes. Gosh, no, not that look.

When it comes to Vi, you resistance diminished. It was the years of friendship perhaps, or the fact that this ex-convict with deep eyes and attractive bearing softened something inside you, but to tell her 'no' has been always difficult. Even now.

"Just for tonight?" you asked, as Pepper descended from his pedestal to sniff the boots of this new guest. He didn't liked what he smelled.

"Yeah, just for tonight." she hesitates for a moment, before a small smirk spreads across her face. "Unless you have a queen-size bed that I could fit in instead."

"You'd wish." you grunted.

While you were looking for a blanket for this unplanned guest, Vi studied the room she was in. Apart from the academic chaos that surrounded the desk, the rest of the room was tidy and harmonious. In front of the plum-colored sofa, there was a coffee table, on it a couple of books and a candle, along with what Vi soon recognized as a stash. The candle catches her attention for a moment, and her gaze flicks to the small pipe sitting on the coffee table. Interesting. definitely not the doll I remember.

Behind her, a large shelf stood, next to a series of windows that allowed the moon to sneak in, in addition to Pepper's pedestal, fluffy and scratched. The room was composed of green, purple and orange tones, the string of lights hanging from the ceiling gave it a cozy and calm air.

"Here." you said, handing Vi the blanket.

"Thanks." she mumbles.

"Stay away from my stuff, you hear me? And the booze as well, you drunkie."

A small scoff escaped her lips once you closed the door, and she shifts under the blanket, getting comfortable. She takes a moment, before her gaze drifts over towards Pepper.

"Watcha glaring at, ya little shit." She mutters, the corner of her mouth curving up again.

Vi didn't want to abuse your trust, but she couldn't help but inspect the privacy of your office the next morning. Her desk was really a source of curiosity for her, with that amount of trinkets, sheets, books and notes. The carnivorous plant next to them seemed to be watching her, as if she wanted to bite her finger off if Vi dared to sniff through the drawers. But she was an ex-convict and that was a fucking plant.

Inside the drawers were spread documents and bills, you earned quite well for translation, and many orders came from the science district in Piltover, or failing that, from the shimmer factories in Zaun. You made no distinctions, you just worked. This could not help but annoy Vi a little, working for drug producers was certainly not ethical, but a woman like her had no right to talk about ethics either.

Pepper's hiss took her out of her thoughts, the gray cat looked at her with the disdain and suspicion of a human. As if he knew of her past mistakes, of the fact that she turned to crime from a young age, that she was unable to protect Powder when she needed it most, that as soon as she got out of prison her life seemed to point to repeating the same pattern of crime she had grown up with. But Vi had to be wiser this time, play her cards right, break a cycle she was too accustomed to. She let out a sigh, grabbing her jacket before she left the apartment through the window.

Vi was a silent visitor during the nights, she preferred not to bother you since she knew that her ability to stay on the couch depended on the owner's mood, but you also didn't admit that you were starting to get used to and even wish for the presence of the pink-haired woman at home. First there were brief conversations under the cover of night, then a shared cigarette and an improvised dinner, then it was talking about aspirations and fears. Suddenly Vi felt as close as when you were both fifteen. But mischief no longer appeared as the main act of your interactions, but something else that certainly felt different, an unknown spark that was missing before and that made Vi so pleasant to look at.

Days went by, she came brusied and exhausted from her fights to just crash on the sofa and sleep her pain away. It's been two months with such dynamic and you accepted it.

Vi shifted on the couch, an unusual weight on her stomach saying good morning to her and soon, with sunlight filtering through the curtains, Pepper let out a feline complaint. The cat rested on Vi, naturally comfortable after so many visits from her. Sitting up, Vi studied the room and was surprised to see a lump lying on the desk in front of the couch, you had been up late working again.

“She’s going to work herself to death at this point.” Vi muttered, carefully pushing Pepper off her lap and heading to the desk. Vi knew about the constant commissions that rained down in a never-ending stream of work, but she’d also seen you falling asleep during the day, forgetting to eat, and the dark furrow under your eyes worsening. The woman sighed, gently pushing you off the surface to lift you up with ease, carrying you to your room. You mumbled something along the way, ineligible but akin to a complaint that did nothing but amuse Vi.

As your back hit the soft surface of the bed, your hands sought out Vi’s, pulling her along with you. The woman was initially taken aback by this sudden display of affection, you weren’t one to hug or seek contact, but you looked sick and tired and she couldn’t say no to a person in that condition. She snuggled up to you, running a calloused but gentle hand up your arm, burying her fingers in the strands of your hair. "You really ain't taking care of yourself, cupcake." mumbles Vi, cupping your cheek as her thumb gently stroked your nose.

And at the sight of you, your haggard face against the mattress, the sun streaming through the window and outlining your huddled figure, Vi found a new purpose, someone to protect. And as soon as you fell asleep, she got up, put on her jacket and headed to the only place she knew for sure would allow her to make some quick money.

“Black?” you asked, only a month later, holding the small bottle of black dye as Vi wet her hair in the sink. If Vi understood anything about street fighting, it was that a character was the best way to get the public’s attention, the attention turning into bets and the bets into money. For several weeks now, Violet had been arriving at the apartment late at night, bruised, exhausted and with a small bag of coins in her pocket. “For you, doll” the woman would murmur, barely taking the time to kick off her boots before landing on the couch and falling asleep. At first you thought it was just another risky business Vi was getting into, but after a couple of weeks you realized that the name “Vi” was whispered among the alleys and the market, and that she carried the title of undefeated for more than five matches in a row. She was a champion, no doubt about it, and the beneifts from her profession meant more support for household expenses. Suddenly Vi had become your partner, and all she asked in return was a good talk and for you to heal her wounds. And certainly you would do so.

A smirk crept over her lips at the sight of the bottle resting in your hands. "Yeah, black. I'm sick of standin' out. The pink's too bright." her eyes flick to you again, a mischievous look in them. "You're gonna help me out, right? I don't wanna make a mess of myself while trying to do it alone."

You looked at the little bottle of dye and then at Vi, knowing that once she gets an idea inside her head, nothing can erase it unless she tries it. You sighed. "Sit down," you said at last, reaching for the plastic gloves and the cup in the cabinet.

It took you a good hour, but together, you both managed to dye her long pink hair a dark, natural black. Vi's face had hardened, her scars and freckles seeming to stand out against her dark hair. It was then that, in the face of a silence that spoke volumes, Vi was the one to dare to say the first word. "Gotta say, doll. You did a good job."

"You look like you fell into a pool of oil." you said, clearly disapproving of the new look. Even Pepper, who stepped into the bathroom, hissed at Vi.

"Ah, so even the goddamn cat's against me now, eh?" she asked, making you let out a chuckle. The dye wasn't the only thing that changed Vi's appearance, she left the striped pants and red jacket at home, getting herself tight jeans, ripped at the knees, leather boots, a jacket of the same material, provided with gold studs and the print of a two-headed wolf on the back and covering her bust, bandages wrapped tightly. She looked almost unrecognizable, intimidating. Watching her grab her bag and head for the door that night, you couldn't help but feel anxious and think of the worst case scenarios.

You let out a sharp sigh and spoke up. "Vi, wait. You don't have to keep doing this, y'know? Fighting. I'm sure we can find another way."

Vi frowns at your words, her grip on the doorknob tightening.

"Nah, don't start with that." Her eyes narrow slightly, a touch of defensiveness in her voice. "I've always fought, y'know? it's what I'm good at. I don't know anything else."

"I don't want you to get hurt." you insisted, stepping closer.

"I know how to take care of myself, dollface. I'm not some weak little kid anymore." her voice is a little gruff as she tries to deflect the concern.

"You've never been weak..." you mutter, your expression softening as Vi hovered closer. "But you're not invincible neither."

"Yeah, well, who is invincible?" she takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. her eyes dart across your face, searching for something. "You worry about me too much, cupcake."

"You'd like me to not give a shit about you?" you inquire, looking into Vi's eyes.

she scoffed. "Yeah, i'd like to see you try." her eyes flicker across your face again as her thumb briefly brushes over your chin. A moment of silence passes between you, the room feeling almost charged as the two of you stare at each other intently.

Her proximity was electrifying, the smell of hair dye and grease filling your nostrils, her firm yet gentle hand on your chin preventing you from looking away, your field of vision dominated by her, by her light blue eyes, her scar on her upper lip and eyebrow, her straight eyebrows, her messy makeup, her dark lips. "I couldn't stop worrying, Vi. Even if I tried to." you whisper at last.

"Yeah, probably." she mutters, her voice a hoarse whisper. You let out a gasp as Vi leaned in to kiss you, a simple, almost shy kiss, but capable of wreaking such havoc on your insides that your heart began to pound.

She captures your mouth in a gentle kiss, her lips moving against yours slowly, almost tentatively, as if she was testing the waters. When you gasp in response, she deepens the kiss, her hand on your face moving to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. Her other hand moves to rest on your hip, pulling you a little closer as you feel your skin burning with an unexpected thrill. But you find yourself pulling back, a hand against Vi's chest.

"No." you whisper, exasparated, overwhelmed, as Vi's breath brushes your lips.

"No?" she repeats, her voice cracking slightly. Her hand remains tangled in your hair, the other still lingering on your hip, its grip having tightened. "You don't want me to keep going?"

"We shouldn't..." you weakly whisper. It wasn't just the kiss, it was about kissing a woman, and that woman being your lifelong friend. How much were you risking by crossing that line and delving into the taste of her lips and the firmness of her hands? God, you could barely explain it to yourself.

She pauses at your words, her grip on your hip loosening as she processes the conflicted look in your eyes. Her gaze drifts across your face, taking in every detail, as if trying to read your thoughts.

"Y'know..." a brief silence stretches between you, the only sound being the faint hum of the city outside the window. "We can stop... if you want."

Her hand slowly falls from your hip, and she takes a measured breath as she steps back, putting a short distance between the two of you.

You feel her slip away from you, backing away as a look of disappointment settles on her face and the glow of desire fades. You swallow. "I've never kissed a girl." you suddenly confess.

She runs a hand through her dark hair, visibly processing this new information. There's a moment of tense silence before she speaks again, letting out a huff. "I figured out so."

Your eyes widened, watching Vi taking a step back towards the door. "I should get going, there's a match I have to win." she says, leaving the apartment, leaving you confused, almost upset.

During Vi's absence, you couldn't find anything to distract you. As soon as you sat down for a moment to rest after feeding Pepper, tidying the living room, doing the laundry, heating up dinner or taking a shower, the touch of her lips flooded your senses and produced an almost unknown tingle in your belly. The smell of her skin, the gentleness with which her hand settled on your hip and pulled you against her. You couldn't stop replaying the scene, with some uncertainty if you were allowed to think that way about a childhood friend, or a woman. You only found some peace once you fell asleep that night, in the wee hours of the morning you felt an extra weight on the bed with you, an arm around your waist and an "I'm home, cupcake."

The next morning, you found the space next to you empty. You assumed Vi had fallen asleep on the couch, but her boots beside the bed and her jacket on your dresser said otherwise. You got up, hearing Pepper meowing in hunger from the kitchen. You barely noticed the overflowing bag of money on the coffee table or the sound of the shower running, only sleepwalking into the kitchen to feed the hungry cat. With the animal crouched before its bowl, you poured yourself a glass of water and only then turned back to the coffee table. “I told you I had a fight to win,” Vi said from behind you, watching you count the coins and bills in shock. The woman stood by the door, her hair still damp and a not-so-disguisable cut across the bridge of her nose, eyebrow, and cheek. “This is a bunch of money.” you muttered, studying the woman before you.

"Bets paid good last night." she nonchalantly replied, coming closer as she ignored the money. You were the center of her attention then, you and your robe. "I want you to take a break, alright? From your job."

"A break?" you asked, Vi's sincere smile speaking volumes.

"Yeah, for a while." she reached out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, her touch surprisingly gentle. "You work too much."

Your expression softened, noticing the sweet gentleness which Vi treated you, how tender her eyes were at that moment. You couldn't help but lean against her touch. "About last night..."

Her hand cups your chin, her thumb gently grazing over your bottom lip. "You don't regret it, do you?" her voice is hoarse and low. Beneath her confident façade, there’s a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, a subtle fear that you’ll reject her.

"No." despite the inner turmoil, you couldn't regret it, not when you wanted more.

Relief flickers across her face, and that cocky smirk returns to her lips. "Good." her hand cups the side of your face, fingers lightly brushing across your skin, and she leans in to whisper against your lips. "Cause I’m gonna kiss you again."

This time it wasn't a fearful kiss, but deep and ambitious from the first moment, Vi pulling you against her and wrapping her lips around yours with a soft moan that only served to ignite a timid flame of desire that now sought to become a fire. You closed your eyes and dared to hold her cheek, testing a terrain unknown to you but dominated by her. She wanted to be gentle with you, to ease you into this new terrain, but her desire for you overpowered her self-restraint and the kiss quickly turned hungry and greedy.

"Please, just..." she whispered against your lips, a hand sneaking underneath your robe to grasp your waist. "Let's sit down."

Vi landed on the couch, pulling you closer until you were straddling her, taking possession of the back of your neck to pull you into another kiss. You moaned against her lips, savoring every sensation as if it were a dish you’d never tried before but surprisingly tasted delightful and addictive. Vi smelled like shampoo, her lips were soft and her hands were calloused but gentle. One of them ran down your spine over your robe, and you stepped back to quickly remove it.

She kissed your neck, running gentle palms up the expanse of your neck and chest, shyly cupping one of your breasts before you pulled away to look at her. She understood the approval in your eyes, bringing her hands behind your thighs to hoist your hips so your chest faced her. You let out a sigh at the wetness of her mouth enveloping your nipple, a gentle, tentative suck that made you clench in a new way. “Fuck…” you moaned, at the same time as their hands massaged your buttocks and dared to slap them.

"I was waiting for you to start swearing." she whispered against your tits, one of her hands running along your spine before you felt the urge for more.

Your ass landed again, this time Vi’s knee between your legs as she kissed you again. You wanted more, you wanted to know what else could be offered by a woman whose experiences had hardened her character but were unable to sour her kisses and moans. Vi still had so much love to offer, and you knew she loved you, every action, every look said it. The way she made you breakfast while you dealt with endless loads of work at your desk said it, her banal conversations that sought to lift your spirits said it, her hands holding you as if you were physically a necessity said it, the bags of money resting on the table said it, and her bruises from brutal fights where her main motivation was you, said it. Vi always loved you, but it was only a matter of time before you realized it was a romantic affection, not a friendly one.

You were exasperated, your hips rocking as Vi pressed her knee into your core, a delicious friction that produced a pleasant, addictive tingle, your wetness speaking for itself. Vi gripped your waist tightly, setting the pace, watching you with attentive eyes and parted lips. You found yourself moaning against her lips, kissing her in fits and starts before you had to pull back for more. "You're so pretty." she whispered.

You leaned in for another kiss, before your hands went down to pull Vi's top off. The contrast was clear, Vi standing out for her muscles and roughness, the network of tattoos on her arms and back capturing your attention for a moment before you ran a hand over her chest. Discreet glances spoke, and the moans that indicated something was going (very) right. Vi patted your thigh before you withdrew from her lap, sliding your panties down gently as she placed a trail of kisses from your hip to your knee.

You felt self-conscious, Vi’s gaze seemed to take in every last detail of your body, from the bones of your hips, to your navel, to the pubic hair that covered your crotch. But your insecurity had no place in the eyes of a woman who simply wanted you for being you. “Don’t give me that look, you’re gorgeous.” She smiled, her hand settling between your legs as she probed your wetness. “Shh… just checking.” She whispered, her thumb gently circling your clit. “Does that feel good?”

"Yes..." you moaned, the suggestive wet noises making you shiver. "Really good." you spread your legs wider, giving Vi the consent to continue further.

You lifted one knee onto the couch as a finger gently entered and curled towards the nearest wall of your insides, giving you a sweet tickle. Vi studied your expressions, the way your breathing quickened and your hands rested on her shoulders for support.

"You're so soft..." she murmured, her own breathing labored as she continued to watch your expressions closely, seeking any sign of discomfort. "Tell me if it hurts." her free hand lightly stroked your thigh, a gesture of reassurance while she checked on you constantly, realizing your reaction came from sole pleasure and not pain at all. Soon enough she eased a second finger and a sigh escaped her lips as she felt you clenching around her.

"That's it..." she muttered against your mouth as she leaned in to kiss you, her fingers slowly working in and out of you. Her touch was gentle but firm, as if she was being careful not to hurt you.

Your knees threatened to buckle, the constant motion inside you awakened nerve endings you thought were inert, Vi’s ears searching to pick up your every grunt and moan. Her breathing quickened, before she let out a hiss and pulled her fingers away. A quiet whine escaped your lips and she took a moment to catch her breath. "Sorry... just a sec..."

Vi stood up from the couch, cupping the back of your neck to give you another kiss before gently motioning for you to lie down. "Lay back for me, cupcake." she whispered, finding a way between your legs as she trailed a way of kisses from your chest to your groin. There was a certain urgency to Vi's movements, a desire that made her breathing quicken and her fingers squeeze the flesh of your thighs as she parted them, skipping the main course in favor of running her tongue along the inside of your thighs, placing brief kisses and bites that allowed the blood to flow to your core, awakening your muscles, making you desperate for relief.

"Please."

"Shh, I've got you." she whispered against your skin, her voice a low and sultry rumble, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your inner thighs. "Patience."

You leaned your head back, eyes closing at the wet feel of her tongue as it ran up and down your core. She kept one hand firmly on your hip, the other on your thigh as she kept it apart. You moaned, looking down into a pair of lustful, delighted eyes, her mouth covering your folds, sucking and alternating with the tip of her tongue. Watching you, studying your pleasure, relishing on your sweet whimpers. “Fuck.” You moaned, your hips bucking slightly in search of more contact.

Vi's tongue worked you slowly and deliberately, mapping every inch of your core with a mixture of delicacy and desire. She released your hip and brought her hand up to your chest, her fingers finding your nipple and giving it a firm pinch. "That's it, just feel it..."

Her hand kneaded your breast as her tongue circled your clit, unashamed to make wet, suggestive sounds, to moan against your folds and to stop and look at you from time to time. She smiled, you looked splendid, needy but at the same time pleased, your cheeks slightly rosy, your lips parted, letting out moans and light gasps.

"Breathe, cupcake. I wouldn't want you to hyperventilate," she said mischievously, sticking her tongue out to deliver a long lick along the length of your core.

"Easy for you to say..." you panted, trying to catch your breath. Your mind was spinning, your body aching and desperate. But Vi had something else in mind, a way to drive you to the edge.

“Take a breath.” she whispered, pulling her mouth from between your legs to settle on her knees. “Look at me.” Vi caressed your thighs and moistened her ring and middle fingers with her mouth as you forced yourself to inhale and not exhale gasps of anticipation. Suddenly you felt her hand cup your chin, pulling you in for a kiss. You rested on your forearms behind your back as she inserted both of your fingers, twisting them in a specific motion that managed to draw a muffled whimper from you. It was sparkling, sweet, precise, and in the perfect spot. "Goddamn..." you whined.

"I know." Vi chuckled, kissing you again as the throes of an orgasm built in your lower belly and made your legs tense. "I know, pretty."

You reached a point where your thoughts were cut off, each and every one of them about Vi, her lips against yours, her fingers inside, curling and keeping a steady rhythm that did nothing but lead you down the right path to orgasm. You moaned into her mouth, pulling away to breathe once an electric wave shook every fiber of your body and your legs locked in an involuntary spasm. Vi rested her forehead against your chest, placing soft kisses as your arms cradled her head, yearning to be close to the person who was able to make you come so hard. Vi smiled, studying the way the pleasure settled into your muscles and your arms slackened.

"Good, babe, good..." she whispered, taking a look of your teary eyes before you pulled her to kiss her deeply.

You stared at the ceiling, the sun streaming through the window as your hands ran through Vi’s thick hair. You missed the pink, the dull black hardened her face too much. The boxer sighed, also processing the fact that she had just had sex with you and it had been wonderful from start to finish. This peace was new, it wasn’t temporary or fragile, it was latent, substantial, tangible. It was as if Vi had spent twenty-three years of her life searching for the calm that only lying on your chest gave her, and she couldn’t help but feel genuinely happy and satisfied. This is what life is about, not just surviving, but breaking down defenses and forgetting for a moment about being the strong one. You kissed her crown, Pepper climbed on the sofa and curled up between your feet and Vi's, purring calmly, like a lullaby.

"Looks like Pepper has finally accepted you." you whispered, making Vi lift her face.

"It was damn time. Just like her mom, stubborn as hell." she agreed, looking at the cat briefly before she nuzzled against your chest again. "He better get used to it, cause I ain't leaving your side anytime soon."

[lifeasadorkwithnolife]

Too Late (Azriel x Reader) Part 3

Part 1 , Part 2

Azriel and Y/N finally talk, and she realizes that maybe the feelings weren't one sided after all these years. Is it too late?

               You tried to grow used to the life at the house of wind, but you could feel the awkward silence fill up every room you entered. Feyre was friendly, but you could tell she didn’t agree with what you had done. You spent a lot of time with Cassian, who was the only one who would really talk to you, Azriel hadn’t spoken to you since that night.

               “Hey Cas,” You peered up at him, you both stretching on the mats outside. “Could you…” You weren’t sure how to form the question, “Where is it?”

               He froze; his face unreadable. You tried to use your gift, to see what he was feeling, but you couldn’t seem to reach him.  

               “I think it will help me.” You whisper, “I want to help you, I want to be this secret weapon you need me to be but I can’t without any power, you must see that.”

               Cassian nodded, moving one arm across his chest as he stretched. “It’s by the river, I can fly you down there but…I don’t have good memories, I don’t want to stay.”

               You nodded, leaning back on your hands and staring at the bright sky, sun causing you to squint.

               “I’m sorry about Azriel.” Cassian started, and as you went to reply he held his hand up to stop you. “Azriel- I shouldn’t tell you this but I feel like you should know. Azriel went crazy when you died, or didn’t die, or whatever.”

               You held your breath as he spoke, feeling the guilt rise in your chest. “When we found him after the battle, he was covered in blood. I think he had gone through every body in that field looking for you, he was…it was horrible.” Cassian sighed, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms loosely around them. “He stayed for days, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat, we had to drug him to get him to leave, and he almost killed us when he woke up.”

               “I’m so sorry.” You whispered, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “I wanted to come back, but…I was useless. I had grown too attached to Azriel- and when…I tried to tell him how I felt and he made it very obvious he did not feel the same way. Then that on top of me losing my powers, I just didn’t see a point.”         

               “What do you mean?” Cassian asked, and you sighed.

               “Before the battle, I tried to tell him that….that I loved him, but I wasn’t brave enough. Before I lost my gift I could feel emotion and I could feel nothing from him, just my own.”

               Cassian nodded slowly, looking around the empty training yard. “I’m sorry about yelling at you, by the way.” You squeezed his hand again and he gave you a sad smile.

               He nodded, “It’s okay.”

               He dropped you off by the river, pointing in the general direction of where your destination was. You walked, admiring the rush of water with the mountains surrounding you. You trecked along the cobblestone until you found a narrow path, following it until you came up to a stone secured into the ground.

               You squatted down, examining it closely, tracing the carved words in the stone.

‘Beloved Y/N

The light in the darkness,

I will carry you with me, always,

My heart will never let you go

Until the stars call me home’

               You gazed at the words, the emotions in your chase rising like a wave, impossible to control. You slowly sat on the ground, your eyes falling to the flowers beside you, placed there only days ago. Your eyes drifted to the view of the city and the river flowing through it, the stones from the bridge reflecting the sunlight in almost a blinding twinkle.

               You couldn’t help the thoughts of what life could have been- if you had told Azriel the truth, if you hadn’t run away, or even if you had died. The version of you that died deserved this headstone, deserved the beautiful words and beautiful flowers, but the person you had become- the one sitting here- didn’t deserve it.

               You sat in silence, the only sounds the occasional pattering of footsteps or the splash of a fish jumping from the water.

               “Every starfall, I only had one wish.” Azriel’s voice cut through the silence, and your head whipped behind you to see him standing, hands in his pockets. He made a motion with his hands, like a falling star. “Every year, I had the same wish. I would stand outside and look up at those stars and just wish so hard.”

               “What would you wish for?” You whispered, and Azriel turned to look at you, his eyes almost gentle.

               “Can I sit?” He asked, and you nodded, scooting over. “How do you like it?”

               He nodded towards the grave, and you gave him a tight smile, looking back over the light gray stone. “Honestly, it’s beautiful and more than I deserve.” You waited a couple seconds, “Az, I’m…I’m  so sorry.”

               “I didn’t understand at first.” Azriel whispered, looking out at the river. “The first thing I felt when I saw you- of course it was relief, but then it was betrayal. I couldn’t believe that you would put me through all of that.”         

               “I- I didn’t really think it would be that hard.” You whispered, pulling your legs up to your chest. “It was war.”              

               “It wasn’t just a war, we weren’t just part of the war.” Azriel turned towards you, and for the first time, his eyes weren’t guarded. “And I was so mad, when I saw you, the anger I felt is like something I have never felt before.”

               “Then once I was finished yelling at you, I came out here.” Azriel sighed, “After sitting here for a couple hours, I thought about blasting this thing to the ground, to be honest. But, I realized, the reason I was so upset when I thought you were gone-“

               Azriel stopped, looking away. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. He looked at you, the pain of loss still fresh on his face despite the decades that had passed.

               “The reason…The reason I was so upset was because I was never brave enough to tell you how I felt, hell, I never even got to say goodbye.” Azriel pulled his arm away to run through his hair again, and you moved your hand back to your knee. “I had the perfect opportunity, we were both there, but….I didn’t know if someone like you could ever love someone like me.”

               Your heart froze and possibly skipped a beat as you processed his words, you stared at the river and felt the relief flow through you. “I know it’s been decades, but…I still thought about you every day, I thought the pain of losing you would kill me.”

               “You…loved me?” You whispered, turning to him. His face, for the first time, was free of his grim expression and his eyes shone with vulnerability.

               “I’m not going to make the mistake of not telling you how I feel a second time, Y/N.” Azriel whispered, “I spent 140 Starfalls wishing I could just tell you that.”

               Tears filled your eyes as you stared forward, memories coming back to you in a rush. The way Azriel ran to you in the war, the words on his lips, ‘I love you’. The pain in your chest that never went away, that was him, that was his pain.

               “Azriel-“You choked, turning towards him and wrapping your arms around him. He took a moment to return to hug, but quickly wrapped his arms around you, breathing in deeply.  The pain was finally gone, free from your chest, and you let out a short laugh.

               He pulled back, unsure. “Before the battle started, I wanted to tell you that I loved you, but I wasn’t brave enough.” You cried, laughing at your own stupidity. “I thought you couldn’t feel anything because I couldn’t feel anything from you!”

               “How could you think that?” Azriel grabbed your face in between his hands, the rough skin gently touching your cheeks. “Y/N- you can read emotions; I assumed that you were reading mine and choosing not to reciprocate.”

               You cried harder, pulling him back into a hug. “I thought those were my emotions; I thought my powers were gone when you were nearby. Azriel- I was so in love with you, I am so in love with you.”

               You realized, that every time you felt the overwhelming and all consumer feeling of love for Azriel, it wasn’t just your love for Azriel, but his love in return. All the pain, the constant ache in your chest, that was yours to share over the years as well. Your powers were never gone- they were just so connected to Azriel that it overpowered everything else.

               “You are the light in my darkness.” Azriel whispered, pulling a piece of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. “I will carry you with me, always, because my heart will not let you go.” He pulled your hand to his chest, so you could feel the thuds underneath.

               “Until the stars call me home.” You whispered the final line. He leaned in, his mouth brushing yours tenderly. As you felt his lips on yours, his warm breath on your bottom lip, you pressed into him harder, placing your hand on the nape of his neck and trying to pull him closer to you.

               He pressed into you, lifting you easily and placing you on your back in the grass. You gasped, laughing as you looked up at him. A true smile found his face as he stared at you, and he pressed one hand to your cheek. “I am never letting you go again.”

[blackenedsnow]

hello i love the way you write shadow. I have request if it is okay? I have it a bit hard lately and um shadows my comfort character..anyways for my request may i have shadow with a reader who well just found out they have adhd and just isnt handling it well. Because of well family and a fear it makes them a freak compared to them..and their friends because of how much they bave been bullied throughout their life. Shadow notices that the reader, his love starts to be quiet and hide away a lot and shadow just gets them down..lets them cry and just..lets them know he accepts them and loves them no matter what? Thank you if you do get around and see this and write this. Your writing is amazing and i hopd your doing alright.

always here

WARNING: Emotional struggles, mentions of bullying and family-related stress, self-doubt.

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

NOTE: Hello! I poured a lot of care into this and hope it feels as warm as you deserve. Sending all my love your way—please take care of yourself, okay? You matter so much <333

SUMMARY: Shadow notices you, his love, withdrawing after a difficult ADHD diagnosis.

Lately, Shadow had been noticing changes in you. Small things at first—quieter moments, fewer shared smiles, an odd hesitance in your words. But then, it shifted to something deeper. You started staying in your room more often, skipping meals, brushing off his offers to hang out with a faint, “I’m just tired.”

Shadow wasn’t the type to push immediately. He believed in giving space, letting people come to him on their terms. But this was different. Days turned into weeks, and the light that usually filled your presence seemed to dim. That’s when he decided to act.

“Hey,” Shadow’s voice was soft but firm as he entered your room without knocking. He found you curled up on the bed, the curtains drawn. The dim light highlighted the tension in your face, the way your shoulders sagged under an invisible weight.

You blinked up at him, startled. “Shadow? I—I thought I told you I was fine.”

“You did,” he said, crossing his arms. “But we both know that’s not true.”

A lump formed in your throat. You’d been trying so hard to keep it together, to not let your messy, swirling emotions spill out. But there he was, unyielding and steady, his red eyes softening as they met yours.

“I…” Your voice cracked. “I don’t even know how to explain it.”

“Start anywhere.” Shadow pulled a chair closer, sitting down beside the bed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The words tumbled out in fragments at first—your recent ADHD diagnosis, the feelings of inadequacy, the way your family’s offhand comments had cut deeper than they realized. You admitted how much you feared being seen as “different” or “broken,” or “too much” how the memories of bullying still haunted you, and how you worried even your friends might think less of you.

“I just feel like…like I don’t belong anywhere,” you finished, tears streaming down your face. “Like I’m too much and not enough at the same time.”

Shadow listened without interrupting, his usual stoic demeanor softening into something achingly gentle. When you finally stopped, he leaned forward, his hands resting lightly on his knees.

“You’re not too much,” he said, his voice low but filled with conviction. “And you’re not alone. Do you know how strong you are for facing all of this?”

You looked away, biting your lip. “It doesn’t feel like strength. It feels like I’m drowning.”

“That’s because you’ve been trying to do it all by yourself,” Shadow said. “You don’t have to. Not anymore.”

Shadow moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. Hesitant, as if testing the waters, he reached out and placed a hand over yours.

“I’ve been where you are,” he said quietly. “Feeling like the world doesn’t make sense, like there’s no place for someone like me. It took me a long time to realize that I didn’t need to ‘fix’ myself to be worth something.” His gaze met yours, unwavering. “And you don’t either.”

The dam broke. All the emotions you’d been holding back—the fear, the frustration, the sadness—came pouring out. You sobbed openly, and Shadow stayed right there, holding your hand like an anchor in the storm.

When the tears finally subsided, leaving you drained but lighter, Shadow handed you a tissue.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse.

He gave a small nod. “Anytime.”

Over the next few weeks, Shadow made it his mission to remind you of your worth. He encouraged you to learn about your strengths alongside the challenges. He stood up for you when family or friends made careless remarks, calmly but firmly setting boundaries you’d struggled to enforce yourself.

Most importantly, he never let you feel alone. Whether it was sitting quietly with you on hard days or celebrating small victories, Shadow’s presence was a constant reassurance.

“You’re not a freak,” he told you one evening as you sat together under the stars. “You’re you. And that’s more than enough.”

You leaned against him, a faint smile tugging at your lips. For the first time in a long time, you started to believe it.

[rafesbabygirlx]

A Lot of Time has Passed | Part 5

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: after this point you don’t really see Sofia, at least for a while. Maybe at 1 point but I haven’t decided.

I don’t know what Part 2 of the season will bring but from here on out it’s just a rewrite of events that will include Maybank reader instead. Also there’s some use of Y/N here since some conversations don’t happen with her. enjoy :)

2nd note: please let me know if you like this. I love the story telling and building the plot but wanna make sure it’s doing well. Don’t want anyone getting bored :)

Not proofread

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: nothing but soft Rafe tbh and setting up story lines. Next part will be fun

“I’m going to head out for a bit, okay? I have a few things I need to take care of. How about we meet up later at my place?” He asks as you and Rafe made your way down the path. You carried the cozy blanket and picnic basket filled with remnants from your breakfast, while he cradled Vivienne, their bond already evident in the way he held her close.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you say, a broad grin spreading across his face.

He lovingly passed you Vivienne after showering her with a load of affectionate kisses, and then, without missing a beat, he leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the lips. The warmth of that brief connection caught you off guard. You wouldn’t lie; while you had anticipated this moment, you hadn’t expected the domesticity of it all to hit you like this. It felt so natural for him, yet it brought a flurry of emotions bubbling to the surface for you.

The kiss lingered on your lips, and you could feel the warmth emanating from both Rafe and Vivienne, creating an intimate bubble that shielded you from the rest of the world. Rafe's ability to seamlessly blend fatherhood with his charming personality was surprising; he made the whole experience seem effortless, like it was second nature to him.

You couldn't help but marvel at how your relationship had transformed over the course of just a couple of days. Just a year and a half ago, Rafe was simply the bad guy, made to make your brother and his friends lives hell. Now, he was someone who shared quiet moments and laughter with you as a family. Holding the blanket and basket in your arms, you felt an undeniable connection forming. Guilt still creeping in. You wished you allowed him to experience her first year.

As you began to walk away, your mind twirled with thoughts about what the evening might hold. You both had created unforgettable memories together, but this moment felt distinct; it brimmed with the promise of something more profound. Perhaps it was the awareness that you were becoming an integral part of his world—a world filled with simple joys, late-night giggles, and unexpected kisses. As the sun raised above the horizon, painting the sky in beautiful shades of orange, a smile crept across your face at the thought of the future and what lay ahead.

“Say bye dada” you tell V

“Bye dada!” V yells from off the porch

Rafe yells bye back and blows her a kiss. Driving off to do his business as you head inside.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

Rafe returns to his house, his thoughts racing as he walks through the door. On the way there, he texted Sofia, asking her to meet him. The weight of the conversation ahead loomed heavy in his chest.

Sofia arrives shortly after. “Hey, Rafe,” she greets him warmly.

“Hey.”

She steps in close and pulls him into a tight, loving hug, but Rafe doesn’t return the embrace with the same intensity. Her smile falters, and she looks up at him, concern etched across her face.

“What’s wrong? Did things not go well with your daughter?” she asks softly.

Rafe shakes his head. “No, that’s not it.” He gestures for her to sit with him outside by the pool. Once they’re settled, he continues, his voice a little distant. “She’s… she’s perfect. Vivienne. That’s her name. She’s the most perfect little girl to ever exist. She looks just like me. She’s so beautiful, so happy.” His words trail off, but Sofia knows there’s more. She feels a knot forming in her stomach.

“I needed to talk to you about some things,” he adds, his tone turning serious.

“Okay…” Sofia replies hesitantly, her heart beginning to race.

Rafe takes a deep breath. “I want to focus on her. On Vivienne. And… um… I want to focus on my family, with both of them. I never expected things to play out this way, and I’m sorry, but this is what I want. I need to be there for them. We need to end this.”

Sofia’s face falls, the words hitting her like a punch. “Oh,” she whispers, barely audible. Her mind scrambles to make sense of it. She thought what they had was special, that he felt the same. But now, he was going back—back to Y/N, back to his family. “Maybe you should, then,” she adds quietly, trying to maintain her composure. “It’s only right.”

Rafe finally meets her gaze, his eyes pleading for understanding. “It wasn’t planned, okay? You know that. But everything came rushing back—every memory, every feeling. And now that V is in the picture, I can’t deny it.”

Sofia doesn’t speak for a few moments, letting the weight of his words settle. She hadn’t anticipated this. She hadn’t imagined she’d be here, blindsided by the sudden shift in his priorities. She didn’t expect to become a ‘stepmom,’ but she had been willing to sacrifice for him—she had believed in what they had.

But now, as sadness sinks in, so does a flicker of anger. It drags her back to a few days ago, when everything still felt right—before Y/N came back into the picture. She remembers overhearing Rafe talking to Ruthie and Topper, saying she was just a hookup, that he could never be with a Pogue like that. Even though she knew it wasn’t true two times, one for you and the other her, the words had stung. They had left a mark. And now, with this revelation, they hurt even more.

In the days that followed, she had been tempted to meet with Hollis, after her dad suggested it. Initially, she’d rejected the idea because she had loved Rafe. She thought he loved her too. But after overhearing him she met with him. Took the money from her too. she planned to return it not being able to do it. But now, with Rafe pulling away, with him choosing another life—another woman—she has nothing to lose.

“I was thinking about that deal you mentioned,” she says, her voice steadier than she feels. “You should do it. I was hesitant before, but maybe it’s a good opportunity. It could be a way to build something for your daughter.”

Rafe looks at her, surprised by her sudden shift in tone. “Maybe you’re right. I still have to decide, but I’m leaning toward going for it. It could be a good opportunity.” He shrugs, unsure of his next steps.

They sit in silence for a while, the weight of their relationship hanging in the air. Finally, Rafe turns to her. “You have no idea how much you’ve helped me,” he says earnestly. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just think my place is with Y/N and Vivienne.”

Sofia nods slowly, her heart aching. “I understand. You think you’re doing the right thing, and that’s all that matters.” She leans over and presses a soft kiss to his cheek before standing to leave.

Rafe grabs her hand gently. “I’m sorry, Sofia. Really, I am.”

“It’s okay,” she replies, her voice steady but hollow. “But you should definitely take that deal.”

Rafe smiles weakly at her, grateful for her understanding. As she walks away, leaving him alone by the pool, he takes a deep breath, the enormity of the situation sinking in. He knows he’s made his choice, but something nags at him—the way she had pushed the deal so hard. For a moment, it puzzles him, but he brushes it off as her wanting the best for him.

Sitting in the stillness, he lets his thoughts swirl before finally reaching for his phone. After some time alone, he dials your number, needing to see you, ready to move forward with the life he’s chosen.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

You arrive an hour later. V wobbles into the house, running straight to Rafe. “Dada!” You both smile, the word now coming naturally to her. Rafe is completely smitten. She leans in for a kiss, then holds up her stuffed turtle for him to kiss too.

Rafe looks at you with a serious expression. “I broke up with her.”

Startled, you ask, “What?”

“I ended things with Sofia. I know what I want—it’s you and V.”

“Oh… That wasn’t my plan, Rafe. I didn’t want to ruin everything you’ve built.”

“It wasn’t mine either, but I’m sure now. Is this what you want? Please say yes, because I need to show you something.” He steps closer.

“Of course, yes.”

Rafe leads you and V upstairs. It feels strange not being at Tannyhill, a place you knew so well. You stop at a door with a wooden “V” hanging on it. Inside is a complete nursery—books, toys, a beautiful crib, and a cushioned rocking chair. One wall is covered with sea animal wallpaper, the others a clean white.

“I had an interior decorator come yesterday after I found out. I wanted it done quickly. The wallpaper went up this morning. Kelce stopped by to make sure everything was right.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” You pull him in for a kiss and turn to see V already making a mess.

Later, you all head downstairs for dinner. As you eat, Rafe opens up about a deal involving Goat Island, the same place your brother and his friends recently visited.

“What are you going to do?” you ask as he clenches his fist.

“I’m not sure. It could be great—for us, for her.”

“You’ll figure it out. It does seem strange, but maybe Hollis is really looking out for you. I’ll support you no matter what.” You reach for his hand.

“I love you, Banks. You’ve always been the best to me.” Your eyes widen at the old nickname. Smiling softly, you reply, “I love you too, Cameron.”

Taglist-

@maybankslover @eringaitskill @luissa266 @lolll505 @dayyzlol @calaryssia @eg-dr3amer3 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rafestar @bigbonenative @writtenbyhollywood @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @leilanizcals

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Charlie, Alastor, God, Lucifer, Lilith, Vox, and Stolas with the Grim reaper reader. He's a total sweetheart and a gentleman, plus the kind of has dead animals follow him around. They're kind of like his pets. He also believes in Charlie's cause.

You'll be the end of me

Charlie

"Do you really think it could work?"

Charlie asked softly, leaning on your shoulder as you stared out at Pentagram city.

It was early morning, you having found your love sat out on the balcony, watching thr sunrise, you quickly accompanying her.

Holding the young lady close, her gentle form against your own, you just hummed, gently petting her hair.

"Well, I've seen a lot in my, well, not life." That got a chuckle from the both of you. "But I've been sheparding souls down here for millennia... never had to shepard one up from Hell though."

You sat in silence for a long time, it clear Charlie was disappointed with your answer.

"But..." You spoke up, smiling softly. "If its you... I have no doubt."

Charlie smiled warmly at your words, leaning in to share a kiss.

Pulling back you just enjoyed the moment, the two of you so rarely got to just be together.

No hotel buisness.

No staff or guests butting in.

No Nifty trying to draw erotica of the two of you.

Just you.

You holding the young lady close, expressing your love for her in soft, simple ways.

You got to share that moment for a long while, making a memory you were sure to cherish when suddenly the sound of gentle wings fluttering caught your attention.

Looking down, you extended a hand, a small skeletal bird landing on your finger.

You gently whistled back, Charlie doing the same, the bird looking over the both of you before fluttering away, the gentle creature off to do whatever it pleased.

You sat there for a long time, listening to the gentle chaos, the sounds of havoc at a distance as Hell endured its Hellish state, the teo of you just enjoying the moment.

With a sombre sigh you stood up, stretching your back you turned to her, pulling her to her feet.

Holding her close, you'd gently cup her face.

"I'm sorry my dear." You spoke with a warm smile, before you shared another kiss.

"It'll be morning soon, and well, you know souls won't Shepard themselves."

Charlie was clearly disappointed, as she always was when you had to leave.

"I understand." She spoke softly, the two of you standing there for a long minute.

"You know I'll be back tomorrow." You assured her, though it was clear it wasn't necessary.

"I know." She spoke warmly. The two of you sharing one last, loving embrace.

You'd turn, watching as the pentagram sun slowly rose on the horizon.

"See you this evening?" Charlie asked, already knowing the answer.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

And so, as you held each other close, you watched the sun rise, and sharing one final kiss, you'd disappear with the morning sun.

Charlie just smiled as you turned into a swarm of butterflies, fluttering off into the air, disappearing with the sunlight

Unnecessarily, but you felt it was a poetic exit for, well, death.

Charlie just chuckled.

"Drama queen." She spoke softly, watching you disappear.

Alastor

Alastor hummed softly, the dapper demon sat in his room as he listened to a pleasant tune.

It'd be as he sipped his tea, the man about to turn a page when a voice suddenly cut in.

"Weeeeeee'll meet again."

"Don't know where. Don't know when."

"But weee'll meet again, some sunny morn'."

Looking up he'd find you, dressed in your usually dapper if dark attire.

Alastor's smile grew, the man quickly rising to his feet.

With a warm smile of your own, you pulled the man into a gentle kiss.

"Hello dear, good day at work?" He asked, always eager to hear of your daily duties.

You just smiled, walking forwards, leaning down to kiss the man.

"A wonderful morning, but we even better evening darling."

You purred, kissing he cheek.

You spent a few minutes speaking back and forth, your hand warmly placed to his cheek as you spoke back and forth.

Youd joke and laugh, voice gentle as you discussed your day apart. Alastor letting you know the chaos he'd caused, you just listening as he went into a performer's detail of the events.

Pulling the man to his feet, you'd dip the man, smirking as you leaned in, Alastor wearing a strained, if entertained grin.

"I've wanted to do this all day."

Biting the man's neck, Alastor couldn't help the moan as you pulled him close.

Flushed, the man would smack you.

"That's was a dirty move." The demon frowned.

You just smiled, kissing the man softly. "You know I love you, especially when your blushing~"

Alastor blushed hard as you snapped your fingers, a jumping tune bumping from the nearby radio.

You pulled the man into a suave little dance, the two of you jumping and jiving like it were 1922 all over again.

You spent a good few minutes dancing and singing, holding the man close as you enjoyed your tune.

Holding him close, the both of you breathed heavily.

"That's a dirty trick." He huffed, breathing deep, that smirk he always wore on his face faltering, his cheeks dark with demonic red. "You know I can't turn down a chance to dance."

You just smirked, holding him to your chest, leaning in to kiss his neck.

"You know, if you weren't death incarnate, I'd put you in your place."

You just smirked, leaning back to tease his chin, smirking down at him.

"Out of all the souls in Hell, you... well, your certainly the most interesting."

That earned you a smack on the shoulder.

"Alright, alright." You giggled. "You are by far the most intersting. You know I adore you."

That earned you a genuine smile from the grinning demon.

Alastor always smiled, but in the arms of you, well, death. How could he not feel particularly smug.

"... I love you, my dapper radio darling."

That got a smirk from the man.

"And I love you... my dapper incarnation of Death.... even as you pretend to be otherwise."

The both of you chuckled, holding each other close, nuzzling your nose to the other.

"Love you darling."

Lucifer

Lucifer, Fallen angel, failed king of Hell and failing father, sat in his workshop.

The man furiously working on his next duck toy, the Devil furiously working on the next plastic squeaker, dead to the world outside.

"Having fun?" You asked, manifesting besides him.

Lucifer frize, thr Demon King breathing deeply.

"Im... good." He hummed, working on the duck.

The two of you stood in silence for several minutes, the air not quite tense, but words clearly sat unspoken.

"... I missed you." He finally spoke up placing his duck to the side, the King of Hell sitting there.

You simply stepped forwards, picking up the squeaky toy, looking it over.

Squeaking the rubber duck repeatedly, the man looked up, finding you sat on an armchair, looking over the toy before turning to him, gently patting your lap.

Lucifer sat there for a moment, taking a deep breath before getting up and walking over to you, collapsing in your lap.

You immediately pull him close, as the two of you sat there, the king of Hell nuzzling under your chin.

"I missed you... a lot..." he spoke, emotions thick in his voice as he pressed his face into your chest.

You just pulled him close, smiling softly as you warmly kissed his golden locks.

"I missed you too my Fallen Angel." You hummed, hand playing with his heair, you other holding him close.

"It was bad today." He spoke softly, you simply looking down at him.

"You know we could always visit her, I'm sure Charlie would be-"

Lucifer cut you off, pulling from your grasp as he stood up.

"I... I wont put this on her..." He spoke sombrely, the King of Hell hunched over, holding himself.

You just sighed softly, gently waving a hand as 3 little ghost duckling appeared, the ethereal little quackers, Lucifer smiling as he held a hand out, the ducks nuzzling his palm.

He had a way with your duck spirits, the feathered little ghosts naturally flocking to him. It always brought a smile to your face.

After a moment however, a new set of quacks break out, the duckling quickly swimming off, the duckling meeting with a larger duck, the three nuzzling its form as they happily swam about.

You sat up, pulling the short king back into your chest, smiling warmly as you kissed his head.

"You trust me with your issues... why not your daughter... we both love you."

Lucifer sighed, eyes lingering on the ethereal ducks as the papa duck nuzzled one of the ducklings. The king sighing, the King of Sins wiping his eyes.

"Alright. I... suppose we could go see her." He spoke softly, the man leaning back against you.

You just smiled softly, rubbing the back of his head as you stood there. The two of you just stood there, holding each other close, a soft, yet hopeful energy filling the room.

"I love you my dark rose." Lucifer purred.

"And I love you, my Fallen Angel." you smiled, the two of you sharing a tender kiss, a warmth in both your dark hearts.

Lilith

Lilith sat back on the beach, sighing softly as she enjoyed her slice of heaven.

The woman sipped her drink, book in hand as she hummed, a sombreness filling her on this particular day.

You appeared besides her, watching the sun set.

"Been a while." She spoke coldly, eyes not rising from her book.

"Yeah... sorry... I know it's been a while, Ive been very busy. Lots to do... my duties and, well, Charlie."

That made her pause, the woman freezing as she was about to flip a page.

"... How is she?" Lilith spoke cooly, keeping her poker face.

You hummed, a soft smile adorning your features.

"She... she's doing well." You spoke softly, cane resting in your hand as you watched the waves, a gentle smile crossing your face as a few ghostly fish jumped from the water, the small school happily swimming, free of worry.

"She's got a hotel now. She... she's trying to help people. Souls." You spoke sombrely, the woman doing her best to stay cool and collected.

You'd sigh, softly sitting on her beach chair, turning to her before gently reaching out and removing her sunglasses.

"Ya know, if your just gonna ignore me the whole time, it doesn't make much sense for you to get mad when I don't visit for a while."

You were teasing more then anything, the woman looking up at you with a cocked brow.

"Look, I get your mad." You spoke, taking her hand into yours. "But I'm here, and I'd like to enjoy my time with you while i have it... please?"

You finished sweetly, kissing her hand.

Lilith would sit in silence for several moments before sighing, the woman shaking her head.

"You always know just what to say, don't you?" She asked playfully.

You just smiled, reaching out to cup her face.

"I've got some experience consoling people." You told her warmly, bringing her hand up to kiss her palm.

"Will you accompany me?" She asked, clearly worried.

You just chuckled, nodding your head.

"You know I'd never leave your side... well, at least when I'm off the clock."

That got a chuckle from Lilith, the two of you just basking in Heavens twilight. You more interested in watching the spirits jump through the water, happy to see them happy.

Vox

Vox grymbled, rubbing his TV face he, slumping back in his chair he lazily stared at the dozens of screens.

He'd grumble, growling to himself.

Hed endured a long fucking day, dealing with Val and Velvette, being left alone with the pair, the two bickering like children as he somehow found the time go manage his media empire.

He'd sit there, looking over important things, sipping his particularly strong cup of coffee when your voice suddenly cut in.

"You know, you keep slouching like that and you'll resemble a question mark more than a Television, right."

Vox perked right up, head snapping to you as you stood besides him. Dapper as ever.

It was well known by this point that you could appear or disappear without signalling his alarms, something that both impressed and frustrated the media mogul to no end.

"Mmmm, I'll keep that in mind." He hummed, loudly slurping his coffee.

You just chuckled, rolling your eyes. "You know, if your gonna be all salty, I might just not give you your gift."

At that Vox perked right up, the man subtly turning to you.

It was a dirty move on your part, but you knew Vox loved gifts and this was the fastest way to get him over his grudge or grump.

He'd never admit as much, but you did get him the best gifts out of everyone he knew, which was a feat in and of itself, so you knew how to use it to your advantage.

"...What ya get me?"

He asked, trying to be subtle as he gave you the side eye.

To which you just chuckled, fixing your attire, acting casual as you glanced down at the man.

You'd just casually look around his large lab, the various screens showing his sophisticated spying network on the various denizens of Hell.

With a cheeky smile you snapped your fingers, a poof of black smoke and a box landed on Vox's lap.

The Television headed demon released a giddy giggle as he tore his gift open, the man pulling it out victoriously.

He'd yank it out, holding it up to reveal a walking stick, looking it over it was clearly made with human bone.

"This... is cool and all but, well, why the bone?" He asked, looking up at you suspiciously.

You'd just smile, stepping forwards, falling onto his lap, sliding it from his hands, you'd tell him simply.

"Well, ya see, I made this lil beauty using the bones from one Mr. Philo Farnsworth."

You spoke casually, looking over the cane.

"Aaand... that means something to me why?"

He asked, clearly waiting for the punchine.

To which you'd chuckle, biting your lip a little before you'd gently bop him on the head with the cane.

"Beeecaaause, one Mr. Philo Farnsworth, was none other then the inventor one Televeision."

You finished with a satisfied little grin, holding the cane out to him.

Vox snatched the vane up, laughing maniacly as he pulled the cane back, staring at the gift.

"Ohohohohoh fuck yeah~" He laughed, staring at the cane.

"Sooo~" you began playfully. "Have I made up for the inexcusable sin of ignoring your calls to a phone I don't have?"

At that Vox popped up, staring at you.

"Wait, what?" He asked, genuinely perplexed by your statement.

You just smiled, raising a bow. "My job doesnt exactly allow mobile coverage darling, far too busy peading souls through the etherial planes."

Vox furrowing his none existent brow, frowing slightly.

"Then who the fuck have I been texting?"

At that you broke into laughter, Vox quickly joining you, the two of you sat there, laughing like idiots as the Techno Overlord held you close, the two of you sharing a warm kiss, the two of you sat there for several moments, Vox sighing softly.

"You have to work again?" He asked sombrely, looking up to show a screen watching the setting sun.

You just sighed, nodding your head. "You know I have too. No vacations for me."

Vox just sighed, nodding his head.

Reaching up, you'd cup his cheek, leaking in to kiss his screen.

"Lets just enjoy the time we have."

Vox just smiled, holding you close, the two of you enjoying your moment together, free from both of your perpetual burdens.

[mouseymousey]

The scratches on D-16 and Orion when they meet for the first time were bothering me a lot.

Ignore the background creepy Prowl......

Look at Orion's hand. It's WAY more scratched up than D-16's. Even if it's just the light, Orion's hand is scratched over and over, and where their arms are about the same color, Orion's arm is far dirtier and scratched than D-16's.

Then look at D-16's front. It's way worse than Orion's. Most of the scratches are along the shape of the armor. D-16's are more circular on his right shoulder (left in the picture), and he has a huge mark on the front of his helmet.

Orion is known for his parkour skills, so Imma just say that the variety of scratches all in the same places and that controlled down the shape of his form are from practicing parkour moves over and over. Maybe the hand scratches could pass for picking locks instead, but it seems to still be a controlled repeated movement. On the other hand, D-16 looks like he was in a fight. At very least, his helmet looks like he got punched in the face, and his side looks like someone tried to grab him from behind and he tried to pull away. Plus, we already know that bots' eyes can change from life events, and his eyes have already changed to yellow by their meeting.

Whatever inciting incident that made D-16 into Megatron had already happened by the time he met Orion Pax. Optimus Prime was already too late. :(

Edit:

blackberry-lulu in the comments reminded me this might be relevant:

I also theorize that some of the miners are citizens that broke the law in some way.

They got their memories taken away and made into miners, so they would no longer be a problem for the government. D-16 could have been a warrior, and Orion could have been an archivist. It would explain why they have so many scratches on their first day (maybe even first day being "alive" as cogless bots). They would have both found out about the government's corruption eventually if they were their usual jobs, even if OP was in law enforcement instead.

We don't really see what prison looks like, but Orion seems to get off with nearly no punishment after breaking in places or running from police. It's not like he can't be identified; one of the people on the train even says his name out loud. He's a fairly public figure. It's because he never found anything useful.

Even then, instead of imprisoning them, Darkwing just throws them to a lower floor (OP and 16) or fires them (Alita). They have no other way to punish people, probably because the way they do so is to take away peoples' memories and cogs. They're already cogless, so there's not really anything he can do.

[sc0tters]

Little Flame | Quinn Hughes

summary: when the flames came to visit it brought back old memories, including why you hated quinn.

pairing: quinn hughes x andrei kuzmenko’s fuck buddy

trope: division rivals

warnings: sexual themes, p in v (unprotected), oral (fem receiving), degradation, slight choking, slight spit play? swearing.

word count: 6.51k

authors note: this was a long one so strap in! it’s hot and about time for us to all get our inner sluts out and we have @sweetestdesire to thank for helping get this one started! Kinda tried something different so let’s see if that paid off!

Quinn always seemed to dislike you.

From the moment you met him you were both constantly against each other. It all started during your time at UMich, you were both in the same class and from the moment you met you weren’t meant to get on.

Constantly arguing as you were forced into the same friend group, due to your position as the student physio on the hockey team. The two of you were at odds “you got a problem?” You scoffed furrowing your eyebrows as you felt him staring at you.

It was any standard Friday night with a party at one of the frats “just wondering where on the invite came the costume theme?” He joked gripping at the neck of his beer bottle.

You were in a sequin crop top with a denim skirt and cowgirl boots “you jealous I’m getting the only attention between the two of us?” You scoffed as he was in a basic tee and shorts.

The comment made him let out a dry laugh “I think you’re the only one who isn’t giving me attention.” It was no secret just how much most girls liked him, and that the only attention he got from you were threats of ramming your foot up his ass.

There was a gleam in his eyes “but here you still are stood in front of me so.” He trailed off letting a smirk form on his lips.

Your hands formed fists by your sides “in your dreams Hughes.” You grumbled ignoring how your cheeks went red when you pushed past him to leave “you wouldn’t as argumentative in those!” Quinn grunted watching you walk back to your friends.

The way your hands moved around made it clear that you were visibly angry “hey he’s probably leaving at the end of the season anyways.” One of your friends sighed as she placed a comforting hand in your shoulder wanting to comfort you.

That all took place over five years ago and you hadn’t seen Quinn since. Sure you heard all about his achievements and accomplishments as he made captain of the Canucks. But you were able to avoid him whenever it was possible that your paths would cross.

Working for the Flames left only a handful of occasions where you could have seen him and each time you managed to be the secondary physio leaving you inside the locker rooms “please do it for me?” Andrei whined as he pulled you into his lap after he heard that you tried getting secondary for the Canuck game again.

You pushed your lips into a fine line as placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself “I can make it worth your while.” He trailed off as he ran his fingers up your torso under your shirt “shouldn’t you always be doing that.” You teased holding back a smile as you grazed your lips over his pulling away from him the moment he leaned in for more like you were taunting him.

Andrei let his eyes sharpen into yours “you know I always play better when you are around the night before.” It was a new known thing between the two of you that since you started sleeping together the night before a game, Andrei started playing much better.

His efforts made you laugh “want to show you my old city.” He explained kissing your neck as he smiled looking up at you. You had been assigned as his tour guide when he was traded from the Canucks. It seemed like you both hit it off as the tour ended up in the back of his car and before you knew it, you were in his bed a lot.

It was sweet being with him but your favourite part was that you constantly had someone to fulfil your sexual needs. All it took was one message to Andrei and he was on his way to your place. There were never any labels on the relationship and that was what made it so easy.

Andrei kept his promise as he showed you parts of Vancouver that you never had the chance to see prior to the trip as you guys had a free afternoon. You had to admit that the trip was kind of fun. It was enjoyable being with him as he showed you the city he loved “and your good day isn’t over yet.” He teased you as he wrapped his hands around your shoulders.

It made a laugh leave your lips “careful on setting my expectations too high now.” You fiddled with his hat as you each had lousy disguises.

Before he had the chance to respond, something else caught his eyes “Quinn?” A gasp left Andrei’s lips as he stopped walking seeing someone in front of you two.

You froze fearing that it was the Quinn “hey Kuzy!” It was. Your body tensed as you physically cringed feeling Andrei leave your side to embrace his old teammates.

Quinn smirked as he saw your awkward effort to hide yourself. He knew it was you from the UMich cap you wore and how you hadn’t changed your hair since you saw him “Y/n?” He furrowed his eyebrows turning his attention to you.

Andrei was left confused “you never told me you knew him.” He pointed out as his eyes followed Quinn’s “not everyone from college needs to be spoken about.” You pointed out causing the American to place his hand on his chest.

The captain was quick to act offended “did our time on the team mean nothing to you for two years?” He did little to hide his smirk as your cheeks turned red “well then why don’t you join us for lunch?” Andrei looked to his watch to see that it was getting to time for lunch.

In that moment you swore you wanted to kill both boys “give you two time to catch up too.” He added as he remained oblivious to the death stare that you sent Quinn, wishing that daggers hit the boy.

Lunch felt painful as you were reminded of all of the reasons why you disliked Quinn so much “I need to go to the bathroom.” Andrei announced and you were close to following him as you didn’t want to be left alone with the Hughes boy.

You grew tired after biting your tongue so hard that it drew blood “I’ll be back soon.” The Russian laughed as he furrowed his eyebrows, he squeezed your shoulder before he left.

Quinn let his eyes watch his old teammates until he was out of his view “so how long have you two been sleeping together?” Quinn interlaced his fingers as he watched you sip at your drink.

A cough left your lips “that’s none of your business!” You gasped acting the same way your mom would if she had to hear about your sex life “c’mon he can’t be that disappointing that you now aren’t willing to share.” It reminded you of the time that he walked in a girls night that involved his girlfriend.

You girls had been talking about your worst experiences with guys and of course you had the worst luck as Quinn got to walk in and hear the entire story about the football players that couldn’t even get you to reach your high. The boy constantly reminded you of it up until he left.

It made you scoff “not surprising to see that not all of us grew up after college.” You snapped squeezing your straw between your fingers “thought someone would have fucked you into being not this uptight but here we are.” He matched your tone as he mirrored your glare.

As you saw Andrei come back into your sights all you could do was deliver a quick kick to Quinn’s shin “ahh!” He winced reached down to massage his leg as he sent you a glare “you two good?” Poor Andrei still remained oblivious to what had gone on.

For the first time that day you didn’t need to force a smile onto your lips as you nodded “so great.” You let your foot run up Quinn leg as a reminder of what you could do the other “perfect.” Quinn gritted the words out still making sure to glare at you along the way.

Hours had passed as the night air was cold over Vancouver when you stared out of your hotel window struggling to avoid the image of Quinn. It brought up all of those memories of the arguments you two had and how he knew exactly how to get under your skin in ways that made you squirm. It clogged your mind to the point where you told Andrei that you were sick.

The white lie came from the fact that you couldn’t let yourself drop to your knees for a guy when someone else was on your mind.

You were confused as you heard the sound of music echo in your ears “hi pretty girl.” His words were soft in your ears “hi-Quinn?” You pulled your attention to him as your eyes went wide.

He cupped your cheeks as he dropped his head to kiss your lips “fucking hell.” He mumbled running his fingers down your body as you were in your lacy slip that you had slept in.

His hands pushed you back onto your bed “just want to make you feel good.” The hockey player explained as he helped you spread your legs “mhm Quinn.” You moaned feeling him kiss at your thighs.

Like a cold shower in the winter, your alarm practically hit you as your torso shot out of bed. You ripped the sheets off of you as your eyes went wide “fuck!” You groaned realizing that you had just had a dream about Quinn “Y/n are you okay?” Andrei’s voice came from your door as he knocked.

You were quick to panic as you hit snooze on your alarm and ran to the door “hey.” You made the effort to hide yourself behind your door “just thought I would let you know that you’re gonna be late for breakfast.” Andrei explained as he held out a togo cup of coffee.

The gesture made you smile “thanks Drei.” You tipped the coffee as a thank you “I should get dressed then.” It quickly became apparent that you needed to get a move on after sleeping through your alarm.

He watched you shut your door before he had the chance to utter another word “someone is acting weird.” Andrei mumbled to himself as he walked back to the team.

It seemed like al of your attention was crowded by the Hughes boy as you even struggled to do your job. Constantly avoiding parts of the Rogers Arena that you were concerned about seeing him in. But that only got you so far as the time came for you to finally sit by the bench.

Quinn’s eyes were already on you as you sat down “hi.” He mouthed with a smirk as he watched you freeze. Elias watched his line of sight following it you. The Swede laughed as he knocked Quinn off of his feet leaving the blonde to send you a wink.

The game had been chaotic but the Canucks barely edged the Flames, with the captain scoring the OT winning goal. Fans cheered as the stadium roared leaving the Fames players heartbroken. You sent Andrei a frown as he walked over to you post game.

You were stood in the locker area “I am sorry.” You apologized as he hugged you letting his head fall onto your shoulder “I didn’t think it would hurt so much to lose to them.” He felt stupid letting the confession leave his lips.

But even still you wanted to comfort him “you played really well though.” You confessed pressing a kiss to his temple as your fingers ran through his hair. A cough came from behind you both causing you to drop his arms.

Quinn stood there as he scratched the back of his neck “I wanted to say bye before you left.” He explained locking his eyes with yours “I am gonna leave you two to it.” Andrei nodded leaving you alone with Quinn once more.

The boy towered over you as he watched you cringe stood there in silence “you are looking really good.” He confessed with a soft smile “what is it that you are playing at?” You snapped as you clenched your fists.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he watched your little outburst “Jesus I was just trying to be nice!” He groaned pulling you into a corner hall as he didn’t want everyone to have to hear it go down.

Your hands tugged at your hair as you were visibly agitated feeling like if you were a cartoon you’d have smoke oozing from your ears “why?” You scoffed as you pushed your lips into a fine line “you’ve been nothing but insufferable the entire time I knew you.’ Your finger pushed into his chest as you cocked your head.

Those words made him roll his eyes “you know, Kuzy is gonna wake up one day and see that you’re just as much of a pain in my ass, as you are everyone else’s.” The dig was sharp as venom rolled off of his tongue “fuck you Hughes.” You spat as you pushed past him leaving the boy alone to process what had happened.

You were still somehow so angry as you got back to the hotel. Silently fearing that there was no real cure to help you calm down “he’s such a fucking ass.” You grumbled as you shook your head, even as your feet brought you to Andrei’s door.

Before you knew what you were doing you knocked at dark wood “hey?” Andrei smiled answering the door in nothing more than his grey sweatpants “I need to ask you for a favour.” You began causing him to nod as he motioned to you to come in.

Your palms were sweaty as you looked for apartment 227. The crumpled napkin was in your hands with his address scribbled out on it after Andrei thought you were in a rush. You might as well have been on your seventh cup of coffee as nerves ran through your body.

Practically bouncing off of the walls as you found his door. You stopped to take a breath as you brought your hand up to knock at the door.

But instead you were beat to it as the door whipped open leaving you faced with his bare chest “Jesus what is it with you men and opening your doors shirtless?” You groaned as you sent him a loom of disgust “I’m sorry?” Quinn didn’t know what else to say as he grabbed his hoodie from the rack next to his door.

You shook your head seeing him stare you down as he pulled the hood off of his head “now can tell me why you are at my door?” The hockey player trailed off reminding you why you were there “you are such an asshole!” You scoffed pushing into the apartment.

It was an open planned space that screamed decorated by a man in his twenties “I think you’ve told me that more than once before.” Quinn pointed out as he crossed his arms letting the door shut behind him.

His comment only irritated you more “you just make me so angry.” You squeezed your hands together trying to remain calm “but somehow I can’t get you out of my mind.” You rambled on only stopping when he laughed.

Your head snapped to stare him down “never would have thought you would have a crush on me.” Quinn smirked as he ran his fingers through his hair as you scoffed “always knew you had a soft spot f’me.” The boy walked over to you.

He watched your face scrunch in disgust “i knew that this was a mistake.” You sighed going to leave him alone for the second time that night.

But Quinn had other ideas as he wrapped his hand around your wrist just as you walked past him “god you are insufferable.” Quinn rolled his eyes pulling you closer to him. He didn’t give you a chance to respond as he cupped your cheek.

His lips were rough against yours making you take a second before you responded. Bringing your hands to his waist “fuck.” He muttered acknowledging the taste of your cherry lipgloss as it made him go lightheaded.

If someone didn’t know any better they would say that you two had done this before as your hands moved in unison like clockwork “jump.” Quinn didn’t want to let your lips leave his for long as you listened feeling his hands cup your ass.

Helping you lift your legs up as you interlocked your ankles behind him wrapping your hands around his neck before you let your teeth sink down at his lower lip. It made him hiss out in that fine line between pain and pleasure.

You didn’t know when you two started walking but before you knew it you in a room as you heard the door creak shortly before your back hit a mattress. Quinn looked at the sight of you lying there in all of your flames gear. He took the moment to take you in before he smiled settling himself on the edge of his bed in his knees “I think it is sweet you went through all of this trouble to get my attention.” He mumbled pissing you off once more as you went to chew him out but instead he placed his finger on your lips.

Your eyes pushed into a glare “I can still leave y’know?” You knew you weren’t in any positions to be making demands but somehow that didn’t stop you from mouthing off.

A dry laugh fell from his lips “then what was the whole point of coming all this way?” He clicked his tongue practically hanging the bait in front of you “because I think you came so that someone could properly fuck you.” The boy added making you gulp.

The new found silence showed him that he was on the right track as you nodded “now you do not know how excited I am to get you out of this.” He mum urged the words to himself with some level of distaste as he locked eyes with the Flames emblem that was printed onto your leggings.

As his fingers hooked into the waistband of them he couldn’t help but plot all of the possible ways he could burn them “then hurry up.” You whined taking him by surprise as you reminded him that you wanted this just as much as he truly did “since you asked so nicely.” Quinn teased helping you kick your shoes off before he pulled your leggings off as well.

The sight of your lacey white panties was going to be imprinted in his mind forever “fucking hell Rocky.” He gave you the nickname in your freshman year after you punched him.

It was something he fully knew he deserved at the time which is why he was able to find the humor in your ability to give him a black eye “you been thinking about me a lot or something?” The comment originally came off as a tease but as he watched the colour drain from your face he realised that he was actually right.

This time a laugh in actual amusement left his lips “so what am I doing during this?” Quinn enquired as he let his hands massage soft circles into the inner parts of your thighs “you were.” You trailed off struggling to find the words to tell him.

He caught his lower lip between his teeth trying to stop himself from smiling “c’mon pretty girl I know you can get your words out f’me.” The boy began wanting to hurry you along as he felt his cock throb in his pants “if I’m gonna be left in the fucking quiet I will leave you here.” Quinn warned letting his hands softly hit your thigh.

Your eyes went wide considering that his threat was serious “I don’t know because it was a dream that I fucking woke up from!” You yelled watching him freeze causing embarrassment to run through your veins.

Your back lifted from his mattress as you went to apologise “look Quinn maybe-” you weren’t given the chance to say much more as his lips caught yours again.

Sucking the air from your lips as he let his hand claw at the fabric of your polo keeping you close to him “that’s fucking hot that you been dreaming about me.” He couldn’t hide how this made his ego float “what did you want me to do?” He asked licking his lips as he let his hand drop to your panties.

His fingers grazed over your clothed clit “fuck Quinn.” You let out a grunt as your thighs squirmed “say the words and I’ll do it.” He nodded not ready to take no as an answer.

You swallowed hard at the sensations “use your tongue.” You confessed making him smirk “lay back down then.” His voice was soft as you listened lying flat on your back.

Quinn hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties pulling them down the length of your legs “fuck you’re soaked.” He mewled at the sight of your glistening cunt “please.” You cried out finally making the boy nod as he gave you what you wanted.

His lips pecked at the insides of your thighs making sure that he divided his attention between both parts equally “you smell so sweet.” The boy confessed letting his face settle millimetres from your core.

He saw how your eyes studied his, watching him place a kiss on her clit “so responsive too.” A smirk formed on his lips when latched his lips around the sensitive bud.

You pushed your chest into the air as your back arched “fucking hell.” You whined bringing your hand to his hair as you tugged at his brown locks.

It acted like encouragement for him as he wrapped his arms around your thighs keeping you close to him as you tried to grind your cunt against his face. Quinn dropped his tongue to your core letting his tongue lay flat as he thrusted it into you.

The feeling made you squirm as you clenched around him when his nose grazed your clit “god you’re good at this.” You moaned lifting your legs to rest your heels on his shoulder blades “who would have thought all I would need to do was fuck you to get you to behave.” Quinn was amused as his words sent shivers through your body.

If you weren’t in this sensual state, you would have snapped at him “don’t stop.” You begged feeling his tongue lap at you like a starved man. He watched your free hand run up your shirt letting your bra go free.

He grinded his hips against the duvet beneath him swearing that he was going to ruin his sheets before he even got a chance to fuck you “Quinn.” Your voice sounded like honey as your face scrunched up in pleasure “you wanna cum pretty girl?” His question made you whimper as his thumb grazed over your clit in these tight circular motions.

The room grew hot as your lips remained screwed shut “need you to tell me-” the Hughes boy couldn’t get his threat out before you cut him off “please let me cum all over your tongue.” You begged making him nod as he let his mouth replace his fingers where it only then took him a few minor thrusts of his tongue to have you chanting his name out in pleasure.

Your legs shook as you struggled to keep them open trying not to crush the captains head as he continued to lap at your release sending you into a state of mind fog. Your body began to tense again and that was when you found the strength to pull Quinn off of you “you taste so fucking sweet.” He groaned kissing you again as if he hadn’t seen his lover in years.

The taste of your release was salty on his tongue and it made you moan as it mixed with your spit “off.” He mumbled tugging at your shirt.

You pulled away as you shook your head “‘s not fair you’re still fully clothed.” You complained making him smirk “if you wanted to see me again all you had to do was ask.” Within seconds his hoodie was off and was added to the pile of clothing that by the foot of his bed.

See his bare chest again filled you with this soft sense of confidence. So as you took a deep breath watching him begin to undo his pants you finally pulled your polo off of your body, leaving you in nothing but your white bra “if I knew you had a body like this under your clothes I would have been nicer.” Quinn let the words slip from his lips.

It made you scoff as you sent him a glare “doesn’t mean you would have been able to fuck me.” You snapped trying your best to let your eyes not drop to the bulge in his boxers.

A laugh roared from his lips “there’s the brat I knew you still had in ya.” It took him little strength to pull you to your feet “so now I’m gonna fuck you like a slut.” His hand pinched at your jaw making you whimper in response.

His eyes scanned yours to see if you were scared but instead all he saw was lust “but that’s probably what you wanted.” Quinn chirped making you softly nod “well sluts get fucked against the wall.” He motioned to where his wall mirror was making you unclip your bra before you walked to it.

You watched in the reflection how he stared back at you taking in the sight of how your naked body looked, from your perky breasts to your lower lip that you chewed at in anticipation. Quinn was calculated as he kicked his boxers off “condom?” He asked as he was prepared to grab one from his drawer.

Your head shook “on the pill.” You explained making him wonder just how many times that you let Andrei fuck you raw.

But for how the captain let his thoughts fall to the back of his mind when he saw you spread your legs “look at you so desperate for a good fuck.” Quinn smirked as he taunted you “even after you already came.” His words barely reached a whisper.

His hand gripped at his aching cock as he slotted between your legs. Dragging the head of his cock over your slit as he began to tease your cunt. His precum spread over your clit bringing a moan from your lips as your hands lay flat against the wall.

The boy watched you in awe “such a good girl getting ready f’me.” He cooed brushing your hair to the side “fuck your cunt is heaven.” Quinn let out a grunt as he thrusted his cock into your core as his hips lay flat against yours.

His lips nipped at your neck as he settled into his position “please move.” You begged clenching around his cock “and you’re gonna leave a mark!” You complained making him glare at you.

He scoffed bringing his hand to slap at your ass “you think I fucking give a shit?” Quinn laughed as his hips snapped into yours as he began to fuck you at a pace that was painful “answer me you slut!” He spat making you wince.

Your head dropped as your breasts bounced with each thrust of his cock “n-no.” You shook your head feeling tears form in your eyes “then I’m gonna use you how I want okay.” His words weren’t even in the form of a question as he let his hands punch at your hips.

The sound of skin slapping against each other was ringing in your ears “sorry.” Your words were soft as he nipped at your skin “wanna say that a little louder f’me?” Quinn teased seeing your legs begin to shake.

He made sure to keep you upright before you fell “if you aren’t gonna be a brat then I need you to answer me.” His hand gripped at your hair tugging your head upright “I’m sorry!” You moaned feeling your head rest against his shoulder.

It made him smirk as felt you clench around his cock “f’what?” He asked bringing his hand over to your clit letting his fingers rub at your sensitive nub “for being a brat.” You sputtered out the words making him internally cheer for you finally listening to him.

He watched your eyes flutter “just a brat?” He taunted making you squirm “and a slut f’you.” You added letting the tears stream down your face as you felt yourself growing closer to your orgasm.

Quinn let his chin rest on your shoulder “be a good girl for me and watch my dick fuck your pussy.” You nodded at his order watching how your cunt swallowed his cock with each thrust before he would pull away letting the cream of your first orgasm look like a ring around his cock “I’m gonna-” your eyes began to roll back into your sockets.

It made him nod as your cunt clenched around him “think you need to beg for this one.” His voice was soft in your ear as he sucked at your lobe.

The feeling of his cock inside of you as it throbbed made you desperate “wanna make a mess on your cock so bad!” You begged trying to use your hands to keep you up “go make a mess pretty girl.” With that your head rested on his shoulder as your cunt clamped around his cock.

Chants of his name spewed from your lips helping to push him over the edge “milk my cock doll.” Quinn cooed softly shuddering at how your cunt sucked him dry “there we go.” His voice was soft as he let his limp cock slide out of you “holy fuck.” You gasped turning around to kiss him “you’re so gorgeous.” Quinn mumbled as he let his thumbs graze over your nipples.

The room was hot as his hands were all over you like he was scared he’d lose you if he let you go. You pushed him back to the bed letting him sit on the mattress “is my little slut still not satisfied?” Quinn smirked running his hand over your stomach “still not full of my cum?” He added making you whimper as you went to cover your face.

He stopped you as he clicked his tongue “all you gotta do is ask me nicely.” The captain brought his hands to your cheeks pulling your face up to stare at his “make me cum again Quinny?” You begged as he pecked at your lips.

It was softer as he spun you two around laying you down on the bed “I get to see you this time doll.” His words were innocent as he pumped his cock a few times to get you hard all over again “you’re such a pretty girl.” His body hovered over yours as his chain rested on your chin.

This time it was easier for him to thrust into her as their releases acted like the perfect lube for you both “still just as perfect.” He laughed feeling your legs wrap around him “you are such a gorgeous girl.” Quinn mumbled as he kissed you.

The two of you practically moulded into each other “mhm Quinn.” You moaned feeling his pelvis against your clit “like the sound of my name on your tongue.” The Hughes boy smiled as your hands went to claw at his back.

He couldn’t help but notice the little Daisy necklace you had resting on your collarbone and it made him wonder just how many times must Kuzy have seen it before when you were under him “did he fuck you like this?” Quinn let the question come out with little thought before his eyes went wide.

Your silence made him scoff “so he fucks you better than me?” He clicked his tongue as he shook his head “just when I thought you were done being a brat.” Quinn spat as he picked up his pace again.

Cries echoed from your lips “you fuck me better!” You announced making him smirk “couldn’t hear ya princess.” He did it to tease you expecting some kind of push back from you.

But instead you just glared “could get off alone.” You grumbled making him stop his cock was half way inside of you as he stared down at you “you really think you could made yourself feel better than I do?” Quinn let his hand wrap around your throat.

You brought your hand up to wrap around his as you softly nodded “so you aren’t a cumslut feeling me in here.” His free hand pressed against your stomach as he could feel his cock hit your g-spot with each thrust “s-so full.” You whimpered feeling your breasts bounce with each creek of his bed.

The boy let his mouth drop to your breasts “fuck Quinn!” You kicked your legs as you felt your head go light with the new amount of pleasure you felt.

It had you whimpering as he divided his attention as well as he thought he could with his fingers rolling the nipple into a peak “not such a mouthy girl anymore now are ya?” His words were barely audible as he didn’t lift his lips from your nipple.

You cried as you shook your head “please let me cum.” You pleaded feeling your eyes begin to flutter “open your mouth f’me.” He pulled his attention away from your nipples as he looked at you.

Your mouth was centimetres away from his as you followed his instructions letting your tongue roll out of your mouth “now keep it like this until I cum okay?” He asked letting his saliva push out of his mouth in this line of spit only breaking once it landed on your tongue.

He watched your lips shut as smirked “you’re such a pretty fucking girl.” Quinn confessed letting your one leg go over his shoulder so that he could fuck you an entirely different angle “you keep clenching like that and I’m gonna cum.” He warned making you nod.

His fingers around your throat made you drive your hips towards his “I’m gonna cum.” You announced kissing his lips as your legs shook from his sides “let the floor know how good I make you feel.” He placed a closed mouth kiss to your lips as you finally watched your face scrunch up.

Your mouth fell open “don’t stop fucking me Quinn!” You begged feeling your body writhe against him. He watched pleasure wash over you as you came.

Quinn was close to you as he fucked you through your orgasm “there we go.” He gritted out coating your cunt for the second time of the night with his release “holy fuck.” The boy looked down to see that your release had soaked his bed.

You looked down to see what he was talking about “I’m so fucking sorry.” You went to apologise but he shook his head “that’s was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He confessed with a smile.

He watched your redden cheeks calm down “did you know you could do that?” The boy asked as you sat up to look at him “n-no.” You shook your head pushing your hair out of your face.

Quinn watched you stare down at where your mess was “hey.” He frowned hooking his fingers under your jaw “why don’t we get you into the bath?” Quinn’s offer was innocent and even as you knew you needed to go back to the hotel, you couldn’t say no.

And that’s how you landed up with your hair in a bun sat in his bath. Ellen had left bath salts and bubbles under his sink and that’s how you landed up smelling like roses “you okay?” Quinn asked watching you stare at him.

You smiled as you held your hand over the bubbles “come in here.” You mumbled motioning to him to join.

He got off of the edge of the tub going to sit across from you “want you here.” You explained pointing behind you “can’t say no when you look at me like that.” Quinn sighed as he motioned to you to shift over.

The water sloshed around your body as you leaned forward “you feeling better?” He cocked his head as he wrapped his hands around your waist.

His lips kissed at your shoulder feeling the softness of your skin against his lips “so much better.” You nodded laying your head on his shoulder “wait Quinny.” You spoke up as you looked up at him.

You were quick to decide that it was easier to turn around to look at him “I don’t think you’re a total pain in the ass.” You confessed making him smile “I don’t think you are one either.” This was the first time you two had a normal conversation where you guys were making actual grounds worth of progress.

Quinn didn’t want to ruin the moment but he dropped his head to kiss your lips. You straddled him in response as you melted into the kiss. Your hips grinded against his making his cock grow hard all over again “you happy to see me or?” You teased smiling as your forehead rested against his.

The boy shook his head “I’m sorry, we don’t have to.” He watched as your hand dropped below the water “I want to.” You confessed with a smile.

Your hand gripped at his cock pumping it a few times “you like that don’t ya?” You teased letting your grin remain evident “you fucking tease me and I’ll make sure you never squirt again.” Quinn warned showing you that he was being serious.

A giggle left your lips as you sunk down on his cock “never the fun one are ya?” You settled into a slow rhythm letting your hips brush against his “you and I know that I am plenty fun.” Quinn rolled eyes as he used his energy to pick you up and push you to the other side of the bath letting water slosh around you both.

So maybe things were always going to be a competitions between you two. But one thing that you both knew for sure was that nights in Vancouver or Calgary weren’t going to be spent in hotel rooms. They would be spent in each others arms desperate to not let this dream end.

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 7

Title: Hard Goodbyes and Favourite Colours

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel flies home, Yuri flies back, Jungkook can't stop thinking about the other night. And you? Gods, don't even get me started.

Warnings: T, language, fluff (?), angst, reader is ~not~ okay for a chunk of this, bye bye Nel! it was nice to meet you, Yuri being the bestie she is, playful antagonism, JK thinking a lot, some photography technical words but nothing scary, reader is painting again, shocker.

Word Count: 4,463

Release Date: July 9, 2024. 2:00PM

A/N 1: Hi this was supposed to be released like a month and a half ago but then i went to europe and my brain was anywhere but near electronics. Anywhooo here she is, as always thanks for waiting and I'll try to be more consistent now that post vacation depression has kicked in.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

Sometimes life works out incredibly conveniently for you, like when Nel’s flight leaves a half hour before Yuri’s gets in at the same airport. 

But then it sucks again as your week with Nel flies by so quickly it feels like you’ve had no time at all while also having so much because of all the new memories you’ve both made. 

Currently in a rideshare and airport bound, because you will be in no way okay to drive back, your grip on Nel’s hand is strangling as you take in every last second of time you can get with him. He keeps giving kisses to your forehead, nose, cheeks, mouth; anywhere he can get access to really. 

He doesn't want this week to end just as much as you don’t. Fuck this fucking sucks so much.

The driver pulls up to the terminal drop off, and you both exit. Nel grabs his bag from the trunk, now filled with little mementos from your week as well as his clothes. A pressed flower from the greenhouse, museum postcards, a doodle you did for him while he was sketching, and more, all tucked away for safekeeping. All the only physical things he can hold onto until he sees you next. 

Walking into the airport, you make your way up to the check in desk, paperwork already in hand. Nel checks in and you request an escort pass, determined to spend every last moment together. 

There’s a lump forming in your throat that you’re trying to swallow. It’s thick, like a ball of unending peanut butter you can’t get down. And your chest feels like a black hole has opened inside of it, right where your heart is supposed to be. Every second that ticks away allowing another drop of the warmth you have with him to be sucked right out of your sternum.

Painful doesn’t even begin to describe this feeling. 

As beautiful as your week was, the reality of the present is setting in, and the closer you get to his gate, the closer you are to tears. You’re trying your best to blink them away, but you won’t be seeing him until winter break, and even then, that’ll only be for a day or two at most before you have to wait till summer to see him again. So it might as well be goodbye for those full 6 months.

It hurts. It hurts so bad to have to go through this over and over again, to have this separation from the one you love, even if it’s only temporary. Funny how temporary can sometimes feel like forever when you’re in the middle of it. 

Funny how the concept of temporary doesn’t make the gash in your heart open any less.

You don’t want him to go, but you know he has too. The faster he goes, the faster he can come back to you. 

You hate that he has to go in the first place. You just want him to stay. Please, just stay.

But he can’t. 

You reach his gate and before you know it, his flight’s being called to board and your tears refuse to stay inside any longer, the lump succeeding in its plot of victory. They spill down your cheeks in silent rivers, wet splotches on the neckline of your shirt forming as they flow. 

Maybe they’ll create a little lake in the hole he’s leaving you with. There’s certainly enough of them to fill it. Something to fill the void a little until you can see him again.

Nel takes one look before scooping you into a crushing hug, a desperate echo of the one from a week ago. His own tears now staining.

“I love you so much,” he says. You don’t see his eyes squeeze shut, nor do you see him memorizing your smell, as he kisses the top of your head. And his voice wobbles as he whispers, “It’s not forever, it’s just for now.” 

He says those words every time you two part, whether it was for a day or a year. Never goodbye or so long. Never see you later. 

They’ve always been a small comfort in otherwise shitty situations. 

“Just for now,” you get out through quiet sobs, gripping onto him even tighter as you shake. 

It takes you a couple deep breaths before you can say anything without breaking. “I love you too. Please be safe, message me when you land, and do well on your final exams.”

He smiles at that last bit, and your tears free themselves again. You’re going to miss seeing that smile in person.

Nel pulls you in once more, tighter. “It’s always harder when my good luck charm is halfway across the world, but I’ll manage.” Your sobs stutter with a broken laugh, and you’re pretty sure his sweater is going to have tear stains on it. “I promise I’ll message as soon as I can. And I’d wish you luck but you never need it. You always do well.”

The announcement for final boarding calls and both of you freeze in each other's arms. You don’t want him to go. He doesn’t want to go.

But he has too. 

You separate only enough to kiss. It’s messy and wet and gross, but you don’t care. It’s the last one you’ll have for a while and you never want it to end. 

But it does. 

Nel pulls away, and you reluctantly let him. He grabs his bag with one hand, the other holding onto both of yours as he backs away until he can no longer reach. Your arms drop to your sides with the traces of his warmth on your skin.

You watch as the boarding crew welcomes him on, and he takes one look back at you. 

You wave, mouthing ‘I love you.’

He mouths ‘I love you’ right back, and turns the corner.

You waited for Yuri at her terminal after dropping off Nel and taking five—okay ten—minutes to violently sob in the bathroom. 

She took one look at your half smile and puffy eyes and smothered you in a hug. Smelling like sunshine and ocean water, it was exactly what you needed. 

“It’s okay Sweets, you’ll see him again before you know it. This year will pass by so fast, just you see,” she tells you through your whimpers, the tears having returned the second her arms were around you.

They dry sometime on the way home. It was a thirty minute ride back to school, and they fell silently for a solid twenty before you even got in.

You hate goodbyes. 

But Yuri’s seen this three times now, and she always knew that a warm drink and junk food were in your immediate shared futures when she did. Screw healthy coping methods. It may be 9:30pm on a Sunday night, but that won’t stop you from downing a pint as you drown your sorrows in sweet, sweet cookies n cream. 

Yuri also knows you need a distraction, so she doesn’t hold back on telling you every detail of her vacation. 

The duke from a few weeks ago had been a dud. ‘Shit personality and even shittier sex’ according to Yuri. No consultation needed. 

But this new guy from the Ilcalos Islands sounds promising. He’s a Count of something she can’t remember but in her words, “big heart and even bigger dick.” 

That makes you giggle. And you’re happy for her. 

“Bitch, the second night he did this thing with his tongue and an ice cube and oh. my. god. I think I’m in love. That man could do whatever he wanted to me and I’d still say thank you afterwards,” she’s rambling at this point and you’re mentally apologizing to the driver for having to hear all of it. 

You, on the other hand, don’t mind at all; gladly welcome it actually. You want your mind anywhere other than the present right now. 

You don’t want to start crying all over again. By the morning you’ll be fine, you’ll have let out everything you needed too. But between then and now, it’s a matter of mentioning the wrong words or seeing an intriguingly designed building that could trigger those pesky tear ducts.

So you listen to Yuri go on and on about this guy, all his techniques and what she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since she last saw him. His number is already saved in her phone under a very inappropriate name, but you expect nothing less from her. 

You love her for it. For this. 

For knowing what you need to stay afloat right now and not allowing you to throw the anchor overboard with your leg chained to the end.

You really fucking hate goodbyes. 

You’re staring at him. 

Like, full on, no bars held, staring at him. 

And Jungkook’s pretending he doesn’t notice.

You’re sitting in your chair and he’s back in his beside you at greenhouse cafe. Your half done painting of pink flowers sits in front of you, his laptop screen’s filled with this week's newly assigned ‘Studio Portrait Techniques 1’ homework. 

His half finished coffee on his table. An empty pastry bag on yours.

His hands on his keyboard, yours gripping a brush.

And you’re staring at him. 

He’s hoping it’s because this is the first time you’ve seen him since Nel left. 

But it’s probably to do with the fact that he hasn’t looked at you once today. Or the fact that he’s barely spoken at all when he usually can’t seem to shut up when it’s been more than 48 hours since he last saw you. 

Because it’s also the first time he’s seen you since he was with Adaline, imaging she wasn’t Adaline.

“You’re acting weird,” you say.

“No I’m not,” he responds a little too quickly, eyes still focused on his computer.

Yes he is. He really, totally is. 

“Yes you are, you won't look at me and you’ve barely said two words since I got here.” Well your knack for observancy is still intact.

Normally that's a good thing, but right now?

“Did I do something wrong?”

No. No you didn’t.

He did.

He let his emotions get the best of him in a moment of weakness. He let himself become so overwhelmed with feelings he isn’t allowed to have. He let them win for a single night.

And now if he isn’t paying the goddamned consequences. 

After that night with Adaline, Jungkook had woken up filled with regret. He’d crossed a line he didn’t even know he should have drawn in very dark, very permanent ink.

For letting himself, just for one moment, imagine what it would be like to be with…

And things are harder than ever to shove down now. He can’t look even look at you without thinking about it. About what he did. What he wanted. 

Wants.

Fuck, he’s in over his head.

Jungkook forces himself to look at you, putting his years of social training and emotional masking to good use. It sure as hell came in handy during times like this.

Because you can never know. 

He can’t lose you because he's unable to get his shit together. It’s not your fault he feels like this. 

So he lies. Both to you and to himself, hoping it might help him believe it.

“Nothing’s wrong Dali, just focused on my work is all. We got assigned a big project on Monday and I’m planning out all my shoots.”

You look hesitant, like you can see right through his bullshit excuse that was only a half excuse because this project is massive. 

“If you say so,” your tone implying you don’t believe him, but thankfully, you let it go and lean closer to him to see. He pretends his breathing doesn’t hitch, “What’s the project?”

“It’s my final assignment for a class, I have to do a series of five portraits. Each one with a different style, capturing a different emotion, and they all have to be of the same subject to show the true versatility of my work. It’s easy to make things look different when it’s different people being photographed,” he explains.

Therefore, this assignment, and all of its working parts, is huge. He’s glad it’s due in the middle of December because it’s going to take him almost a month of planning to get it all together; backdrops, concepts, costumes, previsualization, focal lengths, props, equipment, lighting setups, etc. And then when the planning is over: to shoot, narrow down and edit. 

But that’s the point of it. To have the students demonstrate they know how to effectively expand on the definition of a ‘portrait’ instead of having one concept in mind and sticking to it. 

‘To broaden your creative approaches to seemingly simple constructs,’ as his professor would say.

He loves the way this professor does assignments. How she layers them so that not only does he learn how to shoot multi-concept ideas for the same project type, allowing him to add to his creative portfolio, but they also force him to break out of the expected conclusions for an idea and think outside the box. 

“Oh wow, that is a lot,” you say. Because you understand long running projects. 50 hour paintings don’t just happen in a day. “Do you have any ideas yet?”

“Yeah! I have them all already, actually,” he turns his computer towards you and you see a point by point list of summarized ideas.

- Bright and bold - happy, bright smile, colourful gels - Black and white, soft light: gel or bounce? Silk diffuser  - profile with water falling on face - relieved - Focused on passion - candid, regular colour. Diffuser? Or silk flag? - Normal colour profile, stark lighting - serious, front facing body, profile facing left, no visible clothing, “regal” _|(_*-*)>_. Flag.  - Mysterious - black background, white smoke, barely visible model, lower half of face painted black, upper half white, striking purple eyes (contacts?). Flags. Gels? 

“I’m really excited for this project,” he says, “it’s just the prep that’s going to take a while. Getting it all mapped and planned out. It’s mostly concepts right now.”

You nod, understanding once again. Though very different mediums, visual arts and photography are similar in many ways. 

“Adaline going to be your model?”

It doesn’t surprise him you think that, but he has no intentions of ever using Adaline for assignments or homework. 

“Actually, I… uhh…” he trails off. Jungkook’s trying to get the words out, he is. But they’re surprisingly difficult for some reason, and getting caught in his throat. 

Which makes his earlier anxious state come back in full force. 

It shouldn't be this difficult. It won’t be the first, second or fifth time he’s asked you.

Get the words out Jeon. Put on your professional face, this is nothing new.

He fails, instead, his voice comes out barely above a whisper as he says, “I was going to ask you if you would.”

You somehow hear him. 

“Me?” you look dumbfounded. 

“Yes, you.” He’s always used you for homework assignments before, so he’s not sure why all of a sudden this is surprising. Maybe because it’s a final assignment versus a weekly one? The effort will be greater? 

“But you have Adaline? I assumed that she would take up the position of model when you guys started going out.”

Oh. That makes more sense. 

But that is one mistake he won’t be making again, because he did ask Adaline. 

Once.

It was recent, Nel was still here and he didn’t want to disturb you because of that. Plus Jungkook was just trying to get a jump on his upcoming assignments anyway, taking a page from your book.

So he asked Adaline. And she leapt at the opportunity, like he expected.

What he didn’t expect, was when she essentially directed, staged, lit and posed every. single. shot. so that she would look her best. 

All he did was click the capture image button when she said too. 

And after the shoot, before he could even think to look at the pictures, Adaline was already there, holding his camera, going through them and deleting any picture she deemed ‘ugly.’

He was left with less than 20 images from the shoot where he was ordered to take over 200. And she even made him switch out one of the three he narrowed down for one she liked better. 

So no, he would not be asking Adaline to model. 

Ever again.

“Nah. You’re a lot easier to work with because you don't care how the pictures turn out, and let me do my thing. Adaline cares a bit too much, and has to have approval on all of them before I submit.”

You snort. “Seriously? Is she that self absorbed?” a quirked brow places itself on your face to match the smirk now on your mouth.

That’s new.

Your tone towards Adaline has always been neutral, if not a bit sharp when he talks about her. 

But this one? It’s like you know her, and knew she was like that, but didn’t know it was this severe. 

Adaline is very popular...maybe you two met and it didn't go well?

It certainly sounds like you don’t like her, if those six words were anything to go by. Which, he guesses they shouldn’t, but he knows you well enough by now to know the difference.

And if he’s honest, that wouldn’t shock him in the slightest. You two are nothing alike, and thank god for that. 

He covers for Adaline, like any boyfriend would. Though it stings a little bit.

“She’s just careful about what images could be leaked to the press. Can’t really blame her for that.”

Your face changes minutely, as if a second of understanding passes through before you turn to go back to your painting, and mutter, “no, you can’t,” placing a splash of pink on a flower. 

He returns to his work as well, switching the portrait assignment out for a different one. He needs to get his mind off it for a while before circling back. 

And the fact that you didn’t answer him. 

Deciding on a Design and Visual Culture assignment due next week, he dives in head first, resuming his earlier state of focus and avoidance.

Jungkook’s editing a picture when you stretch. 

You often hunch over your work, so you try to stretch every 30 minutes or so. Your arms are in the air and he catches a peek at the nearly finished floral study. 

They’re some kind of vibrant pink dangling flowers, and you’ve captured the likeness of them quite well, to no surprise of his, so he goes to compliment it but you beat him to the punch.

“Shots blurry.”

Jungkook does a double take at his laptop screen. He’d spent the better part of 40 minutes editing the image and hadn’t noticed that.

Because it’s not. It’s perfectly crisp and clear.

When he looks back to you, you have a shit eating grin on your face. 

Ah, he knows that look. 

You love to tease him about little things like that, giving him mini heart attacks. ‘Pay back for that first day,’ you claim. 

Well…

Two can play this game, so he plays off your comment.

“Oh, you're right. Thanks,” and he switches to another image. 

Your grin falters but you recover quickly.

“No problem.”

See, while you know how to playfully harass him about his pictures, Jungkook knows how…particular you are about your colours. How they need to be labelled correctly instead of by their umbrella terms like ‘blue’ or ‘red.’ Because blue or red could mean any one of the dozens of ‘sub colours.’

‘It’s not blue, it’s cerulean,’ you’d remark. 

‘That’s not red, it’s burgundy,’ you’d correct him.

You’re always correcting him, and it makes his pants tighten a little bit every time. But that’s on the other side of the line he does not cross anymore. A nice, big, fat, permanent, protective line. 

Jungkook settles for a more subtle method of attack. Using this little fact and your ridiculously extensive knowledge of flowers against you. 

He never thought the defense and attack lessons his father put him through would come in handy like this. But he’s glad for them now. It was the only time he could ever outsmart you.

He gestures to your canvas. “Those pink flowers are pretty, what are they called?” 

“Their common name is Lady’s Eardrop. And they’re magenta.”

Hook, line, sinker. 

He doesn’t even have to try, you walk right into it every time.

“Lady’s eardrop? That’s a weird name…do they come in other colours besides pink?”

You don’t look up as you reply. 

“Magenta, and yeah. Some are plum and magenta, some are a buttery white and magenta, and then some have this like, almost dark tangerine hue, but they’re a different type, longer. Not the same as those,” you point with the end of your brush to the greenhouse, where the fully magenta lady’s eardrop sits in the window. 

“And are these pink ones your favourite?” he’s really trying his best to keep a straight face as yours contorts with an eye twitch at every use of the word.

“They’re. Magenta. And sure, but the plum ones are pretty too.”

“Noted, the pink lady's eardrop are your favourite among eardrops.”

You break, turning to him, voice raising in minor annoyance. Jungkook bites his cheeks to keep a smile at bay.

“They are magenta. Not pink. Pink entails a lighter hue, there’s more titanium white in pink. That,” you point again, “is very clearly, magenta.”

He has to. 

He can’t help it. 

You’re sexy when you're assertive, he thinks. Tip toeing on that nice, big line.

But also hilarious. 

“Same difference.”

He can see the fire in your eyes blaze.

“No, not ‘same difference,’ they’re magenta!”

He’s leaning in. “Pink,” eyeing your lips as you speak. 

You lean in too, enunciating every syllable to prove your point. “Ma-gen-ta.”

Your noses are mere inches from touching. 

“They’re pink, Van Gogh,” he backs off before he does something stupid that he’ll regret, “Don’t get so invested.”

You back off too, sass still very evident when you reply, “They’re fucking magenta, asshat. Two completely different colours and you’ll label them as such around me.”

You’ve always had a mouth on you. One you aren’t scared to use when necessary, especially around him. So he doesn’t push any farther, knowing he’s already gotten what he wanted and then some. 

But also because sitting has become slightly uncomfortable. There was a stiff breeze, he tells himself.

Thank god for baggy, oversized hoodies. 

Returning once again to his work, he puts an elbow on the table and places his hand on the left side of his face to hide the massive smile that’s trying its best to turn into a smothered laugh.

Unfortunately for him, he lets his Princely guard down around you and so he forgets to force it down to an uncomfortable degree like he would at the palace. His laugh slipping out as a strangled noise and he quickly turns it into a cough, hoping you don't notice. 

But you do, because it’s you. Of course you do.

And the look on your face is priceless.

“You did that on purpose!”

“What?” he says way too high pitched. “Nooo, I would never, one hundred percent intentionally, say pink just to get back at you for pointing out the non-existent blur in my perfectly clear picture.”

He can see you trying to control your features, can see you failing and giving up by facing your canvas again, smiling to yourself.

“I was wondering how many times I could get you to say it. I think that was somewhere around ten? Gotta be a new record.”

You roll your eyes at him, but your quirked mouth remains. 

“You’re such a dick,” you quip.

“Yet, you like me anyways.”

You mumble something incoherent.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Awe, c’mon now. Fess up.”

A pause, before, “I said I just remembered I don’t know your favourite colour.”

No you most certainly did not, but he’ll let it slide.

“Black.”

“Ugh, boring.”

“What?”

“Boring,” you say again with absolutely no hesitation and proceed to grace his eyes with your own. “And technically not a colour. Black’s a shade.”

Jungkook offers up a non-smothered chuckle, saving his throat from further shenanigans.

“Whatever, Seurat, it’s still black. What about you? What’s Miss High and Mighty All Knowing of Colours’ favorite?”

“It’s still a shade,” you repeat.

“It’s still my favourite. Answer the question,” he presses. 

You give him an unimpressed stare. 

“Violet. Royal violet. The one your dad wears a lot,” your expression softens to one of wonder as you continue. Like you didn't just refer to the King of the nation you live in as ‘his dad’ so casually. “And when it’s not that, it’s this bright yellow. Like sunflowers or daffodils. Or the colour leaves turn in the fall when the light hits them from above just right.”

It’s Jungkook's turn to stare now. You look lost in your own head, envisioning the colours you describe, seeing them dancing in your eyes. And he can’t help himself, you glow when you speak about something you're passionate about.

“Why two?” 

“Why not?” you answer, still dreaming, colours swimming in oceans of thought. Your voice is almost whimsical. “Don’t you get bored of one colour for too long? It’s nice to switch things up every now and then.”

His reply brings you back down to earth, albeit slowly.

“Red.”

“Hmm?” you touch ground.

“If you won’t accept black, then red. The rich dark one, like blood.” He chose the first colour that came into mind, not really caring which one. 

He did like red. Red looked good in many ways. On cars, clothes, lips...

But he chose the first one that popped into mind because after hearing your favourite colours and the reasons why, he started to like them more than all the others too.

“Red’s a great choice, strong,” you say, allowing him the blanket term just this once.

“Thanks.”

There’s a moment of comfortable quiet between you before you break it.

“When do you need me for the shoot?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows find his hairline. 

That was a yes, right? You’re saying yes?

“Uhm…soon, I’ll let you know the specifics when I do.”

“Sounds good.���

He was going to leave it at that, but adds, “Thanks, Y/N.”

He hasn’t said your name since the assembly. 

Always nicknames when talking to you. Always. 

Never your name. 

Not once in two months. Almost three.

You—

An inhale.

You…like it.

The way it sounds coming from his lips.

Exhale.

Chapter Eight: Photo Shoots and Blasphemous Discoveries

A/N 2: She's shorter but chapter 8 is like 11k so far, so I hope that makes up for it!

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[doorhine]

Ok so I wanna talk about the guy we all know and hate, Abijah Fowler, because there are three scenes that do a fantastic job at characterizing him and speaking to the story’s themes.

*SPOILERS BELOW

The Chapel Scene: Fowler’s whole “prayer not prayer” is so interesting because he presents it as a business deal (which says a lot about how individualistic and apathetic he is). And honestly, that speaks really well to the use of christianity in imperialism, colonization and capitalism. If anyone here is familiar with Antoine Fuqua’s version of The Magnificent Seven (which is based on Seven Samurai), Bogue’s speech in the beginning of the film does a similar thing. In the case of Blue Eye Samurai, Fowler basically says, “we’re not friends but these people are ‘godless’ and if things go my way you’ll have a nation of souls to convert.” And I really liked that wording “a nation of souls” because it shows how imperialism and colonization, in the process of stealing other country’s natural resources, are, by design, meant to pose a threat to the entire culture and livelihood of the people that live there in order to do that. And a major way it’s done is through the spread enforcement of the colonizer’s religion over the ones of the people they invade. Which leads me to…

The Finale Monologue to the Shogun: because Fowler literally spells it out how the process of these systems, how white supremacy, is meant to twist and erase the culture and beliefs of those they invade to the point where they conform and assimilate to the invader’s culture and view them as superior. It also creates the idea of a white race in the first place that has its own ethnic and religious hierarchy that determines what the “best” kind of white is. I really liked the detail where he mentions spreading their shame because so much of white culture and its interpretation of christianity, whether or not it was the dominant form in its country of origin before being enforced on others, thrives on shame and enforcing that on other people (just look at the US). Lastly there’s…

The Famine Monologue: Something I really like about Fowler’s character is how he was written to be Irish rather than some posh English guy. It’s a nuance that adds a whole level of depth to his character and role in the story. Ireland was colonized by the English, which Fowler discusses when he mentions the Tudors. One of the ways that colonization was enforced was by replacing catholicism with protestantism. In this scene though, Fowler talks about the intentional famines that killed his parents and sister. It’s a graphic memory that shows how a victim of colonization will sometimes use the same tools used against them, to gain a sense of autonomy and control at the cost of other people’s livelihoods. This is compounded by the fact that Fowler is able to assimilate into the concept of a white race that was created to justify these systems and the oppression/exploitation of people of color that maintained them. Fowler is fictional but there were plenty of Irish people who took part in Britain’s colonization of other people one way or another. You’ll hear elements of Irish vernacular in places like Barbados for a reason to bring up a small example of the consequences of that. On a side note, this is also an interesting video on how the habitual “be” is used in both AAVE and Celtic languages. 

Long story short, Abijah Fowler is a very nuanced and well written villain.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Paint - The Paper Kites

Chapter two of my ABO slavery König fic. In this one, König still doesn't speak. Bear with me people, he doesn't talk for a while. He's a silent giant. We love him still though!

Oh and question. Would you guys like me to post this to my Ao3? Would that make things easier on you all? I think it might. Let me know in the replies to this post please.

Anywaaaaaays

TWs: ABO, slavery, poverty

Wordcount: 7K

Art from This Post

Story Below the Cut

Paint - The Paper Kites

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the memory of blood on König’s neck. You didn’t have time to play around like this. You opened the medicine cupboard and pulled out the kit before you hurried back to your room. You tried your best to be quick, but it wasn’t fast enough. You could hear your mother crying in your father’s room, a heavy thud, and your father grunting. You shuddered briefly and continued on your way to your room.

Inside, König looked like a different person altogether. He didn’t turn to look at you when you came in. You didn’t blame him. You focussed on opening up the medical kit on your bed beside him quietly. You looked at König and winced. He wasn’t bleeding as heavily, but it was still going to leave a mess. You were used to this though. You knew how to deal with injuries like this. 

You muttered a thousand apologies under your breath as you pulled out the alcohol wipes and gauze and the pair of you winced together as you dabbed the wounds clean. 

“This part always hurts a lot,” you tried to reassure both of you as you finished sanitizing the wound. 

You bundled a bit of gauze and tucked it under his jaw sores, then wrapped them tightly in place. It wasn’t pretty, you weren’t a trained professional after all, but it would do.

You pulled back and looked over the bandages all over König’s body. At this point, you didn’t really know how to proceed. If you left them there, there was a serious risk of an infection forming and worsening whatever was underneath. On the other hand, if you pulled everything off and couldn’t put it back together, you’d do more harm than good. You sat back and thought over your options. 

As you sat, you didn’t really notice König moving his arm up to his bandages. You only noticed what was happening when you saw König start fiddling with the ends of his wraps.

“No no no! You could undo it all!” you bounced from side to side and began chewing your fingernails. König froze, slowly lowering his long, spidery hands. You sighed in relief and slumped back. Your leg bounced feverishly as you figured out your next moves. 

“Okay, I’m gonna say that based on how disgusting these bandages are, they need to be removed,” you stammered out and slowly raised your hands to König’s face.

König leaned back instinctively, but slowly let himself settle his nerves and moved his face close to your hands. You gave him a shaky smile and started undoing the wraps. To your surprise, it seemed like the wounds had mostly healed. If they were healed, why was König still bandaged? Was his chest the same why? To confirm your theory, you slowly undid the crusty bandages on his chest only to reveal red but healing, scars. The wounds had all closed long ago. Even the wraps on his forearm were utterly pointless. Why wouldn’t they remove the bandages? König had only been in the care of the SDH for a month. How did he go downhill so quickly? You couldn’t wrap your mind around it. Why wouldn’t they just remove the bandages?

You shook your head and turned back to König. His blond hair was shaggy and matted around his ears and he was growing a bit of a scraggly beard on his gaunt face. His eyes were deepset and dark, almost black. His large nose was obviously never really set right after being broken, and that had been long, long ago. His face was covered in little light marks on his pale skin. He looked incredibly tired and sickly. You shuddered at the sight of his face and turned away.

This wasn’t the König you once knew. This was an emaciated rat. When your grandmother kept König, he had been strong, tall, healthy and well put-together. He had been handsome. Not to say his features were lost, but he looked depraved now. This was sickly. It all looked wrong. You could hardly believe this was the same man you saw so long ago.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. 

König didn’t respond. Instead, he sat and turned his face to stare ahead at the wall. He opened his jaw, and licked his thin chapped lips with what looked like a white tongue. You held back a wretch as you got a glimpse of König’s greenish-yellow teeth. Holy shit that was disgusting… you thought to yourself and pulled your gaze away from the man’s face. 

You were looking at him like he was a carny freak. And in a way, he was. His frame was a mess of jutting bones and hallowed skin, and yet he was strong enough to stand tall and endure. He didn’t seem to care about who talked to him and how, König just rolled along without much of a fight. His breath was absolutely rancid and he had open wounds from picked scabs dotting all along his body. Evidently, his time in the department after your grandmother’s passing had been dire. 

You allowed yourself to glance back at König's face and winced again. He had been a handsome man before. You wondered what would have happened if he was able to live a normal life. Maybe he would have been married, had children.

You sighed. You let your head drop to your hands. This was not what you had expected when you got a slave. Honestly, you didn’t know what to expect in the first place. You supposed you was used to slaves. Your mother was a slave. Your best friend was once a slave. You knew many slaves. You’d seen so many in your life, some who were battered and abused and others who were cherished and adored. You’d seen some guard slaves, König had been one for your grandmother. He had been her constant shadow, and now he was yours. He was supposed to protect you, keep you pure for your betrophement. He was meant to preserve your precious omega O virginity and fragility. König once looked like a strong and proud guard slave, but now he was an emaciated version, a dilapidated copy of what he once was. He didn’t have the build to intimidate a loopy drunk, and he didn’t seem nearly quick enough to be able to duck out of the way of a flying punch. All in all, König looked more like an awkward wading bird than a man.

You sighed and looked up to König. If he was going to share a bed with you, you supposed you would just have to get to know who this strange man was.

You nodded to yourself firmly. You’d figure out the puzzle that was König. You’d figured it out if it was the last thing you did. You had to if you wanted to keep König by your side.

You heard muffled yelling from outside your room. You stilled, trying to make out a couple of words. It was all passed through cotton and sand before it came to you. You sighed. You were about to dismiss it when you noticed how König gripped his knees tightly.

“I won’t let him hurt you,” you said after you heard a heavy object get thrown against a wall.

König didn’t respond. He simply looked ahead in the warm glow of the lamp. You guessed that he had been through enough himself. Still, it felt awkward to sit in silence, listening to your parents arguing from down the hall. You didn’t really know what to do now. You supposed you could see if you could get some food for König. One glance at him was enough to know that he certainly needed it.

With a sigh, you steadied your beating heart and prepared yourself for the world outside.

“Wait here. I’m gonna get you something to eat,” you said  and gently slid past König’s knobby knees to get to the kitchen.

You scurried across the hardwood floor to the tiled kitchen like a dormouse. You managed to silently pull out a plate and make your way to the fridge. It wasn’t much of a meal, consisting of cut up sausage, some cheddar cheese and crackers from a forgotten box in the cupboards. It took you a moment to balance the plate as you grabbed two glasses of water, but soon enough you were able to sneak back to your room.

You carefully shut the door with your hip and placed the plate in König’s lap. König looked down, evidently confused by what was being given to him. He seemed even more confused by the glass of water you nudged into his hand. You looked at König expectantly, who in turn eyed you carefully. You tried to urge him to eat silently. König looked back at his plate. He hesitantly picked up a cracker with cheese and took a slice of sausage. König didn’t dare to take his eyes off you as he opened his mouth and put the food inside slowly. He furrowed his brows and took careful chews. Once he was sure that you wouldn’t move, he took a slow sip of water. Again, you didn’t react. You just watched him with an encouraging smile. König, now content that he was actually receiving something to eat, turned back to the wall to continue eating. He ate slowly, seeming to savor each bite before it was gone.

You let out a sigh of relief, only to startle when König swung his head back to glare at you. You squeaked and backed up which seemed to somewhat soothe König’s defensive posture. You slowly tried to stand, but the moment your toes touched the wood König once again raised his hackles and glared at you. You settled back into your chair. You had a feeling that this would be a long night.

“So, um, is it good?” you asked softly. König squinted at you and nodded carefully. You smiled, “Good. You looked really hungry.”

König nodded and set his empty plate on his lap. He finished the glass of water, and then set it on top of the plate. Now, he seemed a bit at a loss for what to do.

You stood up and took the plates from him and then put them on your wardrobe. König watched as you slowly sat back in bed and sighed. 

“I guess we should get to know each other, right?” you asked softly. 

König didn’t respond.

“It’s okay to talk,” you whispered, “I know you talked to Grandma.”

It didn’t seem to do anything in the way of getting König to talk. You supposed that it was all a bit much for König to take in at once. 

“Well, I’m gonna read your files if that’s okay,” you said and slipped off the bed and into your chair and placed the open manilla folder on your desk. You felt a bit uneasy turning your back on König at this stage, but there wasn’t really much else to do but listen to the commotion going on downstairs or watch König fiddle with his oversized thumbs. You figured that reading at least kept you occupied.

So you were left in peace to read König’s file while König sized up the room around him. After about an hour, you turned to tell him he could spread out on the bed for sleeping. König obliged, and you returned to reading the file.

By the time midnight came around, you were left with more questions than answers. Why was he returned by his first owner? What happened to his second owner? Why was your grandmother the third owner? And, above all else, why was König considered so dangerous?

The dangerous beast you read about was absolutely silent beside you. His breathing was steady, his eyes were tightly shut. His mouth was shut, but only barely. You could see that König hadn’t occupied the entire bed, but rather he had left a moderately small spot for you to move into, one that would just about fit you in. It was this, or sleeping somewhere else and facing the wrath of your father. You mulled over this for a minute before coming to the conclusion that slight discomfort was much more pleasant than drawn out torture.

You stood up carefully, as quietly as you could, and leaned over König. You placed a hand on the bed and slowly leaned down to somehow… No this wasn’t working. You leaned back up and puzzled over the situation. If König’s legs were there and if you could just thread the needle with your arms… Maybe if you tried to lift with your right leg more than your left? You tried shifting in a few ways, not realizing that dark eyes were locked on you until it was too late.

You huffed and stood back up before slowly turning to see König’s face, dark and brooding, staring back at you. You blinked a couple of times before cautiously shuffling back. You trembled like a leaf as König slowly raised himself up. You braced himself, but there was no hand clasping around your throat. Instead, when you opened your eyes, you could see that König had adjusted to cram himself into the wall and shrink himself down as much as possible.

You gently crawled in beside König, feeling a bit guilty now. Sure, you were so scared you felt like you could have a heart attack, but did König really need to be that uncomfortable for you? No, he couldn’t. You needed to put a stop to this before it even started. 

You sighed and spoke as softly as you could, “Um, you can relax if you want. Just get comfortable. Trust me, you’ll need all the rest you can get for tomorrow.”

In response, König shifted back a bit, still obviously trying to avoid touching you. However, this did seem a bit comfier for both of you, so that was a plus. 

‘If this guy thinks that I’m not a threat’, you reasoned, ‘maybe he won’t kill me in my sleep!’

As the thoughts raced through your mind, the hours passed by until you saw sunlight streaming through the window. You sighed. Today couldn’t be over faster. 

You slowly padded out of the room, not particularly bothering to check if you had woken up König. You peeked down the hallway briefly before you padded to the kitchen. You were just about to reach the living room when you looked behind yourself and nearly jumped out of your skin. To your horror, König was looming behind you in the dark. You hissed and waved your hand at König to go away, but it was as though he was compelled to stand and scare the ever-loving shit out of you.

You glowered, “I know, I know, keep me in your sights, I get it.” 

You wanted to be angry, but the man was just following his orders. You knew where König was coming from, but you could already tell that this would become something of a problem.

You sighed and sat down on the stained sofa in the faded living room. You glanced up at him and patted a spot beside you begrudgingly. König stooped down to sit, then turned to stare ahead. You followed suit, wondering what the fuck you was supposed to do now. You had left the room to try and get a break from König, not to be followed around. You checked the time, and it was still fairly early. You had time to rest. Of course if your father were here he’d probably say, ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’. 

You hated that line.

You sighed and looked over at König, who only stared ahead blankly at the wall. You followed his gaze to the painting that was hung in front of him. It really was a lovely painting. It was just a simple acrylic piece of a bouquet in a vase, but it was possibly the nicest thing your father had ever done for for your mother. 

Supposedly, when you were younger, your mother had loved to paint. The painting König was looking at was her last painting before your father had snapped her wrist. You’d begged him to let her go to a doctor, but he never listened. She never really did paint again after that. Her hands had been too broken. You wondered if she still felt the urge to, or if she was completely lost by now.

Shaking your head, you stood up and passed by König, urging him to follow you downstairs to the coffee shop. You crept down silently, with König thankfully following suit, and led König into the back room. You flipped on a light, and hissed as your eyes adjusted to the harsh fluorescent lighting.

You gestured to the bags of coffee beans on shelves, “They’re sorted by what type of roast they are, and then by which brand. The newest bags are on the right and oldest on the left. It’s set up that way because we want to use the old bags before we even touch the new bags. My dad said it’s the FIFO system, or first in first out,” you pointed over to the sink and said, “just remember that you have to wash your hands regularly, especially under your fingernails. A lot of dirt collects under there.You need to wash your hands a lot because we don’t want customers to get sick from cross contamination. You know what that is, right?” 

König nodded slowly. Maybe his jaw was still recovering.

You went over a few other basic procedures, having König follow you around during your morning routine of cleaning and prepping the days’ tasks, from sweeping and mopping the floors to preparing the batters and doughs for the various pastries for the day. For once, König looked like he was listening intently to what you were saying. It was a bit unnerving, honestly.  You decided it was better to teach König once rather than go over it a thousand times. If nothing else, training König was easier than you expected. Training? The phrase sounded wrong to you.

König was here under the premise of being protection for you, but the you knew your father far too well. You knew König served other purposes. Namely, doing the brunt work that you were too weak or short to do yourself. That, and other tasks. The main reason your father forced you to have König rang through your mind.

You put your apron on over your work clothes and took a spare over to König. He wordlessly slipped it on before taking the broom and dustpan from you. You flinched instinctively when his roughened hands grazed over yours but relaxed when König brushed past you to sweep the floors. The memories of König protecting your grandmother washed away from your mind. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as you expected. This thought was quickly followed up by the thoughts of the last lines in König’s file. You bit your lip as your tried to form an anxious smile. You knew for a fact that you weren’t ready for the storm that was surely coming your way.

As you finished grinding and sorting the day’s coffee grounds, you couldn’t stop glancing over at König as he swept the hardwood floor in the dawn’s pitiful mourning light. You’d just pulled the blinds up, the mat and floor was dusted, and though you hadn’t mentioned anything about it, König had gone ahead and polished the chimes above the door. You’d that one on your mind for ages but you were just a bit too short to reach it. You felt a hopeful smile flash across your face.

For the first time in your memory, you’d finished doing morning prep before your father woke up. You were actually finished. Relief washed over you. You could rest before work. You’d only dreamt of doing that before. Now you could actually sit down and relax.

You hoped your father might sleep in a bit longer so you could really take in the feeling. You sent a silent prayer of thanks to your grandmother for giving you König. Maybe having a slave wasn’t as bad as you thought it was.

You grabbed a couple of day-old pastries and slipped into a little booth with a fresh mug of coffee. You considered grabbing a mug for König, but you couldn’t remember him ever drinking any. With a small smile you waved König over to join you.

König moseyed over and set his cleaning bucket beside the table before he hesitantly tucked himself into the seat opposite to you. Now that you could see him in decent lighting you could take a better look at König. 

If one were to separate König’s face from his body, they would believe that one had been frankensteined onto the other. Even you couldn’t help but look for stitch lines under his adam’s apple.. His body hunched over the table, folded in on itself like a baby bird fresh from the egg. His long legs were curled under him to give you more space under the table while his elbows and forearms were wrapped around his caved-in chest. Divots and barbed wire lines wrapped around rosebud burns along his cold skin. His body was a battlefield of myths and legends. You mapped out his stories as you slowly followed the line of his arm up to his pale sallow face.

The pattern of listlessness and familiar dread that you knew all too well was broken the moment you glanced up at König’s expression. 

The features of his face simply echoed the story of his skin, but there was something about the way König set his lips straight and narrow and looked down on everything that came across his path that made you realise that this man was in no way shape or form ready to back down just yet. You knew that after a month with your father, that look would be broken. You preemptively mourned the loss you didn’t know if you would miss.

König shuddered and bent and twisted and most of all he stank. You hadn’t thought about his stench before. Traces of chemical residue trailed over the stench of sweat and built-up musk. He reeked of despair. You could tolerate it, but you knew the moment a customer stepped foot in the cafe they’d complain. You needed to fix this.

König didn’t seem to care, but you did.

“Okay,” you drummed your fingers on the table steadily, “I think we need to go over a few things. First things first, you need a shower.”

König narrowed his eyes at you.

“You do,” you insisted, “but if you want to do that later we can.”

König glanced down at the muffin in front of him.

“Maybe after breakfast?” you offered.

König’s face was blank as he stared down at the pastry. You were about to repeat yourself when you saw him give you the tiniest of nods.

“Then after breakfast,” you affirmed before scrunching up your face, “you know you can eat, right?”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

You could’ve laughed at how quickly he devoured the muffin but instead you thought about how long he’d been starved to get into this state. You shook the thought away.

“Since we have a bit of time before the cafe opens, I can give you this,” you began as you slid a pin over the table, “my dad says you have to wear this on your apron.”

König didn’t seem to really care. His face had returned back to complete Switzerland neutrality. You watched as he picked up the small nametag in too large fingers and examined it carefully.

“You know your name, right?” you asked.

König didn’t reply; he pinned the tag to the top of his apron, adjusted it slightly and let his hands drop down to the table. His face was so empty that you couldn’t help but fill in the blanks with your own worries. You couldn’t decide between irritation, contempt, and… satisfaction of all things? Why would you think he looked satisfied? You figured you had to be wrong on the last part. Why would a slave look satisfied after being given a a name tag?

Your eyes widened when you saw König nod slowly. You wanted to ask why König was so slow all the time, but you held your tongue. You were sharing a bed with this man, a man who looked like he could squash you with a single flick of his thumb. It was probably best to not get on an alpha A’s bad side, even if he was a slave. He was too dangerous to be trusted. Your mind bounced off the walls as you thought of how graphic that little manilla folder had been last night. Instead of focusing on that, you decided you might want to talk to König and befriend him a bit instead.

König nodded, and let a thumb slowly brush over the engraved nametag.

You looked up to König and smiled. 

“I hope you don’t hate me, for this,” you spluttered out. 

The man  gave no particular indication if he had heard you. Under the waking light of the sun, you could easily see that his ‘black’ eyes were actually a dark, foreboding blue. It reminded you of an ocean pulling you under, dragging you down to the abyss without a second thought. It crushed you, the intense pressure suffocating you. You suddenly gasped as you broke König’s intense eye contact. You didn’t want to think about what your father would say about you. You couldn’t even look into a slave’s eyes without feeling like you’d have an anxiety attack. God, you were pathetic.

You stifled a sniffle and covered it up with one of those fake, cheesy grins you gave to customers who wouldn’t leave you alone all shift and piped up, “So König, you know what your job is, right?” 

You looked up at the much larger alpha in the seat across from him, eyeing him carefully.

König didn’t respond to the question immediately, so you decided to wait if he made any move to answer. It became very clear that König was not going to answer you. 

Instead of letting it get to you, you decided to push on and keep talking, “So you’re here to protect me from the customers.” 

König looked down into your flickering eyes. 

You gulped, and pressed on. “You probably figured it out by now that I’m a double O. It… it sucks honestly,” you scratched at your hair nervously, “I mean it’s not all bad. I have some friends, I guess. They’re just not here Dad doesn’t like them in the cafe.” 

König’s silence only helped to solidify the tension between you. 

“So yeah,” you stalled, trying to think about what you were trying to say in the first place, “I need you to protect me. Dad isn’t able to watch over me all the time, so you need to make sure I’m safe. You’re pretty much my new bodyguard. You were my grandma’s bodyguard, right? So I guess it’s like that again. And,” you cringed, “if it’s not too much, maybe you can help me around. I’m kinda, um, small is how I would put it? It’s an omega thing.”

König nodded. He seemed to have relaxed a bit. You thought that you conveyed yourself pretty well for once. Protect the omega O and keep you out of harm’s way. In addition, try and help you when you needed help. Yeah, that seemed clear enough. You relaxed a bit. 

You slumped back in the booth and drummed your fingers on the table, looking over König again. You glanced down at the table in front of König before flitting your eyes back up to his face, which now stared at you with intent. You startled briefly before cringing. You really needed to be better at establishing dominance. Maybe some more coffee would calm your nerves.

“I’ll be back,” you said and slid yourself out of the booth. 

You walked to the back and opened up the fridge to look at some more of the day-olds. It’s not like Dad really checks stock on these, anyways, you reasoned and pulled out a few baked goods that were wrapped in cellophane. You put them on a plate, and poured out another cup of hazelnut roast, a classic on a gloomy morning like today. It didn’t do much for your nerves, but being able to get a break from König’s daunting glare was enough for you. You checked the time and hummed to yourself; it would be a couple of hours until you opened up shop. You had plenty of time.

You carried a small plate of goodies back to König and set it in front of him. You unwrapped a bagel and handed it to him, a silent urge to please eat more. König still seemed a bit hesitant, but he accepted it it tentatively. You were content with that much at least. 

With the promise of time and peace, you considered the possibility of a shower.

There was no way you could let König work in the cafe if he smelled like this.  You could stand the night with him, sure, but a customer? For five minutes? Impossible. 

You waited for König to finish quietly. Once König seemed more relaxed, you decided to try and bring it up again.

“König, would you be alright taking a shower?” you asked quietly.

König paused to think before nodding solemnly.

“Alright, great,” you stood up from the booth, “then let’s get going.”

König slowly stood up to tower over you. Instead of letting yourself dwell on how König could block out the sun, you instead guided König up the stairs and to the bathroom.

‘There’s no way this bathroom’s always been this small,’ you thought bitterly as you turned on the tap. You walked out to the linen cupboard to grab a few towels before returning to find König drinking the water from the shower. You watched him for a moment before clearing your throat. He turned slowly to face you with an imperceivable expression.

“You know I can get you a cup, right?” you offered.

König quirked his head to the side.

“You know what, just hold on a sec,” you walked out the door to the kitchen.

You came back to find König had turned back to drinking from the shower.

“Here,” you offered him the glass as he turned, “this might be easier.”

König assessed it for a moment before he brought it to his lips. He slurped it down, his bulging adam’s apple bobbing slowly.

You smiled before saying, “I’ll get some more after the shower, promise.”

König nodded, and went to step in the shower. you screeched and pulled him back. 

“So, um, I’m guessing you want some privacy…” you muttered as you eyed the shower.

König only shrugged. He waved his hand tiredly before pulling the shirt off his chest.

“Woah hold on, I’m still right here!” you exclaimed as he turned to take off his trousers.

König paused briefly to glare at you, then turned back to what he was doing.

You looked back at the pale blue door and frowned. You shuffled to sit up on the sink counter and crossed your legs.

“Do you want me to stay?” you asked quietly, turning your eyes away once he’d sloughed his pants to the side.

You glanced into the mirror to see him nod before stepping into the shower.

Once he was in you picked up his clothing and started folding it up for him.

“So, uh…” you tried to think about where everything was, “the soap should be on the left and the shampoo and conditioner on the right. You can use the green scrubber for yourself. If you’re fine with sharing, that is. It’s mine. I’d offer either of the other two but they’re my parents. I figured since you knew me at least, it’d be more comfortable.”

You looked at the shower curtain to see a shadow of König slowly scrubbing his hair. He grunted quietly as he did, almost pained by something.

“Wait, do you need some help?” you asked, “with your hair, I mean. Do you want me to help clean your hair?”

You watched him slowly lower his hands from his scalp. He looked up at the showerhead and sighed heavily before nodding.

“Alright, just sit down and I’ll get a comb,” you said before opening the medicine cabinet.

By the time you’d pulled up a stool to sit on, König had switched the shower to a bath and was sitting on the ground, staring darkly at the wall in front of him.

“Alright, I’ll try to make this quick,” you whispered as you took out your comb.

Ever so carefully you tried to split the matts into workable sections. You tried to be gentle as you worked your fingers through his shampooed hair. You hissed when he winced, muttering quiet sincere apologies as you slowed your movements.

You didn’t know how long it took, but soon enough you got into a bit of a rhythm. You would work through one section while König tilted his head to give you better access. He’d let you work on a section for a bit before his scalp would ache too much, and then he’d turn to have you work on the other side of his head. Your fingers worked deftly through his locks, slowly washing away layers of brown grease to reveal a mane of lovely dusty blond hair. You were amazed by your own work by the end of it.

“Looks like your hair grew out a bit,” you muttered as you combed through the final matt.

König nodded, his eyes closed as he leaned back to give you better access.

“Do you like it this way?” you whispered.

He turned his head from side to side.

You furrowed your brows. You weren’t the best hair stylist, but you didn’t have enough to get him a proper cut and shave. If nothing else, you were better than nothing.

“Would you like me to trim it for you?” you offered, “back to the style I remember you wearing when you lived with my grandma. Does that sound alright?”

König nodded.

“Alright, then just give me one sec,” you said as you turned back to the medicine cabinet.

Once you had found an appropriate pair of scissors, you snipped them twice before turning back to König with a grin. He raised one of his bushy eyebrows at you, but let you turn his head to cut his hair without complaint. Then again, you didn’t know if he would ever tell you what he really felt.

You snipped away at his hair, only stopping briefly to turn off the tap before turning back to his hair. You trimmed him back, slowly cutting through the misshapen locks to tame his wild mane into a more manageable haircut. You held your breath as you cut the hair around his ears and then again once you trimmed his beard. You’d need a razor, but something was better than nothing. At least now his face didn’t look lopsided at least.

You finally set the scissors down and admired your work.

“Well, it’s not much, but it’s something,” you offered as you sat back, “so, um, I’ll just let you be-”

König raised his hand to grab your wrist delicately. You froze in place, easily allowing him to slowly bring your hand to the scent gland on his neck. Once you saw it, you immediately knew what he needed.

“Did you not clean your scent glands at all when you were with the department?” you wondered as you looked at the swollen, pussy red bump on his neck.

König shook his head sadly.

“Oh man, then these must really hurt,” you grit your teeth. You didn’t like the idea of helping König express his glands, but if he really hadn’t been able to clean then you could only imagine how painfully tender his glands were.

Everyone had scent glands to clean, of course, but you remembered in health class that alphas were a little bit different. Even at birth, alphas presented as having two extra glands, one of the major differentiators between them and the other secondary sexes. As they hit puberty, the glands would start to produce a transparent ‘oil’ (it was really more a form of sweat) and a wax, both of which could be used to mark their belongings. Though the glands weren’t an issue until puberty, once they started to present as an alpha A, B or O, the alpha in question would need to start cleaning their glands more thoroughly than any beta or omega, lest they become known as a form of public nuisance. You remembered hearing your fellow classmates tease all the alphas in class for a couple of weeks after that lesson, going on and on about how ‘stinky smelly sour’ the alphas all were. Thankfully, most of those alphas learned to clean their glands pretty quickly after that.

Unfortunately, glands needed to be under some sort of pressure to be able to be cleaned. You realized that, because König was so full of oil and wax, his glands had to be causing him terrible pain. You had the feeling that even touching them was difficult for him. So, if he couldn’t do it, you had to try your hand at expressing his glands.

You sighed. If König weren’t rancid enough before, then you could only imagine how disgusting his wax would smell. You rubbed your hands over your face painfully.

“You really need me to do this?”

König hung his head sadly.

“Alright,” you hissed, “then let’s do this.

You ever so carefully let your hands rest on his right shoulder. You had to marvel that you actually had space to put both your hands before shaking the thought away. You could always admire König a different time. For now, you had to focus.

“This is gonna hurt,” you cringed, “a lot.”

König sighed. He knew.

“Alright, let’s do it on three,” you braced yourself, “one, two… Three!”

You carefully started pressing down on the skin. König’s shoulder writhed under your touch, his skin bouncing around his remaining muscle wildly as he felt the oils slowly flow down his skin. Already the stench of him felt overwhelming. You could hardly smell his actual scent through the smell of sweet rot and blood.

“Oh my God,” you squeezed your eyes shut as the ivory wax started squirting out of his skin. You felt like you were crushing the biggest, most unruly pimple you’d ever seen. You could feel the hot wax pooling over your fingers as the smell smacked you upside the face. You tried to muffle your groaning as König sighed in relief. You felt like you’d need a shower after this yourself.

You peeked you eyes open to see the wax finally flowing out freely, smooth and clear, a sure sign of healthy scent wax. You grabbed a wad of toilet paper and dabbed the rotten wax away from him and dropped it in the toilet behind you.

“Okay, I think it’s done,” you sighed as you eyed the gland on his left shoulder, “you ready to do it again?”

König nodded quickly.

You grit your teeth and pressed down again. 

The second one was just as bad as the first. If nothing else, at least there wasn’t as much rotten wax. You at least were able to clean it off quickly and dump the second wad of paper in the toilet.

“Okay, so, under arms next?” you asked.

König obediently raised his arm to reveal the gland just in front of the crook of his arm.

“Okay I’m gonna have to reach around a bit,” you told him as you put your hands in place, “and on three. One, two, three!”

The under arm glands were the easiest to deal with. You figured the would be the case. Your neck glands were usually worse than your arm glands. At least you didn’t produce wax, at least. Omegas only ever produced oils, never wax. Only male betas and alphas were able to do such a thing. In fact, until now, you’d never actually seen wax in person.

The other arm was just as easy. You were able to get it cleaned and pristine quickly enough for you. Unfortunately, that meant there were still two more glands left.

“Can you do these glands?” you asked hopefully, pleading with the universe to not have to do this.

König reached down and tried, but after a moment he forlornly shook his head and lay back on the porcelain tiled wall with a sigh.

“You know that this is…” you shook your head, “okay, look, I’ll do it. Just… Never make me do this again.”

König nodded tiredly.

“Alright…” you drummed your fingers against the rim of the tub. You didn’t want to violate König’s privacy, but if you were going to express his glands… You needed to figure something out.

You looked around before your eyes landed on one of the towels.

“Okay so, if you really need this, can you cover yourself with this towel?” you reached over and offered it to König, “that way I can’t really see anything.”

König gladly took it from you as he turned around in the tub. Now covered, you felt a bit more at ease with the task ahead of you.

“So, both lower glands?” you checked.

König nodded and shuffled closer to you.

You took a deep breath. This was going to be the toughest. Everyone knew that an alpha’s groin glands were the most potent of the three glands. You just hoped that the water would trap the smell.

You let König guide your hand under the towel to where his first groin gland was situated, just between his member and his thigh. You took a deep breath, counted down, and pressed.

König snarled as you pressed down on him. He gripped the tub as tightly as he could with his free hand as you pushed down, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open in a silent scream. You could feel the wax flowing out into the water and looked up at König’s face. He slowly shut his mouth and relaxed, finally calming down. His hairy chest heaved as he panted heavily, but the job was only half way done.

König once again used his free hand to guide you in place and used the other to keep himself away from your hand. You looked into his eyes once more. He gave you an affirming nod, and then you pressed down. Again he growled and snapped as the worst of it was pushed out, only settling into a sigh once you had gotten rid of the rot.

You quickly drew your hands back to yourself. Somehow, your hands didn’t smell nearly as badly as you’d expected. You turned to wash your hands while König drained the tub and stood back up for his shower.

Not long after, König finally turned off the tap. You looked away as you handed him a towel. You heard him dry himself down before putting his clothes back on. Once he had finished brushing himself down, you dared to look at him.

He looked like a new man. His skin was cleaner, fresher, newer. His hair, though not perfect, was now a light shade of hay. Even his eyes seemed younger as he examined himself in the mirror. Even if he wasn’t quite as big as he used to be, you could see the shadow of the man before you. He could be better. He could heal.

You smiled brightly at him. König tried to smile back but clamped his jaw shut at the last minute.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

König pointed at his mouth.

“Oh, your teeth?” you asked.

He nodded sadly.

“Hold on one sec,” you muttered as you searched through the medicine cabinet. It took a few minutes, but soon you turned back triumphantly with a toothbrush in hand.

König carefully plucked it from your fingers. He looked it over carefully before running it under the sink. You watched him finally brush his teeth and rinse his mouth with mouthwash. He looked back up in the mirror and opened his mouth wide and checked around his mouth. He stuck out his tongue. Pink. 

You smiled. When you looked in the mirror, you could see him smile too.

Konig Dump

Konig Alternate Universes