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chanranghaeys · 2 days ago

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🎥 chemistry read

in which junhui’s casting director gets a little bit too jealous during a chemistry read

pairing: actor!junhui x afab!casting director!reader word count: 2.1k+ genre: hurt, comfort, nsfw rating: r-18. nsfw, mdni! tags: established relationship, JEALOUSY, fluffy ending, reader is mentioned to be smaller than jun, i claim no accuracy over the movie industry processes nsfw warnings: heavy makeout, petting, voyeurism (if you squint?) a/n: mainly inspired by lana condor and noah centineo’s chemistry read for “to all the boys i’ve loved before” and it still lives rent-free in my head because it made me feel so, so many things. also my first nsfw-rated fic oh my. took me a while to make sense of where the story was going but it seemed all roads led to this. credits to @strxwberry-skiess, @diamonddaze01, @haologram, and c for beta reading because this took a village to get out!! thank you bless your souls 🫶

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Do you believe in the red string of fate?”

“The what?”

“The red string of fate. Have you seriously not heard of it?”

Jun was pulling out all the stops for this one. He had cranked up his charm to the max level evident in the smiles and subtle glances towards her direction. He knew exactly what he was doing.

It was sickening.

You were sitting on the opposite end of the screen in another room. Yes, you chose to go into a separate room today.

“It’s to see the literal on-screen chemistry,” you said. “We can’t have the face-to-face chemistry not translating well on camera.”

Just as well. You’d had enough of them making heart eyes at each other right in front of you anyway.

Today’s schedule was packed with absolutely no time for breaks in between and no time to even sit for a proper meal which you knew you’d only get by the end of the day.

And no time to actually sit down with the actor you were working with—who you were also lucky enough to call your boyfriend.

If you too were an actor, you’d truly believe that Jun was the perfect fit for you. It was something about his carefree presence and easygoing demeanor that turned shy when praises were directed at him no matter how much he deserved it. It was something that made you want to keep rooting for him.

He saw precisely that in you: your unwavering dedication and quiet support, whether in giving him insider tips and tricks to get ahead or letting him run wild with his character at every casting call. It was something he had never seen so strongly in someone during his time as an actor.

“You remind me of my members,” he told you the very first time you had coffee together—as colleagues who were on the verge of becoming something. “They’re my brothers. And I mean that in the best way possible! Not that you’re my brother in the messing around and crazy kind of way,” he quickly added when you raised your eyebrows in question. “I mean in the ‘always being there to stand by your side no matter what’ kind of way.” He sips from his drink nervously. “Don’t ask me to explain please, because I will not stop rambling until I say something even more stupid than I already have.”

You laughed because he’d already rambled more than he usually did. As a casting director, it was your job to match actors to roles that suited them perfectly. But as people, you both could say you did a mighty good job in matching each other’s quirks and freaks.

Professional mode on during work, you two agreed. And you two did very well on that promise.

But bringing her in for the role made it infinitely difficult for you to keep up your end of this deal.

“She’s an old friend of mine! We worked together on one of my very first projects, the small ones I used to tell you about.” He said this when you asked about her. You knew all that already, of course—it was part of your job.

But when the two finally met again in person, you saw it. As a casting director, your professional instincts felt it. You saw it in the way they instantly gravitated to each other, the way their eyes both sparkled, the way their hands naturally connected even after all those years apart.

They were perfect for the role.

And in your head, a small voice continued the thought you didn’t want to touch.

They were perfect for each other.

It was the same voice nagging in your head throughout the duration of the chemistry read. You knew this scene by heart as if you were the one auditioning for the role. You’ve watched how many callbacks and chemistry reads of this scene. And you knew what came next.

After the back-and-forth dialogue was a moment of silence, followed by a lingering gaze, which was sealed with a kiss that escalated to a bed scene. It was a pivotal moment in the film so it had to be perfect.

You’d almost been desensitized to your boyfriend doing such scenes—professional mode on as always. But all that work crumbled the moment you saw their eyes lock onscreen. Slowly, slowly, their faces inched closer together to meet in a kiss.

Your eyes burned. Your fist clenched as you saw his hand fist in her hair. Your jaw tightened when you saw her lips land in the corner of his jaw. And just as he brought her head down on the couch, the director called “Cut!” and you stood up to walk out of the room, not without feeling a stray tear fall down your cheek.

Jun heard the slam of the door and jerked his head toward the sound. That was all it took for him to know what happened.

He wasn't the only one to notice. Jun found the director’s eyes meeting his with a knowing look. “Alright,” the director started. “Well, they don't call it a chemistry read for nothing!” Scattered laughs filled the small room. “Thank you to both of you, that was absolutely amazing.”

The producers took the actress aside for a few words with other managers and staff. Your presence was notably absent.

Before Jun could slip away, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “That was the best read so far,” the director said.

“I know,” and with his eyebrows raised he continued, “I heard the door.”

The director just gave him a lighthearted laugh. “I’m sure we all did. But you know she would agree.”

Jun knew. So while everyone was preoccupied, he glanced at his manager—who already knew what he’d do—and set off to find you. It wasn’t a hard task because he opened the nearest door to the stairwell and found you leaning against the wall.

You met his eyes when you heard the door open, following him and his slight smile until he ended up a short distance beside you with his shoulder against the wall. You were adamant about not wanting him to see you break. You’re a professional, right?

“You know it’s not real,” he starts.

You scoff. “How is it not real when it was right in front of me?”

“Stop that, green isn’t a good color on you.”

“What?” Jarred, you look down at your staple all-black ensemble. “But green’s my favorite color. You told me you liked me in green.”

“Not when it’s green with jealousy.”

It took you two seconds to register what he said. The corner of your mouth twitched involuntarily at the quip. “I am not jealous.”

Jun barely held in a laugh. “Yeah, sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not!”

“Jealous you’re not the one I was kissing?”

“No, I—”

“Jealous you’re not the one I’m holding?” He reaches out and loops his finger through one of your belt loops to pull you closer, closer, until you’re both joined at the hip. He shifts to effectively pin you against the wall with his height. You shiver against his touch when his fingertips graze the base of your neck.

“Now, you stop that,” you breathily let out.

“Stop what?” He asks oh so innocently.

“This.”

“No. Not until I prove to you how real this is.” He grabs ahold of your hand, and places it somewhere you did not expect it to go: right over his clothed crotch.

He was wearing loose slacks, a piece that could easily hide things that need to be hidden. But if there was one thing you did know about Jun is that he gets hard quick and easy and it takes him a while to calm down. With your hand on it, you could feel it was anything but hard.

“You know me. You tell me if that read did anything remotely close to what you do to me.”

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can let out a reply, his lips land on yours. His actions catch you off-guard and you instinctively clutch onto his arms and your last bits of sanity. Just as quick, he breaks away and grabs your hand again to return it to where it came from.

“Keep it here, love. I need you to have the proof in your hands.” He brushes a stray hair from your face, and you see your own desire in his eyes reflected back to you. He leans in, but stops short of your lips, leaving you to chase after his touch. The smirk that followed was telling of his thoughts. He was teasing you. God.

You had no more patience for his fun and games. You could feel the pent-up frustration building. Whether from anger or sexual arousal, the line has been blurred irrevocably. With your free hand, you latch onto his hair and pull him in aggressively into an open-mouthed kiss.

It was at this moment that you both decided to think “fuck it” to all modes of professionalism.

He takes advantage of your open mouth and wastes no time diving deeper. You find yourself reciprocating his kisses, pulling him in closer as if recreating the scene you watched him do but making sure it was imprinted with your mark on him.

“I love you.” You hear it whispered, feel it muttered against your lips. “I love you, and only you,” he continues in between kisses. “I love you.”

And there it is: the proof you could feel quite literally in your hand, at the crux between his legs. If you weren’t too in the heat of the moment, you could almost laugh. He decided to prove his loyalty to you by showing that he did not get a boner during the chemistry read. It was your lips and your hands, and yours only, that could do this to him. It was peak Junhui.

But now, you were only aroused beyond comprehension, apparent in the pit of your core and the slick pooling in your panties. You squeeze him through his slacks and he moans lewdly in your mouth, echoing in the empty stairwell bearing witness to this obscenity.

He starts kissing and licking down your neck as you feel his hands snake under your blouse and your bra to squeeze in return, earning a gasp from your swollen mouth. You fist the hand you had in his hair tighter, fully aware that you are indeed messing it up and you will very much get a word from his stylist about this.

Your ringtone effectively silenced all other sounds you both made before things could go any further. You both stopped to look at each other with expressions that were hard to decipher whether in alarm or in exhilaration.

“Hello?”

You hear your director on the other end. “So have you two kissed and made up yet? Not literally, I hope.”

From the corner of your eye, Jun chuckled. You cleared your throat, but your voice was still a pitch too high when you replied, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Alright, now come on back here. We have dinner prepared for everyone, including the new girl. We still need to talk about her.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Now, okay? We’ve been stalling for you two.”

Ah, shit. “Okay. On the way.” You dropped the call and looked at Jun leaning back against the wall, whose hair he managed to salvage and whose clothes were almost presentable. You couldn’t say the same for your half-open jeans and messed-up lipstick.

Wordlessly, he pulls you in and helps tidy you up—fixing your hair as you put your clothes back together and wipe off the stray lipstick from your face.

“For the record,” he says as he tucks your hair behind your ear, “whatever chemistry you see on the screen is only because I have you in my head to draw inspiration from. There’s a reason why people close their eyes when they kiss. It’s you I see every time.”

You usually love it when Junhui rambles like this. You still do now, but you also recall his “green with jealousy” line and it fills you with embarrassment.

“It’s just…it looked so real. It felt so real. That was the best chemistry read out of all of them.”

“So I was told earlier.”

“It made me feel so many things.” The exasperation was evident in your voice.

He takes your hands this time and holds them tight. “I’ll make you feel even more things, I’m sure. But I will not let you forget that I will make you feel loved the most. Okay?”

You sigh. You love him. “I love you, Jun.”

“I love you, too.” He raises a hand to press a kiss on your knuckles.

“Also remind me to call building security. I must tell them to delete that footage from the stairwell.”

Jun gives you a quiet smile, one full of mischief. “Not without securing a copy first. For me. Please?”

“I thought we were professionals!”

“We could add professional rule-breakers to that title, you know.”

Hmm. You reconsider his request. Yep, you could definitely match his freak. Perfect chemistry.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

post a/n: inbox is open for requests or additions to taglists!

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wlwxreader · 12 hours ago

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Queen of the Wilderness

not my gif

Yandere!Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

Summary: After the crash, came the need for survival. And with that, came the hunger. When you get selected as The Queen of Hearts, your girlfriend Lottie does everything she can to keep you safe, and starts to think of you of some kind of almighty being

Warning(s): obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, cannibalism, mentions of blood, Lottie being a cult leader, power dynamics, protective!Lottie

Word Count: 2.6 k words

Request: here

A/N: might make a part 2 idk

Masterlist: tba

You had lost count of how many months you have been stuck in the forest with your teammates.

You used to keep a very precise count. Every time you woke up, you would add another number to the figure. You would repeat it throughout the day, like a mantra that kept you sane.

You stopped counting when Jackie died, and Lottie started to talk about the Wilderness.

It made no sense to keep count anymore. No one would ever come to rescue you. You didn’t want them to, after what you had done. You all had broken a sacred human oath; you had eaten human flesh. Your soul would be forever tainted. It was only fair that you had to live the rest of your days like that, always hungry, always weighed down by your mistakes.

Lottie had changed too, but in a way you didn’t expect to. She was the leader of the group now, always keeping everyone on check.

She also kept them fed.

You never questioned her. You knew her. You knew she was doing whatever she could to keep the group together, and alive. You had known her your entire life, you knew she wouldn’t hurt a fly.

You knew it.

So when they started doing the card game, and she was a willing participant, you knew it was for the best.

“We have to do it, Y/N,” she whispered quietly, rubbing your back as you dry heaved over a bucket. You were in the attic, it was late at night. You could see her silhouette only because of the moon light, shining through the naked trees.

“I know,” you whispered. You moved away from the bucket. No matter how much you hated yourself, your weakened body couldn’t bring itself to throw up.

You had just eaten a person, and you were so hungry you would have gone for another round.

“Come here,” she whispered. Her hands were cold, but when you rested your head on her chest, she was warm. So damn warm against the coldness.

“I hate it,” you said. You wanted to sob, but were too tired to do so.

“I know, baby.”

Her voice was soft, unlike when she talked to the group. With you, she was still warm, she was still Lottie.

“What do you think we would be doing now, if the plane never crashed?” you asked. You used to ask a lot of questions lately; you needed to hear her voice, so it would drown out everything else.

“We’d be in college,” Lottie said. She ran her hand through your hair, and you sighed. “We would be in the same university. I would’ve gotten us a place close to college, and we would be living together.”

“You think?” you asked, sleepily.

“Yeah,” Lottie said, with a certainty that made you feel relaxed. “We’ll always be together, baby. Always.”

You hummed, closing your eyes. You fell into a dreamless sleep, and Lottie allowed you, sitting down on the floor. When she was certain you wouldn’t wake up, she carried you to bed and put all the blankets she could find over your body.

She left the attic with a kiss on your forehead. Almost everyone was already sleeping, laying as close to the fire as they could be. Natalie was laying against one of the walls, deep in thought.

“Have we run out of meat already?” Lottie asked. She crossed her arms, waiting for the blonde to reply.

“We have food for tomorrow’s lunch,” she said. Her eyes were on the rifle, as if she was considering how crazy it would be to get out in the middle of the night to find an animal.

“That’s it?” Lottie looked out the window, as she too was wondering the same thing.

“Yeah,” Natalie sighed. She looked reluctant to even speak the words. “Tomorrow, we’ll have to play again.”

Play. Lottie almost laughed at the word. They haven’t played in too long. Not even since the plane crashed.

“Okay,” she said instead. “I’ll work on it.”

Lottie came back to the attic, and laid down beside you. She put her hand on your cheek, and smiled when you moved closer, seeking her out even in your sleep.

Lottie knew what they were doing, what she was doing, would be considered psychotic if anyone outside of the group were to find out. But they couldn’t hear the whispers that came with the wind, they couldn’t feel the hunger that stuck like cheap gum on long hair. They couldn’t, but she could, and she knew she had to listen to the wilderness to keep you alive.

You were the most important person in her life. You were her lifeline. When she first saw you, her breath had stopped for a second. She had wanted you ever since, and had done everything to ensure you stayed by her side. She had the means for it. Especially now, in the middle of nowhere, with a group of people that would do anything she asked for.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she whispered against your hair. “I promise.”

The Queen of Hearts.

The card stared back at you, almost mockingly.

You swallowed hard, looking around the room. You wanted to take it all in, the tranquility of the cabin before you turned the card around and everyone would be craving your meat like wild animals.

Your eyes caught Lottie’s. She looked beautiful, with her antler crown and her dark brown hair falling on soft waves. She looked back, always aware whenever you looked at her, and the smile she gave you froze midway when she noticed your face.

“No,” she said, arms falling down to her sides. All strength seemed to leave her all at once. While the others kept choosing a different card from the stack, she walked up to you in fast steps.

“Run.”

You looked into her wild eyes, feeling her fingers digging into your arms. You blinked once, twice, and then once more, and before you knew it, the card was on the ground and you were running towards the door.

“It’s Y/N,” Shauna said. She looked detached, gone. Her eyes no longer had any warmth in them.

“Fuck,” Natalie said, looking at Lottie. She rushed to grab the rifle and held tight onto it, making sure no one else would grab it and use it to hunt you.

“She can’t get away,” someone said, and it was as if a light switch was turned on.

Everyone except Lottie and Natalie left the cabin, searching for you. They screamed your name, running in different directions to find you.

“This can’t be right,” Lottie said, completely out of it. She stared at the door, eyes out of focus. “Y/N is mine. They wouldn’t hurt her. The wilderness promised. I promised.”

“I—” Natalie was lost for words. She had never been okay with anything they were doing. She felt guilty; if she had managed to find enough food to keep everyone well fed… “I’m so sorry, Lot.”

Hours went by, and you remained hidden.

You moved stealthily, remembering all the advice Nat had taught you in those times you hunted with her.

Keep your head down. Use the woods to your advantage. Never look back, always move forward.

You did as she had told you all those weeks ago. You could hear them all around you, steps that never flattered unlike yours, screams that called for your blood, for your death.

You kept going, until you fell down. You almost moaned, but held yourself back in time. If they heard you now, it would be over.

You looked at your foot, grabbing it. It hurt like a bitch.

Something moved to your left, and you ignored the pain to get up. You couldn’t fight anyone sitting on the floor.

Instead, you found yourself staring at a white hare. You blinked in disbelief. It couldn’t be possible. Nat and Travis had said time and time again there were no animals left to hunt.

So why was a hare right in front of you?

You watched as it dug into the snow, disappearing from sight. You crawled towards the place the animal had just been at, and you noticed a small hole. With desperation, using the last remaining rays of sunlight, you moved the snow away, trying to find what you thought could be your salvation.

The hare’s den.

Your hands were numb and freezing by the time you found it. There were at least ten of them, piled up together in their home to keep safe from the cold. You felt sorry for a second before you reached for the first one, wasting no time to twist its neck.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered as you sobbed. You took off your jacket, and laid the animal there. You did the same with the others, only thinking of how long they would keep the group fed.

They wouldn’t go rotten for a while if you kept them by the snow, and someone could make broth with them. If the group was smart, the animals laying on your jacket would keep you fed for well over a month.

You got up when you were done, trying not to think of what you had just done with those innocent hares. Your steps were clumsy and uneven, what with the snow and your throbbing ankle. You took a big sigh, and walked back to the cabin, hoping you could explain yourself before you were attacked by someone, anyone.

When you saw lights by the cabin, you almost went back into the woods. They had regrouped, probably arranging themselves into different groups to cover the entire forest until they found you.

Taissa was the first one to notice you, limping toward the cabin. In a moment of loyalty you had thought long forgotten, she shut her mouth and turned back around, giving you some ahead time to run.

But you didn’t. You moved forward, stepping loudly so everyone could hear.

“Y/N,” Lottie said, out of breath. She ran towards you, wrapping her arms tightly around you, knees deep in the snow you had just fallen to, incapable of holding yourself up anymore.

You knew then, with the way she was holding you, that she would die protecting you. She wouldn’t move away from you even if they crawled at her skin until they reached muscle and bone.

“Lottie,” Shauna said, almost weary. “Move away from Y/N.”

“You won’t take her away from me,” Lottie said. You had never heard her sound so fierce.

“We need food,” Misty said.

“I have food,” you said. Your voice was muffled by Lottie’s chest.

“What?”

You moved away from your girlfriend, and rested the jacket on the ground. Silence was the only response you recieved.

Everyone looked at the hares, in complete confusion.

“It’s not possible,” Natalie said. She kneeled down in front of you and grabbed one of the hares, as if to check if they were real.

“It is,” Lottie said, with a conviction that made you furrow your eyebrows. “Y/N has brought us food. She’s the Wilderness’ daughter.”

“What?” Shauna asked, looking between you and the hares.

“Can’t you see?” Lottie asked, getting up. She faced the entire group with a smile on her face. “She is mine, and she is protected by the Wilderness. The Wilderness is her mother.”

You wanted to shake your head, to tell Lottie to shut up, but you were still in shock. In a few days, you would process everything that had happened and finally understand the severity of the situation, of just how close you had been to being hunted by your own friends, but at the moment you couldn’t think of anything except how scared you were, so you just allowed Lottie to wrap her arms around your forearms, trying to help you get up.

“My foot,” you complained.

“Someone hurt you?” she asked, sweetly. Too cheerful given the situation.

“No.”

But Lottie didn’t hear you. She got up again, looking at the crowd with fire in her eyes.

“Do you see what you have done?” she asked. “You hurt her. You know what would’ve happened if someone had taken her from me?”

The group remained silent, looking at Lottie as if they were mesmerized. A few of the girls had kneeled down to grab one of the hares, them checking too if they were real, and had stayed there, kneeling in front of your girlfriend.

“Everyone would have been killed by the Wilderness. She has been benevolent this time, allowing you to hurt what’s mine and still keeping you fed. But it won’t happen again.”

You looked in disbelief as everyone nodded.

“Now go work on dinner, and be thankful for the food she has brought.”

To your utter surprise, Lottie grabbed you bride style and lifted you up. She made you rest your head on her shoulder, and carried you back to the cabin.

“I’m sorry, darling,” she whispered as she sat you down in one of the chairs that were by the fire. She kneeled before you, and took off your shoes. “I should’ve kept you safe. You shouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

You watched as she got up to get the little medical supplies there were left. She kneeled and grabbed your swollen foot, and left a kiss on your shin.

“I’ll do better next time,” she promised. She wrapped some bandage over the afflicted zone, apologizing when you complained. “I will. No more card games for you. No one is ever going to touch you again. No one but me.”

“Lottie…”

She gave you a smile after she was done with the bandage. It was slightly crooked, and a little tight, and she knew she should have asked Misty to do it, but she would rather die than see another woman touching you.

You were hers. She could finally understand— it had all happened for a reason. The two of you meeting, you joining the football team, the plane crash… It was all for a reason.

“Don’t you see, baby?” she asked, eyes wide open. A smile split her face in half, making you slightly uneasy. “You are mine. My queen. The child of the Wilderness. We both look out for you.”

On any other day, you would have been combative. You would have told her she was overreacting, and that she should calm down. That the entire thing was maddening, and it was no one’s fault.

But you were so tired, and your leg hurt, and you wanted to cry over the betrayal you had felt when your friends had tried to kill you to eat you.

So instead, you nodded, and followed her back to the attic.

“My baby,” Lottie wrapped a jacket around your shoulders. “You must’ve been so cold. But not anymore.”

She kissed your shoulder when you laid behind her on the bed, and you allowed her to hold you through the night.

Lottie smiled when she felt your breath slow down, indicating you had fallen asleep.

She could hear noises downstairs. The girls were already preparing dinner. She would go down in a while to grab food for the two of you, but until then, she held you tight.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfic #lottie matthews #lottie mathews x reader #yandere #yandere!lottie matthews #lottie matthews x you #jackie taylor #natalie scatorccio #shauna shipman #yellowjackets x reader #x reader #lesbian #wlw #Courtney Eaton #yj cast #courtney eaton x reader

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sammycutiepie · 3 hours ago

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*Hearts Beyond Reason*

Viktor

writer's note: hello here, ican't explain how much i enjoyed writing this, i have a soft spot for viktor. btw, for those who don't know, this story came from one of my arcane imagines, here is the link in case you want to see the other scenarios, of which i will continue to upload little stories like these during the course of this week, tomorrow it's jinx's turn ;)

link:

warnings: kind of a smut, blowjob, praise kink, mature language, princess treatment for my man, pet names, and a little bit of fluff... just a little bit, we love sassy viktor, also, reader is a baddie.

The auditorium was filled, a sea of brilliant minds awaiting eagerly. Viktor, a renowned scientist specializing in artificial intelligence and robotics, approached the podium with a modest posture, though his reputation preceded any presentation. With his calm and precise voice, he explained how his latest research in biotechnology could revolutionize smart prosthetics.

From your seat, you took quick notes, constantly reviewing to ensure nothing slipped by, as everything coming out of his mouth was incredibly brilliant and unprecedented. You had covered many scientific conferences, but there was something in his approach, in his ability to balance technical complexity with humanity, that kept you intrigued. Maybe it was his distinct kind of Czech accent or the way his eyes drifted to the ceiling, avoiding focusing on the crowd in front of him. He was nervous; public speaking wasn’t his forte, you immediately realized, and you found it incredibly endearing.

When he finished, the room erupted in applause. Apparently, you weren’t the only one impressed. You wasted no time and rushed toward him, dodging other attendees as if in a Mario Kart race.

"Excuse me, Mr. Viktor," you said, adjusting your glasses and catching your breath. "I’m a journalist from The Innovator's Journal. Could I have a brief interview?"

Viktor turned toward you, assessing you with a probing gaze.

You met his eyes with a faint smile, your long lashes fluttering in a cautious flirtation. Subtle non-verbal manipulations you had learned over your career, because journalism wasn’t an easy job, especially not for women. Sometimes, you had to make use of certain physical attributes to draw the attention of interview subjects.

But Viktor didn’t react the way others did. He didn’t look beyond your face.

"For The Innovator’s Journal?" he asked, his accent soft yet distinct. You nodded, mesmerized, and he seemed to consider your request. "I generally don’t accept impromptu interviews, but you seem... determined."

You took a step closer, but without fully invading his personal space, just enough to better perceive his scent. His fragrance was an esoteric, almost magical blend—soft yet noticeable. If stars had a scent, it would surely smell like him.

"I know how to seize opportunities when I see them," you replied with a sharp smile, not fully showing your teeth, as if toying with the possibilities.

A flicker of what seemed like amusement crossed his gaze before he nodded.

"Five minutes," he said, leading you to a quieter corner.

You blinked quickly, not expecting such an ultimatum. However, you didn’t keep him waiting and pulled out your recorder. Clearing your throat to keep your voice steady, you began.

"Your research has been described as a bridge between biotechnology and humanity. Is that what you’re aiming for?"

Viktor slightly tilted his head, as if finding the question deeper than expected.

"I seek to close the gaps," he responded calmly. "Between human abilities and the opportunities that technology offers."

"But some critics argue that it could make people too dependent on machines. How do you respond to that?"

You were known for being controversial; you liked pushing people to their limits. You loved seeing their reactions and enjoyed tense environments. Maybe it was a bit machiavellian, but you didn’t mind, you saw it as part of your job.

His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but because he was thinking carefully.

"Dependency isn’t the problem, but how we use what we create. Tools are an extension of our abilities, not a replacement."

He knew what he was doing. He had answered with careful words—if he weren’t a scientist, he’d have had a brilliant career in politics. His response was decisive, but you were expecting more, so you decided to take a risk with something more personal.

"And you? How do you see yourself on this bridge between humanity and technology?"

You asked it clearly regarding his physical disability, as he still walked with a cane and hadn’t implanted one of his much-publicized smart prosthetics.

He paused for a moment before answering. His gaze drifted slightly to the room before returning to you.

"I suppose I’m someone who walks that bridge carefully. It’s a fragile balance, but it’s necessary."

The way his words resonated, heavy with a sort of melancholy, made you forget, for a moment, that you were supposed to be the journalist. There was something more to him, something not easily revealed.

When you finished, you stored your recorder and dared to smile at him again, this time without ulterior motives—a genuine smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Viktor. It was a fascinating conversation," you said, tempted to add that he was equally fascinating, but you refrained.

You didn’t want to scare him off. Viktor seemed like the type of man who didn’t have much female contact, you could easily tell by his physical discomfort. When he spoke with you, his body was tense, and he didn’t gesticulate much. He seemed more like a robot than a person.

"A pleasure, Miss," he responded with a slight nod.

There was a brief silence before you decided to take the next step.

"I must admit, I’m not only intrigued by your work but by you as well. Would you like to continue this conversation over dinner?"

You felt your heart race when that question escaped your lips. You hoped you hadn’t scared him off. It was the first time in a long while that a man had caught your attention so intensely.

For a moment, Viktor seemed surprised. Then, his expression softened, though still laden with reservation.

"I don’t usually accept those types of invitations," he admitted, though his tone didn’t sound too convincing.

That wasn’t a rejection, at least not a definitive one. He was evaluating you. Clearly, he didn’t trust you yet. You adapted to the situation and played his game. You weren’t going to let such a man slip away so easily.

"And I don’t usually make them. Few things capture my attention enough to take such a risk. You see, Mr. Viktor, I’m not easily impressed," you replied, maintaining a confident gaze.

His lips curved just slightly into a smile, a kind of wry smirk that was impossible to read.

Viktor was an enigma you were dying to decode.

"In that case, I’ll accept. After all, curiosity is a virtue," he handed you his personal card with all his contact details, practically leaving everything in your hands, giving you the final word.

Your heart skipped another beat, and as you watched him leave, you knew that conversation was just the beginning. Oh, and you couldn’t wait to see what was coming next.

Viktor decided to go for one of his typical nightly walks after escaping that room filled with important names and fake smiles. Fortunately, he managed to slip away before getting caught up in that pathetic charade. Viktor despised those events; the so-called "scientists" who attended seemed more interested in taking pictures with him than in seriously discussing their projects. They didn’t care about science. In fact, Viktor often doubted whether they had ever opened a quantum physics book in their lives.

The sound of Viktor's footsteps echoed softly on the deserted sidewalk. It was one of those quiet nights when the city lights seemed to dissolve into the horizon, and the stars began to shine brightly. The calmness centered him, pulling him away from daily worries. During these moments, he could reflect on his research progress but also on the purpose science gave him. Sometimes, when the air was fresh and clear, he allowed himself to think of something more personal.

The conversations from that day at the conference still lingered in his mind. Her. The journalist he had spoken to after his presentation. There was something about her that had unsettled him: her sharp curiosity, her direct way of asking questions, and, most of all, the way she wasn’t afraid to challenge him. That had left him pondering. After so many years in the academic and scientific world, it was rare for someone to go beyond technical topics and ask him something more personal. But she had done just that.

A sigh escaped his lips as he looked up at the starry sky. The stillness of the universe, the precision of planetary orbits—all of it seemed to have a purpose. But in his own life, everything was in constant flux. After the interview, she had asked him out. It had been unexpected, but Viktor couldn’t help feeling intrigued. The sensation of uncertainty and anticipation kept him on edge as he walked through the nearby park.

The sound of a message interrupted his thoughts. He pulled out his phone, still gazing at the stars, and saw a LinkedIn notification: a connection request from her. Something in his stomach flipped. What was she expecting from him? A deeper conversation, perhaps? It was a world of unknowns. Viktor wasn’t someone who let curiosity drive him, but there was something about this woman—something about her intellect—that kept him captivated.

One step at a time, he thought, as he accepted the request, not really knowing what to expect from it.

Three days later, in the cozy restaurant where they had agreed to meet, Viktor couldn’t stop rehearsing the words he had mentally prepared. This wasn’t the kind of social situation he excelled at; the conference had been easier, more technical. But now, sitting across from you, there was something that made him feel vulnerable. It wasn’t just his work at stake.

You arrived on time. He watched you as you walked through the restaurant door. The warm light from the lamps highlighted your face, but what immediately caught his attention was the way you walked: confident, yet with a seriousness that belied any facade of superficiality. He had seen you in your role as a journalist, but now, here, he couldn’t help but feel disoriented by your presence.

"Are you nervous?" you asked with a slight smile, noticing the small drops of sweat on his forehead.

"No, just... thoughtful," Viktor replied, more out of habit than sincerity.

The conversation began with that slight tug of awkwardness, something he had already anticipated.

You both took a seat, and after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, you started asking him questions about his research, careful to use a tone that indicated you weren’t just interested in professional matters.

“Why did you choose biotechnology, Viktor? It’s not an easy or straightforward discipline.” It was the first time you addressed him informally, and it seemed to please him because you noticed his shoulders relaxed.

Viktor studied your face more closely. In your gaze, there wasn’t just curiosity but genuine interest. Finally, he could see that you weren’t merely seeking more information for your work but something more.

“It’s a way to try to surpass my own limits. Since I was a child, I’ve been obsessed with the idea that the human body can be improved, even when physical limitations seem insurmountable,” he said, his words tinged with vulnerability. He looked at you and felt satisfied seeing you listening intently. “At some point, I realized I wasn’t just trying to improve my body but others’ as well.”

You didn’t look at him as a distant scientist but as someone who had dedicated his life to a cause. The sincerity in his words struck you unexpectedly.

“But what happens when science becomes too big? When humanity is lost in the process?”

Viktor paused. That was the question he feared most, yet you had posed it with a disarming naturalness.

“That’s what I try to avoid,” he replied, almost in a whisper. “Science should serve humanity, not dominate it. But sometimes... the path forward is uncertain.”

At that moment, the air between you grew tense. Viktor’s universe, which until then had been filled with cold equations and formulas, seemed to crumble a little before you, as if everything he had built was only a reflection of his own insecurities.

The waiter brought the food, but neither of you seemed to notice.

“I’m surprised by how open you are about this. Most people with physical disabilities are quite reserved when it comes to their condition,” you said sincerely, trying to lighten the moment, though the seriousness of the conversation lingered.

“The truth is... no one’s ever asked me before,” he admitted, unable to suppress the faint smile that formed on his lips.

You continued to observe him, this time with more depth, more intensity.

“I think that’s what draws me to your work, Viktor. It’s not just the science; it’s the way you constantly question yourself. It’s as if you’re searching for something more than just solutions.” You were fascinated, and you weren’t afraid to show it.

There was a silence—the kind of silence that invites something more. Viktor pondered how to explain himself.

“The search for answers never ends. And sometimes... that’s all you have.”

You smiled, amused. Conversations with him were always unpredictable. You glanced around the room, noting the soft lighting, the dancing shadows on the walls, the distant murmur of other diners… It all faded when Viktor spoke. Every word that left his mouth seemed designed to disarm you, to subtly but directly pull you out of your comfort zone—a remarkable feat for a journalist like you.

“So, what drives you to follow this path?” you asked, your voice soft but loaded with genuine interest, studying every reaction Viktor gave. With each new sentence, you sought to challenge him, wanting more than his opinion—something beyond his scientific facade.

Viktor looked at you over his glass of wine, his gaze more cautious than he would have liked to admit. The way you were interested in his words was unusual. Most people saw his research as mere achievements or theories. But you saw him—the person, the man behind the genius.

“It’s not just about science,” Viktor replied, but his voice sounded less sure than he had hoped. Something in the air between you unsettled him. There was something in the way you looked at him, with an intensity that made him feel exposed. “It’s about changing the rules, about finding what... what others don’t see.”

You smiled, but not kindly. There was a glint of amusement in your eyes, playing a game only you seemed to know.

“And what do you see, Viktor?” you asked provocatively, your lips curving with mischief. It wasn’t just a simple question. Every word you spoke was a touch, a brush, something that pushed him to let you see more, to say more than he was willing to reveal.

Viktor felt trapped in your gaze but couldn’t look away. Something about you stirred the need to talk, to expose his vulnerability. The tension was palpable; each new interaction seemed like another step in an invisible dance.

“I see a world full of possibilities…” he replied, more by instinct than reflection. He was far from his scientific research, from the cold and calculated equations. Here, there were no formulas he could apply. It was just you and him—and a chemistry as tangible as the air surrounding you.

You let your eyes slowly glide over him as if evaluating every facet of his being, every word, every gesture. It was a silent analysis, one you didn’t bother hiding. Viktor could feel himself being drawn into your scrutiny.

“Is that all you see?” you whispered, leaning slightly closer to the table, keeping your eyes fixed on his, determined to unravel his mask of control. “I think there’s more, something you haven’t said.”

The air between you thickened. Viktor swallowed hard, feeling his heart beat faster than usual. You had hit the mark, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue this conversation—not with the way you were looking at him now, like a predator stalking its prey.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice lower than usual, though something in his eyes glimmered with more than doubt—there was something urging him to let go.

Without missing a beat, you picked up your wine glass and, in a motion so smooth it seemed casual, brought it to your lips, looking at him over the rim. You said nothing, but Viktor understood the silent invitation. The chemistry was there between you, dense and palpable. The brush of your lips, the way your fingers grazed the glass… Everything was a subtle provocation, a game neither of you was willing to lose.

Viktor leaned slightly forward, letting the distance between you shrink. His breath hitched for a moment, and when he spoke, his tone was low—so intimate it almost felt like a confession.

“I’m not a man who lets himself go…” he said, but his words didn’t convince even himself. He was caught in the current of what was happening, in the tension woven between your bodies.

“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow, your demeanor now a little more challenging. Your voice carried a subtle provocation but didn’t lose the softness that characterized your way of speaking.

You were a challenge, and Viktor, though he denied it, was more than willing to accept it—to accept you.

The conversation veered into more personal matters, and as it did, the words became softer, closer, as if the two of you were walking a fine line between professional and intimate. Viktor realized that every phrase that left your lips not only challenged him intellectually but also disarmed him emotionally.

Time flew by, and when dessert arrived, both of you knew the night was far from over. Viktor was restless, but in a way unfamiliar to him.

You, on the other hand, enjoyed your effect on him. It was so amusing to see how he held his breath when you 'accidentally' grazed his right leg with your heel under the table. The way the corners of his mouth trembled, creating a slight pout, as if silently asking for more. You found yourself in total surrender—if that man asked for the moon, you'd head to space to fetch it for him. But, of course, you wouldn't let him know that. Not yet.

At the end of the dinner, after talking about everything and nothing, Viktor leaned forward, looking at you with an expression that, for the first time that night, showed a mix of determination and something else... something unsettling.

"Would you like to come to my place?" he asked, his voice now firm, though tinged with a touch of uncertainty. There was something in his words that made him more vulnerable, as if he needed this connection, this closeness.

And you couldn’t help but feel the same.

"I’d love to," you replied, and your confirmation hit Viktor like a direct blow to the heart.

It was clear: the night had only just begun.

Viktor's house was exactly what you expected from him: minimalist, functional, almost austere in its decoration. Yet, there was something incredibly cozy about the way everything was arranged. The dim lighting, the soft classical music playing in the background, the faint aroma of incense that filled the air... Everything was meticulously designed to soothe, to find the balance he so clearly sought.

The atmosphere was perfect, but you couldn't help but feel that the air was heavy, charged with something more than just the fragrance of the incense. It was as if Viktor's home itself reflected the inner struggle he carried: orderly, precise, but so, so empty.

Viktor watched as your eyes scanned his home with a mix of curiosity and caution. In your gaze, there was something he couldn’t quite read—an air of control and, at the same time, total vulnerability. It was obvious he wasn’t used to showing his private life, but he said nothing.

As usual, you broke the silence first. You approached the living room table, lightly touching the polished wooden surface, your fingers brushing against the objects decorating it.

"You have an… interesting house," you commented in a tone that could be interpreted as sarcastic. You wanted to tease him.

Viktor glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a slight hint of discomfort visible on his face.

"I don’t like distractions," he replied curtly, but the look he gave you was more complex. A hint of something hidden beneath the surface, something he wasn’t ready to share.

You didn’t bother to insist. Instead, you turned toward him, and before Viktor could react, you stepped forward, eagerly. Every step you took felt as if you were crossing an invisible boundary, challenging every rule Viktor had built for himself. You wanted to push him to his limits, to shatter his perfect facade, to strip him bare in both body and soul.

"I think distractions are necessary sometimes," you murmured slowly and sensually, your tone laden with subtext Viktor immediately recognized.

He stood frozen, unable to look away. Something in your voice disarmed him, something in your presence made him want to open up in a way he wasn’t accustomed to. And yet, he couldn’t resist it.

"And what kind of distraction do you have in mind?" His voice came out deeper than he had intended, with a hint of unease he couldn’t disguise.

Your tongue traced the edges of your lips slowly, not quite touching your lipstick, just teasing, just enough to draw his attention to your mouth. When you succeeded, you smirked wickedly.

Viktor swallowed hard, unconsciously licking his own lips, an involuntary, clumsy act that left him defenseless against you.

"How about a conversation without filters?" you suggested, your voice almost a whisper.

Your fingers moved closer to his chest, gently brushing the lapel of his jacket, exploring every inch of his form with your eyes before deciding whether to touch or not, like a soldier in unknown territory. Viktor swallowed with difficulty, feeling his body respond to that simple touch, that closeness he hadn’t anticipated.

You didn’t back away for a moment, keeping eye contact with him while your fingers still toyed with the fabric of his clothes. Viktor felt a weight in his chest, not just from the tension of the moment, but from the need to step away, to stop letting you control him this way. Yet, something in him didn’t want you to stop.

"What I want, Viktor..." you began, your voice a whisper charged with a confidence that unsettled him, "...is for you to show me who you really are. Not the genius everyone knows, not the scientific leader everyone respects. Just you. The man behind it all. Show me the real you."

Viktor took a deep breath, feeling those words cut deep. He had never allowed anyone to see him that way. He had never let anyone get this close. And yet, here you were, making him feel like it was impossible not to open up to you. Like it was impossible to deny the need to surrender, even for a moment, to something beyond science, beyond reason.

You moved even closer, your lips just a few centimeters from his. The distance was minimal but enough to make the tension between you almost unbearable. Your breaths mingled, and Viktor could feel the heat emanating from you, the palpable desire surrounding you both.

"And if I don’t want you to see that?" His voice was low but defiant, as if trying to protect himself from something he knew, deep down, he could no longer avoid.

You found yourself smiling again, but this time it wasn’t a playful smile. It was a smile of understanding because you had confirmed your suspicions.

Viktor was afraid of connecting with someone. Maybe he didn’t even know how to do it; maybe he never had and had always convinced himself he didn’t need to—that with his machines and equations, he would have enough.

"Then why am I here?" you asked, not moving back even a millimeter.

For a brief moment, Viktor felt trapped. He couldn’t lie, couldn’t keep his distance. Something inside him wanted to give in, wanted to feel vulnerable, for once, without the weight of perfection he imposed on himself.

"Because..." he began, but his words faded into the air when you pulled him toward you, your lips brushing lightly against his. It was a fleeting touch, so brief that Viktor barely had time to process it, but it left him trembling, gripping his cane tighter as he felt he might lose his balance.

You looked into his eyes, waiting for a reaction, any kind of response, some indicator, a confirmation, anything. Viktor stood there, motionless, but his thoughts were a whirlwind. The strength he had resisted with all night dissolved in that contact, and for the first time, he felt the raw, real desire to embrace vulnerability. To let go.

Without a word, Viktor kissed you. At first, it was slow, cautious, and clumsy, as if testing the waters, afraid of diving too quickly. But you weren’t interested in caution; you pulled him into you, craving more contact, more friction, more intimacy...

Your tongue made its way into his mouth, tracing his front teeth and laughing in his face when you heard him sigh in surprise. Your hands traveled to the back of his neck and you took complete control. You devoured him. You sucked and bit as you went. You ate up all his moans and swallowed him greedily.

When you separated, you both breathed heavily. Viktor, his mind clouded by desire, felt a strange sense of lightness. For a moment, the scientist in him had completely disappeared. You didn't waste his moment of confusion and pushed him onto the couch behind him. Viktor fell awkwardly and humiliatingly, his cane had fallen to the floor, and his long, weak legs were spread wide. His brown hair was messy, and his eyes were as wide as they were bright.

You smiled, he looked ready to be devoured. You took a step and raised your foot on the furniture, placing it right in front of Viktor's crotch. You bent your torso and appreciated his blush up close.

"Don't think about it too much, Viktor. Just... let yourself go. Let me take care of you. Can you do that?" you asked, taking him by his thin chin, he nodded slowly and shakily, like a lamb at the mercy of a wolf, and the truth is that metaphor was not so far from reality.

He's not used to relinquishing control, but in this moment, he finds himself craving it. Craving you. And you noticed it, you noticed his desire, his wish to lose himself in you, so you were going to give him your best. You wanted to make him feel good. Really good.

"Oh, aren't you a pretty boy?," you said, pressing the sharp tip of your heel into his cock. Viktor inhales sharply, his hips bucking instinctively into your touch, he was like a hungry puppy. A strangled moan escapes his lips, his eyes fluttering closed at the sudden surge of pleasure-pain. "So obedient and willing to help, to give his best, as always."

He flushes at your teasing words, a mix of embarrassment and arousal coloring his pale skin. Viktor's not used to being called sweet or pretty, least of all in a situation like this. But the way you say it, with that wicked gleam in your eyes and that smirk on your lips... it makes him want to be those things. For you.

Humming softly, he reaches up to cover your hand on his chin with his own, guiding it to his chest. His heartbeat is rapid and strong beneath your palm, a silent testament to his desire. "I am not... accustomed to such directness", he admits, his voice rough with need. "But I find myself appreciating it." Viktor's other hand comes to rest on your calf. It's a tentative touch, almost hesitant, but unmistakably eager.

His broken voice. His defeated expression. The way his hand caressed your leg, so sweet yet so hard. It was too much. You needed to please him as soon as possible.

"You're so cute," you had to bite your lip to keep from cursing, "Can I eat you?"

Viktor's eyes widen at your bold question, a wave of heat rushing to his cheeks and other more sensitive areas. He's not used to such crude, direct language, especially not from someone as cool and collected as you show to be. It catches him off guard and sets his heart racing.

As you kneels down in front of him, Viktor's breath hitches in his throat. He looks down at you, his amber eyes searching your face for any hint of jest or deception. But he finds none. Only a hunger that matches his own, a desire that makes his stomach flip and his mouth go dry.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Viktor nods. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, his words almost lost amidst the pounding of his own heartbeat. "I... I would like that. Very much," he swallows hard, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

Viktor's hands come to rest on the couch beside him, gripping the fabric tightly. He's not sure what to do with himself, how to act in this new role of his. All he knows is that he wants you, wants your touch, wants your everything. And so, with a deep breath, he spreads his legs a little wider, a silent invitation.

"Can I take off your pants?" you knew you didn't need to ask, it was more than obvious that you both wanted to. But your goal was to enjoy this new facet of Viktor, you were liking this tender and submissive Viktor a little bit too much.

Viktor feels is heart pounding in his chest as he stares down at you kneeling before him. The sight sends a jolt of anticipation and arousal through his body, his cock throbbing almost painfully against the confines of his pants.

With a shaky nod, Viktor lifts his hips slightly, allowing you to slip your fingers under the waistband of his pants. His breath catches in his throat as you start to tug them down, inch by torturous inch. The cool air of the house hits his skin, making him shiver and his member twitch. Once his pants and underwear are off, Viktor sits bare before you, his legs splayed out and his arousal evident. He resists the urge to cover up, forcing himself to stay still and let you appreciate him. His cheeks burn with embarrassment and desire, his chest heaving with each ragged breath.

"You're even prettier down here," your compliment makes him choke on his saliva.

The way you look at him, with your eyes roaming hungrily over every inch of his exposed flesh... it makes him feel powerful. Desired. Needed. And Viktor has never felt needed.

He squirms slightly under your intense scrutiny, his cock jumping at the slightest brush of your fingertips against his thigh. Viktor's voice is low and rough when he speaks, his words laced with need.

"I am glad you find me pleasing. I must admit, I have never been inspected quite so... thoroughly before," his lips twitch into a tentative smile, his eyes darkened with desire as they meet yours.

Well, that was a new side. A sassy and naughty one. And you loved it even more.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Viktor reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. He was so sweet, you wanted to hug him and never let him go.

His fingers linger on your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw and the soft swell of your lower lip.

It was impossible for you not to smile with tenderness, you let your face rest on his thin hand. Then you looked him straight in the eyes, your desire to tease him never completely went away.

"It's so funny how you keep using your fancy talk despite being in this situation," you had to comment, and as expected, the blush returned to his cheeks. Adorable. "Here, take my hair."

Your request was very unexpected.

Viktor blinks in momentary confusion as you hands him your long hair, unsure of your intentions. But as your warm breath ghosts over his sensitive flesh, he quickly forgets his bewilderment, replaced by a surge of anticipation.

He takes the silky strands in his hand, marveling at the weight of them, the way they slip through his fingers. Viktor's heart races as you lean in, your lips parting to reveal the wet heat of your mouth.

And then, you takes him. All of him. Viktor's head falls back against the couch, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as your lips seal around his throbbing cock. The sensation is incredible, unlike anything he's ever felt before. Your tongue swirls around his length, exploring every ridge and vein with a curiosity that borders on reverence.

Viktor's grip tightens on your hair as he fights the urge to thrust into the wet heat of your mouth. He was so overwhelmed, so consumed by sensation. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

His breath comes in short, sharp gasps as you works over his cock, your head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm. Viktor's never been more grateful for his weakness, for the way his leg keeps him rooted to the spot, unable to move anything but his hips in shallow, aborted thrusts.

You looked at him without stopping sucking at any time, you were hungry for him. You loved seeing him so vulnerable and so pleased by you. In fact, you wanted to give him more pleasure, you wanted to take him to paradise and bring him back.

Viktor's eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused as he stares down at you. The sight of you, so hungry and eager, your lips stretched around his throbbing flesh... was almost too much to bear. His breath comes in harsh, ragged pants as you continues your assault, your tongue and lips and the wet, sucking heat of your mouth pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Viktor's fingers tighten almost painfully in your hair, his hips jerking and stuttering as he fights the urge to lose himself completely.

Your eyes meet his, intense and filled with a passion that makes his heart race.

His balls draw up tight, his cock pulsing and throbbing as his climax approaches, and with a pathetic cry, Viktor comes undone, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave. His cock jerks and pulses as he spills himself into your eager mouth, his fingers tightening almost cruelly in your scalp as he rides out the aftershocks of his intense orgasm.

As the waves of pleasure start to subside, Viktor slowly comes back to himself, his breathing still ragged and uneven. It takes a moment for the reality of what just happened to sink in - he just came, hard and fast, in your mouth, and you just swallowed it.

Viktor was mortified. A deep, blotchy red spread across his pale skin, creeping down his neck and pooling at his collarbone. Each shaky breath he took only seemed to fan the flames of his embarrassment. His hands, usually steady when working on intricate mechanisms, now trembled as they gripped the edge of the couch. When he tried to pull away, mumbling apologies, you stopped him gently but firmly.

Your hand stayed where it was, warm and reassuring, keeping him grounded in the present moment. “No, Viktor,” you murmured softly, your voice calm and soothing, like a balm for his raw nerves.

“I… I’m so sorry,” he stammered, his voice rough and broken. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, his golden eyes fixed somewhere far away, as though retreating into himself might erase what had just happened. “That was… incredibly inappropriate of me. I couldn’t control myself… I couldn’t…” His voice faltered, fading into a silence heavy with shame.

Without a word, you shifted closer, carefully settling onto his lap. Your presence made him tense at first, but as your warmth seeped into him, you felt his rigid posture begin to soften.

Viktor swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he tried to continue. “I feel so selfish,” he admitted in a hoarse whisper. “I couldn’t hold back… and I couldn’t… I couldn’t give you anything in return. I didn’t—” His words broke off, and he turned his head, as if hiding from you might shield him from his own insecurities. “I’m pathetic.”

Your heart ached at his confession. It wasn’t just his words—it was the weight they carried, the insecurities and self-doubt that had clearly plagued him for years. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug that was firm but full of tenderness, as if trying to hold all the broken pieces of him together.

Your fingers found their way to his messy hair, threading through the soft strands with care. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back slightly to cradle his face in your hands. His cheeks were still flushed, and his expression was a mix of embarrassment and surprise, but he didn’t resist.

“Viktor,” you said gently, your tone low but filled with conviction. “Look at me.”

He hesitated, his golden eyes darting nervously before finally meeting yours. They were full of hesitation, as if he were bracing himself for judgment. But all he found in your gaze was warmth.

“Do I look like someone who’s disappointed?” you asked, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Before he could stammer out a response, you continued, your thumbs brushing lightly across his cheeks. “This was our first time trying something like this. It’s normal that it was so… intense. It’s a natural reaction, Viktor, and nothing to feel ashamed of.”

He blinked at you, his confusion evident, but you weren’t done yet. A playful glint sparkled in your eyes as you leaned in slightly closer. “And if I’m being honest,” you added, your voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “I enjoyed every second of it. I’ve been fantasizing about moments like this since the day I met you.”

The way his eyes widened and his blush deepened was almost enough to make you laugh. But instead, you smiled softly, leaning in to brush your lips lightly against his ear. “Besides,” you whispered, your tone teasing but full of affection, “this is only the beginning, pretty boy. We’ve got plenty of time for moments like this.”

His breath hitched at the nickname, and for a moment, he looked completely disarmed. He nodded slowly, his embarrassment still evident, but there was a flicker of trust in his gaze now.

It was then that you noticed the exhaustion etched into his features—the dark circles under his eyes, the slump of his shoulders. It was obvious that he had been working tirelessly, likely pushing himself past his limits, as he always did and confessed to you. And now, after everything that had just happened, the tiredness seemed to weigh on him even more.

“Do you want to cuddle tonight?” you asked casually, though your tone was laced with affection. You already knew the answer. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and he needed rest.

Viktor looked at you, his expression softening into something that resembled gratitude. “Yes… please,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, you guided him to lie down with you, pulling him close until his head rested against your chest. His arms hesitated at first before wrapping around your waist tentatively, and you could feel the tension slowly melting away from his body.

As you ran your fingers through his hair and whispered soft reassurances, you felt his breathing slow, syncing with yours. He sighed softly, his entire body relaxing in your embrace. In that quiet, intimate moment, you felt a wave of protectiveness wash over you.

Holding him like this, you silently promised yourself that you would always be there for him. To remind him that he didn’t have to face his insecurities alone, that he didn’t have to be perfect to be loved. He was enough—just as he was. And as he drifted off to sleep, you knew he felt it too.

The first rays of dawn began to filter through the windows of Viktor's home. The atmosphere, which had been warm and charged with intensity, was now tinged with a calmer, more reflective silence.

Both of you lay together on the sofa, your bodies entwined and your breaths synchronized. Viktor rested against you, his face buried in your hair, his fingers tracing abstract patterns along your back as if trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

"I never thought..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

You lifted your head to look at him, the light in his eyes still a mix of disbelief and tenderness.

"Never thought what?" you asked softly, your fingers brushing against his jawline.

"I never thought I’d need this as much as I do now." His confession was simple yet heavy with meaning. His barriers had fallen, at least with you, and you both understood the weight of that.

You smiled, feeling how deeply those words resonated within you. There was something profoundly beautiful about seeing someone like Viktor—so used to solitude and sacrifice—allow himself this kind of vulnerability.

"We all need something, Viktor. Even you." Your tone was gentle but firm, making it clear you wouldn’t let him retreat behind his mask of self-reliance again.

Viktor nodded but said nothing more. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and steady. It was a simple gesture but full of quiet affection, a language you were both beginning to understand.

As the hours passed, you talked about mundane and profound things, from his advancements to favorite books. The walls of Viktor’s home, which had once felt so empty, now carried an unexpected warmth—a spark neither of you was willing to extinguish.

Before you left, Viktor reached for your hand, his grip gentle but firm.

"I don’t know how to fit this into my life… with you," he admitted. His words were sincere, almost fearful, but his gaze said something else: he wanted to try, and for the first time, he was willing to open that door.

You looked at him, and with a calm smile, you squeezed his hand.

"You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Just… don’t close the door before seeing what’s on the other side."

And with that, you left his house, though not without one last look that spoke more than words ever could.

#arcane x reader #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #viktor x you #viktor smut #viktor fanfic #viktor fluff #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x oc #arcane fanfic #arcane smut #arcane fluff #arcane au

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orange-orchard-system · 12 hours ago

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Aplatonic: someone who experiences little to no platonic attraction. That is to say, a person who is aplatonic has little to no intrinsic, automatic desire for friendship (or, depending on how they personally define it, other platonic relationships). By comparison, most people are alloplatonic, meaning they regularly experience platonic attraction without anything complicating or restricting it.

People who are aplatonic may or may not participate in friendship with others, regardless of their lack of attraction. They may also desire friends for reasons unrelated to platonic attraction (ex. "I like talking regularly with other people who like the same things as me, and friendship is the best way I've found to achieve that, but I don't feel any strong pull towards those I call my friends.") But of course, there are always those who do not participate in a particular kind of relationship precisely because they feel no attraction driving them to enter those relationships. Those who do not participate in friendship are often called friendless – not as an insult, but as a genuine, personal identity label – or non-friending, with the latter (non-friending) being more common.

Some people also use the aplatonic label to specifically refer to not wanting any queerplatonic relationships (relationships that fall outside expected norms and can't be neatly categorized as platonic, romantic, or another type of relationship). This appears to be becoming less and less common over time, however, as the other definition I gave above gains more prominence and awareness.

Aplatonic is often shortened to just "apl", the same way aromantic is often shortened to "aro" and asexual is often shortened to "ace". As you can probably guess, apple jokes and symbols popped up within the community as a result of "apl" sounding identical to "apple"

For those who experience some attraction but are not alloplatonic, the labels "aplspec" or "grayplatonic" may be used. Alternatively, a person might just use "aplatonic" as an umbrella term that covers their experiences.

Aplatonicism falls under the aspec umbrella – aspec meaning "little to no attraction of one or more kinds". Asexual and aromantic are the most well-known subsets of the aspec umbrella, with aplatonic after them, afamilial (little to no familial attraction; little to no intrinsic desire to have family/familial relationships) after that, and then numerous smaller aspec communities for other forms of attraction (or should I say, the lack thereof)

I am so tired of people somehow misinterpreting aplatonicism when they fully understand asexuality and aromanticism. Or, to make my point clearer, I am absolutely befuddled by people who know what "asexual" and "aromantic" mean, but somehow revert to half-baked understandings of aspec lives and identities when someone is aplatonic, as if it's impossible to take even the slightest guess at what this ~new, unfamiliar word~ means. I could understand it from someone who doesn't understand anything about any aspec identity but how and why is "It's just not wanting friends, right?" coming from the people who supposedly know a lot about aspec stuff and regularly participate in the aspec community. How have you gotten this far? It's not like the names for these things are confusing or extremely different – each of our identities is just "a" + (the type of attraction someone lacks). Maybe, just maybe, like how these other words you already know mean "experiences little to no (x) attraction", this other word that follows the exact same pattern also means that same thing. I didn't go through the trenches of "ace discourse" horseshit and the aspec community recovering from that hell for people to create the friend version of "asexuality is just celibacy".

#front soup.txt #aplspec #this may sound a little stilted. sorry about that #thank you for asking!

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asarigg · 22 hours ago

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Inside the Character's Mind: Part 3

AOBA'S JEALOUSY

To be honest, I find it difficult to decide in what order to look at the different scenes in their lives. I don’t know whether to do it chronologically, thematically, or as they appear in the game, and that’s without having in mind that I lose track of what I write easily.

Before continuing, I would like to comment on one aspect that never convinced me about how NC wrote this character, as I mentioned with other aspects above. It is probably what I like the least, I think it is very poorly used and lays a questionable foundation for the character that in my opinion does not do him justice.

The first thing we see of him is him throwing one of his client’s boyfriend to the ground for causing trouble, and a bunch of women wetting their panties around him. Again, I don’t mean to get into the sexism issue right now, but it’s inevitable to mention it. Having a fan club isn’t a bad idea, but of course the only thing they could ever do was to make a bunch of annoying, yelling, toxic and childish women behaving like they’re 15 and had never spoken to a man before. They’ve worked on it in the most superficial and stereotypical way possible that the only thing it leads to is discomfort and rejection of the idea of meeting him again. And the worst thing is that it’s not just you, it’s also Aoba, so they don’t help much. Luckily it doesn’t last too long.

Obviously you can’t just lay it all out right from the start, it’s normal that you’re shown the most superficial side and as you progress you get to know him in depth, like everyone else. But it’s extremely superficial. I personally wouldn’t change that much, and maybe my biggest problem (besides the representation of women) might be just a translation problem, but hey, I work with what I have. They’re just a few small details that make it seem like a textbook white knight copy and paste. If his relationship with women was just as superficial, maybe it wouldn’t be so disappointing, but the thing is that it isn’t, so it doesn’t feel completely right with his character.

Anyway, back to what I wanted to get to. The way Aoba talks about Koujaku is quite stiff, distant, even though we learn a little later that Koujaku has been his friend since childhood. It’s true that he left the island for many years, but then he says that Koujaku came back three years ago and that he hadn’t changed at all since they were children except for his appearance, he was still just as friendly, kind and smiling. So why this coldness?

Aoba practically talks about him like he’s some guy he met a few months ago and occasionally runs into and that’s it, despite what we’ve already mentioned. Not only that, but it turns out that Koujaku drops by his house quite often, staying for lunch and overnight, sleeping in his room. What kind of stranger would you do that with, especially someone like Aoba?

Even Tae herself, famously known for always grumbling and acting a bit surly, is fond of him. She is precisely the one who would be the least hesitant to kick him out of her house if she didn’t want him there, however Aoba points out that he knows that his grandmother considers him a second grandson. After all, she has known him since he was a kid. I'm sure that she’s very grateful to Koujaku for having been there with her grandson when no one else was, not even her, even if she wanted to be.

I talked about this topic a while ago with another tumblr user, who basically attributed Aoba’s behavior to pure discomfort and displeasure when seeing Koujaku’s fans interacting with him, due to having been distant for so long, so it seemed important to mention those three years. I’m not saying Aoba should not be uncomfortable in this situation, seeing your bestie flirting with a group of women jumping around him is definitely not the most fun thing to do. Also, he wants to avoid the gaze of the whole group because they would eat him alive, something he doesn’t achieve because Koujaku notices him anyway. But he seems very distant, he is not only showing discomfort or just wishes to disappear, he is excessively rough with the words he uses, saying that all that charisma he has is an act, false. Like I said before, this is because Aoba knows better, sure, but the way he says it gives it a pretty negative tone.

It seems to me that NC simply wants to introduce the character to you, as the reader, rather than introducing him as Aoba’s bestie, hence the coldness, it’s not Aoba, it’s you. They still joke around all the time and the complicity between them is quite clear, so it’s not like it’s entirely wrong or weird or distant, it’s just those details of Aoba’s thoughts that seemed somewhat dissonant to me.

In any case, there are behaviors that resonate with another idea that is very true and it’s Aoba being jealous. As we have already mentioned before, there are subtleties that make his attraction to Koujaku obvious from the beginning. In the Drama CD and the SSS we see that Aoba is quite insecure, undervaluing himself mostly for being in a homosexual relationship. Seeing that women continue to go after Koujaku makes him feel bad, although there is not much to do, he cannot lock Koujaku up so that he doesn’t talk to anyone ever again and that’s it. He is very troubled by this, and even wonders if Koujaku wouldn’t have preferred to be with a woman at the end of the day, as if he was less, as if Koujaku should be in a straight relationship.

Most notably in the Valentine’s Day story Aoba wants to be able to do what all those girls can do openly without having to worry about prejudice or stares. He wants to be able to kiss him, hold his hand, go on dates, and make him chocolates, normal couple things. Those reactions he had when seeing those women holding onto Koujaku’s arm or having his attention were nothing less than jealousy, because Aoba wanted him to give that attention to him.

This not being possible, since he doesn’t even realize what he feels to start with, makes Koujaku sharing other kinds of things with him that he doesn’t share with anyone else extremely valuable, like the balcony scene, or Koujaku holding his hand when they make love, even if he doesn’t like to admit it. That's why he loves to keep learning new things about Koujaku as their relationship progresses, even the silliest ones. The unknown is not a source of uncertainty or shock anymore, but one of curiosity, a way of loving.

Please Koujaku quit smoking I don’t want you die you're too sexy. haha

That’s why when he discovers that there are things about Koujaku that he doesn’t know, that Koujaku isn’t willing to share with him, among other things, it affects him in this way, like he’s not as special as he thought for knowing a side of Koujaku that most didn’t, because that is no longer a reality for him.

#dmmd #koujaku #aoba seragaki #dramatical murder #aoba #kouao #koujaku dmmd #essay #can you believe we're done posting more than half the essay 🤧

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zylokv · 3 days ago

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A DEAL OF CONVENIENCE — myoui mina

❝ you're my spouse on paper, however you're not my responsibility.❞

synopsis — caught in an arranged marriage with the cold and calculating myoui mina, a reluctant heir must navigate the world of power, family expectations, and a growing attraction that neither of them wanted.

word count ! — 7.06k

—myoui mina x reader !

notice — heavily inspired by @neoplatinum and a bit of queen of tears.

disclaimer ! — this story contains themes of infidelity, toxic family dynamics, and angst balanced with moments of reconciliation and growth. before diving into this story, i want to make it clear that i am not glamorizing toxic relationships, infidelity, or abusive family dynamics. additionally, the portrayal of the idols in this story is entirely fictional and does not reflect their real personalities or lives.

series masterlist !

the restaurant was a masterpiece in itself—a panoramic view of the city below, chandeliers sparkling like stolen starlight, and an air so heavy with exclusivity it almost choked you.

but it was the silence that truly got under your skin.

across the table, myoui mina sat with her hands neatly folded, her mother’s diamond-laden wrist resting lightly on her shoulder. the matriarch’s smile was polite but predatory, a practiced expression honed through decades of social maneuvering. mina’s expression, by contrast, was unreadable, her dark eyes focused on you like she was cataloging your every reaction.

“let’s not waste time,” mrs. myoui began, her voice smooth and precise, cutting through the quiet like a scalpel. “we’re here to propose a mutually beneficial arrangement. mina… needs a spouse of significant standing, someone with the competence to support her position. naturally, we thought of you.”

you blinked, barely suppressing the urge to laugh. “naturally?” you repeated, your tone dipping into disbelief. “with all due respect, mrs. myoui, i’m not interested in being a pawn in your… dynasty plans.”

mina’s gaze flickered, just for a second, but her mother’s smile never faltered. “…i understand your reservations. but this is not merely for us. your family stands to gain considerably as well. surely your father has discussed this with you?”

your stomach twisted at the mention of your father, the inevitable weight of his expectations pressing down like an iron shackle. you forced a thin smile. “what i do, mrs. myoui, is practice law. my involvement in my family’s business is minimal. i prefer to keep it that way.”

mrs. myoui’s smile finally cracked, just enough to reveal a glimmer of impatience. “that’s precisely the issue. you’re squandering your potential. but with mina by your side, you’ll have every opportunity to—”

“no.”

the word left your mouth before you could second-guess it. “with all due respect, mrs. myoui,” you added, trying to rein in your frustration, “i’d prefer to find someone who actually loves me.”

mrs. myoui’s gaze hardened, though her smile remained in place. “love is a luxury, not a necessity, in our world. and frankly, one i’m sure you’ll come to understand.” her voice was clipped now, her patience wearing thin. “but perhaps you need time to reflect on your priorities. this is an opportunity you’d be foolish to waste.”

she stood, adjusting her shawl, the subtle but deliberate shift of power unmistakable. mina rose with her, her expression still unreadable as she followed her mother out of the restaurant. you clenched your fists under the table, the quiet crack of glass snapping you back to the moment. the remnants of your drink scattered across the polished surface, a faint reflection of your anger.

------

the office door slammed shut behind you, the echo ringing in the silence that followed. your father stood in the middle of the room, his posture stiff, jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might crack. he didn’t need to speak—the storm was already brewing in his eyes.

“do you even comprehend what you’ve done?” he started, his voice eerily calm, the kind of calm that preceded an explosion.

you didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze with a defiance that felt more fragile than it looked. “i told you before, i won’t let you decide my life. not this time.”

his hand lashed out before you could process the movement. the slap wasn’t just a physical sting—it was a sharp, brutal reminder of your place in his world.

“you ungrateful child!” his voice rose, cracking like a whip in the heavy air. “everything you have, everything you are, is because of this family. and this is how you repay me? by throwing it all away?”

your head snapped to the side, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth. your first instinct was to clench your fists, to hold your ground. but as his words continued, their weight pressed down harder than any blow could.

“i built this empire from nothing,” he sneered, his finger jabbing in your direction. “and you think you can waltz out, turn your back on it, just because you’re playing at being a lawyer?”

“it’s not playing,” you shot back, your voice rough and shaking. “it’s my life. my choice.”

another strike—this time a fist to your shoulder, sending you stumbling back against the desk. pain flared, sharp and unrelenting, but you didn’t let him see the tears threatening to spill over.

“you don’t have a choice,” he hissed. “not as long as you carry my name. you will marry myoui mina, and you will do it without complaint. or else—”

“or else what?” you interrupted, your voice rising despite yourself. “you’ll ruin me? take away everything I’ve worked for? you’ve already done that.”

his laughter was cold, bitter. “ruin you? you’ve done that to yourself. now get out of my sight before i do something i regret.”

you didn’t wait for him to change his mind. you left the room, your steps shaky but purposeful. as soon as the door closed behind you, you leaned against the wall, breathing hard. your shoulder ached, your cheek throbbed, but the worst pain was the helplessness clawing at your chest.

------

the next day started like any other, except it wasn’t. you swiped your card at the entrance of the office, and the machine beeped red. again, you tried, frowning as you wiped it against your pant leg and swiped once more. red.

“uh, excuse me?” you called to the receptionist. her name was mei—someone you usually exchanged pleasantries with on your way in. she looked up, startled, then glanced nervously at her computer.

“i… i’m sorry,” she stammered, “but it seems your access has been revoked.”

“revoked?” your voice sharpened. “that’s a mistake. i'm the head director.”

she swallowed hard, nodding as if to agree but not daring to meet your eyes. “you’ll have to check with mr. (Ln).”

an hour later, after what felt like an eternity of waiting outside the hr manager’s office, you finally got your answer. or rather, the lack of one. “your credentials have been deactivated. i’m not authorized to provide further details,” the manager said, her tone clipped and impersonal.

“you’re not authorized? this is my job. my office. i deserve an explanation,” you pressed, your frustration bubbling over.

her expression didn’t waver. “you’ll have to speak with your father about this.”

those words were the final confirmation. you left the building, the weight of it all crashing down on you. your office, your cases, your colleagues—it was all gone, just like that. erased. your father’s hand was all over this, a calculated move to corner you.

as you stepped onto the street, the world felt louder than usual. the sounds of traffic and chatter blurred together, a stark contrast to the silence that had taken over your life. with nowhere else to go, you headed for the batting cages. you needed to hit something, anything, just to feel in control again.

-----

baseball had always been your escape. the rhythmic crack of the bat against the ball, the familiar burn in your muscles, the steady stream of pitches from the machine—all of it helped drown out the noise in your head.

you were mid-swing when she appeared. mina, in a tailored coat and heels, looking absurdly out of place against the dusty field and worn equipment. she was a sharp contrast to the sweat and grime clinging to you, her pristine presence a reminder of the gulf between your worlds.

“you missed,” she remarked coldly, her voice slicing through the air as you struck the next pitch. the ball ricocheted off the cage, and you turned to her, your expression dark.

“what do you want?” your tone was sharp, the frustration of the last few days spilling over.

mina didn’t flinch. her gaze was steady, assessing, as if calculating how much effort this conversation was worth. “to end this childish act of defiance,” she said bluntly. “sign the contract. stop wasting everyone’s time.”

you gritted your teeth, gripping the bat tighter. “is that how you talk to everyone you’re trying to convince to marry you?”

“only the ones who are being stubborn.” her reply was smooth, but there was a flicker of irritation in her eyes. “you’re not the only one with things to lose here. do you think i want to be stuck with someone so… obstinate?”

“then why me?” you asked, your voice rising. “there are better options. people who’d jump at the chance to be your spouse. why drag me into this?”

she stepped closer, her heels sinking slightly into the dirt. “because you’re not entirely useless,” she said, her tone icy. “and unlike the others, you’re not a liability. that’s all that matters.”

her words hit harder than they should have, and you swung at the next pitch with more force than necessary. the ball flew into the net, the impact reverberating up your arms. “well, forgive me if i don’t find that flattering.”

mina sighed, brushing an invisible speck of dust from her coat. “you’re impossible.” she turned to leave, her voice carrying over her shoulder. “but mark my words—you’ll come around. whether you like it or not.”

you watched her walk away, the tension in your chest coiling tighter. the bat slipped from your hands, clattering to the ground. as the machine wound up for another pitch, you stood there, frozen, the weight of her words pressing down like a stone.

-----

the ballroom shimmered with opulence, the soft hum of conversation weaving through the air as glasses clinked and laughter punctuated the atmosphere. this wasn’t just any gathering—it was a display of power, a convergence of families whose names carried weight in every corner of the country.

you kept to the periphery, your discomfort masked by a neutral expression. you were here as a formality, the dutiful pawn in a game much larger than yourself. yet, despite your efforts to blend into the wallpaper, your eyes were drawn to the center of the room.

there she was.

myoui mina, the woman you were being forced to marry. she stood effortlessly poised, the epitome of control. her black dress was understated yet breathtaking, paired with diamonds that seemed to reflect her icy demeanor.

what caught your attention wasn’t just her—it was the man beside her. bambam. you recognized him instantly: the charismatic heir to an entertainment conglomerate. his easy laughter grated on your nerves as he leaned in, speaking to mina with a familiarity that felt out of place. she tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a faint, polite smile.

your grip tightened around your champagne glass. it wasn’t jealousy—no, that would imply you cared. this was something else, an irritation that churned in your chest.

her words from before replayed in your mind: “but mark my words—you’ll come around. whether you like it or not.”

a bitter taste filled your mouth, but you couldn’t deny it—she’d been right.

before you knew it, you were crossing the room.

mina’s gaze flicked toward you as you approached, her expression calm but her body tensing ever so slightly. bambam noticed you too, his smile broadening as if he’d just been let in on a joke.

“and here comes the mystery partner,” bambam quipped, his tone light but edged with curiosity. “mina, you didn’t tell me your companion was here tonight.”

mina’s lips parted to respond, but you cut in. “a private matter,” you said, your voice steady. “can i talk to my fiancé?”

bambam raised an eyebrow but stepped back with a shrug. “i’ll leave you two to it. always a pleasure, mina.”

as soon as he walked away, you turned to her, your voice dropping. “care to explain what that was about?”

mina’s eyes narrowed slightly, her voice as sharp as the diamonds she wore. “i don’t owe you an explanation.”

“don’t you?” you countered, struggling to keep your tone even. “we’re here to sign a contract, and you’re out there chatting up—”

“a family friend,” she interjected, her tone cold. “you’re making a scene over nothing.”

your jaw clenched. “this isn’t nothing. do you even care how this looks?”

she stepped closer, her voice low but laced with condescension. “looks? you’re worried about appearances now?” her lips curled into a faint smirk. “you’ve finally caught up, haven’t you? maybe you’re not as stubborn as you pretend to be.”

the words were a knife twisting in your chest because, deep down, you knew she was right. every choice had led you here, and no matter how much you hated it, there was no turning back.

you exhaled sharply, reining in your frustration. “fine. where’s the damn thing?”

mina’s smirk didn’t falter as she produced the document from her bag, her movements deliberate, almost taunting. she held it out to you, her hand steady.

“go ahead,” she said, her tone detached but cutting. “sign it. make it official. i told you—you’d come around.”

the pen felt heavy as you signed, the weight of each stroke pressing into your chest like a stone.

“congratulations,” you said bitterly. “we’re officially partners in misery.”

mina took the paper back, her eyes scanning it briefly before folding it and tucking it away. she didn’t say a word, her expression unreadable as she turned on her heel and rejoined the crowd.

you stayed behind, the noise of the party fading into the background as you stared after her. you hated the smug satisfaction she wore like another piece of jewelry. but most of all, you hated that she was right.

-----

the ceremony was as grand as you’d expected—ornate floral arrangements lined the aisle, the scent of white lilies suffocating in its sweetness. the pews were filled with people who barely mattered to you, their expressions either bored or falsely polite.

your palms felt clammy despite the coolness of the cathedral. you hated this—every moment, every forced smile, every expectation weighing down on your shoulders.

your father’s voice was low but firm as he leaned in close, his hand gripping your shoulder.

“this is your chance to redeem yourself,” he said, his tone laced with authority. “play your part, and you’ll have your title—and your life—back.”

you nodded stiffly, your jaw tightening as his words sank in. his grip lingered, a silent warning. you hated the weight of his expectations, but you hated the sense of inevitability even more.

as he walked away to join a group of other high-profile guests, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. mina stood near the entrance, her gaze fixed on you, her expression unreadable but sharp, as if she’d overheard every word.

you turned away quickly, adjusting your cuffs in an attempt to ignore the way her presence made your skin prickle.

the ceremony began soon after, the sound of traditional music filling the hall as family elders stepped forward, placing ceremonial heirloom decorations on you. the intricate gold and jade pieces felt heavy, their symbolism not lost on you. it was a visual reminder of what this marriage meant—a merging of legacies, not lives.

as the officiant called for silence, your eyes scanned the crowd. mina’s family sat in the front row, their posture mirroring her composed elegance. her father gave you a curt nod, while her mother’s smile was thin and calculating.

your own family wasn’t much better. your father was in his element, mingling with the likes of minatozaki sana, who greeted him with a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. hirai momo and park jihyo exchanged pleasantries with the other guests, while nayeon and chaeyoung seemed more interested in observing the dynamics than participating. bambam, of course, was here too, his charm drawing smiles from every corner of the room—except yours.

the music shifted, signaling mina’s entrance.

when she appeared at the end of the aisle, the room fell silent. she was a vision, her gown shimmering with delicate embroidery that caught the light. diamonds adorned her neck, wrists, and ears, each piece selected to showcase her status.

your chest tightened as she approached, her steps deliberate and her face a mask of calm detachment. she looked straight ahead, her expression betraying nothing, but you couldn’t help feeling like every step she took was a silent victory over you.

the ceremony continued, each word from the officiant feeling heavier than the last.

“do you, myoui mina, take—”

“i do,” she said, cutting him off before he could even finish. her tone was clipped, almost impatient, as if this were just another business transaction.

your turn came, and you hesitated, the weight of her gaze pressing down on you.

“i do,” you finally said, the words bitter on your tongue.

when it came time for the rings, her fingers were steady as she slid the band onto yours. your hands, in contrast, felt awkward, trembling slightly as you returned the gesture.

“you may kiss the bride,” the officiant declared.

you turned to her, your heart thudding in your chest. her gaze was steady, cold, and challenging.

the kiss was supposed to be brief, for show, but the moment your lips met hers, something shifted. her lips were soft but unyielding, her lack of response initially infuriating. but then you felt it—an undercurrent of something neither of you could name.

for a split second, the world around you disappeared. her perfume was intoxicating, her proximity overwhelming. it wasn’t love, but it wasn’t nothing, either. when you pulled back, her eyes met yours with a flicker of something—frustration? curiosity?

“well,” she murmured under her breath, her voice cold but tinged with irony, “that was unexpected.”

the applause snapped you back to reality, and you turned away quickly, your face hot with a mixture of embarrassment and something else you refused to acknowledge.

as you walked back down the aisle together, her hand resting lightly on your arm, she leaned in just enough for only you to hear.

“i told you,” she whispered, her tone smug, “you’d come around soon enough.”

you glanced at her, irritation and something close to admiration warring in your chest. she was right, and she knew it.

-----

the reception was held in a venue that oozed luxury—high ceilings adorned with intricate chandeliers, marble floors reflecting the soft glow of golden lights, and floral arrangements so extravagant they looked like they belonged in a museum. the murmurs of the guests filled the air, their chatter laced with curiosity and speculation.

“so that’s the myoui’s new pawn,” someone whispered.

“a lawyer, huh? they’re probably hoping to use them to navigate out of future messes,” another added.

you ignored the gossip as best as you could, drifting toward the group of bachelors huddled near the bar. the champagne flowed freely, and the conversation veered into lighthearted banter. for a while, you felt like yourself again, laughing and joking without the weight of mina’s presence looming over you.

mina, however, was always watching. from her seat near the head table, she observed you with a mix of irritation and something else she couldn’t quite name. eventually, she stood, her movements precise and deliberate, and made her way across the room.

“enough,” she said, her voice low but commanding as she reached your side. “you’ve had your fun. come with me.”

you raised an eyebrow, the corners of your lips tugging into a faint smirk. “yes, dear?”

her glare could have frozen fire.

without waiting for your response, she grabbed your wrist—not hard, but firmly enough to make it clear she wasn’t in the mood to argue—and led you to a round table where her friends were seated.

“everyone,” she began, her voice cool and composed as ever, “meet my spouse.”

hirai momo was the first to speak, her grin wide and mischievous. “so, you’re the lucky one. or unlucky, depending on how you look at it.” she laughed, the sound light and teasing.

“i’ll take it as a compliment,” you replied, matching her tone.

bambam leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable but his words sharp. “you know, not everyone would be brave enough to marry into the myoui family. some might call it reckless.”

you shrugged, unbothered. “or smart, depending on how you look at it.”

mina’s lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze darting briefly to bambam before settling back on you. she didn’t intervene, but her posture was tense.

minatozaki sana, on the other hand, said nothing. she sipped her drink, her eyes flicking between you and mina with a look that bordered on disdain. you could feel her silent judgment—it was almost palpable.

momo, however, was surprisingly easygoing. she asked about your work, cracked a few jokes, and seemed genuinely amused by your answers. you found yourself relaxing slightly, even enjoying the conversation.

the conversation flowed, and you found yourself surprisingly at ease with momo. she laughed at your jokes, and when she gestured too animatedly, her bracelet caught on the edge of her glass, nearly toppling it over.

“careful,” you said gently, reaching to steady her drink before any champagne spilled. you untangled her bracelet with a deftness that surprised even yourself.

“thanks,” momo said, her cheeks pink as she glanced up at you.

“no problem.” you gave her a soft smile, your fingers brushing hers briefly as you handed the bracelet back.

a little while later, momo excused herself to retrieve something from her bag but returned moments later, clutching her heel awkwardly.

“what’s wrong?” you asked.

“the strap broke,” she said, holding the elegant shoe aloft.

without hesitation, you bent down, taking the shoe from her hand. “let me see.”

“you don’t have to—” she started, but you were already examining the strap.

“got it,” you said after a moment, slipping the shoe back onto her foot and fastening the strap securely.

“wow,” momo laughed, clearly charmed. “if this whole lawyer thing doesn’t work out, you’ve got a career in shoe repair.”

“i’ll keep that in mind,” you replied with a grin.

from across the table, mina’s gaze hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line.

sana, meanwhile, looked on with a furrowed brow, her eyes narrowing slightly at the interaction. it wasn’t jealousy, exactly—it was more like disdain, as if she found the display of chivalry misplaced.

“you’re good with your hands,” momo teased, her smile wide.

before you could respond, mina’s voice cut through the air like ice. “they're also good at keeping to themselves.”

the tension was palpable, and momo quickly shifted her focus back to her drink. mina’s pointed heel pressed lightly against momo’s foot beneath the table—not enough to hurt, but enough to send a clear message.

“everything okay?” you asked, glancing at mina.

“perfectly fine,” she replied smoothly, her expression unreadable.

the rest of the evening passed in a blur of pleasantries and forced smiles. though you tried to ignore the brewing storm in mina’s eyes

-----

the small town was breathtaking, its charm steeped in tradition and elegance. nestled in the foothills of japan, it was the pride of the myoui clan—a place where time seemed to slow, and every corner spoke of history. the streets were lined with quaint wooden houses, their rooftops adorned with snow from the crisp winter air, and the distant chime of temple bells echoed softly.

you walked beside mina, her cold demeanor wrapped in an aura of regal elegance. she wore a black velvet dress that seemed to ripple with every step, her jewelry—a bracelet, earrings, and a ring—sparkling faintly under the town's lantern light. her look was polished and calculated, every detail deliberate.

you, on the other hand, wore a black turtleneck paired with tailored trousers and a sleek belt. the coat draped over your arm was more for appearances than comfort, and the watch on your wrist—a gift from her family—matched the sheen of her jewelry.

“this place,” you murmured, taking in the view of the traditional ryokan where you were staying, “it’s almost unreal.”

mina spared you a glance, her expression unreadable. “it’s home.”

she didn’t elaborate, instead gesturing for you to follow her to the town's most esteemed restaurant. it was nestled behind an ornate gate, its walls entwined with creeping ivy and lush greenery. stepping inside felt like entering another world—everywhere you looked, there were plants of every shade, their vibrant colors offset by the warm wood and soft lighting.

“this is impressive,” you admitted, though the compliment wasn’t directed at her.

mina simply nodded, selecting a table near a cascading indoor waterfall. as she sat down, she adjusted the hem of her dress, a practiced elegance in every motion.

“take my picture,” she said suddenly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“seriously?” you groaned, though a grin tugged at your lips. “here? now? you know how awkward it’s going to look with you posing in front of all these plants?”

she raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp. “do it.”

you sighed, pulling out your phone. “alright, fine. but don’t blame me if you look weird.”

she posed, her face tilted slightly to catch the light just right. “stop talking and focus.”

“focus? you look like you’re trying to win a staring contest with that fern,” you teased, snapping the picture anyway.

she didn’t respond, though the faintest twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement.

dinner passed without incident, the food as exquisite as the setting. you traded only minimal conversation, the tension between you both ever-present.

when you finally returned to the ryokan, the air was colder, and mina pulled your coat tighter around her shoulders.

“you’re keeping that, huh?” you quipped.

“it’s warm,” she replied simply, shrugging it off at the doorway.

“you go on ahead,” you said, hesitating at the entrance. “i’m going to take a walk.”

she paused, her expression flickering with something unreadable. “don’t stay out too late.”

you nodded, watching as she disappeared into the warm glow of the ryokan.

wandering the streets, your thoughts drifted. the quiet town was a stark contrast to the chaos of the past weeks, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. as you passed a small flower shop, a memory surfaced—one you hadn’t thought of in years.

a girl had been robbed here once, near the very same shop. you’d been nearby, and without thinking, you’d given her your coat to shield her from the winter chill. the details of her face escaped you now, but you remembered her elegance, her soft voice, and those striking boba eyes.

smiling faintly at the memory, you stepped inside the shop and ordered a bouquet—simple yet elegant.

when you returned to the ryokan, bouquet in hand, you found mina lounging in the common room, now dressed in silk pajamas that looked no less regal. she glanced up, her expression unreadable.

“what’s that?” she asked, nodding toward the flowers.

you held them out to her. “for you.”

she took them, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment. “you’re full of surprises,” she said, though her tone was dry.

“i aim to impress,” you replied with a half-smile, settling on the couch as she arranged the flowers in a nearby vase.

the conversation turned quieter, more contemplative.

“why did you agree to this marriage?” she asked suddenly, her eyes fixed on the vase.

you hesitated. “because of my father,” you admitted vaguely.

she frowned slightly but didn’t press further. “and why did i choose you?”

you looked at her, genuinely curious. “why did you?”

“because the other clans would have been a disaster,” she said bluntly. “the takahashi clan is too reckless, the oh family is steeped in scandals, and the sakuragi name carries no real weight anymore. you, at least, are competent and... predictable.”

“wow,” you muttered, half-laughing. “you really know how to flatter someone.”

she didn’t respond, instead gesturing toward the couch. “you’re sleeping there tonight.”

“obviously,” you said, settling in.

as the night wore on, the conversation softened. she spoke briefly about being an only child, the weight of carrying her family’s legacy. you listened, your own thoughts heavy but unspoken.

eventually, you felt yourself drifting off. the last thing you remembered was the soft rustle of fabric and the faint scent of her perfume as she draped a blanket over you.

when the lights clicked off and her bedroom door closed, you were left in the quiet darkness, a strange sense of warmth settling over you.

-----

the honeymoon felt like a distant memory now. arriving back in the city, you were thrust immediately into the whirlwind of responsibilities that had been waiting for you. it was in your father’s office, a place steeped in heavy tradition and expectations, where the shift became official.

“you’ve earned this again,” your father said, his tone unusually warm as he handed over the legal head director’s seal. “i always knew you had it in you, even if you’ve made... questionable choices in the past. don’t disappoint me again.”

the weight of the title settled over you once more, but it was a weight you always welcomed. you nodded, holding the seal tightly. “i won’t.”

for a fleeting moment, there was pride in your father’s eyes, a rare sight that stirred something in you.

-----

work consumed you in the days that followed. buried under contracts and meetings, you barely noticed the time slip away. your phone buzzed a few times, but you brushed it aside, focused on finishing a particularly thorny case.

it wasn’t until the clock struck 7:45 p.m. that the messages finally caught your attention.

where are you?

you’re supposed to be here.

don’t embarrass me.

mina.

your stomach twisted. the event. you had completely forgotten.

grabbing your coat, you rushed out the door, your mind racing. you didn’t even have time to reply to her messages.

-----

by the time you arrived, the atmosphere in the grand hall was thick with tension. mina stood in the center of the room, flanked by bambam, momo, and sana. her family and their extended circles—the hirais and minatozakis—watched from the sidelines.

opposite her stood sehun, an heir you recognized immediately. his sharp features were twisted into a smirk, his voice carrying across the room.

“and this is who you trust?” sehun sneered, gesturing toward mina. “don’t act like you’re untouchable,” sehun was saying, his voice loud enough to draw attention. “your family’s wealth doesn’t protect you from everything. and you”—he pointed at mina—“should know better than to put your trust in someone like that.”

you moved quickly through the crowd, your steps purposeful but unnoticed.

bambam, to his credit, stepped forward, placing himself protectively between sehun and mina. “watch your tone,” he said, his voice firm.

sehun scoffed, brushing him off. “what are you going to do? you’re just a glorified lapdog.”

then, sehun reached for mina’s arm, his fingers just brushing her sleeve.

“enough.” your voice cut through the air like a blade.

all eyes turned to you as you stepped into the circle, your gaze locked on sehun. his hand froze mid-air before he slowly lowered it, his smirk faltering.

but mina’s gaze flickered to you the moment you moved. without hesitation, she brushed past bambam, placing her hand firmly in yours instead. her grip was cold, steady, and there was something almost defiant in the way she looked at sehun.

the room seemed to hold its breath.

“you’re late,” mina said quietly, her tone clipped.

“i know,” you murmured back.

sehun regained his composure, scoffing as he turned his attention to you. “oh, look who decided to show up. the myoui family’s latest pawn. what took you so long? busy whining over legal briefs?”

ignoring the insult, you stepped forward, keeping mina behind you. “if there’s a problem here, i’d be happy to resolve it. professionally, of course. though, judging by your tone, professionalism isn’t really your style, is it, sehun?”

his sneer deepened. “don’t act like you’re above it all. you’re nothing but a puppet the myoui family is using to clean up their messes. and when they’re done, they’ll throw you out like the trash you are.”

you exhaled slowly, forcing a calm smile. “it’s interesting you’d say that, sehun. especially considering how much your family relied on me to ‘clean up their mess’ during that little scandal last year. or did you forget how your father owes me for handling that? because i certainly haven’t.”

the color drained from his face, but he recovered quickly, scoffing. “so what? you think your ivy league education makes you untouchable? you think being a lawyer gives you any real power? you’re just a loudmouth who hides behind his desk.”

“i don't think,” you said, your voice light with mock sympathy. “i know it, and i do hide behind my desk sometimes. but when i do, it’s because i’m busy drafting paperwork that could make your life a living hell.”

his eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, you took another step closer, your smile turning razor-sharp. “and for the record, attending an ivy league school does make me smarter than you. but don’t let that stop you. if you’re so sure i’m just a ‘loudmouth,’ go ahead. take a swing. prove your point.”

the room went deadly silent. sehun’s fists clenched, his jaw ticking as he debated his options.

before he could act, mina’s hand on your arm pulled you back, her grip firm and commanding. “enough,” she said, her voice low but cutting through the tension like ice.

you turned to look at her, surprised by the faint flicker of protectiveness in her eyes. she didn’t let go until she was sure you weren’t going to push further.

as mina began to guide you away, her grip firm on your arm, the sound of rushed footsteps behind you caught your attention.

you barely had time to react before sehun’s fist connected with your jaw, sending you stumbling into mina.

gasps filled the room, the collective shock palpable.

“are you out of your mind?!” mina’s father’s voice boomed, silencing the crowd. his face was a mix of fury and disbelief as he stepped forward. “this is an outrage!”

mina was immediately at your side, her cold demeanor replaced with sharp concern. her hand hovered near your face, unsure whether to touch the growing bruise. “are you okay?” she asked, her voice lower than before but laced with urgency.

you waved her off, rolling your shoulder and straightening up, though you can taste the metallic copper on your tongue “i’m fine.”

momo, who had been on the other side of the room, pushed through the crowd, her usual lightheartedness gone. “what the hell was that?” she exclaimed, looking between you and sehun. “he just—”

sehun stood frozen, his chest heaving as he realized the gravity of his actions.

mina’s father turned to him, his glare icy. “you dare strike one of us? this is disgraceful. you’ll pay for this, boy.”

“it’s not worth it,” she said quietly, her tone sharp but steady. “don’t stoop to his level.”

for a moment, you nodded, exhaling slowly as if agreeing to let it go. but then sehun sneered, his voice loud enough for the entire room to hear.

“typical,” he said, adjusting his tie as if his punch had meant nothing. “no wonder the myouis are desperate. scraping the bottom of the barrel for help. your family’s a joke, myoui. everyone knows your father’s nothing more than a puppet, and your mother—well, she’s—”

he didn’t finish. he didn’t get the chance.

your fist shot out with precision, landing squarely on his jaw with enough force to send him sprawling to the ground. the thud of his body hitting the polished floor was followed by a stunned silence.

“don’t you dare,” you said, your voice low and venomous, “speak about my wife's family like that.”

sehun groaned, clutching his jaw as he struggled to get up. his confidence shattered, he glared at you with a mix of humiliation and rage.

the room erupted into chaos again. mina gasped, her hand instinctively reaching out but hesitating, while momo let out a delighted laugh.

“oh, this just got interesting,” momo said, her eyes sparkling as she glanced at sana. “did you see that? mina's spouse got some fight in 'em."

sana, standing off to the side, crossed her arms and raised a brow, unimpressed. “hardly seems worth it,” she muttered, though her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary.

sehun scrambled to his feet, his face red with both anger and embarrassment. “you’ll regret that,” he spat, lunging forward.

you sidestepped easily, your movements deliberate. “sehun,” you said, your voice laced with mock sympathy, “if i were you, i’d quit while i’m ahead. you don’t want me calling your father, do you?”

sehun froze, his bravado faltering.

“that’s right,” you continued, stepping closer. “your father still owes me. remember that little scandal? who do you think cleaned that up for him? and if you think he’ll side with you over me, think again. i’m a lawyer, sehun. i don’t just fight with my fists.”

mina’s grip on your arm tightened briefly before she stepped in front of you, her icy composure unshaken. “this ends now,” she said, her voice like a blade. she glanced down at sehun with disdain. “get out before you embarrass yourself further.”

sehun opened his mouth to retort, but the weight of the room’s judgment silenced him. even bambam, who had initially moved to defend mina, stayed back, his gaze flickering between you and sehun.

“you’ve made your point,” mina said, addressing you now. her voice was firm, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—was it gratitude? “let’s go.”

as you followed mina out, momo sidled up beside you, her grin wide. “that was incredible. one hit, and he’s down. you’re like a knight or something,” she teased, her laughter bubbling up.

mina’s gaze was sharp, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath it. “you shouldn’t have done that,” she said, her tone flat.

“and let him keep running his mouth?” you countered. “not a chance.”

momo sidled up to you, still grinning like a kid in a candy store. “that was amazing. you’ve got some moves,” she said, nudging your arm.

you chuckled, despite yourself. “don’t get used to it.”

“oh, i won’t,” momo said with a wink, her attention briefly flicking to sana, who rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath.

as the commotion settled, mina’s father stepped forward, his authoritative voice cutting through the murmurs of the guests. “this event is over,” he declared, his tone sharp and final. “thank you all for attending.”

the attendees began to disperse, their curiosity about the scandal satiated, though the lingering glances toward you and mina spoke volumes.

you exhaled deeply, the adrenaline fading and the sting of your busted lip becoming more apparent. before you could move, momo appeared at your side, her playful demeanor replaced with genuine concern.

“are you okay?” she asked, her brow furrowed as she leaned closer to inspect your lip.

“i’m fine,” you replied, brushing it off, though the taste of copper on your tongue told a different story.

“you don’t look fine,” momo countered, reaching out as if to help.

before she could, mina swept in with a cool efficiency. she grabbed a folded napkin from one of the nearby tables, her heels clicking decisively against the floor. “i’ll handle it,” she said curtly, brushing past momo without so much as a glance.

momo blinked, taken aback, then stepped aside with a small, amused smile. “guess i’m not needed.”

mina tilted your chin down slightly so you could match her height, her touch firm but not unkind, as she dabbed at your split lip. her expression was cold, but her movements were careful, her fingers brushing lightly against your skin.

“you’re reckless,” she muttered under her breath, her tone both annoyed and something else—grateful, maybe. “what were you thinking?”

you held her gaze, unfazed by her sharpness. “i was thinking you’re my wife,” you said evenly, your voice carrying a protective edge. “and no one gets to disrespect you or your family while i’m around.”

for a moment, her hand paused, her eyes searching yours as if trying to decipher your sincerity. then, with a soft exhale, she resumed cleaning the wound.

across the room, bambam watched the interaction intently, his jaw tight but his expression unreadable.

as mina finished, her mother approached, her usual proud and stoic demeanor softening as she looked at you. “thank you,” she said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of years of unyielding pride finally yielding, if only briefly.

you nodded, unsure how to respond to such unexpected gratitude.

mina’s father, however, remained stoic, his gaze assessing as he addressed you. “this could’ve gone very badly,” he said, his tone measured. “but you handled it... adequately. for now.”

you caught the subtle flicker of approval in his eyes, though he would never say it outright.

“thank you, sir,” you replied simply, your posture still formal despite the circumstances.

as the guests thinned out and the myouis regrouped, mina finally let go of the napkin, her demeanor shifting back to its usual aloofness. “you should take care of that properly,” she said, her voice clipped but softer than before.

“i will,” you replied, a small smirk tugging at your lips despite the pain. “wouldn’t want to ruin the perfect image of the myoui family’s new... what was it? ‘pawn’?”

mina rolled her eyes but didn’t respond, her lips pressing into a thin line.

as you walked away with her at your side, momo caught your eye from the corner of the room, giving you a small, conspiratorial thumbs-up. nearby, sana stood with her arms crossed, her expression as unreadable as ever, though the slightest flicker of something—approval?—crossed her face before she turned away.

the night had been far from perfect, but as you exited the venue with mina, you couldn’t help but feel that, for better or worse, you had solidified your place in this world—and by her side.

-----

end of part one.

a/n — hello! sorry for having such a long writing for the first chapter but i really loved this and i promise to continue it.

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alextydaisuda123 · 3 days ago

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«WARNING! Lots of text»

I've been wanting to talk about how everyone in Echo sees Pizzahead in their dreams. I think many have noticed that Pizzahead's appearance is different for everyone. This is an interesting detail for me that I want to clarify. Each appearance is connected to either their memories, their characteristics, or their general feelings. For example:

Pepperman sees him as a blurry and crooked sketch that can change its features as he wants (yes, in his dream PH was originally like this, but let's think that he can change in style too, from a crooked sketch to a real figure, I just want to justify how he sees him).

This is due to his creativity and simply the fact that for Phil, Pizzahead was an ambiguous person. From the very beginning, they were like good friends, because PH did not really show himself, worming his way into his trust, and PM was frivolous, trusted him and did not think about who he really was, and only with each year of life in the tower, he gradually began to see rotten sides in him, until he finally became who he sees him now.

Vigilante sees him as a corpse, covered in the remains of those cheese slugs that "died because of him."

He continues to blame himself for how he was trusting of someone who was truly his enemy, he just couldn't disobey someone who was higher in rank than him. He also blames himself for the deaths of those he couldn't save, because his position as sheriff weighed on him with responsibility for them all. His image of PH from the dream refers a little to an insignificant, but deeply rooted memory, which acquired its features and meaning precisely because of the feeling of guilt.

Noise sees him as a clot of blood, meat and intestines.

He initially had a not very good idea of Pizzahead, to some extent, he saw him as a simple clown, but there was some hope for the future, since all Noise wanted was to earn a lot and film his own shows, as well as fulfill Noisette's dream with her cafe. Partly, everything happened like that, but Pizzahead eventually limited him and left him in the role of an ordinary mascot who does not like pizza. It would seem that he could object to him and change everything for himself, but ... then threats against him worked, which he did not expect at all. What was at stake was what he valued most: no, not money, it's Noisette. And now, his "role" has become a kind of curse and a fixed image to which he is accustomed, and without which no one would recognize him. And Noise also has an opinion that PH has a rotten inside, which is ironic, the same as Noise. Which played into the image of PH from the dream. And Noise is a pure horror lover, so here it is.

Bruno's situation is much more interesting, because the image of Pizzahead in his dream has hardly changed. The change affected only the face, namely his soulless look.

Bruno initially, when he was created, thought that PH was reliable and good, but this turned out to be a lie. Bruno was given the task of being like the original, according to which he was created, that is, to be like Peppino. But he could not cope with this and Pizzahead was unhappy with him. And when he began to better understand the emotions and feelings of others, all that Bruno remembered about Pizzahead was his look, full of disappointment and soullessness. And since for PH, Fake Peppino was nothing more than a toy and a soulless thing, he could mock him as he liked, watching the reaction. A vivid reaction turned out to be fear.

Peppino doesn't have any scary image of Pizzahead, it remained the way he remembered it.

No, not because I couldn't come up with it for him. Because he doesn't need it, their meeting was enough for him to remember his image and make him scary due to his simplicity. He is rather frightened by Pizzahead's abilities, which is why the image fades in comparison. In the end, he not only lured him out of the restaurant with a threat, but also prepared various tests for him that made him remember his old trauma after the war. And all for what? For the sake of fucking fun that ended in tragedy!

#pizza tower #pizza tower au #echo tower #pepperman #pepperman pizza tower #vigilante #vigilante pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #peppino pizza tower #the noise #the noise pizza tower #fake peppino #fake peppino pizza tower #body horror #horror #pizzahead #pizzahead pizza tower

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prodixal · 7 hours ago

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Sinking deeper into his chair, the air of usual cockiness that surrounds him all but disappears. There was a strange sort of relief to be had, in his sisters company, when their conversations turned serious and raw. And he wished they'd allowed themselves more such moments, perhaps if they had, things would have turned out different. Better. Easier.

"I should think Vaelora has more than enough soft things to protect, dear sister. Perhaps what they needs is someone stern enough to rely on as they take care of everything and everyone around them." his index lifts gently from the cup to point her way, as he held it over an arm of his seat. "And you very much are that person." Varyn was certain if Vaelora could find it in them to trust her, then love would come with ease. With necessity. "You are in no need of my advice, nor my opinion, but I shall offer the latter freely nonetheless. So that you may do with it as you please." he did not need her snapping again.

"Mother used to say a head needed its neck. To rest upon, to turn it the right way." he did not know why such a thought occurred to him, only that it did. "And the head above your proverbial neck shall hold extra weight in its crown. She should need...a sturdy neck, a neck she can trust, rely on." his voice is calm, quiet, tired. "Just be their equal. Show them your fire --- a dragon will love you for it. Else I fear..." he tilts his head, leaning forward, placing the cup atop the low table beside him. "You might never get what you're after. Vaelora might be many things, but stupid is not one of them, and should you wish to hide --- they'll know." that much, he was certain. Cersha was good, but she was not good enough to deceive someone who could see through people like they were made of lace. "But who am I? To offer such thoughts to you anyway, huh dear sister?"

Deep down, beneath the gaping black hole where the heart should be - and several layers of selfishness, arrogance and pride - Varyn really did feel the two to be a perfect match. Vaelora had the passion, and the urge to do 'better' than her mother. To do right by people and the crown. Vaelora loved their family, their friends, their name. Vaelora was of good heart, with a strong mind, and a kind of warmth that Cersha shied away from. -- Cersha had the strong intellect, the long lasting desire to for power and rule. She too cared for her family, her name, the crown. To put it simply, Vaelora and Cersha complimented one another in almost every relevant way. So Varyn did not worry, that love would blossom from their union in time, should they both be willing to put aside their differences and open up to that possibility.

But this would remain a private thought.

At her dissection of happiness, fulfilment -- victory, he is thoroughly lost in thought. Varyn had never looked at it that way. For she was right. Happiness was fleeting. An emotion that changed with each candle mark. But victory, glory, a sense of fulfilment? Those were constant. Something to hold on to when sadness, or anger or disappointment strike, and something to relish and be grateful for, in moments of joy.

He would adopt that mindset, perhaps, or study it more up close in days to come. He had much to think about. For his life right now, had consisted of chasing happiness at any cost. Chasing comfort. Chasing emotions so fleeting that even while he had them, part of him always awaited their demise. It was no way to live. But he was also undisciplined, and thirsty of instant gratification.

Such thirst was precisely the reason for his current unfortunate predicament. And he had no one but himself to blame.

As the word 'curious' leaves Cersha's lips, he will frown. "I'm not --" a rookie mistake. "I'm not defending her. It is simply facts. Up until a moment ago you seemed to be fond of those." he should know better than to try reason his way out of this one. It was far too late for that.

What comes next, out of the mouth of his sister, leaves even his own jaw ajar. He knew her to be calculating, to be cold -- but he had never seen the sheer depth of her ruthlessness. He had almost, strangely so, admired it?

"The child lives." the words are quick, defensive, certain. And while he desired nothing more than to believe his sister was willing to do all of this for him, he had also known better. And he made note, not to ever cross her in his life again. The stakes were higher now, and the space for mistakes was growing smaller with every step Cersha took towards her ultimate goal.

Varyn shudders, at the decision he knows he's about to make, and his stomach turns as the heaviness of reality and impending responsibility weighs upon his tired shoulders. "I will marry her. And it shall be as you say."

CERSHA'S EYES ROLL SPECTACULARLY AT HER BROTHER'S EXCUSE FOR A JOKE . it is with a sigh that she moves to pinch at the bridge of her nose , that she replies , " whatever you need tell yourself , varyn ." despite spending near the entirety of her life with him , cersha could never understand the appeal of her brother . as much affection as she may grudgingly have for him it was mind boggling , truly . varyn was varyn , she saw him nakedly as he was and had no other choice but to accept him as that , after all , their blood demanded it . however , all others had a choice in this . and yet they chose varyn regardless . chose not to see the facade that was right in front of them . admittedly , it was times like these that leave cersha quite sure that all those around her were fools . she was sure that if the shoe was on the other foot she could see through varyn with ease . however , she supposes he would say the same for her . perhaps in some ways it was simply a byproduct of their upbringing . " i am not acting like a nervous fool ." cersha tone is near exasperated as she drops her hand , as she squints at him in vague annoyance before arching her brows to add , " this is actually a quite unfamiliar process to you called coherent thought . i hope that you might experience it at some point in the future , but at this point i do quite sincerely doubt it ." vaelora was a puzzle that cersha could solve . she was quite sure of it . after all , she had yet to come across a puzzle she couldn't solve . she'd be damned if the one she failed to was the dragon she was set to wed . " if necessary i intend to play a long game in order to obtain the power i have sought all my life , varyn , yes . perhaps the performance may not be needed forever , and perhaps it may not be absolute . but some part of vaelora seems to wish for something soft to protect . do i appear to be that to you ?" cersha snaps in annoyance at her brother's jabs , her eyes rolling with a scoff as he continues . it is with efficiency that she reaches for the nearest object to throw at him . luckily for him it happens to be the pillow on the chair she is sat at . " yes , well , i do not care what you want , varyn . thankfully , might i add ." she makes a face at him as she turns her attention back to her goblet , lifting it to add , " in fact , i'd rather delight in emulating the exact opposite of what you may want in a sister just to vex you further ." it occurs to her suddenly that she truly had no idea how the targaryens seemed to get along so well . did they not irritate each other ? was it all an act ? at the current moment she is quite sure she would trade her brother for an apple tart . " ah , yes , i am sure you are quite familiar with the later ." cersha brings her goblet to her lips with a roll of her eyes . it is only after a delicate sip that she brings her goblet back down to say , " i am quite familiar with the thin line between love and hate , varyn . however , it would be quite a gamble for me to emulate everything vaelora hates and expect her to love me . i do not particularly enjoy gambling with my fate where it is not necessary . leaving my wife-to-be's love for me up to the gods and chance ." a twist of her lips . " how can i trust in such things ? i trust in me , varyn ." a huff . " and if there is a surer path to victory i will take it ." an arch of her brows as her eyes meet his squarely . "so unless there is need to pivot — to gamble — the plan will stay the same ."

despite herself , cersha can't say she's entirely unaffected by varyn's confidence . while she would do what she wished either way , and while her own confidence wouldn't waver for it , the belief that her family had in her only added to her pride . she would rather swallow a sword than admit it of course . but there was something to be said about having someone in her corner . cersha was notably not alone . lions move in packs after all . so she lets him tap his goblet to hers with a nod , her eyes sure until she is blinking at the strange question . her brows furrow . " happiness is fleeting , varyn ." cersha says simply as she moves to take a sip from her goblet . " i could be happy in the next candle mark and then deeply angry in the next two ." a shrug . " i'm sure there will be joy after my goal is achieved but what i know there will be is satisfaction . fulfilment ." cersha's spine straightens a bit then , a steely glint of triumph in her eyes as she says , " victory . that is more important than mere happiness to me ." she shrugs as she waves a hand dismissively . " and i'm sure happiness will come with it ." winning was something that cersha had become used to . it was a driving force . a goal , in all things . she would be victorious . she would be better . she would outsmart the competition , and then , once she stood on top of the defeated she would laugh at them from above . better . smarter . superior . after all , it is only the best who could seize what they wanted . and cersha was that . it was because she was the best that she was well suited to be queen . she was sure of it . and it was not merely a prize , her skills made her aligned with the position . once she was queen she would cement herself in history as the best at that too . after all, who was her competition . visenya ? it was laughable . she would trump viserys too whilst she was at it . aegon the first as well . and whoever else laid before her . in all honestly , it was fortuitous that cersha was in this position . if she wasn't perhaps she would be fighting for the spot of head of house . she may as well be , with how much of the family mess she took on . as varyn speaks her fingers come up to rub her temples . " enough . you disgust me and any more talk of your preferences in your conquests will have me prepared to lose the contents of my stomach ." cersha says as she brings her hand back down to her goblet , her finger trailing up and down the stem . her brows arch tiredly as her brother continues , her tone blunt as she says , " you see fit to defend her ?" cersha studies him briefly , before she's turning her attention to her wine with a simple, " how curious ." it is something to take note of , cersha supposes . her judgement was absolute in all things . very few were free from it . but it was interesting to note the individuals that people tried to shield from it . it spoke to innerworkings ; vulnerabilities . cersha takes note . if not for her own knowledge , then perhaps for varyn's sake . " yes , well , again i did expect you to father a thousand bastards ." cersha's eyes roll . " i suppose i should only be glad that it has taken this long . although , who's to say ? i certainly would not put it passed you to have more in the shadows , dear brother . perhaps some you are still even wholly unaware of ." another sigh as raises her goblet to take another healthy gulp . it is only once she's put the goblet back down and licked her lips of the bitterness that she says , " if i were truly anticipating my own stress i would have had you castrated long ago and been done with it ." it feels almost like an act of affection that she doesn't . after all , it was only the most logical of solutions , even if it were perhaps a bit messy . however , even now when varyn presumably has a heir to succeed him and will have little need for other children to follow , it is not an option she even truly entertains . she supposes love really does blind you .

cersha studies her brother as he speaks , her eyes scrutinizing as they scan every inch of his face from the way his eyes avoid hers to the careful sip of wine he takes . cersha studies thoroughly and files away . cersha takes only a moment to bask in the position of power she holds in this moment . at the act of her brother needing her help and asking for it . for a younger sister this was quite something to brag over . if only it wasn't also so deeply frustrating . " if she loves the child , then we can use that to our advantage ." cersha says simply then , tone cool with rationale as she eyes her brother with a hawklike gaze . her brow arches . " we can take quite a literal approach to that and threaten said child . a mother's instincts are usually quite predictable ." cersha shrugs as she moves to take a sip from her goblet . " 'speak on this and you both shall suffer' is a simple enough solution , so that is an option ." she gestures to her brother with her goblet then , meeting his eyes to say , " however , if we truly wanted to be rid of the problem , the child could die ." another shrug . " however , if it is tied back to us that may make enemies of the daynes , and that would be rather unfortunate . but it does close the book on this , if that is what you prefer ." cersha hums thoughtfully . she swirls the wine in her goblet with lazy twists of her wrist . she has little intention to actually kill a child . after all , such a thing was truly a last resort . death was a messy option . it left trails of blood in its wake and unless one was very , very careful that trail tended to lead towards equally bloody hands . cersha was very careful . but even still . " however , if this woman loves you or if you can make her love you , as you seem to so freely boast about ." cersha's eyes roll as she waves a hand dismissively towards her brother . " then make her love you anew . come to her in the night in the picture of romance and profess sweet nothings to her ." cersha gestures with her goblet . " tell her you have made a grave mistake and wish to be a family , that this all made you realize the error of your ways ; whatever it takes , you understand . and once you have been sufficiently convincing , get on a knee and propose . in private of course ." cersha meets varyn's eyes pointedly . " and once that is done we will have you both wed . secretly of course . i can have the papers forged to reflect a different date , that is of little consequence . you can both announce it after the announcement of my own betrothal . you will not steal this moment from me , varyn ." cersha makes sure to meet her brothers eyes pointedly again as she gestures to him with her goblet . " ... and once that is done you can spin the tale that you were both so deeply in love that you married during your time in dorne ." the words are accompanied with nonsensical flourishes of her hand , cersha's tone becoming mocking as she mimics the fools that surround her as she says , " and would you look ! such love has resulted in such a beautiful child ! oh hurrah , oh hurray . wine ! celebration !" another roll of cersha's eyes before she shrugs and says , " and with that it is done and you are a father , varyn . congratulations ." it is with a sigh that cersha sits back in her seat , brow arching as she looks at her brother then . there is a curious part of her that wants to test his own judgement . her brows arch . " so , what will it be then ? threat , death , or marriage ?"

#c. varyn lannister #varyn x cersha

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theres-whump-in-that-nebula · 3 months ago

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One of the main reasons why I silently freak out so much after talking to people in a group setting is because I listen to them (or at least try to act like I’m listening to them) but the very instant I open my mouth to speak, they start talking to someone else, or someone else talks right fucking over me even though they know I‘m trying to speak. Every. Single. Time.

And it’s not just so-called “neurotypical” people. Oh no. It’s neurodivergent people too. And the neurodivergent people I understand; but they also have to understand that not all of us are fast talkers and some of us need people to be patient or we will never get our information out. My brain-to-mouth processing speeds are extremely extremely slow and I cannot talk quickly to save my life unless I am reciting something I already have memorized. If someone cuts me off in any way before I am finished, my brain gets stuck in a buffering mode for three seconds at the very least, and more if they continue to cut me off when I’m trying to communicate “No that’s not the end of what I’m saying and that’s not what I even meant by that. Stop making hasty generalizations about a point you haven’t even heard through yet.”

But no matter who I am talking to, right before I am able to finish my extremely well-thought-out point that I’ve been formulating in my head for months or years prior in the mirror, I always, without fail get cut off because everyone gets impatient with my long pauses and doesn’t even want to attempt to listen to what I have to say because they think what they’re about to say in reaction is more important. And it’s not like I’m taking over the conversation or talking more than I listen; I’m just taking more time than they are comfortable with to say a typical amount of words.

And then those same people always tell me, in a somewhat patronizing tone, “You’re so quiet! You’re such a good listener!” Yes because that’s what you’ve made me. Why should I talk to you if you won’t fucking listen to me for three seconds. And no, after a certain point I stopped listening to you because why should I listen to you if you don’t ever listen to me?

Everyone’s nice to me and says they want me there at their social functions but they still subtly exclude me. God damn.

I suppose they want to look at me, or perhaps inhale my aroma. Like I’m a house plant.

#Not to bitch but I’ve been cut off my whole life but never quite as blatantly as today #And I’m not even mad at the person for doing it because I understand why they’re doing it #I’m just like them. I’d love to talk people’s ears clean off and make their eyes glaze over from talking too much and too fast #that is precisely the kind of personality that I have #but my brain works in blue whale time and theirs works in fruit fly time #So I’m no match for their speed #Again: I’m not mad at THEM. I’m just bitter and tired from everyone always misinterpreting me #and this specific incident (to no fault of my conversational partner) just sent me over the edge #because I’m trying my hardest to keep up with everyone’s speed and it never works #And now to have what always happens to me happen at about twenty times the intensity it usually does #Like holy shit #So if you ever find yourself wondering why I’m so obnoxiously verbose here on Tumblr… reference this post #I’m like if Data from Star Trek had the processing speed of a Dell laptop from 2002 #I want to talk that much. I can talk that much… IF YOU WAIT TWO GODDAMN SECONDS

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ingravinoveritas · 2 months ago

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This weekend, I went to a pop culture/comic convention in my area to see a few friends, and had an interesting experience. When I was first walking from the parking lot to the convention hotel, a man I'd never met or spoken to before came up to me just before I got to the doors. I was initially wary, as I've encountered more than a few creepy/pervy men at this convention in the past. But what he said to me, very politely, was: "Excuse me. Are you one of the movie stars?"

I can't emphasize enough how much this came out of nowhere. I also don't know what gave him the idea that I was a movie star, maybe other than what I was wearing (a purple sequined dress, a silver cross necklace, and blue/white/red slingback peep toe heels). But the question pleasantly took me aback, and after I said that I wasn't one, he added, "You're dressed so nice. You look beautiful." Which also was unexpected, and after I thanked him for his very kind words, he wished me a good night as I continued on in to the hotel.

My point in mentioning this is that there tends to be a very specific idea of what/who a "movie star" is or looks like, and not in a thousand years would I categorize myself in that way. But I think maybe looks/external beauty are only one part of it, and the rest is confidence--surety of self, and how you move through the world. I have more confidence now than I have had any previous point in my life. I know who I am, and I think I'm finally understanding how that affects people's perception of me.

So yes, that was just an interesting little moment and probably one of the highlights of the weekend. (The other was running into a David cosplayer who had on David's purple-green fuzzy sweater and purple Doc Martens (see below), a kilt for a character in Sandman, and a face tattoo and snakey eyes for Crowley--three cosplays in one!) Good Omens really is everywhere...

#personal post #chiller theatre convention #and this is the precise moment where i wonder what the hell my life has become #but oh well #i think part of me is still more prepared to hear an insult than a compliment #which is why i have a harder time internalizing kind words #but i think confidence is a balance between knowing who you are and not buying too much into your own hype #and i feel like i have figured that out now #also normally i would have included a picture of my outfit #but unfortunately people have gotten so weird on here that i don't feel like i can do that at the moment #so here is a pretty David gif instead #thoughts #discourse

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taz-writes · 1 year ago

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here's a hot take for today

the narrative function of sex is the same as the narrative function of fight scenes is the same as the narrative function of songs in a musical

no i will not explain

#taz talks #writing #actually i WILL explain but i'll do it in the tags #these each serve the same function within their respective appropriate genres #each one is a kind of revelation #they heighten the connection between 2+ characters and highlight relationships and feelings and needs #they are out of place in genres where they do not belong and/or as curveballs when the narrative did not provoke them from the start #but they have the same sort of emotional/dramatic build-up #talk -> sing -> dance (talk -> yell -> stab) ((talk -> flirt -> You Know))#and they are all expressions of intense physicality and intimacy through physical gesture and interaction #they are fundamentally empty and boring if there is not a deeper purpose or drive behind them #although they can still occasionally be entertaining on their own if your audience is specifically seeking that experience out #people who do not like them will be very unhappy to encounter one where it isn't supposed to be #it is very easy to ruin the mood with poor word choice #many people have an inherent sense for terrible ones but it's often difficult or complicated to explain precisely why a bad one fails #when executed properly they are a very raw and intimate expression of a character's most fundamental needs and desires #the fluff is stripped away and there is nothing left but a series of needs. conflicting or cooperating.#and even when you're lying during one it's still a form of truth #none of these things are remotely necessary to tell a powerful or compelling story but if you're going to use them you need to do it right #also all 3 of these things are difficult if not impossible to write if you are not both interested in them and personally invested #this post brought to you by me trying to write smut about my dnd characters and failing because i generally hate /reading/ smut #so i have none of the vocabulary or instinct for it that i do for. say. graphic violence (or lyrical poetry)

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torntruth · 21 hours ago

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SOME OF THE GODS REALLY THOUGHT THEY WERE BEING INFINITELY KIND GIFTING DIANA WITH DIFFERENT ABILITIES . infinitely kind would have just been granting hippolyta the daughter she thoroughly wished she could love and raise without a spectacle ... or the very idea that diana will always work for them and be of them. THE SELFISH NATURE OF IT .

... and as much as she prides in being an amazon , these moments make diana realize how much she just wants to be her own person. AND NOW SHE IS GETTING IT . as much as time refuses to be kind to them. she is just diana , a lover.

diana doesn't even get to turn when kassandra utters those very precisely beautiful words. THE VERY THING THAT IS THE TRUEST NATURE OF DIANA . aphrodite didn't bestow something specifically to diana , she just bestowed love in general. THE ABILITY TO LOVE EVEN THROUGH WAR . how to balance two precariously different attributes. therefore , diana absolutely did not hide the emotion. and it wasn't missed by her turning because she has yet to turn yet. IT'S THE WAY BLUE EYES ARE CAPTIVATINGLY FILLED WITH LIFE . they practically shake. a smile continues to curl up diana's lips.

diana squeezes kassandra's hand and tugs. pulls the other woman directly into her. free hand cradling kassandra's jawline. she presses a kiss to kassandra's temple before returning in a sultry whisper : " i love you too. " then diana steps away , turns , adjusts kassandra's hand in her own so that it wouldn't be nearly as awkward when she pulls the other woman to the bedroom. the amazons happens to have a lot of rope laying around. their culture always tipped between ancient greek culture and some modern lifestyles.

In times like these, they can be who they want to be and not what they were made to be. Sculpted by hands not their own for tasks greater than themselves. But here they can be selfish, they can give to each other until there is nothing left but the love they have. Somehow entirely selfish and selfless all at once. But no greater meaning than that. No titles, no destinies, just each other, just love.

Kassandra loves it when Diana feels she can feel those things she usually denies herself. Emotionally, sexually, it doesn't matter. There is freedom in feeling, in loving, and Kassandra happens to be the lucky one who gets to receive those feelings, that love. And for once Kassandra doesn't fear being alone at the end of things. As long as she doesn't think about why that is, she can enjoy things for what they are. Can enjoy those kisses moving further down, past the collarbone, the shoulder, and then over her ever-beating heart. That damn thing that has pounded almost without pause for over two thousand years. Oh, to be loved.

A soft smile is returned, her hand placed gently in Diana's. "I love you."

#DIANA › 𝑊𝑅𝐼𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺 ‚ do you get to write history?#DIANA › 𝑅𝐸𝐿 : 𝐾𝐴𝑆𝑆𝐴𝑁𝐷𝑅𝐴 ‚ you're my one selfish thing.#ofspvrta #› 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲?

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leucoratia · 2 months ago

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Kraz, royal healer

Kraz (Razzy if they like you(but they like everyone)(except Jerry)) is a human (?) mage who voluntarily exiled themselves to the underground to follow monsterkind during the war. They are later appointed royal healer by the king and queen and has devoted themselves to the betterment of monster society ever since. They are the only human the royal scientist ever tolerated (although would you call sharing lab coats and beds tolerating or...something else?)

Information

-Species : mage (half monster, half human)

-Age : older than the barrier. As long as they will to live, it appears that a mage cannot age.

-Gender : apparently born a female, although it is unclear how sexual dimorphism develops in mages. Kraz does not specifically care.

-Soul : Green

-Height : 1.99m (6'5)

-Hair colour : Black (somehow iridescent ?)

-Eye colour : deep dark brown. Their sclera is grey as well.

-Build : sickly thin, actually skin and bones. They never eat much of anything, claiming that they do not need a lot of food. It worries people quite a lot, especially Toriel, but they have been like this for hundreds of years so... at least they're not dead ? Still, they scare the kids.

-Personnality : a sweet, calming presence. They exude an aura which makes anyone around them feel at peace. Although they are quite akward and generally anxious, they smile easily and brightly. Kraz is very friendly, caring, and kind to a fault. has quite an outdated manner of speech. A jokester. Always does their best to please people around them. Deeply devoted. Probably has some sort of attention deficit. Easily fascinated. Suffers from chronic bird behaviour (will bring you trinkets??).

-Likes : gardening, playing the piano, cooking, puzzles, collecting shiny trinkets, science, herbal medicine, cultivating bacteria, gift giving, late 1800's fashion, dark spaces, funny socks, Gaster.

-Dislikes : loud noises (especially clamoring crowds), being watched, sudden movements, bright reflective surfaces, small enclosed spaces, bitter foods.

Backstory

Kraz was born to a human mother and a monster father during the war, as mages often are. Abandoned by their mother, who could not endure the shame of their birth, they were taken under their father’s wing and raised amongst a small monster village. Early on, they manifested an extremely intense green soul and spectacular magical power, even for a mage. Although unequipped and unprepared to nurture such potential, the monsters in Kraz's community did their best to encourage the toddler's magical prowess, such as having them heal cuts and bruises, or speed up a few carrots' growth. But as war progressed, human armies swept through monster territory and eventually raided the child's village, pillaging and slaughtering everyone in their path. In these times mages were rare, being the product of monster-human relationships, but extremely sought after by humanity, who could only manifest minor magic potential. Stumbling upon the young Kraz and recognising in their physiology the traits of a "hybrid", human soldiers immediately identified them as a mage and took them away to be raised amongst humans. Their father, if he ever survived the attack, never stopped looking for his little bird until his dust settled on the ground. And so Kraz was raised in human war camps and settlements, amongst soldiers and other mages. Being so young, they only ever had vague memories of their time amongst monsters and soon put them to rest. As they grew, their healing powers grew with them, and it was soon clear to the commanders that Kraz may as well be the most spectacular healer that they had ever known, capable of rising men at death's door back on their feet and ready to fight in mere minutes. Suffice to say, as one of their greatest asset, they were sent from battlefield to battlefield, from division to division in order to rise the almost dead and reinforce the dwindling human forces. But they had a fault. Kraz, at their heart, was kind. Compassionate. Caring. And oh so, so young still, no more than fifteen. And the pain, the suffering inflicted by and to monsters broke their soul into pieces. See, despite all the propaganda, they could never quite bring themselves to hate monsters. Hate half of themselves. And so in the midst of the battle's confusion, in secret, they would slip a hand or a green bullet towards a bleeding frog here. A dusting lion there. They wished they could just run to them and pour their whole magic into the wounded, but the human soldiers watched them. Always. But eventually, as war was nearing its end, temptation was too great. They could take it no more. And so during a bloody battle, they slipped away from the soldiers surrounding them and ran to a fallen monster, who was already dusting away. A skeleton. The young mage fell to their knees, reaching for the monster's broken face with magic already at their fingertips and reassurances spilling from their lip, and poured everything they had left as the soldier tried to struggle and speak. He barely was able to call to them, in a language they didn't know, his bones just starting to reform, but fate is oh so cruel. Kraz could only slip their guard's attention for so long, and just as life started to flicker back in the man's face, they were torn off his bloodied body and promptly covered in his dust, their work undone by the fall of a sword. As the soldiers dragged the teen away, they could only claw down at the dusty floor to rack up the dust, and a nametag. Dingbats.

"Traitor", they were deemed. "An error of nature", "a freak", they were called. But a valuable freak nonetheless. Their magical abilities were still wholly unmatched through all of the land. They were needed. And so Kraz was beaten down, corrected, whipped back into shape. Into following orders. Royals spoke of banishment. Of a barrier. And they needed mages.

Finally, monsters were defeated. They were to be sealed underground. Kraz and the other mages assembled, staring down at a beaten monsterkind, a sea of eyes and bleeding hearts crying out at them as they chanted the words.

They couldn't do it. They couldn't.

They ran to them.

As the barrier rose up, this child fell to their knees in front of Asgore and Toriel and begged them to let them stay. To right this wrong. To help. They did.

And so Kraz poured their heart out. It wasn't easy, getting monsters to accept human help, even though they shared some physical traits. They slaved away for nothing in return, growing crops magically in dead ground and never taking even a grain of wheat for themselves. Endlessly imbuing water with their energy to create remedies for everyone. Only accepting the bare minimum of food to stay alive, even though they felt as if they were tearing this food away from the hands of the needy. They tried so, so hard to repair humanity's sins. Clear their name in the eyes of monsters.

And eventually, it somewhat worked. Instead of frowns, they were faced with smiles. Children stopped crying when they saw the healer's incomplete beak and started to spare them a smile. The elderly stopped refusing treatment from them. And even though they still had to face a seemingly unclimbable wall as they began further studies in medicine, biology and microbiology, chemistry, agricultural sciences, magical studies, anything to broaden their knowledge and help, they made it. (No thanks to the shy, awkward, standoffish and straight up rude engineering-chemistry-physics student which whom the king and queen pushed Kraz to hang out with. They said that it would "help the both of you, you kids would work beautifully together". Not that the mage minded, as a matter of fact they quite enjoyed his presence and always did their best to be agreeable and overall lovely company; but the skeleton never quite seemed to get over his absolute loathing of humans. Oh well, no matter. They'll keep trying anyways.). Eventually they did succeed and ascended to the position of "tolerable fellow student who I regularly hang out with" in the eyes of their adversary. When Kraz got their first doctorate, in medicine, WingDings even cracked a smile. And as the two completed their studies, the now mage-doctor was promoted to "acceptable collaborator". A win for the ages!

Kraz finally moved out of the derelict place they were practicing medicine in since the war to a more acceptable place (which was, well, their newly furnished house, courtesy of the royal family for their friendship and as a congratulatory gift for their doctorate) and kept working as always. But with an official title to strengthen their position, and what some may call a reluctant friend, things seemed lighter. Monsters were flocking to their office, business (which was still free but their patients insisted on leaving little somethings) was booming, their ties to their fellow "collaborator " deepening, and the doctor became sincerely appreciated in their community. Maybe not in all monsterdom yet, memories of the war never quite fading, but it was progress. Things were going well.

But it seemed that fate had other plans.

One day, plague broke out. The illness decimated monster populations, entire families perishing from an unknown condition.

And Kraz, oh Kraz, tried everything. Every spell, every potion, every cure they could think of. Nothing worked. They asked for help to the other healers, consulted with other scientists, even asked the engineers if they could think of something, anything. Nothing worked. They could only watch as the malady swept through monsters, powerless to watch them die, just like they did during the war.

No. No.

They would not stand for it, they would not STAND FOR THIS !! They will find a cure. At any cost.

They locked themselves in their laboratory.

One day. Two days.

Three days.

Six days.

Eight days.

Their colleagues had tried banging on the door, shouting at them to come out, to go home, they would not answer. They called for the doctor’s friends, to no avail. Eventually, it was WingDings Gaster, the royal scientist himself, to be at their door threatening them to “kick their feathery ass if it’s the last thing he does” in order to get them to open the damn door.

No answer.

But the royal scientist was a stubborn man. And when words failed, he proceeded to take the door’s security system apart and barge into the lab, only to be taken aback by the stench. He covered his non-existent nose with a sleeve and bit back the urge to let last night’s dinner see the light of day again, ushering the doctor’s worried coworkers away. It reeked of illness. It reeked of plague. The skeleton, being the only one without lungs and hence immune to all airborne diseases, made his way through the mess of papers, vials and…patches of blood and hair…to the form bent over his friend’s table. Kraz was staring straight at him with their big, beady dark eyes which seemed to be glazed over. They looked even paler than they usually do, which is to say whiter than snow, and seemed so frail that they could snap at any moment. Their face was also swimming in what seemed to be bloodied spit, over a mountain of papers scribbled with words that made no sense. Suffice to say, they looked like death itself. They looked dead.

It was as if Gaster’s bones were made of ice. Barely thinking, he grabbed his friend’s limp body, by Asgore were they TALL, and zapped away somewhere safe. Somewhere clean. His place, apparently.

He cleaned Kraz. Changed them. Laid them in bed. Listened to their delirious babbles, relieved that at least they were alive. In a moment of clarity, the doctor pleaded him to retrieve some instruments from their lab and conduct a series of tests on samples of their blood, which he was urged to collect daily.

“I need to help them Dings. Please. Please, I beg of you, do this for them. Or else I would have done this for nothing. Please.”

Eventually, the unthinkable happened. They got better, the little colour their cheeks normally had returned. As soon as the healer could walk again, they were out of their friend’s house and back in their lab (ignoring everyone’s admonishments). Barely a week later, there was a cure for the seemingly incurable plague.

Monsterkind was saved.

And everything was truly fine. Kraz was promoted to Royal Doctor (a fact they endlessly teased Gaster with, because Now you can’t boss me around anymore mister science man), was granted a whole department in the Hotland labs, and was now revered though the kingdom! Their promotion to head doctor was also accompanied by another, to the exclusive rank of “beloved special stupid idiot who gave themselves the plague” in the soul of a certain someone. They weren’t going to live that one down anytime soon. But well, when the royal scientist’s coworkers noticed that his lunch was packed daily in the common room fridge with “Do not forget nourishment today dear, I will see you tonight at our usual, -A stupid idiot “stuck to it, let’s say that the air in the Core labs was decidedly more pleasant. And Alphys, a young intern that the Doctor befriended during one of their numerous visits to their collaborator-friend-lover(?), could barely contain her gushing to anyone that might listen.

Yes. Times were good.

Until a human fell.

#undertale oc #character sheet #Kraz #YIPEE FINALLY DONE!!!#I am so so excited to get you guys know them better #I'm still trying to define their personnality precisely but I've been thinking about them FOREVER #their lore is a little insane but. They're weird too.#Literally a bird. Has bird behaviour SO BAD #I'll draw them doing stupid shit dont worry. Bringing Gaster beads and stuff. A lover's offering.#They look scary as hell but actually they're a big softie. Very silly and kind person.#The giganormous half beak giant height and skeleton apearance just don't help #I love them.#permission from/to my mutuals to draw razzy interracting with your guys ?#(if i ever have time to draw lmao)#they're dating the royal scientist because I need to kiss that goop man personally #their relationship is science x science (different flavours) they're the worst lmao #kraz is the only seemingly responsible one #they have this self care thing nailed (forces Gaster to eat and shower)#date night is either gaster building something and kraz doing the very meticulous bits or running tests on razzy's new bacteria farm #“Can you make a bacteria that tastes like tomato sauce” well a week and a half later apparently yes you can #these two i swear #Kraz wears funny socks and Gaster funny ties. The funny sciences.#my art #my oc

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